seth imprints instantly the second you arrive in la push for the summer.
you’re standing on sam and emily’s porch, hugging emily tightly when seth pulls up with jacob. he’s laughing at something, casual and carefree, until he sees you.
the imprint hit him like a thunderclap in his ribs. not painful, just loud. like the world had been blurry and suddenly snapped into focus with one glance.
his wolf instincts were screaming “hers, hers, hers” while his human brain was trying to figure out how to breathe again.
you turn around, meet his gaze, and smile warmly like you’ve known him forever. “oh, hi! i’m y/n.”
warmth blooms in his chest like sunlight after a storm, and he can’t help the huge, dopey smile that spreads across his face. sam and emily immediately notice.
“oh no,” sam mutters under his breath.
jacob elbows seth, but he’s speechless. all he can say is, “hi…” like a boy falling in love for the first time.
but you’re so you. full of energy, sarcastic without being mean, and so easy to talk to that seth forgets to be shy. you two fall into step like you’ve been friends forever.
he laughs so much when he’s around you.
you’ll poke his sides, race him through the woods, pull him into the rain because you love storms, and he’s just enchanted.
you’re both radiant, kind-hearted, and endlessly warm like two beams of sunlight naturally gravitating toward each other.
because you totally match.
you both dance in the kitchen while making midnight snacks, make dumb inside jokes that no one else understands, and have matching mosquito bite scars from falling asleep in the woods once.
when you two are together, it’s like watching golden retrievers fall in love. laughing at everything, brushing against each other without realizing it, always in sync.
the pack calls it “puppy love” behind your back because honestly, no one has ever made seth light up the way you do.
seth will literally beam when you walk into a room. tail-wagging-energy levels of happy. you’ll just smile at him and say, “what?” and he shrugs like, “nothing. just… i’m happy you’re here.”
you steal his hoodies even though you have your own. he never asks for them back. he just watches you wear them with hearts in his eyes.
sam is so conflicted. he trusts seth with his life but you’re his niece. you’re his sunshine.
he’s a protective older brother figure and it shows.
“no funny business, clearwater.”
“sam, he’s literally just passing me the ketchup.”
he insists on calling seth by his last name now just to intimidate him. and eventually installs extra lighting on your porch after your first date night.
seth: “is that a security camera?”
sam: “is that a hand on her waist?”
seth immediately steps back.
but deep down, sam sees the way seth treats you. with patience, gentleness, and awe. and that’s what really matters.
eventually, he tells seth, “you’re a good kid, seth. if it had to be anyone… i’m glad it’s you.”
seth gets choked up. “thank you, sir,” he whispers.
seth can’t stop staring at you when you’re focused on something. reading a book, drawing, talking animatedly with someone.
it’s not even subtle. he just goes into heart-eyes mode and zones out.
“seth. dude. blinking is free,” embry teases. “shut up, i’m admiring my future wife,” seth says, dead serious.
seth never stops being gentle with you.
whenever you’re having a bad day, he’ll phase and just let you cuddle against his massive wolf form like a pillow. warm, fuzzy, protective. your personal emotional support werewolf.
you wear seth’s wolf pendant because he told you it brings him luck. he didn’t expect you to never take it off and it makes him so happy.
seth constantly brings you little gifts from patrols. flowers, cool rocks, sometimes feathers, and says things like, “this reminded me of you.”
the pack teases him relentlessly. “our little golden boy’s in love.” seth just grins. “yeah. i am.”
you both volunteer at the community center. you’re terrible at organizing papers, but seth lets you be in charge anyway, just to watch your excited rambling.
long walks on the beach holding pinky fingers, running races through the forest, sharing apple slices. just soft. everything about you two is soft.
you’re the only one allowed to ruffle his hair. anyone else tries? he ducks or growls. you? you tug his curls and laugh and he just melts.
he’s not usually the possessive type, but he gets so protective when other guys flirt with you. not in a toxic way, more like a confused puppy watching a stranger try to take his favorite toy.
something primal kicks in. he doesn’t growl but he steps in with a hand on your lower back and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
he’ll wrap an arm around your waist and say, “she’s kinda taken, actually.”
you: “kinda?”
seth panics, “i mean completely! totally. you’re mine. wait— not mine like mine, just… you know. we are… you know.”
seth imprinted on you weeks ago but he hasn’t rushed anything. he’s been patient, gentle, respectful. he wants you to fall in love with him on your own, imprint or not. but oh boy… he’s so clearly in love.
constant smiles when you talk. nervous hand touches. blushing whenever you lean in close. he wants to kiss you, he’s just waiting for the perfect moment.
you’re not oblivious to the tension, either. the warmth in his gaze, the way he lingers just a second longer when he hugs you… your heart flutters more every time.
and lately, you’ve started wondering, why hasn’t he kissed me yet?
it’s autumn. seth plans a casual date to take you hiking to a pretty overlook just before sunset. “i found this spot last week, i think you’d like it” he says shyly, cheeks pink.
it’s quiet. peaceful. extremely beautiful. and just a little wild around the edges. just like you.
he carries your backpack the whole time. keeps glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking. holds out his hand to help you over logs or steep parts of the trail and doesn’t let go after.
when you finally get to the overlook, the sky is all painted in amber and lilac. the wind is soft. the view is unreal, but all seth can look at is you.
you sit beside him on a mossy rock, your knees barely touching, and you’re both quiet. not awkward, just so full of blooming feelings.
“you always get quiet when you’re happy,” you tease.
he grins and looks down, a little nervous. “just don’t wanna ruin it. this— this moment. you… us.”
you turn to look at him and realize, he’s already staring at you. like you hung the sun. like he’s aching to kiss you, but too afraid to mess it up.
“seth…” you whisper.
he leans in a little, eyes flicking to your lips. “can i—?”
you nod.
it’s so gentle at first. he kisses you like he’s afraid you might break. like he’s memorizing the feeling. one hand cradles your cheek, thumb brushing your skin.
he pulls back barely an inch, breathless. “wow,” he whispers, eyes closed in awe. “thank god.”
you giggle, heart racing. “that was overdue.”
“can i do it again?” he asks, already leaning in and grinning this time.
the second kiss is warmer, sweeter, more sure. he pulls you closer, arms wrapped around your waist now, and you can feel him smiling against your lips.
you rest your forehead against his, laughing quietly. he’s glowing. like actual sunshine in human form.
“so… does this make it official?” you ask softly, love-shining eyes looking up at him.
he just beams and kisses your nose. “i’m yours. always was.”
on the way back down the trail, he holds your hand the entire time. every few steps, he tugs you close for another quick kiss. “sorry. i’m gonna be annoying now. can’t help it.”
later, he walks you to your door, kisses your hand, and says with puppy eyes, “text me when you’re in bed, okay? i wanna wish you good night before sleeping, is that okay?” you just melt.
he now greets you with that huge, boyish grin and a “hi, baby!” every single time, even if he just saw you five minutes ago.
he’s always touching you in soft, casual ways. looping his arm around your shoulders, playing with your fingers, resting his head on your shoulder like a sleepy pup.
when you laugh, he lights up like a christmas tree.
he picks you flowers. all the time. you mention liking daisies once, and suddenly he’s handing you a tiny bouquet every few days like it’s a reflex.
“for you,” he says, all shy smile and pink cheeks, like it isn’t the hundredth time.
he lives for physical affection. cuddling? yes. hand-holding? yes. falling asleep with your head on his chest while he plays with your hair? double yes.
he does that thing where he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, like he’s finally at peace. “you smell so good.”
he wakes you up with kisses. gentle ones. all over your face. cheek, nose, forehead, lips. “rise and shine, angel,” he whispers with a grin, still in that soft morning voice that makes you melt.
seth loves slow dancing with you for no reason. even if there’s no music. just pulls you into his arms in the middle of the kitchen.
absolutely the kind of boyfriend to pick you up and spin you around when he’s excited.
he doesn’t just say “i love you”, he shows it in a million tiny ways. carrying your bag, brushing snow out of your hair, letting you steal fries without a single complaint.
he’ll walk on the side of the sidewalk closer to traffic without saying a word. always opens doors for you. always checks in.
sees you shiver once and immediately takes off his jacket, puts it on you, and then grins like he just fixed world hunger.
he tucks your hair behind your ear mid-conversation. you’re talking about something random, and he’s just gazing at you with so much love in his eyes, brushing your hair back like you’re the most delicate thing he’s ever touched.
if anyone makes you uncomfortable, his whole posture shifts. he’s still smiling but it’s tight. he’ll wrap an arm around you like, “you good, baby?” and you know he’s watching.
sends you the most unhinged texts just to make you laugh. memes. selfies with ridiculous captions. “rate my hair. be honest. 1-10. i’ll cry if it’s below 9.”
he falls asleep holding your hand, even when you’re just watching a movie. it’s instinct. his hand finds yours like it’s magnetic.
makes you friendship bracelets. wears the one you gave him until it falls apart, then ties it back together with a string from your hoodie.
gets pouty if you don’t kiss him goodbye. “wait—baby, you forgot something,” he says, pointing to his cheek. “i will collapse if you leave me like this.”
you once kissed the corner of his mouth instead of the center. he blushed so hard. “you missed,” he whispered, already leaning in for another. “here, let me help you.”
when you say “i love you” he goes still. his eyes get wide. and then he just beams. blinding, disbelieving joy.
“you mean it?” he whispers, hands gently cupping your face.
and when you nod, he kisses you like it’s the first time. gentle, reverent. sacred.
“i love you so much, it makes my heart hurt a little.”
sometimes, he’ll whisper “mine” into your hair when he hugs you. not possessive, just awestruck. like he still can’t believe the universe gave him you.
Synopsis: When you show your friend and fellow scientist Jayce an aphrodisiac you’ve been developing but have not yet been cleared to test on humans, he jumps at the opportunity of being your lab rat. Off the record, of course.
Tags: sex pollen/aphrodisiac, modern AU (sort of), pathetic Jayce, begging, cum eating, premature orgasm, multiple orgasms, sub Jayce, blowjob (Jayce receiving), no mention of reader anatomy, dacryphilia, overstimulation
Word count: 6.5k
“Wow. And it has the same effect on higher mammals?”
Jayce Talis — engineering department, an absolute joy to converse with, one of the few fellow Piltover academy scientists you’d consider a genuine friend of yours, and annoyingly attractive — watches with a surprised scratch on his stubbled chin as the two hairless mice begin what must be their fifth consecutive copulation. He usually comes over for the occasional brainstorming session, and right now, he’s stumbled into one of your… more touchy works in progress.
“Hard to say what the effect would be on educabilia — we’re a little more complex than rodents, after all.” You click your pen. “The main effect on my mice is fairly consistent, it awakens sexual appetite even in older, infertile subjects.”
“Cool, cool,” Jayce says, even though you doubt that’s the word he’s exactly reaching for. You might have preferred Viktor as a conversation partner for this — much less reluctance around taboo Piltie subjects. But there is some fun to be had watching Jayce stumble over his words as you await more. He sticks both hands in his pockets, a terrible attempt at nonchalance. “What could be the use for humans? Something sort of like, viagra, I’m guessing?”
“Among other things. If it works the same way as it does on mice, which remains to be seen, it could also be a fertility treatment, or maybe even a mood regulator in small doses.”
“Oh, neat.” Jayce swallows awkwardly. “And… by when do you think you could get cleared for human experimentation? A year?”
“A year? That’s cute, Jayce,” you smile dryly. “Maybe you engineers can get through experimental testing that fast. But no. For something like this, probably multiple years at best. The experimentation on mice needs to be thorough before I can even dream of testing it on humans.”
“Gotcha.” Jayce clears his throat. “And, uh, have you…” he lowers his voice a little. “Have you considered, um… testing it on yourself? You know…“ he mouths the following words, “off the record?”
He hasn’t learned one bit from the day his apartment got blown up years ago, it seems.
“I have, but I’d need at least one other person to be down to try it with me, as a… control group, sort of.”
“Oh, right.” Jayce stands back up straight. “Right, of course. I should have— yeah, I should have thought of that. And do you… have anyone in mind? For that?”
“No, I don’t have an illegal project buddy in mind.” You can’t help but snort a laugh. “You’re making it sound like you’d like it to be you, though.”
That catches him off guard, he takes a second to gulp his fear down before he finally really looks at you.
“I mean, if… maybe.” He looks around as if to reassure himself that the lab is empty, when he damn well knows it is, before he leans against the table to seem dejected, and shrugs. “If you wouldn’t find it weird, then, why not?”
“Me? You’re forgetting who discussed sexcapades with Viktor at the academy winter solstice potluck while someone else was sitting in a corner and blushing, Jayce. I’m not the prude here.”
“I’m— who says I’m a prude?”
“Viktor, for starters.”
“Right. Well, if Viktor’s the ideal candidate for this—”
“Not what I said,” you interrupt. When just the hint of a smile tugs at his lip, you can’t help your own.
“You insinuated it.”
“Are you jealous, Jayce Talis?”
“Wh- me? No.” Jayce clears his throat and stands up off the edge of the table. “It’s just, you’ve helped me with so much of my work, and, I, uh, I wanna help you, too.”
“Well, I helped you bounce around ideas. Meanwhile this would be you potentially putting your health in jeopardy for a curiosity. You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m happy to help a friend,” he counters, and the truth of it stings like salt in an old wound. Just barely. A friend. “Plus, I’ll remind you that this isn’t my first time with an illegal experiment.”
“Alright. Six PM, this Friday, my lab?”
—
It’s six PM sharp on Friday when there’s a knock at your door.
“Hi,” Jayce blurts after you open for him. You step aside and motion for him to enter, but there’s something that tugs at him, keeps him still, before he lowers his voice and asks. “Is your assistant still…?”
Of course. For someone eager to throw himself in the face of danger, he finds it within himself quite often to hesitate once things have been set into motion. Viktor had warned you of that.
“No, they left half an hour ago.”
“Cool. So did, uh, most of the scientists on our floor, as far as I can tell.”
It’s sweet, how he tries for something more casual, before… well, before what’s going to ensue. You figure you’ll indulge, he certainly looks like he needs it.
“Mm. Everyone hates burning the midnight oil in the late winter months, don’t they?”
At your attempt of light conversion, Jayce slackens a little, and steps in with renewed courage. Which lasts about until he notices the fact that you’ve already set up everything.
”I’d like to monitor your heart rate, BP and oxygenation levels. Ideally, I’d also love to take a blood sample from you both before and after the experiment. Are you alright with that?”
“Byeah, sure, why not?”
And you can’t help a chuckle at the way his voice goes a little airy.
“Not a big fan of needles?” You tease, before you gesture for him to sit.
“Who is?”
Jayce does, surprisingly obedient, and begins to roll up his sleeve before you can think to ask for it. Fortunately, finding a suitable vein won’t be an issue: plenty to choose from on his well built arms. You place a tight strap just above his bicep, and pull it nice and snug. That should do.
His skin’s swabbed clean with rubbing alcohol, and as you get the needle ready, you can’t help but notice a slight tremor in his shoulders, the way he fixates on the silver glistening little thing.
“Jayce.”
“Mm?”
“It’s just a pinch. Close your eyes or look away, please. I’ve done this plenty of times, including on myself. I’ll be quick.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“Breathe in for me.”
And it’s about when his lungs are half full that you slide the needle into his skin, and Jayce winces, brows pinching, as blood begins to trickle from his arm into the vial.
“Doing great,” you assure him. “Great vascularization, by the way. Made my job real easy.”
“Glad that’s useful for something,” he grits out. His eyes are closed, his head tilted to the ceiling, lovely jaw clenched. “How much longer?”
“About five more seconds. Breathe out for me.”
There is something a little… intoxicating about Jayce Talis sitting before you with his teeth gritted and eyes squeezed shut, bearing the pain for your sake, and doing exactly as you say, down to breathing. There always was a certain eagerness about him that made you guess he’d be like this in more vulnerable contexts especially — and so far, it seems your guess had been well placed.
He’s a little pale by the time you’re done, but it’s nothing a tall glass of water won’t fix. You fetch him that first, before you store the vial with his blood next to yours, marking it with a different symbol.
While he settles, you might as well get through more of the basics.
“Any conditions, afflictions or injuries I should know of? Nothing’s too small to mention.”
“I, uh,” Jayce draws a shaky breath once he’s set the glass down on your table, and ponders for a moment. “I’m near-sighted, but I wear contacts. What else… I grind my teeth when I sleep, and something’s definitely wrong with my jaw. It makes this clicking noise when I chew sometimes. Oh! And I tore a muscle in my back like, two years ago. That’s about all I can think of.”
“Alright, do you take any medications?”
“No.”
“Sweet.” You jot most of what he’s said down on an unnamed chart, to be safe. “That should about cover it. If we weren’t doing this off the record, I would have dragged you through a bunch more tests, but, we’ll work with what we’ve got. I’m glad you offered to do this for me, Jayce. Really. Thank you.”
“Of course,” he says, like it’s an average Friday evening activity to let you experiment on him.
“Now, this should be a double blind experiment, especially since I, as the researcher, am actively partaking as a subject as well. I’ll prepare two glasses of sugar water, add in the active ingredient in only one of them, and then you’ll be switching the glasses around while I’m not looking. That’s about the best and only way I can think of to keep my results from being skewed, other than… all the other unavoidable factors.”
Jayce looks like he’s hardly been following — there’s something distant in his eyes, jaw slackened ever so slightly until you approach with both glasses, and he snaps out of it with a gulp.
“Sorry, so, I’ll do what?”
“The substance is only in one of the glasses. You didn’t look when I made them, I won’t look when you switch them around. After that, I’ll put a monitor on our arms, so we can write down our resting heart rate, BP and oxygenation before, during and after the experiment. After that, we drink, and… see where it goes.”
“Simple enough.” Jayce nods, and offers his other arm up for your monitor.
By the time you’ve set both his and yours up, he looks to be mainly back to normal — but his monitor betrays him. His heart rate and systolic pressure are both bumped for someone his size, his build. When you point it out, Jayce flashes a tight smile with an equally tight chuckle.
“I’m, uh, just a little nervous,” he admits.
You say nothing for yourself. But you’re not doing any better, either.
There’s something sick twisting in your gut at the thought of being so vulnerable in front of Jayce — but that something twists twice as hard at the thought of him panting and straining in his slacks before you, and… god, you need to get a grip.
“Uh, I’ll take… this one,” Jayce decides once you’ve finished preparing the two concoctions, and when you go to pick yours up, he clinks the glasses awkwardly. “Cheers?”
But it’s Jayce.
Fellow scientist, friend.
With a small chuckle, you clink back. “Cheers, Talis.”
—
“As of fifteen minutes into the experiment, I report no noticeable changes in behavior, lucidity or physical sensation. And,” you check your monitor again, “no changes in vitals either. Jayce?”
“I… think I might feel something,” he confesses. “Have been. Since about minute thirteen.”
“Monitor?”
He leans in and offers his arm up to you across the table so you’d have an easier time jotting down his vitals. High bpm, elevated systolic blood pressure.
“Yeah, there’s been a change in your vitals, too. Describe the sensation for me?”
“It’s kind of vague as of now, but it’s a sort of,” Jayce lowers his gaze along with his voice as he says it, “…steadily growing heat, would be the best way to put it. Low in my stomach.”
If you didn’t have the clinicality of it to focus on, fuck, you might have pounced on his shrinking form from across the table.
“Alright. How do you feel it compares to when you’re aroused usually?”
“Uh, different. Normally, um…” it takes him a long second to say it, you notice his brows furrow and his lips clench as he gears up to spit it out. “Normally, for me, arousal starts from my thoughts or… being touched — uh, external stimuli, if we’re being all clinical about it. Meanwhile this feels… less connected to my brain or any stimuli, really, and more like, a strictly physical sensation, I guess? Kind of like hunger or thirst.”
He obediently waits for you to scribble most of it down, and when you look up, you notice his palms are visibly glistening when he reaches up to cradle his forehead.
“I’m noticing some sweating too,” you point out.
“Oh, that, hah,” Jayce chuckles awkwardly and hurries to wipe his hands on his slacks. “Sorry. That usually happens when I’m just a little nervous, I think.”
“I see. Nothing to be sorry for or embarrassed about, Jayce. I’m not here to judge, I’m here to observe.” You jot it down anyway, just in case. And because you’re clinging to professionalism and science with worrying desperation. “Anything else you’re noticing?”
“I think I’ve just started hearing my pulse in my ears, if that’s relevant.”
“Might be, but that’s not… exactly what I was referring to.”
When Jayce stares at you, wide-eyed like a doe in headlights, you glance downward meaningfully. Not that you could see any of it — anything below his chest is under the table from your point of view — but you have a suspicion.
“Yeah, that… that too,” he admits.
“I know it’s a little awkward, but we both went into this knowing it would happen.” You attempt what you hope is a reassuring smile. “It’s alright. There’s no such thing as TMI right now.”
That perhaps wasn’t the best way to put it — Jayce folds his hands in his lap, gaze lowering, as he closes his eyes to gather himself, before he finally says, a little flustered:
“Okay. I’m just… this is— I don’t often talk about my dick like it’s a germ in a petri dish, alright?”
“Try for me,” you say, and it comes out a little more demanding than intended, so you soften the blow: “Unless you want to stop here, of course. You don’t owe me anything. We can quit this experiment anytime if you decide you’ve changed your mind or feel uncomfortable.”
“I don’t,” he decides, surprisingly quick. “I guess I just didn’t… this is more intense than I’d anticipated.”
“More intense how?”
“I’m…” he licks his lips with a shallow inhale, you can hear the way he paws at his own thighs, before he finally looks up at you. “Shit. I’m having a hard time even thinking.”
“Elaborate.”
“That’s a lot to ask from me right now,” he jokes half-heartedly. “But it’s kind of like, when you’re so hungry it makes your mind go… fuzzy and singular.”
Oh?
“Describe what you mean by singular.”
“Like when I’m hungry and I can only think of food.” He swallows thickly, like he’s starving. “Like that, but…”
He chokes on his words before he can get any further, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s a long, winded exhale that leaves his tight lungs before he shoves his face in his hands.
“Jayce?”
“Oh, god,” his small voice whines, muffled behind big hands. “H-how much of this thing did you give me?”
“As much as I give my mice, but, you know, adjusted for an adult human’s weight and metabolism.”
“And what—” A long, girlish whine presses forward when he shifts in his seat just so. “What were the s-side effects?”
It strikes you that that is a question you should have addressed before you put an untested substance in his body. None of the side effects on your rats were noteworthy, but you circle through them in your mind regardless.
“I, uh, there was post-coital fatigue or occasionally loss of consciousness, mainly. Some mice were restless and presented anxious behavior if they were by themselves—“
Oh.
“I think those might have been in pain,” Jayce grits out. Minutely, he curls in on himself.
“What?”
“I’m in pain,” he cries, and you blank. You hadn’t thought this through with the very real option of disaster in mind, because well, there were no significant issues with your mice.
You’ve severely miscalculated the risks.
As your mind starts to whir and turn in the search for an answer, a potential recipe for an antidote, Jayce sinks a little further in his seat, until his forehead nearly grazes the table. You can see the way his frame shivers from the sensation.
“It’s really starting to hurt,” he tries again. “What do I— please?”
“Okay.” You breathe in, standing so fast your chair scrapes the floor, rushing around the table to his side. You risk a glance at the monitor on his arm — worryingly high BP and heart rate — before you undo the velcro and slide it off in a rush. The medical protocol — you can follow that. “Okay. Fuck. Rate your pain?”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. One through ten.”
Jayce gives an exasperated sigh.
“Okay. Um, a six? Climbing towards a seven.”
“Describe the nature of the pain? Pulsating, lacerating—“
“My dick fuckin’ hurts, okay?” he cuts in. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my whole life. Is that… descriptive enough?”
Silence settles, filled with both your labored breaths.
You need to act. Fuck your experiment, fuck all of this, Jayce is hurting, you need to take him somewhere you can get another opinion, somewhere that’s equipped to handle him if he loses consciousness—
“Okay, let’s… the hospital isn’t far. Let’s go there.”
“Absolutely not.” Jayce swallows thickly. “You’re putting your credentials, your degree in jeopardy, and I’m, I have a reputation— I can’t go to the ER because I have a serious case of boner.”
Fair.
“Then I can try to think of an antidote, I just— it’s gonna take a while. Can you wait?”
“Do we have another choice?”
And you suppose the answer is not exactly.
You do your best to concoct a potential antidote in your mind as you start to gather what you suspect you might need to brew it. Which is a feat in and of itself, considering the way Jayce is whining with each breath just a few feet away, each exhale coming out tighter, more desperate.
“C-can I…” Jayce peeps from his side of the table. “I need to take my pants off. I won’t be weird about it, I promise, it’s just… god, I think n-not having something rub up against me would help.”
“Yes,” you assure. “You can— absolutely. I won’t look.”
And it’s not like you can, either. From where you’re standing and he’s sitting at the table, you still can’t see much — but you can hear a trembling, relieved sigh along with the rustle of fabric.
“Better?” You ask, feeling much like you’re making a worse version of small talk as you try to think of something, anything, that may work.
“Not much,” is the unfortunate answer. “How’s the antidote coming along?”
You wish you fucking knew.
“Sounds promising,” Jayce snarks at your lack of an answer. There’s a dampened, distant thunk, which you come to realize came from him lowering his forehead against the table. And you’re about to rush to his side to make sure he’s alright, until he whimpers once more and muffles out a meek: “Sorry. That’s not helpful.”
You can’t wait for inspiration to strike with Jayce at stake.
“…Listen. The, uh, the mice. They just… they had to… work it out of their systems, and they never really required an antidote.”
The implication hits him like a brick wall. A brick wall he’d seen coming from miles away, but that seems to do little to dampen the blow. He lifts his head back up off the table to look at you.
“Um.” Jayce hesitates. “Here? Now?”
“Yes — like I said, some mice went unconscious post-orgasm, I think it’s safer to have… supervision. How… do you want to go about it?”
“I’m not sure.”
You need to be pragmatic, you need to keep his best interest at heart now that you’ve quite literally drugged him. Too little, too late, truly, but it’s all you can give.
“I’ll go lock the door. I think it’s best if you lay down on my couch, in case… you know, in case you pass out, after...“
“Yeah, okay.”
Adrenaline has well and truly gripped you as you move towards the door with a pace that screams mimicked calmness, and nothing more. Behind you, Jayce’s undone belt buckle clinks with each step like the bell of a kitten’s collar as he shuffles over to the couch, and you only dare turn to look his way reluctantly once the couch cushions creak and the clinking ceases.
“Oh, that’s better,” he mutters. He is glistening with sweat, his overly tight shirt soaked through at the chest and pits. His gelled hair has softened into sticking to his tacky, dewy forehead, and though his pants are undone, he cups both hands over his crotch shamefully.
“What is?” Your tongue barely unsticks from the roof of your mouth to ask.
“The, um, hah. I’m feeling less… lightheaded.”
Oh. Makes sense.
“I think going from an orthostatic position to a clinostatic one might have evened out your intracranial pressure, considering most of your blood went—”
From the couch, Jayce whines lowly.
“I don’t even know half of those words. Please just… nhh, just get over here.“
And you do, trembling still with the guilt of it all, just as much as you’re keeping a tight, firm (and slipping) leash on your gaze.
As if he’s read your thoughts, Jayce speaks up.
“You can look. If… you want—“
If you want, Christ almighty. Of course you do. You should be thinking of anything else, except for—
Your breath cuts short as you glance down the sweaty, hairy plane of his heaving stomach, to the palms cupped over his own cock as though he’s trying to hide it, or contain it, and desperately failing. A burgundy red, sticky wet tip nudges apart his hands, dripping as furiously as a cunt.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, because a wretched part of you enjoys this. Enjoys seeing him squirming, whining, when you should be using all that brainpower to find a way to fix your own mess. “I’m really sorry, Jayce.”
“I know. Just—“ He shakes his head. “Now what?”
“Go ahead,” you stutter out, followed by a nervous gulp. “Carefully. With a drug like this in your system, I think you should tread lightly. Generally my mice had heightened sensitivity to touch, so…”
You can hear him gulp.
“Okay. Got it. G-gentle.”
You nod.
“Exactly.”
It’s with trembling hands that he unshields the most vulnerable, and currently painful part of himself, and with a girlish, loud gasp that he responds to just his own touch — a two-fingered pinch of the foreskin below the ridge of his tip.
“Oh, god,” Jayce cries and lets go like it burns him to touch. Between his spread legs, his cock throbs. “That, hah, I can’t. M-my hands are too rough, it hurts. Shit, do you have, l-lube, oil, something.”
“No.” Your mouth starts to water before the idea reaches your brain, instinctually hungry for it. “But I could—“
He looks like he’s about to ask for clarification — Jayce is not one to read between the lines with a particular ease even in sobriety — but when you gulp down a mouthful of your spit and lick your lip with the rest, he shivers.
“O-oh. Oh.” His brain visibly catches fire behind his eyes once the implication clicks, his breath comes out in a shallow, almost scared little gasp. Like you’d damn near proposed eating him whole instead of servicing him. “Fuck. Okay?”
But his cock twitches as if to nod in agreement as you inch closer, and shuffle to your knees between his legs on the couch.
You cradle his dewy hips in your palms like he’s the most fragile little thing instead of a heaving, desperate mountain of muscle, and go through the difficult feat of not looking at his cock in favor of his wide, baby deer eyes.
“Is this okay, Jayce?”
“No,” he blurts. Your heart sinks. “Jesus, sort of. I d-don't know what I was even thinking. I should’ve— God, I could have asked you out for dinner. There are, l-like, a billion other ways to—“
He interrupts himself with a gulp.
Oh.
“…to what?”
Jayce Talis, a man wide enough to rival a door frame, shrinks to something so small and pathetic it’s unrecognizable. He grinds his teeth, eyes lidded beneath long, pretty lashes, before he lets the confession out in an exhale, like he wants to rid himself of it and crawl away.
“…to get your attention.”
“Oh, Jayce.” It’s with a trembling hand that you coax his chin up to face you, with a trembling thumb that you press over his raw-bitten lip. “Come here.” And it’s with trembling lungs that you kiss him.
He moans from that alone. A high and hurt sound, but he presses himself up into it and into you. Licks and hums and sucks at you like you’re feeding him delicacies, follows you with the same open mouthed kiss even as you pull away.
“Touch me,” he gasps after you part. His mind is a whirlwind, his wide-blown pupils darting from the slick of your lips to your eyes; Jayce hiccups with something that sounds almost like a sob as his lids squeeze shut. On either side of your waist, his knees jump. “Fuck, I need you s-so bad it hurts…“
“Sweet thing.” A desperate, puppydog nuzzle into the cup of your hand when you slide from holding his chin to cradling his stubbled cheek. You pat him gently, seeking to soothe, and he lets you. Kisses into your palm when you stroke his cheek, looks at you through long, dark lashes. “It’s okay. Gonna take care of you.”
“Hah.” Jayce’s exhale leaves him in a tremble that squeaks out of him on his last mouthful of air. Between his legs, you’ve cupped a hand over his own. Though he can’t even feel it on his cock, his hips still fuck into his palm at the mere notion of you, there.
“I’ve got you,” You coo, prodding at the soft, tender flesh between his fingers.
He yields. Jayce always does, when it comes to you. He’s fever-hot between his hips, stubby and thick with blood. Veins bulge across the expanse of his lower stomach, converging to the root of his pulsing erection. He’s glistening all the way from blood-purpled crown to full balls, smeared in his own slick. He’s swollen like a bruise, and dripping like an open wound.
Jayce wheezes like he’s been punched when you cradle the heft of him, sac and all, in a gentle, relievingly cold hand. You can hear his teeth gnashing next to your ear, thighs squeezing around you. He whimpers when he palpably pulses in your palm like his cock has a mind of its own, drooling sticky and abundant where the heel of your palm seams to your wrist.
His neck is fragrant with equal parts musk and the salt of fresh sweat, not a single note of his rich scent synthetic. Something about it is markedly different — it’s less tangy and more intoxicating, as though he’s dripping with nectar designed to make you want to sink your teeth into him.
“God, you smell good.” Your voice snuffs out into his neck, sends him vibrating.
“I’m not,” Jayce chokes on his own words, “w-wearing any fragrance.”
“Humans aren’t… we’re not receptive to pheromones, but—“ you take another indulgent whiff of him, “fuuuck. This is probably as close as it gets. Just sniffing you makes me feel… hungry, almost. Hungry for you.”
The implication clicks.
“Hah. Mh-maybe I’m s-sweating it out?” Jayce hazards. “The aphrodisiac.”
That would track. Could track. You have to wrangle down the scientist’s urge to grab a swab and a vial for a sample of his sweat. Lapping it up will have to do — and fuck, does it. There’s not a single thing about the way you lick at his neck that is methodical — it’s a haphazard, desperate, canine impulse to lap up all you can get of that dizzying, potent concoction that is half Jayce and half distilled sex. It’s cloying and overwhelming on your tongue like pure honey, it feels as though it’s lancing itself straight through the mucosa of your mouth and nose into your rushing, rabid bloodstream.
“Yeah,” you blurt dumbly. “I think… yeah. I think you might be.”
At that, Jayce lets out a disbelieving chuckle that’s almost as sweet as him.
You’re gonna lick him clean after you’re done with him. But right now, no matter how much everything in your brain screams to suck the drug off his skin, he needs tending to. He’s aching in your palm, you can practically feel it radiating off his cock with the heat.
Working your way down is a quick affair, aided by the fact that his damp shirt covers him like cling film does leftovers — just barely, but enough to keep you from him regardless. It’s only at the bottom of his shirt, somewhere around the middle of his hipbones, that you find skin again. Like water in a desert.
You drink it up, licking and sucking at the valleys between the engorged veins that run down his pelvis, until Jayce all but squirms with need.
“Please,” he gasps out. His cock nudges the notch of your collarbone, sticky on your skin. “Please, please, please…”
“Shh, I know, baby.” It slips out before you can think on it, your tongue feels soft and drunk, but it’s exactly what he needs to hear. His cock drools so furiously that droplets start leaking off your collarbone and into your shirt like it’s a broken faucet.
“‘M close,” Jayce cries, “I’m sorry.”
God, like that’s even a thing to be sorry for.
“Don’t hold back when you get there, okay?” A kiss to the root of his hard-on, his hips cradled in your hands. A kiss to the side of it. The skin of his cock is feverish, buttery smooth, straining with each pulse. “Let it happen.”
The fat crown of his cock fits like a puzzle piece on your curled tongue. Lodges between it and your palate like it’d been made to. Jayce doubles over at the first suckle you grace him with, gasping like you’ve stabbed him, fumbling for your hand to intertwine and squeeze. The one he isn’t holding slides between his legs to fondle his smooth sac between your fingers. It’s when your lips kiss the base and you swallow, that you feel his balls drawing up tight, and his cock bursting with seed.
“Oh, god,” he sobs, a delirious mixture of relief and hurt while his thighs clench around your head and cock spurts into your mouth. It’s abundant, a solid mouthful pumps into your mouth within the first few seconds. Though you guzzle it so greedily you must hold your breath to keep up, it isn’t enough.
His cum dribbles around your lips even as you desperately drink all he gives you, his cock pulses and jerks and all but feeds you with his cum. You wonder, distantly, half-drunk on it, how it’s even remotely physically possible, to be leaking out this much.
“Fuck, it’s not—!” Jayce’s legs have gone from clenching around you to thrashing and twitching on either side of you like he’s a bug turned wrong side up; he thrashes like his orgasm’s squashing him. “Ah, s-stop,” he pleads his own body, grabbing for the root of his cock as though he might choke down the stream of his own cum. His voice cracks with a wet, broken sob. “Please, stop, p-please—!”
He’s well past comprehensible thoughts after his next sob. All he manages are warbled, animal sounds, whimpering through his nose and hissing once his cock finally goes from gushing to a trickle that’s comfortable to nurse on, easy to keep up with. The post-orgasm hurt finds him suddenly, you don’t feel quite ready to stop tonguing and suckling on him when he pushes at the crown in your head in a limp, desperate plea. His stomach is visibly pulsing under the palm of your hand with the inertia of his brutal orgasm, you hold him down, steady.
When you pull away to look at him, at his rigid cock, swinging from the momentum of sliding from your mouth and oozing still, something within you cries at the mere notion of seeing it wasted.
“Holy shit, it’s still g-going,” Jayce grits out.
“Yes. Looks to me,” you stop for a desperate breath, “like you’re not done, Jayce.”
“W-wait, wait,” he warbles, broken and damn near scared for his life.
He curls up like a wounded animal when you suck him back into your mouth, knees folding until he can rest his head against one, staring down at you in drugged, delighted horror.
You shove both hands into the soft underbelly of his bent knees, and you keep him there, folded up as though he’s the one to be bred.
He cries for it the same way, like a bitch in heat, beyond words. All tender, feral little noises, he whines and whines and whines, pawing at his own legs, then arching his tits as he’s reaching up to anchor himself to the couch like you’re plowing him into it, instead of draining him a second time. When you let go of one of his knees to bring a thumb to his swollen taint and rub it like a clit, he’s done in.
Jayce cries; the genuine, snotty kind. He’s damp with his tears, sobbing and sniffling and trembling all over, from head to spine to feet, and he comes so violently, it sounds like death.
This time around, his cum is not so abundant. Not so thick and cloying; it’s a runny mess that’s easier to drink, salty like his tears, as though he’s crying with his cock, too. You suck on him until he’s truly gone dry, stroking from asshole to balls on his taint as though you’re trying to squeeze all you can out of him. His legs still kick out into thin air every once in a few suckles, as though he might try to get away, but it’s all futile. You decide when it’s over, and that is only once his cock starts to go limp on your tongue, when you’ve stopped tasting fresh salt. When you pull away, a gossamer string connects you to his tip in one final, long-distance kiss.
He’s breathing like he’s run a marathon. Like he’s on the tail end of bleeding out. When his eyes flutter open just barely enough to lock you into his vision for a moment, he goes cross-eyed the next, and it’s lights out in his overwhelmed mind.
“Jayce?”
Every part of him is lax, pliable, boneless, as though you’ve pulled him apart so far that he’s gone unstrung like a puppet. By the time you have the mind to climb up his body and press your ear to his chest to make sure he’s still breathing, he stirs with a hurt groan.
“Hoooly shit,” Jayce slurs. Clumsily, he paws at your back, pulling you up until he has the space to burrow under your chin.
“Okay. There you are.” You hold him steady right where he is, cradling him close and gentle while he pieces himself back together. His ribs expand against you with every brutal breath, his spine rattles with a shiver. “You scared me for a second.”
His breath mingles with a dry, hollow gulp, he coughs just barely.
“Jesus,” he wheezes, “that— whoa. Hah. It felt like my brain blew a fuse. I th-thought I fuckin’ died.”
“Looked like it, too.” You share an exhilarated chuckle with him.
“Did I… was I out?”
“Just a few seconds. Syncope.”
“Oh. I’m sorry if I,” he wheezes again, voice reverberating hot into the side of your throat, “I usually… not for that long, not that much, it was… I’ve never…”
“It’s alright,” you assure. A pat between his shoulders that has him nudging closer. “I figured. Don’t worry, you were… perfect.”
Between lidded lashes, Jayce looks at you with a gaze so sweet it squeezes at your heart. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You stroke his damp cheek and kiss the top of his head. “How are you feeling, Jayce?”
He draws a fortifying breath, letting it out in a long, winded sigh.
“Lightheaded still,” he confesses. “But… better. Definitely. Uh… Thank you. For…” he clears his throat awkwardly, “for everything.”
That doesn’t sit right.
“Jayce, you let me test a highly unsafe drug on you and passed out. You definitely shouldn’t be thanking me.”
One of his arms wraps around you, and he cuddles closer like an enamored little animal. The both of you are sticky all over. You don’t give a single shit, because you have Jayce Talis, balls drained, heart eyes, voice shaking, in your arms.
“I’m… mmmh, definitely not mad, though.” He chuckles. “This was the best orgasm I’ve ever had. The best blowjob, too.” You can hear his voice turn smug while he takes a short break as if to ponder what he tells you next. “Yeah, I’d say this is now in my top three ranking of illegal experiments I was a part of.”
“Oh my god. Top three? What are you and Viktor getting up to in your lab?”
“Listen.” He shrugs. “Orgasms just… hah, can’t hold a candle to the pleasure of having a hypothesis proven right.”
You roll your eyes. “Nerd.”
“Yeah, speaking of um, that,” Jayce traces the lazy brush of his lips up the column of your neck, “what I’m thinking, is,” a kiss to the angle of your jaw, “maybe you could really use some more data?”
Oh, he’s insatiable.
“Hmm. lf you’re offering.” Your smile slots into his own, your words kiss his lips before they make it to his ears, “I think I’d benefit from a demonstration of your usual… um, process, before any more trials with the drug involved, though.”
At your response, he chuckles smugly.
“Yeah, see? Takes a nerd to know one.”
He licks between your lips like a kitten, like the first lap at sugary candy, while his hand finds your own. You expect a squeeze, an interlacing of fingers, but the rough parts of his palm cup over your knuckles.
“I don’t think I could walk you through my usual process right now, unfortunately.” Jayce guides your hand back to his stomach. At your fingertips, his cock strains. Again. “Because it looks like I’m definitely down for another drugged trial run.”
“Well.” You laugh through your nose, and cup his erection bodily, boldly. Though he’s thick and ready, his cock is not as swollen as before. Sticky with dried spit and fresh cum, Jayce nudges himself into your palm with a stifled whine that turns full-lunged when you well and truly grasp him. “I’m not about to complain about an opportunity for extra data acquisition.”
“A-as for, the f-frame of reference you wanted,” he begins, even as you begin to stroke him in earnest. “I don’t know the half life of this thing, but, Sunday? W-would Sunday work? We could— hah, uhm, dinner. Before that.”
You twist your grip around his tacky cockhead, and Jayce wails with bliss.
“Yeah, I can definitely do Sunday.” You kiss his lips again. “It’ll be my treat.”
Between desperate little whimpers, Jayce manages a smile so boyish it radiates.
yearner!jean isn’t remotely as suave and smooth as he portrays himself, not with his friends, not with giggling, blushing girls who approach him and ask for his number, and certainly not with you
yearner!jean whose honeyed eyes shot open wide, blinked rapidly, and nearly watered when he saw you for the first time, across the room, almost infuriatingly unaware of how pretty you were. so pretty it almost made him sick, like eating a much too sweet dessert far too quickly.
yearner!jean who tries to be the cool guy, because that’s what pretty girls like, right?
yearner!jean glides over to you, hands ‘casually’ shoved in his pocket, when he was really just attempting to hide the nervous tremors of his hands. boyish grin on his face, lips tugged upwards as he dropped the most cliché lines possible
yearner!jean stood by your side, yapping away whilst simultaneously withering away into dust the more his mouth moves because every word he says comes out a mess, idiotic, and maybe even unintentionally insulting because of his nerves
yearner!jean mentally curses himself every time he sees your face drop more and more and more. fuck, maybe he should give up.
yearner!jean scratching the back of his neck, pausing, his smile turns more bashful, maybe he should try being more earnest.
yearner!jean whose compliments turn sweeter, more real and kind, but his dulcet voice still cracks and shakes, his Adam’s apple still bobs nervously, and his eyes are still unable to meet yours for longer than a few mere seconds
yearner!jean was confused, utterly befuddled and perplexed that his pathetic attempt at being a playboy didn’t work, yet swallowing thickly before profusely apologising after accidentally calling you ‘urethral’ instead of ‘ethereal’ caused you to giggle so much you teared up
‘just shut up, here’s my number, ‘kay?’ you smile, still recovering from your laughter at his expense
yearner!jean who walks away, fist pumping the air when he gets your number before he looks around him to make sure no one saw (eren and connie did, much to his dismay).
yearner!jean who overthinks a little too much, connie jokes that his good looks are going to waste considering he seemed to turn girls off the moment he starts running his mouth
yearner!jean spends far too long debating on how long he should wait to text you, an hour? no, too early. what about later tonight? no, that might make it seem like a booty call. a few days? no, that’s too long, what if you forget about him before then? fuck, he’s losing it
yearner!jean when he finally decides to text you he types out around fifty trial messages, deleting each one because they’re either too dry and boring or concerningly eager
‘hey’ that’s lame
‘heyyy wydd’ sounds like a frat boy
‘hiiii!!! :)’ he’s texting like sasha
‘hey, it’s jean from earlier’ that’ll do, he guesses
yearner!jean loses the plot when you take too long to respond, he probably came off weird and too excited, now he’s scared you off. he’s rapidly texting connie, and that’s how jean knows he’s off in the deep end because when has he ever gone to connie for advice?
yearner!jean you’re just so pretty, those gorgeous, bright eyes of yours, not in colour specifically, but the sweet gleam in them is impossible to ignore. your hair, how do you get it so fucking perfect? and your smile, your laugh? god, your smile. he wishes he could immortalise it, but his sketches would never do it justice. do you justice in general.
yearner!jean scrambles for his phone any time he hears a notification come through and rolls onto his stomach, like a teen girl in a 80’s rom-com, twirling the phone cord around her finger when on the phone with her crush.
yearner!jean fuck it’s you, it’s actually you. and in fact, he hadn’t scared you off, you were just at work. god, he’s a loser. who even panics this much over a girl they just met? jean kirstein apperently
yearner!jean screams into his pillow, rubs his hands down his face and sighs in relief when he managed to get a date with you
yearner!jean who much to his disliking is now forced to ask his idiot friends for advice again because he needs to take you on the date of a life time
warnings: smut, extremely gentle loving throat fucking bc jean is never rough he is a lover boy end of <3
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
he’s big. tall, broad shoulders, a strong and solid chest, hard, defined abs and beefy arms. so so big, yet so unbelievably gentle and sweet with his soft, lovely girl.
he rarely denies you, he thought hell would freeze over the day he told you ‘no’, but when you asked him to go rough? to fuck you harder? god, he couldn’t say yes. he could see how bad you wanted it, watery, pleading eyes, but he just couldn’t.
if he left even a single mark, whether it be a bruise or a hand print that stayed etched into your skin just a little too long, he’d consider committing a felony. honest to god.
with jean, it’s gentle, tender caresses, entwined hands, soft kisses, and filthy, yet somehow the most loving and romantic praises.
he’s not fucking your throat, he’s making love to it. on his knees, somehow still so tall and imposing, he hovers over you whilst you lay against the cushiony headboard with his cock slowly dragging in and out of your mouth with each careful movement of his hips.
when you manage to take him all, he coos through your gagging and spluttering, guitar string calloused hand cupping your jaw as his thumb smoothes across your chin, wet and sticky from drool and cum.
“there we go, baby,” he whispers, voice low and awestruck, honey glazed irises blown as he looks down to you, so fucking pretty with your mouth full of his cock, previously perfect lipgloss smeared around your lips. “so, so good f’me, yeah?”
preening and whining upon his praise, a blissed out smile tugs his lips upward, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his infuriatingly perfect teeth. “atta girl, f-fuck-“
it only gets better when he’s close. your ears are blessed with that little whimpery stutter, he sings your high praises even louder than before, and his knuckles turn that delicious white as he grips the headboard harder.
“shit, baby-“ he’s rutting into your mouth that little bit faster, which is perhaps the closest to rough you’ll even get with jean.
“g-gon’ cum, shit, gonna cum inside this pretty mouth, honey,” he croons with the softest of voices one could manage when on the brink, “y’ gonna swallow it, yeah? fuck, tell me you’re gonna swallow baby? p-please?”
you nod, nails digging into his thighs while more drool pools out of your soft lips, and that’s all he needs.
jean never holds back with his grunts and groans, he never keeps his thoughts to himself, you deserve to know how good you’re making him feel, you deserve kindness, you deserve gentleness.
and you deserve to cum at least three times after making your loving boy feel so fucking good.
a/n: spent way too long writing this bc i love reiner
words: 9.3k
cw: lowkey bff!jean, she/her pronouns and fem anatomy reader, soldier!reader, pre-timeskip friends/lovers, betrayal, forgiveness, reiner is pathetic, angsty, kinda serving friends to enemies to lovers, SMUT!!, oral (f!reader recieving), pinv sex, breeding, MDNI !!
˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡
Reiner was taller now, even if it was hard to believe. Maybe not as tall as Bertholdt was, but taller. Not only that, but while he maintained some of the more prominent muscles in his figure, it was noticeable how much weight he had lost. His hair was slightly longer - maybe he didn't keep up with cutting it as much as before. But to be fair, the change wasn't necessarily drastic. Not like the amount of facial hair he let grow out, which was completely ridiculous but so on brand for him.
But what did you care?
Your gaze lingered on him a moment longer, practically having to force yourself to look away from the man you swore was dead to you. But he wasn't, was he? He was standing right there, talking to Connie and Jean like nothing happened. As if the night prior Jean didn't literally punch him. Did they all just forgive him suddenly? Traitors.
You sighed. Maybe you were being dramatic.
The only thing you wanted to hear now was the sound of the water swishing beneath the boat, maybe even a seagull. But it was like you couldn't drown out his voice. It hadn't changed. It was exactly as you'd remembered it being about four years ago. Though, back then you swore you'd found it charming.
Odiha. That's where you were going, what you were focusing on, in order to service the flying boat that would help you and your fellow scouts reach the Rumbling, you needed to reach Odiha. To stop Eren. So why was Reiner's presence bothering you so much?
Reiner was your best friend at one point. When you first joined the cadet corps, it was obvious you were nervous to anyone who took a second to look. And for that, most people didn't see you as a potential reliable comrade.
Most people.
Reiner liked you. He had once playfully claimed you made funny faces during sparring exercises and took you under his wing, seeing your potential. Back then, Reiner had a talent for making anyone feel seen. Even stubborn cadets like Annie seemed to at least tolerate him, maybe even respect him.
So how could you not fall in love with him?
It was ridiculous how quick it happened. You were sure there were other girls vying for his attention just like you were, but you swore Reiner gave you special treatment. It was stupid.
Reiner would see you entering the mess hall and instantly make sure there was a spot open at his table for you. Bertholdt had typically sat across from him, but most of the time there was a spot directly next to Reiner conveniently available just for you. He'd call you by your last name over to their table, always a smile on his face, always so damn sure of himself.
"Bread?" He had offered, causing you to shake your head with a nervous smile on your face. Nervous. Not nervous enough, apparently. But that didn't matter—not when Reiner was offering you bread, or to train after hours with you, or take you into Stohess one weekend when you mentioned wanting a change of scenery.
"I know you wanted that muffin," Reiner said regretfully as you walked away from the bakery stall at the food market. "Sorry I couldn't get it for you."
You shook your head, mouth full from the cookie he'd already got for you just ten minutes prior. "It's fine, really," you assured him, words slightly muffled from the pastry.
Reiner simply smiled at you, taking a bite of his own cookie.
When you returned to Trost that evening as the sun was just beginning to set, the teasing from your comrades was relentless.
"Woah!" Connie had exclaimed, realization dawning on his face as he looked at you and Reiner entering the mess hall together. "Where've you been all day?" He asked, nosy as ever even if the answer was plain as day.
"A date. Is that really such a foreign concept to you?" Reiner had teased, making Connie grin mischievously.
A date. You had your suspicions that that's what it was, but Reiner hadn't explicitly said it. Not until Connie asked. The straightforward explanation made your heart race, gaze dropping instantly to your shoes as Connie's laughter filled the space.
"So that's why you've been polishing your boots and actually combing your hair. I was wondering what the special occasion was," Jean had said to you, his brow raised and arms crossed in a way that was so distinctly Jean. Despite the words, you were sure it was his own way of approving.
"Oh, my God, is that a hickey?" Sasha suddenly butt in, moving into your personal space. Her hands held your head in place as she stared at the scrape from training on your forehead.
"Hickey—what—Sasha, that's on my forehead!" You had defended, but it was too late. Multiple other cadets heard the word hickey and ran with it, causing a flurry of gossip surrounding you and Reiner. And Reiner didn't deny it. He just smiled at you, and somehow that made you feel better.
There were plenty of times he'd made you feel better. An embarrassing amount of times. A pathetic amount of times, considering what he might've been comforting you about.
You sniffled, attempting to straighten yourself out before dinner was served in the mess hall as you sat on a log on the outskirts of the training grounds, taking in the yellow and orange blend of sunset before you. Even with the view, your mind was elsewhere.
It hit you every now and then at random. Despite it happening almost five years ago, you had pushed the grief down as far as you could bury it when your family was killed during the breach of Wall Maria. You were so young when it happened, but suddenly you were alone. When the Armored had broken through the inner gate of the wall, your childhood home had been crushed by a stray boulder.
You were lucky. You came to terms with that at a young age. Far too lucky. It chipped away at you everyday since, even without you realizing. What made you so fortunate to have escaped? Avoided certain death like your family couldn't? What made that soldier step in and save you but not them?
The wondering was pointless, though. They died and you didn't. For some reason fate had kept you alive until now. And for that, you had to live with a purpose. Even if now that purpose was wiping your snotty nose and trying to compose yourself enough to go eat with your friends.
"Bread?"
You had looked up to see none other than Reiner holding out a small loaf, a second one for himself in his right hand. Hesitantly, you had taken it, using the moment Reiner sat down beside you to attempt to discreetly wipe at the tears on your cheeks.
He didn't ask. You supposed it wasn't his style, or maybe he just assumed you didn't want to talk about it.
Reiner simply took a bite of his bread next to you, leaning forward as he chewed. After moments of silence, Reiner looked at you for a second and then towards the sunset. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards into a soft, almost wistful smile, but he said nothing.
"What?" You finally asked.
He almost replied with "nothing," you could tell, but he sighed and leaned back, either hands at his sides resting on the log. "You know what I miss most about home?" Reiner asked, his gaze locked with the sky. "The way the sun would rise over the hills," he stated.
You realized you'd never talked about it—why you were crying that day. To be honest, you didn't want to. Something about his presence had just put you at ease back then, to the point you forgot all of your troubles.
When graduation drew near, you weren't even sure what Reiner's plan was. Everyone knew his perfect scores got him into the top ten, eligible to enlist as a military police officer in the interior. That would've been great for him, but you weren't sure where that left you.
You weren't with Reiner when the Collosal titan had appeared and breached the wall into Trost. But you were there when Eren was discovered to be a titan himself.
From there, something in Reiner had shifted.
Back then, you figured it was realization of some sort. Realization that things were complicated, things were scary, things were real...
Things got even more real when Marco died. Marco wasn't someone you were close with, but he was always there, always kind. If someone as capable as Marco, as determined, as strong, as kind as Marco could die, what would that mean for you and your friends?
Many cadets dropped out that day, despite graduation being so close. You almost did as well. Especially upon seeing Jean's reaction to Marco's death, you didn't know if you had the guts to continue.
But Reiner always had to step in.
"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," he said, his strong hand on your shoulder. "Look at me," he commanded softly. You hesitated but met his eyes. They were serious, and almost cold now. Different from how they used to look at you. "I know you've got what it takes."
And that was that. Along with Jean, who was sure he'd join the military police, you joined the Survey Corps, falling under the wing of the Commander Erwin Smith.
You were terrified, but you had Reiner.
Things in your lives seemed to come to a halt when Annie was revealed to be a titan. And then Ymir, along with Krista being some kind of royalty and living with a completely different name—Historia.
It was all confusing and overwhelming, and you really wished Reiner was there for you. And he was, physically, always there. But then he was distant. Even when sitting directly beside you during meals like he did before, his focus was obviously elsewhere.
And then it happened.
You revisited that day often. When Reiner and Bertholdt transformed, and everything you thought you knew came crashing down.
You couldn't even cry, or scream, or do much of anything. You'd learned a long time ago to accept these things, but God did it hurt.
Then he was gone. He and Bertholdt, back to wherever they came from—their "hometown" as they so often called it. You didn't know back then, and you'd honestly stopped caring.
When Eren was rescued from them, he tried telling you on the way back what Reiner had said in response to him screaming at them. Eren had brought you up, telling Reiner about all the pain and trauma you endured years ago when the inner gate of Wall Maria was broken and your family was killed.
Sorry. Sorry was what he said, according to Eren.
What a coward.
The next time you saw Reiner was a few months later. But it wasn't really him. It was the Armored titan, the same one you remember from childhood who had breached the wall. And now here you were, back in Shiganshina with your fellow scouts.
The bloodshed was monumental in Shiganshina. Bertholdt had died, but Reiner lived—barely. You weren't there when Hange and Jean had captured him. And you were grateful you weren't. Just three months after discovering his true self, you knew you'd do something stupid like let him go if you had been there. But that part wasn't really up to you, and he got away regardless.
That's when you discovered the truth of everything. The titans, the walls, Paradis, Eldians.
You wished you could hate him. But everyday you'd hoped for the day you could speak to him again, just once.
Those feelings seemed to have formed into anger as the years passed. And by the time you and your fellow soldiers raided Liberio, you basically lived in a shell. You promised your comrades you weren't going to allow feelings to get in the way, and you delivered.
So much happened in such a short amount of time it was difficult to even remember it properly.
You remembered seeing him—really him—for the first time again on Paradis. He was almost pathetic looking now, but a part of your heart still yearned for him.
Were the feelings even the same, though?
You and the rest of the scouts had to compromise and join forces with the Warriors in order to put a stop to Eren's plan to go through with the Rumbling. It was the first night that Jean brutally punched Reiner at the campfire. Years ago, you might've blindly taken the side of Reiner. Hell, if he said a word to you since being back on the island maybe you would've defended him. But he didn't. So you let it happen.
When the kids, Gabi and Falco, rushed to Reiner's side after the altercation, you felt as though you needed to physically drag yourself away to avoid saying anything to him.
Instead, you found Jean, cooling off in the outskirts of the woods. His head was in his hands, leaning against a tree as he shook.
You placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to jump. You made eye contact, but he was quick to look away. Though, your small touch grounded him.
"Sorry about that," Jean apologized. "I got carried away." His voice was breaking, you'd noticed, but you shook your head.
"Don't apologize," you replied.
You made a choice that evening. The choice to stay loyal to your comrades instead of blindly following Reiner like you did when you were a dumb kid. But it didn't make it any less difficult when he stood there on the boat looking almost like he had years ago.
The expression on his face was that of determination. And the people at his side were none other than Jean and Connie.
You scoffed, pulling your gaze away from the men and staring off into the vast ocean—the ocean you didn't even knew existed years ago; the ocean Reiner didn't bother mentioning to you those nights you sat together for hours.
You'd gone over every emotion the past four years. You saw his side as best you could. Even so, it was hard to forgive. Especially when Reiner himself hadn't made an effort to speak to you.
"Hey." You didn't look up, you knew it was Jean.
"You gonna talk to loverboy or what?" He asked after a beat of silence. You finally lifted your head to shoot him a glare. Jean simply smiled, looking back at where Reiner and Connie were still talking and then back to you, sitting beside you on the bench.
You remained quiet for a moment after Jean sat beside you, your fingers absently picking at a loose thread on your sleeve. The gentle rock of the boat beneath you seemed to match the churning in your stomach.
"I'm not talking to him," you finally said, keeping your voice low despite the distance between you and the others.
Jean snorted. "Right. Because ignoring him is working so well for you."
You shot him another glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You've been staring at him every chance you get since yesterday." Jean's knowing smile widened as your cheeks flushed with heat. "Don't worry, he's been doing the same thing."
Something fluttered in your chest at his words, but you quickly tamped it down. "Has he... said anything?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice smaller than you intended.
Jean chuckled, that same knowing look in his eyes that made you want to shove him off the bench and into the sea. But then his expression softened.
"No," he admitted. "But it's getting annoying watching you two dance around each other like this. You look at him when he's not looking, he looks at you when you turn away. It's really embarassing for both of you."
You sighed, turning your gaze back to the endless blue horizon. The vastness of the ocean still amazed you, even now. "Well, if he wanted to talk, he would've said something by now."
"Maybe he's thinking the same thing about you," Jean pointed out.
"That's different," you protested weakly.
"How?"
You opened your mouth to respond but found you didn't have an answer that wouldn't sound childish. Jean was right, and you both knew it.
"Look," Jean said, his voice gentler now, "I'm not exactly Reiner's biggest fan. You were there when I..." He flexed his hand, the same one he'd used to punch Reiner the night before, his knuckles reddened now. "But we're all stuck here together now. And whatever was between you two—"
"There was nothing between us," you interrupted, the lie bitter on your tongue.
Jean gave you a flat look. "You're a terrible liar. Always have been."
You looked down at your hands, suddenly finding your fingernails fascinating. "It doesn't matter now anyway."
"Maybe not," Jean agreed. "But you're never going to stop wondering if you don't at least talk to him once. Really talk to him."
The silence between you stretched for several long moments as you considered his words. The rational part of you knew he was right. This tension, this unspoken thing hanging in the air between you and Reiner, it would only continue to distract you. And with what lay ahead—with Eren and the Rumbling—you couldn't afford distractions. And more importantly, you didn't want to die with regrets.
"Fine," you muttered, standing up with a resigned sigh.
Without waiting for some type of reaction from Jean, you turned and made your way across the deck toward where Reiner and Connie stood. Your heart hammered against your ribs with each step, and you briefly considered turning back. But Jean's words echoed in your mind—you would never stop wondering if you didn't at least try.
Connie noticed you first, his animated conversation with Reiner faltering as you approached. Reiner turned, and for a moment, you were transported back to those days in the mess hall—him turning to call your name, saving you a seat beside him.
But his eyes weren't the same. They carried a weight now, dark shadows beneath them speaking of sleepless nights and unshakable guilt.
"Um, I'll just..." Connie mumbled, already backing away, but you barely registered his departure.
You stopped a few feet from Reiner, suddenly unsure what to say. All the anger, all the hurt, all the things you'd rehearsed in your head over the years—none of it seemed right now that he was standing in front of you.
"Can we talk?" The words came out steadier than you felt.
Reiner looked surprised, as if that was the last thing he expected to hear from you. He nodded once, hesitantly. "Yeah. Of course."
You nodded, and without another word, turned to lead the way to the stairs. You could feel his presence behind you as you descended into the dimly lit interior of the ship, the wooden steps creaking beneath your weight. The air was cooler here, tinged with the scent of salt and damp wood.
The sleeping cabins were arranged in a narrow corridor, small compartments with barely enough room for the bunks they contained. Most were empty now, with everyone gathered on the upper deck to watch the endless expanse of ocean passing by. You chose one at random, pushing open the door and stepping inside.
The room was tight, with just enough space for two narrow bunks built into the walls and a small porthole that cast a circle of fading evening light across the wooden floor. You sat on one of the bunks, the thin mattress sinking beneath your weight. Reiner hesitated at the doorway for a moment before entering and sitting on the opposite bunk, the space between you barely more than an arm's length but feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.
Reiner's shoulders hunched slightly, his large frame somehow seeming smaller in the confined space. His eyes darted around the cabin before finally settling on his hands, which were clasped tightly in his lap.
You found yourself remembering another small space you'd shared once, years ago during a thunderstorm. The supply shed had been the closest shelter when the rain had caught you both during evening training. You'd sat side by side on crates of gear, listening to the rain hammer against the roof, shoulders touching as Reiner told stories about his hometown to distract you from the thunder. And you remembered how you felt when he held your hand, the way his touch was so gentle, his fingers lacing with yours. Back then, his voice had been warm, his smile easy, his eyes bright with something that made your heart race.
Now, he sat across from you, silent and tense, his gaze fixed on the floor between your feet. The only sound was the creaking of the ship around you and the distant, muffled voices from above.
The silence between you stretched until it became unbearable. Your fingers dug into the thin mattress beneath you, knuckles turning white with the pressure.
"My family is dead because of you," you finally said, your voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the heavy air. The words hung there, raw and unavoidable. "Every time I look at you, I see that day. The Armored Titan breaking through the gate. The boulder that crushed our home."
Reiner didn't flinch, didn't look away. He just nodded slowly, his eyes hollow. "I know."
"You know?" A bitter laugh escaped your lips. "That's all you have to say? You know?"
"What do you want me to say?" His voice was flat, resigned. The voice of a man who had already condemned himself a thousand times over.
"I want you to say something—anything—other than 'I know,'" you snapped, the anger you'd been holding back finally beginning to surface. "I want you to explain how you could sit with me that day by the training grounds, offering me bread while I cried about my family, knowing it was you who killed them."
Reiner's gaze dropped to the floor again. "I don't have an explanation that would make any sense to you."
"Try me," you challenged, leaning forward. "I've had four years to think about this, Reiner. Four years to try to understand."
He looked up then, and the defeated emptiness in his eyes almost made you recoil. This wasn't the Reiner you remembered—the strong, confident soldier who always seemed to know what to say, what to do. This was a shell of that man, worn down by guilt and grief.
"I compartmentalized," he said after a long moment. "The Warrior and the Soldier. Sometimes, I... I forgot which one was real."
"And which one was it?" you asked. "Which version of you was real, Reiner?"
He shook his head slowly. "I don't know anymore. Maybe neither."
You stood up abruptly, unable to sit still with the storm of emotions churning inside you. The cabin was too small to pace properly, but you moved to the porthole, looking out at the darkening sky without really seeing it.
"Do you have any idea what your betrayal did to me?" Your voice was quieter now, but no less intense. "It wasn't just that you were the Armored Titan. It was that you were you. Someone I..." You swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "Someone I cared about. A lot."
You heard the bunk creak as Reiner shifted his weight but didn't turn to look at him.
"I nearly quit the Scouts after you left," you continued, watching your breath fog the glass of the porthole. "I couldn't understand how I could have been so wrong about someone. How I could have trusted you so completely."
Your fingertips pressed against the cool glass as memories flooded back—training together in the rain, his hands adjusting your grip on the ODM gear controls, his laughter at your terrible jokes, the way his eyes would find yours across the mess hall.
"And it wasn't just you," you said, your voice growing thick with unshed tears. "I haven't been able to truly trust anyone since. Not completely. There's always this voice in the back of my mind asking if they're hiding something too. If they'll betray me just like you did."
"I'm sorry," Reiner said, his voice barely audible.
You whirled around to face him, anger flaring hot and bright. "Sorry doesn't bring my family back! Sorry doesn't erase the fact that you lied to me for years! Sorry doesn't change the fact that every memory I have of us is tainted now because I don't even know if any of it was real!"
"It was real," Reiner said, standing up now, something finally sparking in his eyes. "That's what you don't understand. It was all real for me too."
"How could it be real when it was all built on a lie?" Your voice rose, echoing in the small space.
"Because I didn't know how to separate the lie from the truth anymore!" He took a step toward you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I just walked away and forgot about all of you—forgot about you?"
You stared at him, momentarily stunned by the sudden emotion in his voice.
"I've thought about you every single day since then," he continued, his voice breaking. "I see your face in my dreams. I hear your voice when it's quiet. You've been haunting me for four years, and I deserve it."
The raw pain in his voice knocked the breath from your lungs. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stared at him, really seeing him for perhaps the first time since you'd learned the truth—not as the Armored Titan, not as the Warrior, not even as the Soldier, but as Reiner. Just Reiner, broken and haunted and so very human.
"I know you hate me," he said, quieter now, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. "You should hate me. If I could go back and change what I did..."
"But you can't," you whispered.
"No," he agreed. "I can't."
The admission hung between you, simple and devastating in its truth. You couldn't change the past. Your family was still gone. The walls were still broken. And Reiner—your Reiner—had still been the one to do it.
But the man standing before you now, shoulders slumped under the weight of his actions, eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own—he wasn't the Armored Titan anymore. He was just as broken as you were.
Then suddenly you moved, your arms wrapping around his waist, your face pressed against his chest as sobs wracked your body. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady against your cheek, so at odds with the broken man it belonged to.
For a terrible second, he remained frozen, and you thought you'd made a mistake. Then his arms came around you, tight and desperate, one hand cradling the back of your head as he buried his face in your hair. His body trembled against yours, and you realized he was crying too—silent, shuddering sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside him.
The stubborn shame that had kept you both at arm's length dissolved in the salt of your mingled tears. There, in the dim light of the cabin, with the gentle rocking of the ship beneath you and the uncertain future ahead, you held each other like the last two survivors of a shipwreck—broken, exhausted, but somehow still alive.
You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, holding each other in the dim light of the cabin, your tears gradually subsiding into uneven breaths. His arms around you felt both familiar and foreign—the shape of him changed, but the way he held you still the same.
When you finally pulled back, just enough to look up at him, your faces were inches apart. Your hands had somehow moved to his shoulders, feeling the unfamiliar angles where muscle had once been. His eyes, red-rimmed from crying, searched yours with a question he didn't dare voice.
"I still hate what you did," you whispered, your voice hoarse. "I don't know if I can ever forgive that."
Reiner nodded slightly, accepting your words without defense. One of his hands had found its way to your face, his thumb gently brushing away a tear from your cheek.
"But I don't know how to hate you," you admitted, the confession tearing itself from somewhere deep inside you. "I've tried for four years, and I just... can't."
Something flickered in his eyes—a spark of something you hadn't seen since before everything fell apart. Hope, maybe. Or longing.
You weren't sure who closed the distance. Maybe both of you, drawn together like the inevitable pull of gravity. His lips found yours in a kiss that was hesitant at first, as if he expected you to push him away. When you didn't—when instead you pressed closer, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt—the hesitation gave way to a desperate need that matched your own.
Reiner's arms tightened around you, backing you against the wall beside the porthole. The cool glass pressed against your shoulder, a stark contrast to the heat of his body against yours. His kiss deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring into it as his tongue met yours.
You gasped against his mouth, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, longer now than you remembered. The scrape of his beard against your skin was new, and your heart skipped a beat at the way his breath hitched when you tugged gently at his hair.
When you pulled away again, breathless, his eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and pain. "I shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, even as his thumb traced circles on your hip. "After everything I've done..."
"Shut up," you murmured, pulling him back to you. "Just shut up, Reiner."
He made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob against your lips. "Still stubborn," he breathed.
Your hands tangled in his hair, eyes squeezed shut as you took in the feel of him. You were desperate, you knew. You felt pathetic, but you wanted him. Needed to be close to him.
"It's embarrassing how long I've wanted to do this," you murmured against his lips, your voice barely audible over the sound of your racing hearts.
His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes closed as he took an unsteady breath. "When we were back in training, that day in Stohess..." His voice was rough, trailing off as your lips found the curve of his jaw.
"Why didn't you kiss me then?" you asked, the question muffled against his skin.
Reiner's laugh was soft and broken. "I wanted to. Every second we were together." His hands slid down to your waist, anchoring you against him as if afraid you might disappear. "I told myself it was because of the mission. That I couldn't get distracted."
You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your hand coming up to touch his face, feeling the unfamiliar texture of his beard beneath your fingertips. "And the real reason?"
He swallowed hard, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "I was afraid that if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. That I'd tell you everything." The admission seemed to cost him, his voice barely above a whisper. "And then you'd hate me."
"I did hate you," you said quietly. "When I found out."
His eyes clouded with pain, but he nodded. "I know."
You leaned in, brushing your lips against his again, more gently this time. "But I hated myself more for still wanting this. For still wanting you."
Reiner's response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, his body pressing yours more firmly against the wall. One hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your hip, his touch both gentle and desperate. You could taste the salt of tears—whose, you weren't sure anymore—and something else, something uniquely him that you had tried so hard to forget.
The ship rocked with a stronger wave, causing you both to sway. Reiner's arm tightened around your waist, steadying you, and for a brief moment, you were back in the training grounds, his arms around you as he corrected your stance, his breath warm against your ear.
"I missed you," he breathed against your mouth, the words so quiet they might have been imagined. "Every day."
You didn't answer with words. You couldn't. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, alongside grief and betrayal and a hundred other emotions you couldn't name. But for now, in the dim light of the cabin with the sea stretching endlessly around you, you let yourself remember what it felt like to be in his arms.
Your lips found his again, harder this time, your teeth catching his lower lip in a way that made him groan. His hands tightened on you in response, lifting you slightly as he pressed you more firmly against the wall. The kiss deepened, grew more urgent, years of longing and hurt and need pouring into it.
The world outside—Eren, the Rumbling, the fate that awaited all of you—seemed distant and unreal compared to the solid warmth of Reiner against you, the familiar-yet-different taste of his mouth, the sound of his ragged breathing mingling with your own.
This wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But as his lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, tracing a path that made your breath catch, you realized it might be something like a beginning. A chance to finally confront all the things left unsaid between you, all the hurt and the betrayal, but also all the moments that had been real.
Reiner’s hands slid down your sides, fingers digging into your hips as he kissed you with a desperation that made your knees weak. The rough scrape of his beard against your skin sent shivers down your spine, and when his teeth grazed your bottom lip, you gasped—only for him to swallow the sound with another searing kiss.
This isn't at all how you expected your "talk" to go. Years of rehearsing different scripts in your head about how you'd tell him you hate him when you saw him, how you'd show him how it felt to feel betrayed and alone... All of those came crumbling down when he touched you like this, so gently but also so needy.
Not that the idea in general hadn't crossed your mind an embarrassing and pathetic amount of times. That, you couldn't deny. Since your cadet days you'd wondered what it would feel like with him, hoping he'd make a move. But he never did. Your heart skipped a beat when you felt the sadness well up inside you again, but that feeling quickly went away when he tilted his head to better kiss you.
His body pressed you harder against the wall, the heat of him searing through your clothes. You could feel the evidence of his arousal against your thigh, and the knowledge of how badly he wanted you—after all this time—sent a thrill through you.
Then, without warning, he broke the kiss, his breath ragged. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, lips swollen from yours.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice rough.
You didn’t.
A low sound escaped him, something between a groan and a growl, before his hands tightened on your waist—and then he was lifting you, turning, and depositing you onto the narrow bunk behind you in one swift motion. The thin mattress barely cushioned the impact, but you barely had time to register it before Reiner was on his knees between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs with a reverence that made your breath hitch.
His gaze flicked up to yours, searching, hesitant—like he still couldn’t believe you were letting him touch you.
"Please," he breathed, fingers curling into the fabric of your pants. "Let me taste you."
The raw need in his voice sent a jolt straight to your core. He was begging. Reiner—the man who had once been so confident, so sure of himself—was now on his knees for you, looking up at you like you were the only thing that could save him.
You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your throat. You also didn't expect it to go like this. The Reiner that you knew back then presented himself to be some kind of big leader, something you admired because of how he never seemed to let it go to his head. He was one of the strongest, but he was humble.
So seeing him like this, desperate between your legs, felt almost like culture shock.
But even so, being with him, feeling him, talking to him all felt so good. So good you could cry. "Okay," you breathed, nodding.
His fingers trembled slightly as he undid the fastenings of your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. Your cunt was already pathetically wet just from making out, and suddenly you just wanted to close your legs so he wouldn't see how much you affected him. Stubborn pride still warred inside you even now. The cool air of the cabin ghosted over your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Reiner’s breath as he leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, making your heart swell.
Reiner’s hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs brushing over the damp curls between them. His breath stuttered when he saw how wet you were, his fingers tracing your folds with agonizing slowness.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.
He kissed at your inner thighs some more, almost like he just couldn't get enough of the simple action. He'd lick at them, suck them, anything. Reiner was willing to drag this out, it seemed.
"Has anyone ever done this for you before?" Reiner asked, his tone carrying a mix of emotions, staring up at you with his pretty hazel eyes as he kissed at the soft skin of your thighs. Deep down, he selfishly hoped no one else had gotten to see you like this—feel you like this.
Your breath hitched at the sight, unable to pull your gaze away and similarly unable to stop your arousal and need as you felt yourself wet the sheets beneath you even further. "I don't see how that's any of your business," you replied stubbornly, wanting to keep the small amount of control you still held.
That gave Reiner all the answer he needed. "Hm," he responded, careful not to anger you, careful not to upset you. but also understanding and seeing just how much you wanted this—wanted him. And equally he was exceptionally aware of the way his cock twitched in his pants, desperate to make you feel good, desperate to feel your thighs around his head and your fingers against his scalp, desperate to hear you in these moments he's imagined you in so many times.
Reiner didn’t wait for another teasing remark from you—his mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue dragging a slow, filthy stripe up your soaked cunt, groaning against you like he’d been starving for this. The sound alone made your back arch off the bunk, a sharp gasp tearing from your lips as his hands clamped down on your thighs, holding you open for him.
He was messy—no finesse, no practiced rhythm, just pure, desperate hunger. His tongue lapped at you like he was trying to memorize your taste, his nose pressing against your clit as he buried his face between your legs. Every flick of his tongue was sloppy, wet, loud, the obscene sounds of his mouth working you filling the tiny cabin. You could feel his stubble scraping against your sensitive skin, the rough drag only making the pleasure sharper, more overwhelming.
“Fuck—Reiner—” Your fingers tangled in his blonde hair, gripping hard as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it between his lips. His groan vibrated through you, his hands sliding under your ass to tilt your hips up, giving him better access as he devoured you.
He was relentless, like he’d been waiting years for this—because he had. Every muffled sound he made against your cunt, every time his tongue plunged inside you only to drag back up, every time his lips sealed around your clit to suck—it was all too much, and yet you never wanted it to stop.
His enthusiasm was almost embarrassing, the way he moaned into you like he was the one being pleasured, his hips moving against his hand as he rubbed his cock through his pants. You could feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared across his chin, and the sight alone had your thighs trembling around his head.
Drool mixed with your arousal, dripping down his chin as he ate you out like a man possessed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you open for him as his tongue plunged inside you, fucking into you with rough, eager strokes before retreating to suck your clit again.
"Taste so good," he panted against you, his voice wrecked. "Fuck, fuck, I knew you would—"
His words cut off into a groan as he redoubled his efforts, his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit before he sealed his lips around it again, sucking hard. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you filled the cabin, obscene and perfect, and you could feel the way his hips rocked slightly against the bunk, rutting into nothing as he got off on just tasting you.
"Been thinking about this—" he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit in tight, relentless circles. "—every night—"
His fingers dug into your thighs, leaving marks as he held you down, refusing to let you squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.
"Close," you choked out, your hips jerking against his mouth. "I’m so close—"
Reiner growled, the sound vibrating through you as he sucked your clit into his mouth one last time, his tongue flicking over it rapidly—
And then you were coming, your back bowing off the bunk as pleasure crashed through you in waves. He didn’t let up, licking you through it, swallowing every drop of you as you shuddered and gasped above him.
When you finally went limp, panting, he pulled back just enough to look up at you.
His chest heaved, his eyes dark with need. But above that, it was like he needed some confirmation he did good.
"Fuck," he breathed. "Are you okay?"
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up your body until his weight settled over you, pressing you deeper into the thin mattress. His skin was fever-hot, his muscles taut with restraint, but his eyes—those damn hazel eyes—were soft, almost reverent, as he looked down at you.
You didn't answer, not verbally at least.
Your hand slid into his hair, gripping tight as you dragged his mouth to yours, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. A rough groan tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively, the hard length of his cock grinding against your still-sensitive clit through his pants.
His groan was muffled against your mouth as you licked into him, your fingers tightening in his hair. You could feel the way his body shuddered when you nipped at his bottom lip, the way his hips jerked forward instinctively, grinding his cock—so fucking hard against your thigh.
“God, you’re—” His voice broke as you kissed him again, rougher this time, your teeth dragging over his lip. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “Fuck, I need—please—”
"Reiner," you breathed, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Please fuck me."
You could feel it—the way his entire body trembled with the effort of holding back, the way his breath came in ragged bursts against your mouth. His hands fumbled with his belt, his fingers shaking as he undid the buckle, his cock springing free, thick and flushed and aching for you.
Reiner didn’t waste another second.
He hooked his hands under your knees, spreading you wider, his gaze locked on where your slick glistened between your thighs. His breath hitched, his cock twitching against your stomach as he lined himself up, the blunt head pressing against your entrance.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough.
You did.
His eyes burned into yours as he pushed inside, slow, so agonizingly slow, his jaw clenched tight as he fought to keep control. The stretch was delicious, the way your walls fluttered around him making his hips stutter.
“Fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel—Christ—you feel even better than I imagined.”
And then he was seated fully inside you, his hips flush against yours, his cock buried to the hilt. For a moment, neither of you moved—just breathed, just felt, the weight of years of longing crashing over you both.
Then—because he needed to see it, needed to know this was real—he leaned back on his heels, pulling out almost all the way just to watch the way your cunt clung to him, glistening and desperate, before slamming back in. His cock disappeared inside you, your wetness coating his dick as your body stretched to take him.
The sound you made was sinful.
Reiner’s hips snapped forward again, harder this time, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that made your toes curl. His grip shifted from your wrist to your hip, holding you in place as he fucked into you with slow, deep strokes—like he was savoring every second, like he wanted to memorize the way your body took him.
His dick glistened with your arousal, disappearing inside you with each thrust, your cunt gripping him like it was made for him. He couldn’t look away—couldn’t stop the way his breath hitched as he watched himself fuck into you, over and over, your body taking him so perfectly.
Reiner’s rhythm was relentless, each deep stroke dragging a gasp from your lips. His broad palm slid down your stomach, fingers gliding through your slick until his thumb found your clit, rubbing tight, rough circles that made your toes curl.
"There you go," he murmured, voice thick with praise as he watched your face twist in pleasure. "So fucking pretty when you take me like this. Can’t believe you’re real—can’t believe I get to have you."
You whimpered, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, for everything. Reiner moaned at the way your body clenched around him, his thumb pressing harder against your clit.
"Love the way you take me," he panted, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Like you were made for me, huh? Made to take my cock just like this—shit—"
Then, without warning, he leaned forward, his chest pressing flush against yours, his weight pinning you completely beneath him. The new angle made him sink deeper, his cock hitting a spot inside you that had your vision whiting out for a second.
"There," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "That’s it, sweetheart. Let me have you just like this—fuck—"
His thrusts turned slower but impossibly harder, each one dragging a broken moan from your lips. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you again, swallowing your gasps like he needed them to survive.
He braced himself above you, muscles taut, sweat glistening on his skin as he watched your face—every flutter of your lashes, every bitten-off moan—like he was memorizing you all over again.
His hips rolled into yours with a deep, almost reverent grind, pressing so deep you could feel him in your ribs. Your breath hitched as he lingered there, his tip nudging that perfect, aching spot inside you before pulling back with a slow, torturous drag that made your toes curl.
"Feel how deep I am?" he breathed, his fingers tightening on your hip as he rocked into you again, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. "Fuck, you’re perfect."
His voice was wrecked, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. But he didn’t rush—just kept moving inside you with that same maddening pace, every thrust a sweet torment.
"Could stay like this forever," he admitted, his lips brushing your jaw. "Just like this—buried inside you, feeling you clench around me like you never wanna let me go."
"Reiner," you whined.
"I've got you," he responded, hips never stopping.
And when your back arched, your body tightening around him, he didn’t speed up—just kept fucking you through it, his lips pressed to your neck, whispering praise as pleasure washed over you in waves.
Reiner’s thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping as your walls fluttered around him, pulling him deeper with each desperate clench. His breath came in ragged gasps, his forehead pressed against yours as he fought to hold on just a little longer.
“I—fuck—I’m close,” he groaned, his voice rough with need. His fingers dug into your hips, his rhythm faltering as pleasure coiled tight in his gut.
You arched beneath him, nails scraping down his back as you panted, “Inside… please, Reiner—I want you to cum inside me.”
His entire body tensed at your words, a shudder running through him. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with lust and something dangerously close to worship.
“Are you—fuck—are you sure?” he rasped, hips stuttering as he struggled to keep his pace steady.
You nodded, biting your lip as you clenched around him deliberately, drawing a broken groan from his lips.
“Yes,” you breathed. “Want to feel you—all of you.”
That was all it took.
Reiner’s restraint shattered.
"Fuck—gonna fill you up so good," he panted, his forehead dropping against yours. "Gonna make sure you feel it—"
You clenched around him, your own climax building again, and he cursed, his rhythm faltering.
"Come with me," he demanded, his voice wrecked. "Wanna feel you cum on my cock while I’m deep inside you—fuck—please—"
His words tipped you over the edge. Pleasure crashed through you, your body tightening around him in waves, and Reiner lost it.
With a growl that was almost feral, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pulsed inside you, hot and thick. His body shuddered violently, his fingers gripping you like a lifeline as he spilled deep, his release filling you in waves.
You could feel him pulsing inside you, his cock twitching as he rode out his orgasm, his forehead pressed to yours. When he finally stilled, he didn’t pull away—just stayed there, his body heavy and warm against yours, his breath slowly steadying.
After a long moment, he lifted his head, his gaze soft as he brushed a sweaty strand of hair from your face.
"Okay?" he murmured, his thumb tracing your cheekbone.
You nodded, your fingers lazily tracing the muscles of his back.
Reiner exhaled, something like relief—or maybe wonder—flickering in his eyes before he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.
"Good," he murmured against your mouth.
You lay in comfortable silence for what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Reiner's weight pressing you into the thin mattress, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, as though memorizing the feel of you. Neither of you wanted to break the spell, to acknowledge the world waiting outside this small cabin.
"I love you," you whispered finally, the words escaping before you could think better of them. They hung in the air between you, raw and honest.
Reiner stilled, his breath catching. Slowly, he raised himself up on his elbows to look at you, his hazel eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart skip. For a terrible moment, you thought you'd said too much, revealed too much of yourself to someone who had once betrayed you.
But then his expression softened, a genuine smile—one you hadn't seen in years—spreading across his face. "I love you too," he said, his voice steady and sure. "I always have."
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. "I know it doesn't change anything," he murmured. "I know it doesn't make up for what I did. But it's true."
His eyes grew serious again. "Whatever happens with Eren, with the Rumbling… I'm going to protect you. I promise."
Before you could respond, a sharp knock at the door made you both jump.
"Hey, you two done?" Connie's voice called through the thin wood. "There's food up on the deck if you're interested. Kinda limited, but better than nothing."
You and Reiner exchanged wide-eyed looks before scrambling to get dressed, movements frantic and clumsy in the small space. Your fingers fumbled with buttons and clasps as you tried to make yourselves presentable.
"Uh, yeah," Reiner called back, his voice remarkably steady considering his panicked expression. "We'll be right there."
You could hear the smirk in Connie's voice as he replied, "Take your time. Not like we can hear everything through these paper-thin walls or anything."
Your face burned as you hurriedly tucked in your shirt. Reiner looked equally mortified, though a small, almost boyish grin played at the corners of his mouth when your eyes met.
"Ready?" he asked softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.
You nodded, taking a deep breath before opening the door. Connie was waiting in the narrow corridor, a knowing grin splitting his face. Without a word, he turned and headed up the stairs, gesturing for you both to follow.
Reiner went first, and you couldn't help but notice the way Connie immediately engaged him in animated conversation as they climbed, acting as though nothing unusual had happened at all. Their voices faded slightly as they reached the deck above.
Jean appeared at your side as you finished climbing the stairs.
"So," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I take it the talk went well?"
You felt heat rise to your cheeks. "Yeah, really well," you replied, hoping that Connie was just teasing and no one else heard a thing.
"I just mean," he continued, a stupid and annoying grin on your face, "when I suggested you two clear the air, I didn't necessarily mean you should bring down the whole ship with your—"
Your face burned with embarrassment and fury. "I will literally throw you overboard, Jean," you hissed, shoving his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble back. "I swear to God—"
Jean laughed, ducking away from your next swing. "Hey, I'm happy for you guys! Honestly!" He held up his hands in surrender, still grinning as he backed up the stairs. "Just doing my part as your friend to give you shit about it."
OH, THE LOVERS SHE ONCE HAD & THE ONE SHE TRULY LOVED…
FIVE HUSBANDS
OFFICIAL MASTERLIST // AOT SERIES BY KINGKONOHA
˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ ˊ˗
eren, armin, jean, reiner, connie & levi x fem!reader
˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ୨୧ ˊ˗
You’re a famous woman. You’re a wealthy woman. And you went through several marriages to achieve your star status.
In Los Angeles, your life as a celebrity consists of flashing cameras, adoring fans, and money. However, there’s an ugly side of Hollywood — and the dark side of love and romance: obsession, manipulation, rumors, and death.
One of your lovers was your childhood friend. Another one was rich and dangerous. Two of them were musicians. One was an actor. Another one was your manager.
As you go from marriage to marriage and lover to lover in the midst of being in the public eye, only one person can have you. In the end, one of your admirers will end up being the true love of your life.
˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ ˊ˗
18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI - modern au, fem!reader, smut, fluff, angst, dark content, violence, toxic relationships, stalking, swearing, mentions of alcohol/drinking, death, pregnancy/children, unrequited love. any other potential warnings will be posted at the start of each chapter.
˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ୨୧ ˊ˗
Part I — THE OLD FRIEND
Part II — THE MUSICIAN
Part III — THE STAR
Part IV — THE MANAGER
Part V — THE RICH MAN
Part VI — THE GROUP
Part VII — THE OBSESSED ONE
Part VIII — THE ONE TRUE LOVE — PART I — PART II
˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 ୨୧ ˊ˗
Five Husbands Headcanons
The Trial - extra scene
The Tour - extra scene
♡ — 🎟️: This series is complete.
♡ — 🎟️: To avoid spoilers, filter the tag #five husbands spoilers (you can also search this tag and/or #five husbands series to read general asks/discussions!)
Warnings: MDNI 18+, explicit language, smut, p in v, squirting, oral receiving (m&f), spanking, kissing, mentions of gunshots, blood, bleeding, death, exclusive relationships.
Word Count: 28.3k
Disclaimer: All my characters are aged-up! If you have an issue with that, do not interact with my account or any of my posts.
Part two (coming soon)
Blood soaked the stone beneath him.
Neteyam lay sprawled on the jagged rock, gasping. The sea sprayed cool waves splashing water against his skin. The bullet wound buried in his chest burned like fire, but the real pain was deeper, each breath becoming harder to take. He tried to listen to what his parents where saying, to Lo’ak and Tsireya, but their words fell on almost deaf ears. He could hear their voices mixed with the distant chaos; shouts, gunshots, even the churn of the ocean, but everything was fading behind the haze of the pain.
He turned his head looking around maybe if he looked at them, he could focus on what they were saying. Neteyam is not anything if not determined. He wanted to do whatever he can even though he was currently in the worst shape of his life.
“Neteyam…your sisters…hold on my son!” His mothers voice rang from what he could pick up.
“Hold on boy…help is coming” his father’s voice was vulnerable clearly having a rough time keeping it together.
Lo’ak did not even try to hide his sobs as he held onto neteyam tightly, whether his hands could reach, “please don’t leave me…. sorry…sorry…never run off again!” His sobs and shouts were the loudest.
Tsireya didn’t say much, quiet sobs by his feet as she gave his family space, but she was one of his best friends now, she cried, and she cared about him so much. He didn’t want her first experience with war and death to be her best friend dying.
Lo’ak didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want to go, but his sisters were in danger, and he knew where they were being held. Jake was adamant they get them back before more of his children were injured, before neteyam died so they could say goodbye. Tsireya, she didn’t not want to be alone running behind Lo’ak to keep her safe. Neytiri angrily bonded with her ikran taking off in the sky, her wild eyes looking back at him once before taking off.
They thought he had already gone to Eywa when his eyes shut, and his breathing leveled when he tried to calm his heart. They thought he was no longer with them. They did not see the way his fingers twitched as he tried to raise his hand, he wanted to call out to them; to tell them he had den gone yet. But the strength was not there
Now Neteyam was alone, they vanished, and he didn’t know what to make out of it. They left him? Would they make it back? Being the sweet boy he is neteyam prayed to Eywa they would make it back before it was his time. He prayed he could get to see his parents, siblings, before he was taken to be one with Eywa. He wanted to hold on.
Right on time, you gasp for air climbing out of the water coughing up whatever had almost made you give up and drown, you climb onto the rock and unclip your bag taking it off your shoulders and dropping it beside you, your hands push your air out of your face as you coughed on all fours. You didn’t even notice him; he wasn’t your concern. It was only after you caught your breath did you see him laying there, his seemingly lifeless body.
You don’t know him, clearly, he is na’vi, not metkayina so from the forest, a Sully? One of his boys. You move closer and neteyam hears your light, soft footsteps. They were too deliberate for an animal but too light for the heavy boots that soldiers wear. His eyes were closed; he couldn’t open them even if he wanted to. He felt all too exposed; he can’t move but he’s conscious about his surroundings like some kind of sleep paralysis in a nightmare.
The shoes make slow steps towards him getting closer and closer. It was a whisper of movement, strange. He wasn’t sure if it was an enemy, but he knows it’s not familiar. You crouch down next to him, you thought maybe you could make him out, but you can’t. Your hand slowly moves to his face touching his cheek softly, its still warm, hot even.
You look down at his body, the blood still oozed out of his wound. ‘Was he even dead?’ The thought ran across your mind.
Your eyes darted around to see if anyone was coming back before your fingers slowly moved to under his nose, after a brief moment you felt his warm exhale hit your fingers, ‘he’s alive’
“You’re still breathing...” Your hands fly to his chest closing to wound to prevent anymore blood loss, he must be so weak by now he was in so much pain he passed out, or was that from the blood loss? You weren’t sure. Either way you didn’t want to let him die. “Just hold on...” you raise your head again this time looking for the backpack you have discarded.
Quickly you let go of him and ran to get to backpack before running back, ripping it open you pull out a soaked t-shirt, ‘it’ll work.’ You make quick work of ringing out any water you could before you cover his wound to prevent more blood loss.
“Shit…” you mumble, you know you can’t save him here, you have to take him where you have supplies. Neteyam doesn’t know what to do, not that he can do anything. He hears a woman’s voice. He hears her trying to reassure him he won’t die, he felt her hands trying to stop the blood, so he wasn’t as alarmed as he was a few minutes ago, in fact he felt a bit comforted someone was trying to save him when everyone though there wasn’t anyone to save.
“Okay I know you probably can’t respond, maybe you can’t hear me at all and I’m talking to myself like an idiot, but I need to move you.” You waited a few seconds as if he was going to answer but he didn’t, you called out for your ikran that landed beside you in less than a minute. You look back down at his body, he was tall, muscular, definitely heavy. After a deep breath you clutched his arms over your head and lifted his deadweight on your back, settling him on your ikran you took off quickly in the direction of safety.
You were sure no one saw you considered most of the clan had retreated when the ship sunk and it was the middle of eclipse. You flew into the darkness at unmatched speed, holding onto him tightly so he wouldn’t accidentally fall off and actually die. Your adrenaline was pumping through you, the air felt cold against your soaking wet clothes, you couldn’t wait to get a minute to really breathe.
You made your way to the top of a cliff where just beyond the tree line was a house, it was so human like if someone saw the cabin its look almost like it was on earth, if it wasn’t for the unique Pandora trees and flowers. You landed swiftly and leaned neteyam on your ikran before jumping off.
You ran into the cabin going straight for the medically cabinet you kept stocked, and pulling out some gauzes, medical tape and surgical kit. You ran back to him and pulled him off the ikran. His body his the grassy with a loud thump, but you heard it. A small groan from his lips, it hit but he was there, alive, responsive.
“I am sorry, I know that must have hurt. But what I have to do will hurt even more” you speak softly to him almost comforting him before you turn on a small flashlight and held it between your teeth and rip the blood t-shirt off, when you lifted him earlier you saw the exit wound so no bullet in him is one less thing for you to take care off.
You open the gauze and wipe the blood holding it against the wound. His eyes were shut tightly and his brow line furrowed. You know he is about to feel what you're going to do. You use your elbow to hold the gauze in place as you thread the surgical needle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. This is going to hurt, but only for a second.” you repeat yourself over and over as if he could acknowledge you in a muffled voice.
You took out a needle filled with lidocaine and slowly injecting it in certain parts around to wound to numb it, “I don’t even know if this works on na’vi” you mumble to yourself. Taking a deep breath, you started to sew up to the wound, slightly pulling his touch skin to close it up. Thankfully, you know an artery wasn’t damaged otherwise he would have bled out by now.
“Almost done..” you whisper before I rip the thread with my teeth and knot it. I sigh in relief as the bleeding in the front stops and I turn him over and do the same to the wound on his back. The last knot tight ended under your fingers the bleeding stopped, just barely.
You take a deep breath and lean back sitting next to his body on the floor spitting out the flashlight. You noticed his breathing was no longer quick and low but more normal, so you must have done something right. You look over the cliff at the eclipse and the way it reflected so beautifully on the open ocean.
Your heartbeat was stabilizing, you didn’t realize how much of an autopilot you were operating on until your arms started to feel tired, after all you did hold onto him very tightly. From what you could tell he was out like a light now, if he wasn’t before you weren’t sure. You had to move him inside. You look back at him, he was clearly a solider, he had the build. He was young, maybe your age? You weren’t sure. All your questions would be answered in due time, or maybe he’d kill you and run back to his family either way you can’t say you regret saving him.
You never much cared about how human affect the environment here on Pandora, your job was not to hunt down any na’vi who were trying to live in peace, no. Your job was the protect the people on the ship, it was your only job, to keep humans from dying on pandora. You knew what they were doing killing of the tulkun for the youth serum, but until the day you saw them kill the tulkun close to the clan. You didn’t care.
How could they be so unloving as to kill a member of someone’s family? They knew very well that was the relationship between the tulkun and the ocean na’vi. What if it were their family member? Their mother or baby? Only then will they decide these acts are vile. Maybe that is why you decided to save him.
You stand up and walk around his body until you were standing at him head, you drop to your knees sliding your arms under his to lift his upper body off the ground. You noticed how long he was before but now you must have underestimated before. He was at least a foot taller than you.
The first pull is the hardest his weight fights against you to bring him in. Your teeth gritted as you continued until you made it over the rocky ledge and inside the cabin through the back balcony glass doors. You didn’t drop him as you look upped the stairs where the bedrooms were, and you take a long heavy sigh.
Instead of suffering through every step you settling to laying him down on the black L shaped leather couch. Carefully you adjust his body putting his legs up on the couch one by one until you he was in a comfortable enough position you could let him rest. You started a fire before making sure to lock all windows and doors and drawing all the curtains. The only source of light was the first and the dim kitchen light behind the couch.
You got a damp cloth from the kitchen and decided to clean his wounds best you could in his position. You sank down leaning back on the base of the couch looking at him, his braids still had traces of blood, but he’d have to lose them out and wash it. Your eyes darted over the bandage, no fresh blood so you took a breath.
You were exhausted, you could just take a nap right there, but you were soaking wet and also covered in blood, so you decided to take a shower. It’s not like he would go anywhere.
The hot water was well needed, washing off all the blood and salty water was heavenly, the shower made the mirrors and glass door steam up, but you enjoyed it. You had recently run out of soap and had to make some from a purple flower your found growing wild outside, it was nice and no poisonous which you checked multiple times. It smells like nothing you’ve ever smelled before it was amazing, it brought you so much peace and tranquility you didn’t know a scent could do that.
The water hit you skin like a whisper at first, then a rush. You braced your hands against the wall, letting it pour over you, washing the blood away in slow red spirals down the drain. Your brain was fogged with thoughts of the man downstairs on your couch, this would have been the first time in your entire life you ever let a stranger in your home and that was before you were even an avatar.
You pad down the stairs now dressed in a tank top and pj shorts with your lace bra peaking out the top of the tank top, you weren’t worried about it you were sure he’d probably wake up tomorrow rather than tonight. You walk over to the kitchen and put the kettle on to heat up some water to make some tea.
Afterwards you sat on the other side of the couch where his feet were, your tea sat in the coffee table in front of you and take the throw blankets off your side of the couch using one to cover him from the waist down and the other to cover yourself. You couldn’t pinpoint why it was so important to you he stayed safe and warm, but you didn’t want to think too much into it.
Before you could get comfortable you noticed an object on his hip that seemed out of place under the blanket. Carefully you pulled it back and saw his knife. It was natural he’d have one, almost every na’vi you’d encountered had their own personalized knife, whether it was a specific carving or bead even the blade they were all special.
Slowly you take the entire holder out of his tweng and set it right there on the coffee table. So, when he did eventually wake up, he’ll see it’s still right there. It was a beautiful knife. Clearly one of the Omatikayan with the intricate carvings. The handle was wood covered with leather and waxed thread from a beanstalk palm, and the blade was the size of your entire forearm, it was made of some kind of bone, you could wrong, but it looked like a piece of bone from a large predator he carved into a sharpened tip and stained to have a darker brown color.
The handle also had a small bead attached to it, it was tied on using a thread, but it was beautiful, contrast to the dark scary color of the rest of the knife, the bead was a very pretty pink, it was a color that wasn’t all that common, at least not that you’ve seen. It was not perfectly round but shaped almost like a jagged flower. This part of his knife was definitely a gift, and it felt deeply personal.
“Wow…” you whispered to yourself. You wondered if he had made himself or if it was gifted to him by someone special, you were aware they did that sometimes, for close families and mates. You didn’t even know if he was mated, what if you casually kidnapped someone’s husband. They could be crying right now thinking he was dead, even though you did save his life.
You sat back in your stop your body facing him as you leaned against the couch and pulled the blanket over your shoulders. With a slow breath you shift into the corner of the couch and tuck your legs up, letting your body sink into the cushions. It was quiet now, just the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the cliff and his low breaths on the other side of the couch.
You let your eyes drift back to him once more, he’s so strong, strained. Yes he’s battered and braised, but still he is composed. Like he’s always been built to endure. You reach out distinctively to pull the blanket over his wore out feet properly tucking it in as if he was a child.
“You better now die on me now…or wake up and kill me cause I’ll be pissed”
The words were whispered before you could stop them.
Your head tilted back and hit the top of the couch before you shut your eyes, you don’t know when you fell asleep. One minute you were looking at him with half lidded eyes and the next your eyes were closed but you still saw him laying in front of you.
The fire had long since dimmed, its light reduced to a soft amber glow that flicker against the walls. Outside, the world had quieted, only distant crashes of waves and the whisper of wind through the trees remained.
You were curled up on the other end of the couch, blanket was tangled in your legs and your head reacted against the cool cushion, exhaustedly asleep. Moonlight washed through the windows, pale and silvery, pooling across the floor up the side of Neteyam’s face through the slit in the curtain.
His fingers twitched.
Then again, but more deliberately this time. A shallow inhale rattled through his chest, strained and dry. He winced as he tried to move slightly, his brow tightening as his senses crawled back one by one to him. The stiffness in his limbs and ache in his chest, the softness of the blanket that was pulled over his abdomen.
And the scent.
Not the salty waters at the metkayina clan he became so accustomed too, not the scent of blood that lingered in the battles field.
Something warm, clean, unfamiliar but also familiar in a way he couldn’t place.
His eyes slowly opened, slits at first. They felt grainy, like sand. His eyes adjusted to the low lighting of the room, the wooden ceilings, and wooden walls. A soft rhythmic sound, ‘waves?’ a cliffside?
It definitely wasn’t home.
He moved slights and pain bloomed in his chest, it was bound, hints of blood that wasn’t cleaned properly against his skin felt dry.
Then he saw you. A girl, slumped at the bend of the couch wrapped loosely in a blanket, chest rising and falling slowly. You weren’t human, he hinted the extra finger you had. You were an avatar. Your breathing was peaceful, unbothered, but he could almost see the exhaustion.
Neteyam stared for a while, a long moment. His heart thumbed weakly against bruised ribs, the pain was real, the exhaustion was deeper, but he wasn’t dead.
And he just knew that was because of you.
Then you stirred.
By a noise. Not loud, just a soft scrape, shift of weight against the leather. Your eyes open slowly before the rest of your body moves. You know there’s a chance this man will risk his life again just to kill you, being an unfamiliar avatar and all.
Your eyes darted around until you saw him shifting in the darkness, with a breath you sat up, “you’re awake” your voice comes out soft.
His body shifts, his face drawn tight in pain that he tried to mask. But his eyes were open, locked directly on you. You shift to stand up reaching for the bottle of water that was on the coffee table.
You barely got to move when he snatched his knife off the table and held it up. Given his very injured situation you were impressed he was able to act so quickly, you were right, he is a warrior.
“Woah, wait” you say gently, hands raised.
His grip was trembling from the lose of blood, you were sure. “Who the hell are you?” He hissed, “why did you bring me where?”
“You were dying- shot” you point to his chest, “I stopped the bleeding, stitched you up” your voice was low.
Distrust etched in ever tense line in his body, “you’re with the RDA” he hissed once more, “your kind is the reason this happened! The reason I was shot!” His eyes narrowed on you.
“I’m not them- I didn’t shoot yo-”
“Where am I?” He asked hoarsely.
“Safe, you’re safe” you replied.
“That’s not what I asked”
A moment of silence cranked between you. You sat up slowly not moving from your side of the couch.
“Stay back!” He hissed
“I’m not moving” you say to reassure him, but you aren’t sure how much it helped.
You look down at his bandage before looking back at him face making sure he didn’t accidentally rip them.
“What is this place?” He asked you, his voice cracked.
“This is my…home, I guess. The RDA base is...far- very far from here so you don’t have to worry. It was close to where the ship went down so I brought you here to stop the bleeding and stitch it up.” You explain hoping to help him get answers.
“I know you are distrustful, and this is a weird situation but I’m not trying to hurt you” your tone was soft.
“Then why did you bring me here?!” His voice cracked again.
“I wouldn’t have been allowed into the clan even if I were to bring you back. I would have been killing on the spot. I know that you ran with your family from the forest. That’s the whole reason Quaritch commandeered the ship in the first place. I brought you here cause know one knows about this cabin, you can…heal”
His grip on the knife faltered slightly but he didn’t drop it. “I see how this could be…unbelievable. But I promise I’m not here to hurt you, or anyone. That was never my intention when I joined the RDA, and I.. have held at least that part of my morals up.”
“You flew me here, I remember on your ikran, how did you get it?” He asked his voice was calmer this time but not as calm as he should be healing from a gunshot wound.
“I have been on Pandora for years; at a certain point we need a way to get around that would waste gas. Since I work out in the ocean it’s easier to fly on an ikran than a helicopter every time we needed something from shore. It was a requirement by command that some of the avatars bonded with one.” I explain truthfully.
His eyes flicker over your body, the tank top you wore with your bra still peaking out, his eyes lingers but he didn’t react, clearly you were comfortable here. And alone because humans don’t dress like this in front of people. At least that much he knew.
“You don’t know me” he bit out, “why risk it?”
“I…” you stopped to think, you harden actually thought about it. “You were alive when I…climbed onto that rock I couldn’t just let you die” you replied with a small shake of your head implying you were being genuine.
He didn’t say anything but shifted again barely, wincing in pains
“Wait- you will tear your stitches can you just lay back down? And relax?” You raise your hands hoping he’d stay down before you stand up and run to the kitchen to get a glass of water. You quickly pour it and hopped back to him.
He immediately backed away when you stepped closer than you were before, “it’s just water I’m sure your throat hurts it’ll help” you reassured him softly, but he was still on edge.
“How do I know you didn’t poison it?”
“Valid question” you reply before taking a sip, “I’m not going to…. poison myself” You steps closer, and he let you. You slowly bring the glass up to his lips and hold it for him to sip the water, “okay good, we’re getting somewhere now” you smile softly as he drank the water greedily.
“Do you want more?” You ask as he finished the glass, and he shook his head no.
He finally put down the knife when you put the glass down on the coffee table and sat next to it, “can I check the stitches?” You asked softly
He didn’t say anything just leaned back and nodded, “what is your name?” You asked softly, “I figured out that you are one of Jake Sully’s children, but my job was not to hunt your family so I.. do not know much many children he has or your names so?”
He took a beat not saying anything only look at your face as you lifted the bandage carefully to check his stitches, “Neteyam. I am the oldest of four. Why are you helping me again?” He asked as he screws his face.
Neteyam. The name suited him, it was strong, clipped, almost regal in a way.
“I just didn’t want to let you die Neteyam. And it is nice to meet you; my name is Y/n” you said with small smile which he just nodded to.
“The oldest huh?” You echoed as you fixed the bandage and let go of it. “That explains the attitude.”
He huffs softly. Not quite a laugh but close.
His chin shifts slightly, “what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing it just makes sense” you smirk lightly.
He doesn’t answer at first you can feel the stare and you look right back at him, direct eye contact.
“I don’t trust you” he mutters still looking at you.
Softly you replied, “I didn’t ask you too”
“I’m not staying here”
His voice is rough, determined as he swings his legs off the couch and sit up. His teeth gritted as he pushed himself upright. Quickly you caught his elbow and arm to stabilize him.
“Don’t be stupid, your rip your stitches” you said firmly.
“Better than being a captive” he shoots back.
He stands barely, swaying on his feet. One of his hands actually grabbed yours to help stabilize himself since you raised with him. You catch his shoulder before his knees could buckle.
“You’re not a captive” you say through gritted teeth, “and your heavy you know”
“No? Then why am I still breathing?”
You hold him steady in front of you and as predicted he was at least a foot taller than you, so you had to look up at him. His breathing was shallow.
“Because I didn’t let you die. How much times will we need to go through this before you hear me?” You say quietly.
There’s a long beat before he lets you guide him back to sit with a grunt.
“I need to clean off this blood” he gestures to the dried blood you didn’t get to properly clean.
“Ok, but you can’t bath yet, you need to keep the wound dry for the next day or two before you can wet the area”
He cuts your off with a glare, “Then how am I meant to clean myself? I’m not sitting here covered in blood like some helpless thing”
You nod slowly, “you're not, but right now you’re not exactly invincible”
He doesn’t say anything just settles back with a frustrated hiss. The weight of everything that happened pressed on him all at once, the wound, the blood, your presence. He hated this.
“You cannot take a real bath yet, but you can take a sponge bath. I’ll just bring the bowl with warm water and a sponge. It’ll help” you suggest softly.
“I don’t need-” he started flatly before you cut him off.
“You don’t have to let me do it. I’ll just bring it for you. You’ll clean what you can reach”
He stares at you for a beat too long, his expression never gave away any feeling he had about you. Then finally, he nodded slightly, “fine” he said begrudgingly.
Without another word you move to the kitchen to get a bowl of hot water and a clean sponge. Behind you his shoulders relaxed just a bit, enough to show he was opening up to the idea of letting you help him settle, even if he won’t admit it yet.
You return with the bowl filled with water and a clean cloth, “I’ll be right back” you put it in the coffee table and run upstairs for a towel for him to dry off with after.
You run back down the stairs, and he was already wiping the blood off his body with the cloth, “you can dry off the water with this after” I say softly and drop the towel next to him. The steam from the water curls softly in the cool air.
Neteyam shifts when he sees you sit down by the bend of the couch; he eyed you wearily. “Do you always watch your patients so closely?”
“You’re not my patient. Just a guy who was casually dying on what I’m sure what a hard, uncomfortable rock” a smirk tugs the corner of your lips.
“Feels like I’m under a microscope” he grunted faintly, as he shifts positions slightly to clean as much of himself as he can.
“Don’t flatter yourself” you say teasingly before you turn away to give him som privacy.
That draws a low chuckle, if was unexpected but real. When you glance over half of his was clean, slick from the water, shining in the dim cabin light. He catches your eye but doesn’t look away.
His gaze isn’t soft, it’s sharp, searching. As if he’s looking for a reason in your expression that’ll tell him whether or not he should trust you.
“What are you looking for?” He asked you in a deep voice.
You blink surprised by the question, “I wasn’t….looking for anything”
He huffs softly, almost a scoff, “everyone’s always looking for something”
“Then maybe I’m not everyone” you say steadily.
His eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but studying, testing.
“That’s what worries me”
You lean back against the couch watching him without flinching, “I didn’t drag you away from the edge of death to hurt you now.”
“Doesn’t mean you won’t” he says flatly.
You nod softly accepting his truth, “then keep your knife close, and don’t rip your stitches and bleed on my couch” I smirk at him.
His lip twitches barely, and for the first time the tension shifts, or doesn’t fade just changes shape.
“Do you need help now? I can clean up the wound on your back” you offer softly.
You can tell he doesn’t want to say yes but there is no way he can reach without hurting himself, so he nods holding the cloth out in your direction.
You take it into your hand and walk around the couch, “lean up a bit?” You press your hand softly on his shoulder pushing him forward as you make quick and gentle work cleaning up the dry blood from his back.
“Your hair has blood in it too, when you can bath properly you should loosen your braids out and wash it” you say softly.
“I will” he grunted.
After I was finished, I let him lean back against the couch once more, “there you should feel a bit cleaner now”
You move to start another fire considering it gets quite cold where the cabin was. The fire crackled softly in the hearth. You went to the kitchen and returned with a small bowl of broth and a cup of warm tea. Neteyam still sitting up on the couch with the blanket now dropped over his shoulders watches you with weary eyes. You put the bowl down him front him wordlessly, settling beside him again.
“Figured you could use something warm” you say softly.
He hesitates before he picks it up with a grunt of thanks. He brings the bowl up to his lips and sips the hot broth, completely ignoring the spoon you put down next to the bowl for him to use. His ears perk up and his tail raises and hits the couch with a small thump.
He masks his reaction once more even though you already caught it and was slightly smiling at the fact he liked it. “Not bad…for a sky person”
“Careful, that almost sounded like a compliment” you smirk at him.
A faint twitch of a smile tugs at his lips but it fades quickly. He shifts; his eyes fixed on the fire a few feet in front of him, “why are you out here alone?”
You thought for a second, “it wasn’t really the plan, just ended up this way.” You look around the cabin, taking in the decor and feeling of the space.
Silence stretches before he says, “you’re still with the RDA”
That wasn’t a question. You nod slowly, “I…work for the RDA. Doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do. But it’s not my decision to make” I shrug softly.
“That’s easy to say when you're not the one being hunted.”
The edge in his voice makes you pause before you nod again, he was right, “don’t worry, this place is a secret, only two people on this moon ever knew about it. One of them is dead and the other is..me. So, I can say I’m sure your safe. And now well, you know about it.”
He looks at you sharply, surprised by your lack of defense. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Then, he shifts slightly closer, eyes flickering over your features, your hands, your eyes, mouth now and then when he thinks your not looking but you notice.
“You speak English very well” you say breaking the silence tilting your head slightly.
His expression doesn’t change much, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, pride?
“My parents taught me. I pay attention” he replied quietly.
He paused then adds with a sharper edge, “why? Are your surprised a savage can speak your mother tongue?”
His words weren’t angry, but they were not soft either. He looked at you as if he was testing you.
“You are no savage, that much I’m sure off” you say softly to him, “but I guess I am surprised, I wouldn’t expect your parents to want you to know anything from the sky people.”
Neteyam tilted his head slightly, his gaze was sharp.
“My father was one of the sky people. The clan trust and follows him.” He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Learning the language wasn’t about wanting, it was about understand the enemy.” He clarified with pride.
“That’s smart” you nod with understanding, “you can’t beat someone if you don’t understand them”
Neteyam doesn’t smile but his eyes stayed locked in yours, unreadable, “do not mistake understanding for trust, I’ve seen what your people are capable of. I will not forget”
“You shouldn’t, your people had suffered a great deal and I’m sorry, even though I know my apologies for it don’t mean anything. It was…avoidable” you say softly.
He stares for another long moment, taking in what you said before he responds.
“You are right it doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t change anything” he shifts slight putting down the now empty bowl, “I’m still here injured because of people like you.”
“I agree my people did this, but can we also agree I’ve done nothing but help you since I’ve…saw you? Maybe all humans aren’t…that bad?” You say almost hopefully as if one conversation could change his perspective on you. Maybe he’d stop grouping you with those who want to hurt them, those who murder.
He took another second before answering, he clearly didn’t want got admit it just like he didn’t want to trust you, “you’re right, you did help me. You could have let me die but you didn’t”
“I can’t say I like the position I’m in now however, unfamiliar place, unfamiliar enemy which is very contradictory considering it was the enemy who saved my life. I do not want to feel like I owe you something for that”
Neteyam was nothing if he wasn’t head strong, but you did understand where he was coming from.
“You don’t owe me anything, I don’t want anything from you. You don’t trust me, I can feel it, in the way you look at me like you’re waiting for me to prove your distrust right”
You exhale before glancing down at your blue hands, it was a lovely shade, but it definitely wasn’t human. Your gaze shift to your tail, something so unnatural to you before you got used to this new body.
“I am like the man who is hunting your father. I’m sure you’ve seen him, maybe you’ve even fought him. This body, this life. It is permanent” you start softly. “I was so good at fighting as a human than the RDA just chose me to be…this.” You gesture to your body
“And that means I live here and will die on Pandora one day and become apart of this moon” you look back to him. “I wouldn’t survive very long if all I did was flight your people, so I’m just trying to live peacefully too”
Neteyam’s eyes stay on yours, you see the flicker of uncertainty shift in them. “You speak like you want to understand what it is like to be na’vi”
He was clearly skeptical as he continued, “many have come and said the same, words are easy, they said they wanted to learn, to be peaceful. But they lied and they invaded and took what they wanted disturbing the balance that Eywa has given us. No patience, no understanding, no care for what they were destroying.”
Your ears pinned down not knowing what to say, it honestly hadn’t hit you how disruptive humans had been for the na’vi. You never had all that much interaction with them simply because that wasn’t your job. You were about to say something, but he beat you too it.
“But you saved my life and gave me food and water, helped me cleaned my wounds. It was more than I was expecting from a sky person” he added in a softer tone.
The night after that passed. You didn’t want to leave him alone just in case his wound started to bleed again so you stayed sleeping on the smaller side of the couch leaving him on the side he was on. It didn’t take either of you long to fall asleep again since you both were extremely exhausted.
You stir, eyes adjusting to the light streaming in from the gaps in the curtains, you were t sure what time it was, but the sun was high in the sky. The ocean murmured waves crashing against the cliff, distant and soft.
Neteyam was already awake sitting up like he was the night before. He was watching you.
“You didn’t move” his voice was quiet, deep with sleep.
You turn to face him stretching slightly with the blanket still pulled to your neck, “didn’t have to, it’s my couch” you replied softly
He glances around, “right” he says as he leans his head again against the couch.
“How are you feeling?” You ask him tiredly, “any better than yesterday?”
“Considering I just got shot, I’d say I’m doing fantastic” he replies with sass.
“Don’t sass me bro.” You say as you raise your hand up making a stop gesture before you push the blanket off and stand-up walking over to him.
Neteyam watches you, his body tensing slightly as you step closer, “what are you doing?”
“Well. I was going to check your wound is that okay?” You yawn.
He nodded and didn’t move as you sat on the coffee table in front of him. Your body didn’t touch his, but you still felt the heat it omitted before you pull back the gauze and check the wound, “no sign of infection that’s good.”
“Na’vi are hard to kill” Neteyam says dryly. You look up and his rubbing your lips together to hold in a laugh.
“I’ve noticed.” You smile. “Are you in a lot of pain?” You huff with a smile.
“No, the gaping hole through my chest feels amazing” he exaggerated, “I might go for a jog.”
You snort before you could hold it back turning your mouth to hit your right shoulder in and effort to stop yourself from filling laughing.
“I’m glad your sarcasm is still in tack.” You smile, “but seriously do it hurt a lot?”
He paused for a minute, “it hurts yes, but I can breathe better than I could yesterday” he answers quietly.
“I have and antibiotic cream, it’ll help a bit with the pain, and prevent infection. I’ll change your bandages too. But overall, you are healing faster than I expected”
I get up and walk over to the medical supply cabinet and take out a couple fresh bandages and the antibiotic cream.
I walk back over to him and clean up around the wound before I apply the cream and cover it with the new bandages.
“What can I say I’m impressive even half-dead. Thought I’d be more dramatic about it?” Neteyam tilted his head with a crooked grin.
You shake your head with a smile. “You were dramatic, you bled on my couch”
“This is the first time I got shot, I had to make an entrance” he shrugged softly as you finished changing his bandages. He’s ears flicker slightly when he got a laugh out of you, it felt strange to him, was he proud? He’d made many women laugh in the past it wasn’t something he found difficult, but this situation was different. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about it.
You brought over a glass of water for him which he took sipping slowly until he finished while you walked back to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Neteyam couldn’t see you now, since the couch faced away from the kitchen but towards the tv and fireplace that had long burned out.
“Why is it so dark in here?” He asked over his shoulder noting all the closed curtains, no natural light coming into the room.
“Uh well that’s cause the blinds are closed, it’s still pretty early.” You say as you begin to dig around for something Neteyam might eat, you settle on some meat you had frozen from the last time RDA went hunting and eggs with some fruit.
“It feels like a cave” he adjusted himself to sit more comfortably on the couch looking around the room like he’s been doing since you brought him there.
You shrugged, “you want sun? I’ll open the blinds. Just don’t hips at it.”
A soft grunt passed his lips, was it amusement? Annoyance? Hard to say. “I’m not a wild animal.”
You arch a brow, even though you knew he couldn’t see you while you cracked the egg into the pan, “could’ve fooled me, the way you growled at me last night” you blow raspberries into the air in exaggeration.
He didn’t answer right away, then muttered, “still deciding if you’re prey.”
You glance over your shoulder at the back of his head before turning back, “let me know before breakfast, yeah? I’d rather not waste eggs.”
He shifted until he had turned enough to see you in the kitchen leaning against the side of the couch instead, adjusting the blanket over his lap se the smell of sizzling food drifted from the small kitchen space.
“You always cook with the lights off?” He called out, voice dry. “Or is this just part of the ambiance, ‘half dead guest special?”
You glance back at him with a smirk, “maybe I like a little mystery while I make breakfast”
He raised a brow, “Mystery? Smells like you’re trying to resurrect me with a frying pan and vibes.”
You snorted, “well, it’s workin, isn’t it?”
He reclined a little deeper into the couch, eyes tracking you as you move around the kitchen, “barely, is this is your version of hospitality, remind me not to get shot again.”
“Ungrateful” you muttered softly but you know he heard.
I put two plates down on the kitchen table with food on it, untie your apron and put it on the kitchen counter before walking over to the couch and standing next to him. “Come on, you’re not eating on my couch.”
He looked up at you clearly unimpressed. “What, you don’t do room service out here in the middle of nowhere?”
You cross your arms, “you’re lucky I don’t drag you.
He huffed a short laugh but didn’t move, “tempting. But if I get hurt again, that’s on you.”
You help out your hand, firm but patient, “I stitched you up, fed you, and let you sass me from my own couch. Don’t make me add dragging you to the table to the list.”
Neteyam groaned. More for show than pain, “I got shot in the chest not the legs” he muttered stubbornly.
“Yeah, and I’d rather not watch you fall on your face trying to prove yourself” you shot back.
He sighed through his nose and hold onto you to help him stand up. He wrapped his heavy large arm over your shoulder and you wrap an arm around his slim waist. Being careful not to let him fall. His body was warm, solid, but tense under your touch.
As he stood, he hissed slightly but didn’t complain. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m letting your help me because I’m being polite.”
You smirked. “Wow. So this is you being polite?”
His lip twitched but he didn’t answer, just leaned a little more of his weight into you as you walked.
You both take it once step at a time until you made it to the kitchen table, you switched on the warm yellow light ver the table to illuminate the space after he sat down, then you sat down in the chair next to him at the touch table. He lets out a white breath as he settled in, then looked at the food and raise a brow.
In front him was grilled yerik meat, sliced fruit and some fried eggs, all fresh and local, but not cooked the way he was used to.
Neteyam stared at it, then gave you a look. “What did you do to the poor yerik? Burn it into submission?”
You arch your brow, “it’s grilled. It’s called flavor.”
He picked up a piece with his fingers, inspecting it like it had wronged him, “flavor? My people season with wild herbs. This smells like smoke and… attitude.”
You smirked sarcastically. “Your welcome by the way. I did just slave over that stove for you.”
He bit into it an paused. Then, with a mouthful, mumbled, “could’ve let me die with dignity and decent cooking.”
You roll your eyes with a smile, “you’re lucky your cute-”
You stopped staring down at your food with the fork in your hand and wide eyes, realizing what you let slip out, but it was too late.
Neteyam raised a brow, grinning like he had just won something. “Lucky I’m what?”
You roll your eyes, “nothing” you say casually.
“Oh no, please,” he leaned forward, still chewing, “tell me again how lucky I am because I’m cute.”
You mumbled, “I said no such thing.”
He smirked, pointing his fork that he clearly wasn’t using at you, “to late. I’m wounded and cute. Deadly combination.”
You cross your arms and leans back in your chair, “you’re wounded, picky, and have the ego of a war chief. Cute isn’t a word I’d use.”
Neteyam grinned, unfazed. “Ah, so, now I’m a war chief. First cute, now powerful. Keep going, I, enjoying this.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t flatter yourself, forest prince. I’ve seen yerik with better manners.”
He let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically, careful to avoid the bandage. “You wound me again. Truly your hospitality knows no bounds.”
He took a bite of the eggs, nodding in exaggerated approval, “could use a little salt. But I’ll survive. Barely. Thanks to your tender, smocking-hot…grill.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You were about to say something else.”
He smirked, licking his fingers, “was I? You’re imagining things, must be that flustered energy coming off you.”
You grab a napkin and tossed it at his face, “eat your food before I decide you’re strong enough to cook your own damn breakfast tomorrow”
He caught the napkin with ease chuckling. “So violent for someone so nurturing, you sure you’re not falling for me?”
You lean forward slightly, “remember last night when you threatened to stab me? Why would I be falling for you? And even if I did, you’d be the last to know”
Neteyam tilted his head, eyes gleaming with challenges. “We’ll see about that.”
Once breakfast was finished and you’d both finished eating, you stood up taking the dishes to the sink to start cleaning up. Neteyam leaned back in his chair, watching you move around the kitchen with an unreadable expression.
“You always take care of strangers like this?” He asked, voice a little quieter now, less teasing.
You gave him a glance over your shoulder, “only ones who bleed on my grass, and my floors and my couch” you sigh.
He snorted, shaking his head, then slowly he stood, clearly regaining his strength. It was amazing how quickly he was starting to recover from his near death experience. You wondered if all the na’vi are this vigilant or if he was just some kind of invincible warrior.
“Well, guess I’m special huh?”
“Let’s not go so far,” you turn to watch him slowly walk up to you with a smirk, only looking away when he was holding onto the counter beside you.
He came over, still cautious with his movements, and put his weight on his stronger arm against the counter. His shoulder slight bumped yours. “And here I thought we were bonding over bad eggs and near-death experiences”
You turned off the water and whipped your hands on a hand towel, “first of all, my eggs are fucking good. And we’ll see how you feel once you me helped clean up.”
He raised his brow bone. “You want me to clean? With a bullet hole in my chest?”
“You’ve got one good arm,” you said sweetly, handing him the towel.
He took it with exaggerated effort and put it down on the counter next to him, “cruel woman, you mean the arm holding me up from falling right now?”
“Survivors don’t get lazy” you replied before nudging him with your elbow.
The water poured over your head in a steady stream, steam curling around your shoulders as you pressed your hands to the cool tile wall. You had come in here to clear your head to wash off the lingering tension, the ache from sleep, and that buzz you couldn’t quite explain.
But it wasn’t working.
It was him.
Neteyam.
He hadn’t done a thing that morning. Hadn’t lifted a finger to help with breakfast, just stayed on the couch, arms crossed behind his head, half-lidded eyes watching the ceiling like he was bored out of his mind.
But you’d felt him watching you. Every time you turned your back. Every time you bent over or shifted. You could feel his gaze trailing along your spine like a hand that never touched. And when he did speak, his voice it wasn’t fair.
Deep. Smooth. Rich like the forest after rain.
And the way he moved…
You tilted your head back, letting the hot water roll down your chest. You didn’t mean to think about him, didn’t mean to notice, but the memory crept in anyway. The way his muscles flexed when he shifted on the couch, chest bandaged but firm and defined beneath it. The long lines of his legs, the stripes along his skin, the faint shimmer that came from the damp heat of the room the night before.
He looked powerful. And wild. And wounded.
And too damn beautiful to be real.
Your hand moved over your stomach absentmindedly, as if trying to soothe the way it fluttered. His face was still sharp in your mind those eyes, so full of suspicion, but never dull. They were intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.
intense. Too intense. Looking at you like you were a threat, like you were a puzzle, like maybe just maybe you were something else entirely.
You caught yourself.
Fingers tightened on the tile. “Get a grip,” you whispered, letting the water pelt down harder, trying to drown the thoughts before they spiraled any further.
You weren’t supposed to feel anything about him. He was a wounded Na’vi. You were a human permanently stuck in your avatar. And this wasn’t safe for either of you.
But still…
Your mind slipped again to the low rumble of his laugh, the accidental flash of a smile when he’d said something cocky the night before. The way his ears twitched when he heard a bird outside. The curve of his collarbone where the bandage didn’t reach.
You exhaled sharply and turned the water to cold.
It didn’t help it’s only been one day, was it even possible to be so infatuated with someone so quickly. You almost started to wonder what he thought about you, but quickly you turned off the shower and got out before you could. That wouldn’t help you.
The days that followed passed in a strange quite rhythm, like a clam between storms. The atmosphere had started to shift. The first few days remained mostly on the couch downstairs, watchful, cautious, sharp-tongued. But he was healing much faster than you had predicted, the resilience of his na’vi physiology steadily outpacing your human expectations. The deep bruising had faded, the wound closing up quickly but not quite done yet, and by the forth day, he could walk without leaning in you to heavily.
It didn’t stop him from making a show of his independence thought. He still tossed sass like it was a defense mechanism. When you tired to help him, he’d mutter sarcastic little jabs, never cruel, just enough to challenge you. “I’m fine” he’d say with a dry smirk, wincing slightly as he tested his own limits. “I didn’t get hit by a Tobruk, jus a little bullet.” You were leaning to match his tone, finding his attitude oddly endearing. His wit had a heat to it that made the air feel thicker whenever he looked at you too long.
He had taken to calling you “princess,” the word always dripping with a kind of teasing bite the made your brow twitch and your stomach flutter all at once. “Whatever you say princess,” he’d say whenever you told him to stop overdoing it or remind him to drink water. He knew exactly how it landed, half mocking, half flirtation, and the glint in his eyes afterward said he enjoyed pushing your buttons. You pretended to be annoyed, but a part of you didn’t mind. Not one bit.
By the fifth night he moved upstairs choosing the spare room beside yours. You offered it out of practicality, but when you heard him quietly testing the floorboards and settling into the room, your realized how aware you were of his presence, just on the other side of the wall, the door between your rooms stayed closed but it might as well have been paper. It was like he couldn’t sleep, he was restless in the room. It was off putting considering when you both slept on the couch, he slept like a log. The entire night would go off without a hitch he slept peacefully. When you’d awake in the night hearing noises outside he didn’t even flinch.
Every creek, every low sigh through the walls, every time he got up and strolled into your room to use the master bathroom quietly padding across the room, it made your skin prickle.
You didn’t know why he used your bathroom. Even after he was strong enough to manage the one in the hallway. You told yourself it was cleaner and better stocked, but the first time you found a fresh towel slightly damp on the rack after he’d finished and the mirror and shower glass fogged up, you had to turn away to cool your thoughts.
That morning, you’d tried to think about besides him while your showered, but the ghost of his voice, low, rough and accented, it stayed with you. It was the way he said your name. The way his golden eyes held your gaze a beat too long sometimes. The way his body looked in the borrowed avatar clothing you had stored away in a box in an used spare room, how they hugged his lean farm just a little too perfectly, especially when damp from a shower or stuck to his back with sweat from walking the hill path behind the cabin to gain his strength.
You never meant to notice, but it happened anyways. The ripple of his stomach when he stretched, sometimes when it pecked out from under the t-shirt he wore. The way his hair was now loose from braids when he had washed it, how it looked falling down his shoulder since he didn’t bother to braid them again yet. The strength in his arms when he lifted a bracket of fruit, the sound of him cleaning his throat or chuckling to himself in the other room, it was all in your head now. Looped on repeat.
You really tried not to think about him in those clothes, the meaning behind them almost set your skin on fire but you had nothing else to give me. It didn’t hit you right away, only the night he sat on the couch some old tv show idly playing in front of your both. He noticed your shift in demeanor but he decided now wasn’t the time to question it.
By day, he explored small distances, pushing his limits while pretending he wasn’t. You caught him standing out by the cliff more than once, just staring at the horizon, lost in thought. It surprised you when you saw your fired ikran sitting next to him like he had no care in the world, it wasn’t something he did often with people.
‘He must be thinking about his family’ you thought to yourself.
Arms wrapped around yourself you walked out and sat on the other side of him, “are you alright?”
He seemed to have not even noticed your steps towards him until you say down and he gave you a glance, “yea, just thinking about my family.”
You didn’t say anything, you weren’t sure what to say. So you stayed quiet. You watched pat your ikran on the head slightly, “he likes you” you say softly. “His name is Leo.”
“He is beautiful, his patterns is very unique almost like flowers”
“I know he’s my babe he’s gorgeous” I smile. “What about yours?”
“Her name is Seze, after my mothers first sprit sister, I heard the stories and they just match, the name, the colors. She is strong.”
“Like her sprit brother?”
He turned his head to look at you and you looked back at him, “you are very strong too” I look down at his chest before my eyes dart back up to his.
“Not like her.”
“Maybe not, but it is a fact Neteyam” you say confidently.
Sometimes he’d sit in the sunlight filtering through the window, sharpening the blade of the same knife you found on his hip on the first day you met him, using a rock he decided to casually bring inside and left it on the floor in one specific spot for this reason only. It was not a multipurpose rock and you were not allowed to touch it. You tired throwing it back outside but he just brought it back in.
So you let him, it gave him peace. But occasionally, he’d catch you looking and a faint smirk would lift the corner of his lips, “didn’t think the sky people taught staring as a skill” he once said. You snapped back with, “only when the view’s worth it” before realizing how flirtatious it sounded. He didn’t comment just raised his brow bone and looked amused.
By night the two of you developed a routine, you’d make simple meals from what you could forgave from the garden outside, any kind of fresh fruit or vegetable along with whatever your already had in the kitchen or fridge, local meat, roots, tart fruits that stained your fingers purple, and he’d tease your cooking even as he cleared his plated. One night, you asked if he wanted to help and he responded, “you’ve got the knife skills and I’ve got the survival instinct. Let’s not blur the line just yet.” You laughed. So did he. A real one, short and genuine.
Still the boundary was clear. He didn’t trust easily, and you didn’t push him. But there was an undercurrent, a quiet shift in energy each time you passed each other in the hallways or stood too close in the kitchen. You felt it in the subtle way he watched your when he thought you didn’t notice, or in the way his voice softened ever so slightly when you two talked late into the night. You didn’t touch him, not really. Not unless you were redressing his wounds or moments when your hand brushed, when you helped him steady himself, his fingers lingered in your arm just a second longer that necessary.
You didn’t want to say what any of that meant since you didn’t know yourself, not yet. But it was something. Something you were starting to feel under your skin like a pulse.
It’s been almost two weeks now, Neteyam has healed amazingly quick, his skin had returned back to its normal color where he had bruising, anywhere he had gonna scraps had healed up and mostly disappeared.
This afternoon, the sun had just dipped low enough to turn the ocean gold, you were both sitting on the porch. You in a big weaved cushioned chair and him leaning on the raining like he belonged there.
“You said something the first night” he said, breaking the quiet, his voice was thoughtful, not playful, or teasing. Just real.
You turned towards him, “oh? I say a lot of things.”
He glanced at you, one side of his mouth twitching, “you said you didn’t plan to here here alone”
You stilled. The words you’d almost forgotten came back in full. You hadn’t meant to get into detail, you didn’t even thing he remembered anything from that night. He was in his worst condition, it surprised you.
“I didn’t,” you admitted after a pause. “Not originally.”
“But you do,” he said simply.
You rub your lips together and gave a slow nod, eyes drifting back towards the horizon, “yeah. I do.”
It was quiet for a few seconds before he said, softly, “Why?”
The ocean beyond the cliffs was calm, bathed in soft shades of blue and silver under the planet above. You wrapped your hands around your mug, the warmth grounding you as you look back at him and decided to tell him the truth. You don’t know why you felt like you could trust him, you weren’t even sure he trusted you yet.
“I didn’t build this place to be alone,” you said slowly, your voice barely audible.
Your head tilted down to look at your mug. Neteyam glanced at you, his expression was unreadable, but you didn’t look back yet. Your eyes stayed down, locked on the steam coming from the mug, like it held the courage you needed.
“I came here with someone,” you continued. “My boyfriend. We were both with the RDA both from the navy on earth, so we both got avatars. We were in different squads. He was on land and I was stationed in the ocean.” You sniffle softly from the cold. “We talked about a future here, once the politics and field work was over. The cabin was going to be home. Our home, forever.”
Your swallow, your throat tight. The words hurt, not because they were hard to say but because they still felt so real, like they’d only just slipped through your fingers.
“Before they transfer your consciousness into your avatar permanently, you go through a series of test using the link machine.” You explain. “He died a year ago, one minute he was next to me, the next he was gone. Something with his link upload they said it didn’t…work the way it was supposed to, I still don’t know why. . No warning, no goodbye, I saw his avatar laying on the cot like a shell the next morning and that was it.”
Neteyam’s face tensed, and this time you did glance at him, his eyes met yours, wide with the kind of pain only someone who’s lost can recognize.
“I stayed,” you went on, a crack sneaking into your voice. “Everyone thought I was crazy for not going back to earth. But I couldn’t, we built this place. Every beam, every stone, I wasn’t ready to let go of it, or him and he uh…he’s buried in pandora, I’m not gonna just, leave him here.”
Silencer bloomed between you again, thick and pulsing. You didn’t try to fill it, you let it breathe.
After a long moment, Neteyam spoke quietly, sincerely.
“That must’ve shattered you.”
You exhaled shakily, “it did.”
He looked away for a second struggling with something in himself. Then, voice low, “I know what it feels like. That kind of loss. Like a piece of you is just… missing.”
You nodded, and for the first time since the conversation started you smiled softly.
“Some days it still feels like I. Waiting for him to walk through that door. But lately… I don’t know. It’s not as loud.
Neteyam looked back at you. “And now your sharing it with a stranger you dragged up a cliff.”
A breath of laughter escaped your chest, a wet sound edged with emotion. “Your not a stranger anymore. I’ve known you two whole weeks now.” You joke.
He didn’t answer right away, but the look in his eyes softened just enough. The walls between you didn’t fall, but one of them cracked.
You hesitated before speaking again, your voice softer now, almost like you were afraid of saying too much, but unable to stop.
“We were gonna have kids.” You gave a small breathy laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s why there are so many rooms in this house. He thought three was a good number. But I wasn’t sure, we were excited. Carved out everything room by room.”
Neteyam came to sit next to you in the chair.
“I remember … we even argued about which room would be the nursery,” you said with a wistful smile. “He wanted the one that got the morning sun, but I said it’ll be to warm. I wanted it to be the one closest to the master bedroom, the one you’re seeking in.” You look over at him.
“Really?”
You nodded, “yeah. That was the one he lost the argument over. Said the morning sun would make it feel alive, but I didn’t care, I wanted the baby close”
Neteyam looked up at the sky, picturing the room he’s sleeping in then shot you a crooked smile, “well, I don’t cry that often, and I sleep through the night, so I’d say I’m a pretty low-maintenance baby.”
You blink, looking at him, before you let out a laugh, a short and real, surprised by the way his joke cracked through the heaviness like sunlight cutting through the clouds. “Wow” you paused, “you are not low maintenance”
He turned towards you, feigning offense, “excuse me?”
You lean back in the seat with a knowing look. “You drink all my tea and still complain about it, you steal my shower, my shampoo and conditioner. You sulk like it’s an art form. And don’t get me started on how much space you take up on that couch.”
He blinked, the leaned closer a little, his tone playful. “I get shot once and suddenly I’m high maintenance?”
You have him a mock serious look, “shot once, hijacked my nursery, and now you think you’re a resident.”
His smirk grew into a grin, “I didn’t realize sarcasm was your love language”
“Good thing it’s fluent in yours too,” you shot back.
The air between you shifted again, still teasing, still playful, but there was something in the pause afterwards. Like neither of you really wanted the conversation to end.
Neteyam’s grin lingered, but something about it sharpened at the edges, turned a little slower, a little more deliberate. His eyes didn’t leave yours.
“Is that what his is then?” He asked, voice dropping just a touch, less teasing now, more curious. “You giving me a hard time because your like me?”
You let out a short laugh, shaking your head, “don’t flatter yourself.”
His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth before netting your eyes again, bolder this time, “you don’t deny it either.”
Neteyam’s smirk curled slow, like he knew something you don’t when you didn’t answer, maybe he was daring you to say it out loud, “you say I’m not low maintenance” his voice rich with amusement, “but you haven’t kicked me out yet.”
You raise an eyebrow, lip twitching, “that’s because you’re injured and I’m a good person.”
He leaned in more just slightly, his tone low and teasing. “Nah, I think you like having me around.”
You shot him a sideways glance. “Don’t let that compliments go to your head.”
“They already have,” he said with a lazy grin, eyes flickering again down to your lips then back up, he added, “not my fault you keep giving me reasons.”
Your pulse shattered. There it was again, that magnetic tension he slipped into so effortlessly when the sad turned flirt. You crossed your arms, trying to maintain the upper hand.
“You are a menace” you said, but your voice lacked heat.
He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Maybe, but I’m your menace now, right?”
Your mouth opened but nothing came out. You hated how much that line hit, how it made heat crawl up the back of your neck. He chuckled softly at your silence, clearly pleased with himself.
“See? You like me.”
“Remind me to lace your tea with sleeping herbs next time.”
“Still means I get tea.” He winked.
Your breath caught, and your weren’t sure if it was from frustration or something else entirely, something warmer, heavier and far more dangerous.
“You know,” you said, voice careful, “for someone who acts so suspicious of me, your sure don’t mind pushing your luck.”
He didn’t look away, “you’ve been staring at me since the night I was passed out on that couch. Don’t pretend I’m the only one.”
You snorted softly, trying to laugh it off, “you’re half-naked most of the time even though I’ve given you clothes, I’m not blind.”
“No” he said voice lower now, more certain. “But your are pretending not to want what you want.”
That hit like a spark on dry grass. Immediate. Dangerous. You could feel the flush creeping up on your neck before you could stop it. You lean back slightly forcing some air into your lung.
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
He tilted his head, the corner of his mouth tugging into something that wasn’t quite a smirk but wasn’t far off. “I’m not suggesting anything. Just saying you look at me like you’ve got questions only your hands can answer.”
Your stomach did flips. He was too close to that truth but he wants to be bold, you can be bold too.
“And what if I do?” You asked, voice soft but defiant, “you gonna let me ask them?”
Neteyam through his weight in his elbow that sat between you both in the backrest of the chair getting closer to you, “only if you’re ready for the answers.”
Your mug hit the side table and your turn your body to face him, you felt warm, your heart was beating too hard. You didn’t say anything right away. Neteyam was still, watching you like you were prey. Only this time you weren’t prey. Not tonight.
“You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t trust me,” you said your voice low as your eyes dragged over him, over the lines of his shoulders, the bandage on his chest, the slight smirk that hadn’t left his face, “and you never stop looking either.”
He leaned back slightly, eyes locked on yours. “I never said I didn’t like what I saw.”
You didn’t even hesitate, you leaned in lifting your hand until your fingers curled into the base of his hair at the nape of his neck. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
“Nice try, forest boy” you whispered, voice velvet and laced with amusement. “You couldn’t handle all this.”
Your lips were close enough that the brushed the curve of his jaw as you pulled away, just barely, just enough to see the slow, dangerous smirk that unfurled on his face.
His eyes locked onto yours, dark and hungry but playful, sharp like he was weighing your challenge. “Is that a date?” He murmured, his voice was thick with heat and barely restrained ego.
You gave him a slow taunting once over. “It’s a fact.”
He laughed, low, deep and cocky as hell. “Bold words from someone who keeps looking at me like I’m dessert.”
You raise an eyebrow, smile curling. “Please. If I wanted you, you’d know it.”
His smirk deepened, and his voice dropped lower as he replied, “good thing I don’t wait for invitations”
The air between the thickened, neither of them spoke. The space that separated them seemed to disappear with every breath, their gaze locked in a quiet challenge. Not having any move restraint, Neteyam closed the gap, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was everything they both had been trying to ignore.
It was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the waters. His hand that once rested between you on the backrest now gripping the back of your hair. Your own hands falling down his neck to his chest being careful not to touch the bandages. You kissed him back, your pulse quickening. Feeling that weight if the moment.
The kiss deepened and the world outside the cabin disappeared. It was just them, locked in this electrifying connection, both of them eager to see just how far this could go.
But then he stopped. He pulled back, his breath shallow as he looked at you. His golden eyes searched your face, not for permission, he already had that, but for something steadier, safer, maybe something that said this is okay.
You exhaled, almost laughing under your breath at how fast your pulse had jumped. “Well,” you said, your voice low but teasing, “that was either a thank you or you’re really bad at asking for a second helping.”
Neteyam cracked a small grin, still a little dazed but hiding it under bravado. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, tilting his head. “I just wanted to prove you talk too much.”
You raised a brow, smirking. “And that was your plan?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” he shot back, voice warm, full of something light but laced with tension, even now, part of him wanted to lean in again.
The air between you was warm, charged again but no longer heavy. This time, you leaned in first just a little and said, “Maybe next time you should prove it without using your mouth.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up. “Noted,” he murmured.
But neither of you moved to break the closeness, letting the night wrap around them, full of things unspoken, and things not entirely undone.
The air was cooler tonight, a light breeze had you shivering, something he took notice too. “Let’s go inside” he said softly standing and holding out a hand for you. You take it and let him lean you into the cabin locking the door behind you.
You walk into the kitchen first and he follows you, the warm light spilling from the ceiling fixtures brushing over your skin, grounding you again in the quiet house. You didn’t hear him behind you, you only turned and saw him there his larger frame leaning against the counter. He steels in slowly, deliberately, his eyes in you.
He didn’t say a word a first just came closer and closer. His arm wrapped around you brushing against your lower back, it was gentle but firm enough to draw you closer. The air between you sparked again and you didn’t back away from him, neither did he.
You leans up and kiss him this time, deeper, more controlled you both knew you wanted this now, there were no nerves, no hesitation.. His hands cradled your waist fingers splaying under your shirt against your skin. The way your body molded against him as if you had belonged there and neither of your realized until now.
Your hands move from his arms to his chest accidentally pressing around the bandage that covered his wound. He flinched, barely but it was enough for you to pull away instantly.
“Sorry,” you say quickly, trying to catch you breath but your brows were furrowed in concern, you didn’t want to hurt him. Your thumb brushed over the bandage softly the where you pressed against him. “I didn’t meant to-”
“It’s okay,” he said hoarsely, eyes closed for a second. “Just… not all the way healed yet.”
“No I know I’m sorry” your hands run up his neck holding him there. It’s clear the touch hurt him more than he’d like to admit, it wasn’t weakness you saw from him so you never understood why he hid his pain like that. “Neteyam…” you whisper his name softly.
“Tsal lu tam” one of his hands found yours and he held it as if to reassure you. You’re not sure if he realized but it was the first time Neteyam had spoken his mother tongue since he’s been in here. It sounded so different, so natural to him. You had no idea what he said but he caught your attention.
You look up at him as he catches his breath dulling the pain he had just felt. The heat between you had also dulled, tempered by the reminder of his injury.
“You’re healing fast” you say softly to him “but not that fast.”
You both still stood close, too close. He let out a low breath, nose nearly brushing yours, “it is ok” he translated without you even having to ask.
“This…doesn’t mean I don’t want to,” he said, his voice rough, tinged with frustration.
“I know, me too.” You whispered, eyes flickering over his face.
You stood for a while bodied warm, breath shared, but you both knew they crossed that next line now, with him not being fully healed, and you being apart of a completely different world. So much could go wrong now. His hand lingered a second longer before he let go.
The next few days blurred into a rhythm that felt dangerously close to domesticity, dangerous, because it felt too good with him.
Neteyam’s wound was nearly closed up now, it was almost supernatural the way he bounded back, just soreness in his chest mostly since it was almost time for you to remove the stitches that made him stiff at times.
It didn’t stop him from brushing up against him, whether it was walking past you and letting his hand graze your waist. Or standing behind you in the kitchen pressing you up against the counter as you made breakfast in the morning, his lips kissing your neck softly as reached for a fruit placing it in front of you to keep you busy so you won’t move. Or pulling you into those long, slow, steamy kisses that always left you weak in the knees, half forgotten that this wasn’t supposed to happen.
There were times your find yourself wrapped up in his strong arms as he held you against him, the press of his mouth hungry but unhurried on anywhere he could reach like he was memorizing you. Other times it was just a look from across the dinning table, a brief brush of fingers together when he held your hand in his, left you breathless.
Still, you both didn’t sleep in the same room at night even though sometimes you’d lay in bed hoping he came to lay with you but you knew that would take you across another line you both shouldn’t be near. It made your heart ache with want and wariness.
What really stuck with you was the day he first kissed you, the day you hurt him accidentally and he slipped his mother tongue. His voice in na’vi stirred something deep. It was so intimate to you, like he let his guard down and he hadn’t realized. He didn’t notice you heard.
But you did and it stuck.
It followed you for the next week or so, no matter how weak Neteyam made you feel on the inside and outside, no matter what you two laughed about, no matter how sweet or what nicknames he called you out of amusement, or attraction. The nagging thought in the back of your mind didn’t leave.
What happens when he leaves?
The question would not be what if, but when. You saved him life, you know who he is, you know he is someone’s son, someone’s brother. And they still think he is dead, and they miss him. He knows he missed them back and you couldn’t put yourself in a position to keep him from his family. It’s just not something you’d do.
He was healing quickly, another week from now he may very well be fully healed. It took you a month to fall for him, it was so easy. What happens when you have to spend the rest of your years alone? Cause in case you forgot the RDA thinks you’re dead too. You are free from them, but you are not accepted anywhere except with then.
It was late in the day when you finally decided to ask him about it. The sun was setting and Neteyam was sitting in the porch swing, shirtless, bandage long gone, his chest more marked only by a scar that caught the light like a whisper of what happened. You know it wouldn’t go away.
You step out with a mug of tea for him, heart pounding in your chest for reason that had nothing to do with the drink in your hand. He looked up when you approached with a smile tugging his lips and warm eyes and you sat next to him handing him the mug. Your shoulders barely touched unlike how you’ve been for the past week and a half. Never without touching.
You both say silently for a few beats watching the wind roll through the trees.
Then, softly you asked him, “do you miss them? Your family, your friends”
Neteyam didn’t look at you right away. He took a slow sip of his tea and let out a long breath. “Every day.”
You nod, the words felt heavy even though you knew the answer. Your fingers play with the sleeves of your sweater. “It’s been almost four weeks now.”
Your eyes meet the horizon, “you’re almost fully healed. Strong. And I know you’ve been thinking about it.” You turn to him, eyes searching his face. “What are you going to do?”
He was quiet for a long time.
You look away staring back at the swaying trees, “when will you go back?”
Finally, Neteyam turned to face you, eyes narrowing slightly, more serious now, “soon” he admitted with no sign of joy in the word. “I have to. They’re probably out of their minds.”
You nod, heart sinking but you press on, “and what happens then?”
“What do you mean?” He tilited his head.
“I mean…” you swallow. “What happens to us? To me?”
His silence stretched again.
“I’m not like you Neteyam” you say, “there is no going back for me. This-” you gesture vaguely towards the house and the land around you, “-this is my life now, I made my lease with it, staying here forever, I though I’d be doing that alone.” You pause. “And don’t misunderstand me, I have no regret saving you. But you’ve made being here alone…harder.”
He blinked slowly, haze softening but he said nothing.
“I want- no I need to know what I am to you. If I’m just a…. chapter, a strong you’ll take home when you leave. Or am I something else?”
Neteyam shifts, setting his tea down. His golden eyes locked on your, and his usually sarcastic sass and humor was gone, replaced by something raw.
He looked at you for a long moment. His face didn’t change by something in his eyes flickered, conflict? Guilt? The weight of something he didn’t know how to say.
He reached for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles with surprising gentleness, and when he finally spoke, his voice was steady. Painfully steady.
“I never thought I’d be here this long.” He admitted, “at first, I was just trying to survive. But then you, kept helping me and talking to me and letting me stay here. You were so unbelievably to get comfortable with and that’s saying a lot coming from me. We clicked. You made it hard not to care.”
Your chest ached but you didn’t interrupt.
“I didn’t expect you. You were complicated and I never say you coming. Maybe I didn’t want to.” He glanced up.
You tired to breath, but you felt like your ribs couldn’t move.
“I think about you, too” he said, voice softer now. “I watch you when you’re not looking and I remember every word you every whispered in my ear, the way you touch me when you didn’t mean to. Or when you did cause I…” he couldn’t find the right word, maybe he just didn’t want to say it.
A half smile tugged at his lips. Bittersweet.
“But this…us… it’s not that simple.” He whispered
Silence.
“You have made this cabin so domestic and amazing and I’m so grateful to have spent this time with you. You have your roots here. I don’t, and I know you know that.”
Your lips parted, but no words came. You didn’t want to say it aloud.
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath was warm between you both. But you couldn’t breathe.
“If I were someone else,” he mumbled, “maybe this could be something simple, easy. But I’m not. I have people waiting for me. I am the first son of Toruk Makto. A war that u walked away from but never stopped being apart of.”
You closed your eyes before you could feel yourself tear up.
“I have to fill a spot that literally no one else can fill. I am a highly skilled, trained warrior. I take down bases single handedly sweetheart. I can’t put this burden on someone else, on my brother. I have a responsibility to my people. To my clan.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered.
But he already was.
And you both knew it.
Now you’re quite the air between you changed. You shifted slightly back leaning back against the backrest your knee now touching his.
“You always look at me like that” he turned his head, eyes dark, held something you couldn’t figure out.
“Like what?”
“Like I’m staying.”
Your heart skipped, you don’t answer, you can’t.
He leans in just enough for you to feel his warmth again and he pulled you closer. “Come here, look at me” he pulls you in effortlessly.
“You know I want to,” he murmurs. “You feel it too…don’t you?”
And before you can say anything he kisses you. Your legs were thrown over his as he held you close. The kiss was slow, soft, deep. Not rushed this time just full of everything neither of you had said out loud.
His hand comes to rest on your thigh, warm and steady. You lean into him, one hand curling against his chest where his heart thuds strong beneath her palm. The kiss lingers, pulls her under
The swing creaked beneath you both as he picks you up into his lap, not bringing the kiss. You shift in his lap without thinking swinging one leg over to straddle him properly. His hands gripped your waist under your sweater, you could feel the strength in his arms, solid, grounding you.
“You drive me insane,” he mumbled against your lips, voice rough, breath hot. “You shouldn’t… but you do.”
You kiss hind again in answer, hands threading through this hair, tugging gently until he growled low in his throat, his breath fanning across your pulse point.
You barely notice the night air anymore. Your fingers trailed down his chest, feeling the rise and fall of the muscle and warmth, the way he arched into your touch like he couldn’t help it.
“I don’t want to stop.” You whisper, heart pounding.
His hands stilled in her hips, holding her tight, “then don’t.”
You searched his eyes, those amber eyes darkened with desire, with something deeper and say the truth here. Neither of you wanted to stop. Not tonight.
Neteyam held your gaze for only a heartbeat before he wrapped around you picking you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He effortlessly carried you up the stairs to the bedroom. His stride was steady, but urgent like he waited long enough.
Your arms tightened around his shoulders as he climbed, the heat between you growing with every step. You kiss the side of his neck, and he let out a low, strained sound before he finally dropped you onto the bed making your squeal.
“You sure?” He asked, voice a low rasp, his hands flexing as he grabbing your ankles holding your legs up and apart. And you nod without hesitation.
“I want you.” You voice as you pull him down over you for another kiss. Neteyam kissed down your neck hungrily, leaving marks in his wake. His hands had been slowly pushing your sweat up he pushed over your head quickly and tossed it somewhere on the floor.
He raised his head for a beat staring down at how pretty you looked, blush covering your face, hair messy, topless in front of him. Neteyam didn’t waste anytime hooking his fingers in your shorts and patties tugging them down with haste in one swift movement leaving you completely exposed under him.
“Your so pretty, so fucking pretty like this for me” he mumbles as he kisses down your body holding both your touch tits in his hands he licked and sucked at the skin before he flicked his tongue against your right nipple. Your back arched off the bed with a sweet moan which made his tail whip excitedly behind him.
“Fuck..” you whisper, rolling your eyes back and biting your lip at the feeling of his tongue playing with your nipples. Neteyam sucked until he bruised them before he moved down your stomach to your core.
He held your thighs in his hand spreading them open as he looked at the slick leaking out of your weeping hole. He groaned in satisfaction even though he hasn’t even touched you yet, “baby is this for all for me?”
He knew the answer, he knows it’s his. He wants you to say it. “Yes yes…yours Nete” you sing feverishly, anything for him to get down there and make you feel good.
“Yea that’s mine sevin” he called you a name in his mother tongue and you almost rolled your eyes even though you didn’t know what it meant.
“W-what does that mean?” You asked breathlessly.
“It means pretty, you are so pretty! Fucking gorgeous.” He said before he takes his pants off bare and hard underneath.
Your eyes widen slightly as he stroked himself looking down at your body, just admiring all he already did to it. Thinking about all he’s about to do.
He laid down on the bed next to you and pulled you up and over him. Neteyam’s hand gripped your hair softly pushing you down towards his length, “gonna be a good girl and suck my cock?”
You nod again feverishly, no way you’d say no to his tone, or those words that made you want to ride him until you pass out. You bring your head down willingly licking a stride up his length to the top and swirling your tongue around it.
Neteyam moans which is quickly becoming your favorite sound, your tail whips in the air. He grabs it quickly wrapping it around his around using it to lift your lower body until his face was between your tights. His hands ran the outside of your thighs up to your ass and back down a few times as he rolled his eyes back and mown at your trying to deep throat his cock that clearly didn’t fit in your mouth.
Your tongue twirled around his length anyway you could make it go as he gave your ass a nice slap making you moan against him, vibrations sent shivers down to your cunt. Your life your head for some needs sir gasping loudly as you come up. You stroke his cock while looking between your legs are the absolutely glorious expression on his face,
It was amazing watching him fall apart for your tongue, you could imagine what he’d feel like once he finally got to stretch you out with his cock, and you couldn’t wait.
Finally, Neteyam pulled your lower half down by your ass and licked a stride up your cunt from your clit to your hole, you gagged, and you moaned on his cock not expecting him to do that. He let out an amusement chuckle at that, “oh great mother..” he mumbled, “I love it when you gag on my cock like that” he moaned as you curled your tongue on him. “You like gagging on my cock sevin?” You pull your head off him once more letting out a desperate yes into the air before you go back down.
Your face was messy with spit and precum, but you didn’t care, you wanted him to come in your, outnumbered if you could make him, Neteyam’s tongue worked wonders on your clit you almost stop being about to focus moving your head up and down.
He marked up your thighs turning them purple before he sucked on your clit, his tongue flicked up and down, side to side, in circles until he had your arching your back and crying, he had you so lose to coming when he slapped your ass again, something else you’re growing to like.
Your tail whipped harshly in the air, hitting the headboard, sometimes the the bed next to your legs before it wrapped around Neteyam’s left arm. He knew you were close from how much more you were moaning for him to make you cum.
He greedily didn’t waste a drop of your essence when his tongue fucked it out of you before giving you another slap on the ass and pushing you off him. He quickly switched positions getting back on top of you, “I didn’t know you were so good at that baby, I would’ve asked you to suck a cock so long ago.”
He’s hand came up squishing your cheeks together, it wasn’t to hurt you he just loved the fucked our express you sported, he wanted to touch it.
“Would you have sweet? Sucked my cock if I asked you before?” He asked your sitting up on his knees as he spread you open lining himself up. You nod vigorously at him, “mhmmm.” You replied.
He could cum in the stop from how submissive you were, he was honestly surprised you didn’t fight him down more to be in top, not that he was complaining. Seeing his girl under him like this couldn’t have been a sexier view.
“Ready for me to fuck you baby?”
You nodded messily brushing the hair away from your face.
“No no no I wanna hear you this time, want me to make you cum in my cock sweetheart?” He chuckled.
“Yes, yes pleasesss tey.” You moaned as he slapped his cock head on your clit a couple times before he slowly pushed it in. His head rocked back, and he rolled his eyes when he felt how amazingly tight you were.
“Holy fuck…your so fucking tight.” His body falls over yours his hands on both sides of your head as he looks down at your expression. Blush tenfold, mouth wide open as if you were silently screaming as he stretched you open.
You body was adjusting to him quickly, but it felt like he had cock for days. When you thought you couldn’t fit anymore, he made his entire length fit with a sweet scream from you.
“Oh, my goddd” you roll your eyes, nails digging into his shoulder trying to keep your grip on something. You moans turned to pants as he started to slowly push in and out of you. His hair fell over, acting like a curtain that blocked you from the outside world.
His eyes were bright with desire as he stared down at you. “You feel so good!” You moan between thrust. Which made him smile widely canines in full display. He stuffed his face in your neck and grazed them against your already bruised up skin.
“Fuckkkkk me harder! Please tey” you moan as you rack your hands in his hair pushing it back so you could see his face. You smile you as him biting your lip, but it didn’t stop your little moans that he fucked out of you.
Neteyam chuckled as how needy you were for more, his arms went down to your thighs to hold them, pulling your body into his thrust. His grip was strong you’re sure you’d have bruises literally when he was down. Your tail lashed until it wrapped around his strong thigh trying to ground yourself.
“‘m gonna cum! Gonna cum tey” you mewl into the air along with your sweet moans. Your nails raked scratch marks on his back and arms, he’s fucking you so good. Neteyam fucked you like it was his one and only job in the whole world.
You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before your roll your eyes back and scream, arching your back you came squirting in his thighs and abdomen. Your eyes squeezed shut as you moan from the stimulation.
He slowed down to admire your work, but you quickly stopped him, “don’t stop, don’t stop! Keep going! Cum!” You demanded he came for you now.
Your mind was delirious your only thoughts were his big hands on your body, the feeling on his cock bullying its way into your stomach felt incredible. And now that you were being overstimulated. You wanted nothing more than for him to empty his load in you and put you to bed.
And that’s exactly what he planned on doing. Neteyam smiled wickedly as he pulled out and flipped you over on all fours. “Ready to make me cum sweet?” He pulled you up and down positioning you properly and spoke in your ear as he leaned over your body.
You nod feverishly wanting nothing more than that, “yeah? Gonna be a good girl and make me cum?”
“Yes, yes yes yesssss” you moan into the air loudly as he reentered you and started to pound away. First his hands slapped your ass again, grabbing your hips and pulling you in. Neteyam felt like he was a different kind of depth from this angle, he was snug in your cunt. So much so that he was fucking you, but you couldn’t make a sound. Every thrust knocked the air out of you.
That was until he started to fuck faster. Your upped body dropped to the bed head turned to the side so you could see him from the corner of your eye but it didn’t last long, he laced his fingers in your hair pulling you back up so you had no choice but to help hold yourself back up. You couldn’t do anything but scream, it was literally screaming or nothing, you couldn’t find it in yourself to quiet down at all. His fucking just didn’t allow that.
“Look at me sweetheart, being such a good fucking girl for me” he teased and taunted. It actually made you feel pretty, you wanted to be like this for him, you didn’t want him to have anyone but you like this either.
You wanted to nod but his grip on your hair stopped you. You didn’t expect him to pull you back more, his thrust were monstrous but his grip was gentle bending you back in ways you didn’t know you could bend, your head was looking up and him and he leaned down giving you a slowly kiss.
You wanted to cum again but your just couldn’t voice it this time, your voice was not gone, you just could reach it from the angle you were in so without warning again your squirt messing him up some more. Your jaw was slack as he let go of your hair and grabbed your arms by your elbow pulling your body back to him.
You couldn’t think straight you started to push back even more wanting him to fuck you harder, but you couldn’t find the words, and harder he fucked until he emptied his entire soul into your cunt. The groan he let out was animalistic, if you were so fucked out on him you might have gotten scared.
Nevertheless Neteyam eased his cock out of you watching his cum ooze out of your now gaping hole. He rolled his eyes in satisfaction as he dropped down next to you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. He snuggles his face into your neck as he felt your pant to catch your breath.
“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” He whispered into your skin.
“Mhmm, I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me” you nod softly, whispering that words, “I’m great” you turn your body to face his molding into his touch as he held you impossibly close, with a smile.
“I guess we established I can more than keep up.” He chuckled softly making you giggle. He picked you up taking you to the bathroom to clean up standing under the shower with you, wrapped around your frame. He didn’t take his hands off you for a second, he didn’t want to be away from you. And neither did you.
Neteyam took your to bed and got in with your wrapping his arms around you pulling the blanket over both of you. It was a bit earlier than you normally went to sleep but you were complaining. You just wanted to be here, with him.
You press a kiss on his chest where his heart was before whispering, “this wasn’t just…nothing. Right?”
His hand paused on her back, he took a breath, then another. “No” he said, voice soft, thoughtful. “It wasn’t nothing.” He kissed to top of your head.
But it wasn’t a promise either.
He tilted your chin up gently. His golden eyes meeting yours. They were searching your face like they were trying to understand something even he couldn’t name, “you’re different,” he murmured. “From anyone I’ve ever known.”
You smiled, a little sad, “that’s not always a good thing.”
“It is to me.”
After that you didn’t say anything snuggling against him as sleep found both of you.
The days that followed blurred together in a quiet, desperate sort of bliss.
Neteyam was healed now, at least, enough to walk without wincing, to stretch without pulling at the scar that had once marked his chest. His strength had returned, slow but steady, and with it came the quiet understanding that time was running out. That he would leave soon.
But neither of you said it.
Instead, you both clung to the days you had left.
He moved through your space like he belonged there now. Not as a guest, not as the stranger you’d patched up on your couch, but as someone who knew exactly where the mugs were kept, who always reached for the same towel in the morning, who leaned against the counter behind her while you cooked and stole bites with a lazy smirk before you could even plate the food.
And you let him.
You let him wrap his arms around your waist from behind while you stood at the sink, let him kiss the spot beneath your ear that made your breath catch. You let him wrap you both in a blanket when the nights got cold. He would tease you, calling you tiny from how well you fit in that space.
You laughed too much, touched too much, kissed like you didn’t want to stop. And sometimes, you didn’t.
You danced in the kitchen one night to music playing low from an old speaker, his hand warm and firm against the small of your back, your cheek resting on his shoulder as if it had always been meant to fit there.
It started as a joke, you were washing dishes, swaying with the song singing it softly from the speaker on the windowsill. It was an old song. Something smooth and low, something just enough to make your hips sway with rhythm. Neteyam had been leaning against the counter, chewing the last bite of fruit, watching your with that quiet little smirk that had become all too familiar.
“You’re dancing,” he noted.
You turn and look at him over your shoulder, “and you’re not.”
He steals forward, exaggerated and smug, “you’re saying you want me to?”
“I’m saying you couldn’t keep up,” you teased, flicking water in his direction.
His eyes gleamed with challenge.
Before you could retreat, he was there, grabbing the towel from your hands, tossing it aside, and pulling you in by the waist. Your laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, light and surprised, your fingers gripping his arms for balance as he spun you into the open space of the kitchen.
You hadn’t expected him to actually be good at it.
But he was, surprisingly graceful, moving with a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing. His steps were confident, fluid, his hands strong and sure at your waist. He twirled you suddenly, catching you with an arm around your back when you stumbled, dizzy with laughter.
“I thought you said I couldn’t keep up?” he said, voice smug near your ear.
“That was before you cheated,” you accused, cheeks flushed and eyes shining.
He grinned, slow and smug. “You just don’t know how to be led.”
Before you could reply, he dipped you low, one hand firm at your back, the other holding your hand as you arched with a breathless gasp, your hair brushing the wooden floor. You clutched his shoulder for balance, eyes locked with his. The music kept playing, but in that moment, you could barely hear it.
He didn’t pull you up right away.
Just stood there, holding you like that, close and quiet, his expression unreadable, but something simmered beneath it.
And you suddenly forgot how to breathe when he leaned down and kissed you, deep and passionately.
Sometimes, you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking, after dinner, when you were tucked into the corner of the couch in one of his oversized shirts; in the garden, when the light caught your hair just right. And when you looked back, he didn’t look away.
But he never said anything. And neither did you.
You kissed like lovers. You moved like partners. You lived like something close to more.
But neither of you used the word.
Because the word would mean permanence.
And this? This wasn’t permanent.
The morning he was supposed to leave came too fast.
The air felt heavy and still, as if the forest itself knew this was the end of something. You stood in the kitchen, a warm mug of tea cupped between your hands, untouched. The steam curled lazily toward the ceiling and vanished, just like everything else good lately seemed to.
He hadn’t come downstairs yet. But you knew he was awake.
You’d heard his footsteps moving upstairs before the sun had fully risen. He always woke before you now, falling into your rhythm like he was meant to be here. For over a month now, he’d been a presence you could rely on. You’d gotten used to the way his voice rumbled through your house, to the way he touched things gently, to the sound of him breathing next to you.
He was leaving. And you didn’t know how to hold onto something that was never really yours.
You heard him descending the stairs, and your breath caught without permission. When you turned, he was there, shoulders squared, spear-clothes replaced with something more familiar to him. A satchel was slung over his shoulder, and for the first time since the day you found him, he looked like he belonged to another world.
His world.
Not yours.
He stepped closer, wordless, and took the mug from your hands, setting it gently on the counter. His fingers grazed yours. They lingered for half a second too long. It wasn’t an accident. You didn’t pull away.
You said quietly, “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”
He held your gaze. The look in his eyes was careful, unreadable—until it wasn’t. You saw it in the way he blinked a little too slowly, like he was trying not to let it show. The conflict. The sadness.
“You shouldn’t be alone out here,” he said.
You gave a half-hearted smile. “I was alone before you. I’ll be fine after.”
He didn’t agree. But he didn’t argue either.
Instead, he stepped forward and rested his forehead against yours. His hands lifted to your cheeks, cradling your face like something breakable. You closed your eyes and let your breath catch in your throat. The moment stretched, full of everything you couldn’t say—everything you wanted to ask but already knew the answer to.
“So that’s it?” you whispered.
There was no reply.
He kissed you. Soft. Intentional. Not rushed. It wasn’t heat or hunger—it was a goodbye. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to memorize you. His hands trembled slightly at your jaw, but he didn’t let go. Not until you had to breathe.
When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours one last time.
And then he stepped back.
You didn’t stop him. You wanted to, but your feet wouldn’t move.
He looked at you once more. Just once.
He stood there for a moment, shoulders tense, back straight—like he was bracing himself. Then he looked over, just enough for you to see the conflict in his eyes.
“I keep thinking if I look at you too long, I’ll stay.”
His voice was low, almost hoarse, but steady. “You made this place feel… like more than just a place to heal. And I wasn’t ready for that.”
His fingers tightened on the handle. “But this, whatever this is between us, it’s not nothing. You know that, right?”
He looked at you long enough to see you cover your lips with your fingers and nod.
Then he turned, opened the door, and walked out.
The air was thick with the warmth of the afternoon sun as the waves lapped gently against the shore, and the village hummed with life. Tuk and a few of the younger Metkayina children were playing near the edge of the water when the distant figure of a Na’vi appeared. At first, they couldn’t be sure, but then—
“Neteyam?” Tuk’s voice was barely a whisper, but it cut through the air like a knife.
In an instant, her eyes widened, and a breathless gasp escaped her lips. “NETEYAM!”
Her scream rang out, drawing the attention of everyone around. Tuk’s small body shot forward, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Her feet kicked up sand as she rushed toward the figure now stepping onto the shore. The other villagers froze for a moment, watching in shock as the younger girl sprinted toward her brother.
Tuk reached him first, her small arms wrapping around his legs as she sobbed, her tears flowing freely. “You’re alive… You’re alive!” she cried, her voice cracking with emotion.
Tuk never let go of him, clinging desperately to her brother as she looked up at him, still not fully believing her eyes.
Neteyam knelt slightly to pick her up, arms wrapping tightly around her. “Hey, little one,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair. “I missed you too.”
Lo’ak didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just stared, lips parted, his heart thundering in his chest. Then, like something snapped loose inside him, he moved, fast, running to them, barely stopping before he threw his arms around his older brother in a crushing hug. Tuk was squeezed between them, but neither seemed to notice.
Neteyam laughed under his breath, voice thick. “I here baby bro.
Behind them, Kiri came forward, blinking rapidly against her tears. She smiled through them as she reached out to touch Neteyam’s arm. Since one arm held tuk and the other rested on the back of Lo’ak’s head, Neteyam rest his head on kiri’s when she hugged him. “Brother…you are safe.” he whispered as if to confirm it was him.
He had missed them so much, he thought about this day everyday since you saved his laugh.
“Where are mom and dad?” Neteyam asked them.
“They are at home...” Kiri spoke up softly.
“Come let us go to them,” Neteyam ushered them along putting Tuk down for her to run ahead, Lo’ak walked next to him with Neteyam’s arm still on the back of his head and Kiri holding his other hand on the other side of him.
They walk along the path together until they made it in front of the Mauri. Tuk was hyperventilating trying to explain to them Neteyam was there but her words were so fast and jumbled they didn’t understand.
Tuk burst in with a breathless cry, her voice high and jumbled. “He’s here! He’s— I saw him— outside—he’s here!”
Jake’s brow furrowed. Neytiri looked up immediately, alarm in her eyes. “Tuk,” she said carefully, “slow down—who is here?”
But Tuk just spun, pointing to the entrance, tears already brimming. “Just look!”
Jake and Neytiri exchanged a glance, uncertain, cautious, and then stood, slowly, like they were afraid to hope.
And then he stepped into view.
Neteyam stood tall in the doorway, backlit by the soft glow of the evening. His body was leaner than before, marked with faint scars and sun-darkened skin, but he was there. Whole. Alive.
Neytiri didn’t breathe. Her eyes locked onto his face, wide and wet before her lips even parted.
“Neteyam?” she whispered, voice cracking.
Jake was frozen beside her, shoulders drawn tight with tension that hadn’t left him since the day they lost him.
But when Neteyam took one step forward and murmured, “Hi, sa’nok,” that was all it took.
Neytiri let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a prayer as she crossed the distance in seconds, throwing her arms around him. Her hands clutched at his back, his hair, his face, like she needed to touch every part to believe it was real.
Jake was only a breath behind her, wrapping both of them up in his arms.
Neteyam, once the calmest in the family, trembled under their grip.
“I’m sorry,” he said, barely audible, voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Agh!” Neytiri hissed cutting him off, “you are not at fault my son.” She reassumed him quickly.
“I should have come back sooner, I was healing. I am sorry.” Neteyam continued softly.
“All that matters is that you’re here now.” Jake said as he held his face looking him in the eyes. “You are so strong, and we are so proud of you.”
Neytiri nodded as she sobbed hugging him once more. “Thank you, great mother! Thank you!”
Neteyam gave a small, broken laugh. And then Tuk wrapped herself around his side, Kiri touched his arm gently, and even Lo’ak, head lowered and eyes red, pulled him into a fierce hug from behind.
He was home.
They sat together in the family mauri, close like they hadn’t been in weeks—no, months. The woven floor creaked softly beneath them as if it remembered their weight. Neytiri hadn’t stopped touching him: her hand brushed over his arm again and again like she couldn’t believe he was solid, real. Jake sat beside her, face unreadable, but his eyes never left Neteyam.
Kiri and Tuk sat cross-legged in front of him, and Lo’ak curled beside his older brother with his head on his shoulder. The silence that had followed the reunion lingered for only a few more seconds before Jake spoke.
“Where the hell have you been?”
The question wasn’t sharp, his voice cracked, it was full of awe and something that sounded like fear still clinging to his voice. Neytiri looked at Neteyam quickly, her brows pinched, echoing the question without saying it aloud.
Lo’ak added quietly, “We thought something must’ve taken you. One minute you were on the rock and when we returned you were just…gone.”
“Were you taken?” Kiri’s voice was gentler, more cautious. “Did someone find you? How did you survive?”
Neteyam’s eyes dropped to the floor, his fingers moving slowly against the edge of the mat. “It’s… a long story,” he said finally.
Jake frowned. “We have time.”
But Neteyam just shook his head. “I was lucky. That’s all. I got out of the water. I healed.”
“Alone?” Neytiri asked softly.
His jaw shifted slightly. “Not exactly.”
They all looked at each other, waiting, the questions thick in the air.
But Neteyam didn’t offer more.
Lo’ak frowned. “You’re not gonna tell us what happened?”
“I’m here. That’s what matters.” His voice was calm, but firm. Unmovable as he rested his hand on Lo’ak’s head once more.
There was a long pause.
Jake’s shoulders sank slightly, but he didn’t press. “Alright. We won’t push.”
Neytiri reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. “You’ll tell us when you’re ready.”
Neteyam met her eyes, a flash of guilt there, but also protectiveness. “Yeah.”
The silence settled again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was filled with the sound of being together again. The sound of breathing. Of warmth. Of a family no longer broken.
But the mystery remained, where had Neteyam gone? And who had helped him heal?
Over the next two weeks, the cracks in Neteyam’s armor began to show, subtle at first, but impossible to ignore.
It was little things at first, like the way he’d go rigid at the sudden crack of a fish net snapping, or the sharp clang of a pot dropped onto stone. He would still himself completely, eyes darting around before relaxing, but always a second too late, always too visibly. The others noticed. His father said nothing. Neytiri frowned often, quietly watching him from across the marui.
He wasn’t cruel to his siblings, but he wasn’t as patient as he’d always been. One afternoon, Tuk was playing with her shell collection, chattering brightly, when she accidentally dropped one. It cracked sharply on the floor and she let out a high-pitched scream, part startle, part sadness.
Neteyam was on her in an instant.
He knelt in front of her, hands gentle as he turned her arms and checked her legs for injury, for blood, for anything. But there was nothing. Just a wide-eyed little sister with a broken toy. He exhaled shakily, then said, just a touch too sharp, too strained, “Why? You have nothing to be screaming for.”
Tuk’s lip trembled. She didn’t cry, but her small voice whispered, “I’m sorry.”
He softened immediately, brushing her hair back with a tender sigh. “No. I’m sorry, Tuk. I didn’t mean it like that.”
His thoughts spiraled in quiet waves, always leading back to you. How you held his face in your hands. How you smelled after your shower. How your fingers twitched when you embroidered, always pulling too tight on the first stitch. The memory of your breath, warm against his throat.
He tried to bury it, keep himself moving. He picked up the bracelet work again. Lo’ak walked in one day, brows furrowed. “You don’t even give those to people.”
Neteyam didn’t answer. He just kept weaving the pattern you’d taught him. Tight, crooked in one corner. Familiar.
It was the singing they noticed first.
Soft and low, barely more than a breath, but always the same melody. A tune no one in the family had heard before, one with an unfamiliar rise and fall, notes that sounded like comfort… and ache. Neteyam hummed it without realizing, usually when his hands were busy—carving, weaving, or washing. Even when he walked along the shoreline at dusk, the melody trailed behind him like a shadow.
His siblings started to pick up on it. Kiri heard it while braiding her hair one morning and paused, tilting her head toward him. Lo’ak noticed it when they were spearfishing—Neteyam would drift off, his lips moving soundlessly until he jerked himself back to the moment. Tuk hummed it too, mimicking him unconsciously, but when she asked where it came from, Neteyam just looked away.
The song belonged to you, though he never said your name.
The silence he carried was louder than any melody.
And the sleep… or lack of it… that was next.
He didn’t sleep on his pillow anymore. Not like before. Instead, he wrapped his arms around it, buried his face in the cottony middle, and curled himself tight like he was afraid of unraveling. His tail no longer lay relaxed across the woven mat; it was tucked close to his body, tense. Every few hours, he’d toss and turn, then sit up, wide-eyed and disoriented, breathing hard like he’d just been yanked from some far-off place.
Some nights, he paced in front of the marui, arms folded tight across his chest, jaw tense. Other nights he sat on the edge of his sleeping mat, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor while the rest of the family lay still. His eyes looked bruised with fatigue, but he never said he was tired.
And when he did sleep, it was only for a little while. A flicker of peace, until something small, a shout, a crashing wave, a shell hitting the ground, snapped him back to the surface.
Like the day Kiri accidentally dropped a basket and screamed when it fell apart. Neteyam had flinched so hard he nearly stumbled. He whipped his head to look at her, eyes scanning her arms, her legs, checking for blood, for breaks, for pain. But she was fine just startled. And when he realized there were no injuries, his face shifted.
“What the fuck Kiri? Get a grip. Literally,” he said, calm, but short, his voice clipped and colder than she’d ever heard it.
Kiri blinked up at him, surprised. His hands were still on her shoulders, but his touch was lighter now. Gentle again. Like he knew he’d overstepped but didn’t have the words to fix it. He stood without another word and walked away. Later that night, he brought her a sweetfruit and kissed her hair in apology, but didn’t bring it up again.
His parents were quiet about it, but they noticed too.
They saw how he’d zone out during meals, fingers moving in patterns they couldn’t recognize, embroidery, little woven strands, sometimes bracelets he didn’t give to anyone. The designs were different from the ones he learned growing up. Too intricate, too… specific. Clearly taught by someone else but who? They couldn’t say. They watched how he braided strands of twine for hours, all different colors and patterns, then tucked it under his sleeping mat like a secret.
Jake and Neytiri exchanged glances but didn’t press. Not yet. Because their son had come back to them alive… but not entirely whole.
And while they didn’t know who he was grieving, they could see it in everything he did.
Even the way he hummed that melody in the middle of the night, just loud enough to keep himself company, just quiet enough to mourn.
The glow of the bioluminescent lanterns outside the marui flickered faintly, casting soft light through the woven walls. Neteyam lay on his side on the sleeping mat, eyes half open, his arm loosely clutching the pillow he’d once only used for support. Now, he held it as if it were grounding him, something to anchor him in the silence of his own mind.
Behind him, Lo’ak’s forehead was pressed gently to his back, breathing slow and even. He’d done this every night since Neteyam came home. Said nothing about it. Just curled up behind him like he needed to be sure he was real, listening to the steady beat of his heart before he could sleep himself.
A soft rustle stirred the quiet, and Neteyam’s ears twitched before he turned his head slightly toward the sound.
Neytiri stood at the entrance of the marui, her presence light, careful not to startle. Her eyes searched his in the dim glow soft, loving, concerned.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked gently, crouching beside him.
Neteyam didn’t speak at first. Just blinked slowly, then nodded. “Some nights are harder than others.”
She reached forward, brushing her fingers through his braids the way she had when he was younger. “You do not have to hold it all inside, ma ’itan.”
“I’m not,” he murmured. Then quieter, “Not all of it.”
Neytiri tilted her head, watching his face. “You jump when things fall. You are quiet when you used to laugh. You are here, but your spirit is still traveling.”
He swallowed, shifting slightly, careful not to wake Lo’ak. “I’m just… tired, sa’nok. That’s all.”
“You hold your pillow like someone who misses the weight of a body beside them,” she said softly, her tone tender, not accusing. “You hum songs you did not know before. And you walk at night like the stars will answer you.”
Neteyam’s jaw tightened, but his eyes glistened with something unspoken.
“I am not asking for your secrets,” Neytiri added. “Just your heart. Let it rest, even for a little while.”
“I’m trying,” he whispered. His voice cracked just slightly. “I really am.”
She leaned in and kissed his forehead, then rested her own there for a long moment. “You don’t have to carry the whole war inside you anymore.”
When she pulled back, she smiled gently, brushing a thumb along his temple. “Goodnight, ma yawntu.”
“Goodnight, sa’nok,” he murmured.
Neytiri glanced at Lo’ak still sleeping soundly behind him, pressed to his back like a second heartbeat. Her eyes softened again. Then, without another word, she slipped out, leaving the siblings bundled in quiet comfort, one dreaming, the other still chasing peace behind heavy eyelids.
The sun had barely climbed above the tide when voices echoed outside the Sully family mauri — familiar, lighthearted. Lo’ak stepped out first to greet them, the sound of splashing feet in the shallows carrying over the breeze.
Aonung and Tsireya.
It had been nearly a month since the clan believed Neteyam was dead, taken by the sea before they could say goodbye. Now, he was alive. Healing. Quiet. Changed.
Neteyam sat cross-legged on his sleeping mat, back straight, hands loosely clasped. His shoulders tensed when he heard their laughter. It was strange, he’d missed them. He’d once teased Aonung over every clumsy spear throw and laughed until his stomach hurt at Tsireya’s mimicry of her father’s scolding tone. But today, something coiled tight in his chest.
They stepped into view.
Tsireya.
His breath caught.
She looked just like you in the sunlight.
The wide, curious eyes. The soft shape of her mouth when she smiled. The way her hair framed her face, falling like waves over her shoulders. His mind buckled beneath the weight of memories, the scent of your skin after a shower, your laugh when you danced around the cabin, your fingers pulling thread through cloth as you taught him embroidery. Tsireya’s presence was a mirror, not a perfect one, but close enough to sting.
He stood slowly, greeting them with a half-smile. “You came to see if I’m real.”
Tsireya laughed, warm and sweet. “You’re not a ghost. That much is clear.”
Neteyam’s eyes didn’t leave hers. Not a ghost, she said, but he felt like one, like something still tethered to someone not here.
Aonung clapped him on the shoulder. “You look like you wrestled a palulukan and won. Barely.”
They laughed. Neteyam smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
Later, when they all sat for lunch, Neteyam made space next to him and wordlessly tapped the mat, motioning Tsireya over. She glanced at Lo’ak, who gave her a subtle nod. She settled beside Neteyam, and he immediately rested his hand on her knee, a gesture so natural, no one questioned it. Except Lo’ak, who paused mid-bite.
Neteyam didn’t notice. He was focused on the way Tsireya’s lips curled as she bit into a piece of grilled fish, not because he was interested in her, but because he remembered the way you did that. The way you’d wrinkle your nose at certain spices. The way you’d hum without realizing it when food made you happy.
He leaned in and murmured something, making her laugh again. She was flattered — she thought he was just being sweet. He’d always been her best friend, like a big brother in a way. She assumed this was just him returning to who he was.
But Neteyam wasn’t who he was. Not anymore.
The longer the visit went on, the more attached he became. He walked with Tsireya to the reef where she helped tend to the clan’s younger swimmers, always a step too close. When she crouched to fix a child’s fins, he stood behind her, hand resting lightly on her shoulder. When she laughed, his eyes softened. When she smiled, his lips parted, as if a memory had just hit him like a wave.
And he didn’t even realize what he was doing.
Lo’ak noticed, though. He noticed everything. The way Neteyam always found a reason to pull Tsireya aside. The way he no longer sat by him at meals, how he had a hand on her arm, her waist, her shoulder, always.
Lo’ak watched his brother quietly spiral, swallowed by a grief he never named, and a need he didn’t understand.
And Neteyam?
Neteyam just kept seeing you.
Everywhere.
It started with subtle glances. The way Neteyam’s eyes lingered too long when Tsireya smiled. The way he’d fall silent mid-sentence just to watch her laugh. At first, no one said anything. Maybe they thought it was joy, the kind of light-heartedness that came with healing. Maybe they were just relieved to see him alive.
But it didn’t stop.
It got worse.
Neteyam followed her. Everywhere. If Tsireya helped prepare meals, he was beside her, his hands brushing hers when she reached for seaweed or fish. If she went to the shoreline to teach the younglings, he stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes never straying. When she turned, she always found him already watching.
It was obsessive, quiet and unspoken, but visible in every move.
When she sat, he sat behind her and pulled her between his legs like it was instinct. When she laughed, he laughed, even if he didn’t catch the joke. When she reached for something, his hand was already there. Too eager. Too close.
Tsireya didn’t question it.
Neteyam had always been kind, comforting. And she thought, maybe after what he went through, he just needed familiarity. He was her friend. Maybe he missed her.
But it wasn’t her he was seeing.
It was you.
Every movement, every look, every word she spoke it reminded him of you. But not in a nostalgic, gentle way. No, it consumed him. When she smiled, he swore his heart clenched. When she walked ahead of him, he blinked and saw you — your hair bouncing as you turned to grin at him. When she laughed, he imagined your voice beneath hers. It all blurred. Like a fever dream. Like he was drunk on a memory.
And his family began to notice.
Kiri watched him during dinner, chewing slowly, her brow furrowed. The way he always offered Tsireya food first. The way his arm always found its way around her back. The way he no longer looked at anyone else.
Tuk noticed too. She was too young to name it, but she stared a lot. Her big eyes darting between her big brother and Tsireya like she didn’t understand what she was seeing, but she saw the way he stared at her. Almost in the same way she noticed Lo’ak looks at her.
Neytiri, sitting near the hearth one evening, turned to Jake and whispered, “He’s holding on to something. Do you see it?”
Jake only nodded. His eldest son sat across from them, hands idly weaving another bracelet. Another one with strange knots and colors. Patterns he never used before. Patterns only you had taught him.
But it was Lo’ak who saw the most.
Because Tsireya was his.
He’d been so happy when Neteyam came home. He missed him more than words could carry. And for a while, everything felt whole again. But it cracked slowly — painfully — when he started seeing Neteyam reaching for Tsireya’s hand before he could. When Neteyam stood too close. Sat too close. Touched her hair without asking.
When Lo’ak came back from a dive one afternoon, dripping and breathless, he saw Neteyam laughing with Tsireya — his hands gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She smiled, oblivious.
Lo’ak stopped mid-step, staring.
Neteyam didn’t even notice him.
Didn’t see him.
That night, Lo’ak didn’t sleep. He lay on his side, staring at his brother’s back, the rise and fall of Neteyam’s breathing. And like every night since Neteyam came home, Lo’ak gently rested his forehead between his brother’s shoulder blades, listening to his heartbeat.
But that night, Neteyam’s heart was racing. Too fast.
Lo’ak whispered, “What’s going on with you, bro?” But Neteyam didn’t answer. He never answered.
The next day, Neteyam got quiet. Detached. Like he knew something was wrong and couldn’t explain it. He started singing softly while working, that same strange song again. The one no one recognized. Over and over. A lullaby. Your lullaby.
Neteyam’s affection for Tsireya was no longer subtle. His family had begun noticing it in clearer moments, when he wasn’t trying to appear collected. One afternoon, while Lo’ak was off gathering shellfish, Neteyam spotted Tsireya weaving fishing baskets with his sister and without hesitation, walked over, crouched beside her, and brushed her hair back from her cheek with a tenderness that startled even her. She smiled, unsure, assuming it was one of their old familiar gestures, but Kiri saw the look in Neteyam’s eyes, intense, distracted, reverent and felt something in her chest tighten.
During a communal meal, he asked Tsireya to sit next to him, again. When she hesitated, glancing between him and Lo’ak, Neteyam gently took her wrist and guided her down beside him, handing her a piece of roasted fruit with a soft smile. Neytiri watched silently from across the mat, her eyes narrowing just slightly.
Neteyam started making things for her. One evening, Kiri walked past him at the edge of the reef, where he sat alone, stringing a bracelet with the exact knot pattern you had taught him. But when Kiri asked who it was for, he tucked it behind his back and murmured, “No one. Just practice.” Hours later, it was braided into Tsireya’s hair.
Lo’ak tried to ignore it at first. Tried to explain it away, Neteyam was healing, disoriented, confused. But it kept happening. Neteyam started offering to escort Tsireya during her clan duties, would walk with her in silence, his gaze fixed forward, occasionally slipping his hand into hers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Once, when she stopped to fix her net, he sat behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist while she worked. Lo’ak saw them. He didn’t say anything. Not yet.
The others noticed too. Aonung, usually quick to tease, grew quiet, throwing glances between Neteyam and Lo’ak with a furrowed brow. Kiri kept her distance, choosing silence over confrontation, though her gaze lingered on her older brother longer than usual, trying to decipher what had broken in him.
Neteyam was drifting. Delusional in a way he couldn’t admit to himself, not even when the truth pressed down like a wave about to pull him under.
He didn’t even see Tsireya anymore.
Not really.
Every time she laughed, it was your laugh he heard light, airy, wrapped in something only he had ever known. When her fingers brushed his, his skin prickled like yours had touched him instead, soft and certain, with that quiet boldness you always carried. Tsireya would smile up at him, wide-eyed and kind, and all he could think was there you are.
In the curve of Tsireya’s mouth, he saw the way you used to smirk at him when you knew he was watching you. In her eyes, he swore he caught the same stormy glint you’d get when you were teasing him or trying not to smile too wide. Her hair when it clung to her shoulders after a dive looked just like yours had that night when he kissed you in the kitchen, his hands in your wet hair, your mouth all heat.
It happened slowly, then all at once.
One morning, Tsireya handed him a fruit and her fingers grazed his palm, and he smiled—not at her, but at you. He looked right at her and called her by your name. Softly. Naturally. Like it was always meant to be that way.
She tilted her head, confused, but Neteyam didn’t notice, he didn’t even notice the way he brushed it off when she questioned it changing the subject to something that distracted her..
In his mind, you were smiling at him. You’d just brought him something to eat, you were laughing like you did when he stole bites from your fingers. You were standing right there in front of him, just like always.
When Tsireya asked him to help gather shells for the clan’s ritual, he agreed without hesitation, thinking it was you asking him to take a walk by the shoreline, to do something domestic and sweet and yours. He barely heard her voice anymore. His brain filtered it into something softer. Your tone. Your cadence.
At dinner, when everyone was seated and Lo’ak beckoned Tsireya to sit beside him, Neteyam’s hand was already tugging her wrist toward the spot next to him. He didn’t even glance at Lo’ak. His eyes were glued to her no, you like if he let go, you’d disappear all over again.
And when she settled beside him and laughed about something someone said, he turned to her and whispered, “You’re beautiful when you laugh like that.”
She blinked. “Neteyam?”
But he didn’t even hear the hesitation in her voice. He only saw the faint light on her cheeks, the way her hair swayed against her collarbone. He leaned in like it was natural. Like he’d done it a hundred times before. Because he had with you.
“You always do that,” he said, voice low, fond. “You tilt your head like that when you’re trying not to blush.”
Tsireya blinked again. “What?”
But Neteyam only smiled, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw gently. He was gone. Fully, entirely lost in you.
To him, this wasn’t Tsireya anymore.
It hadn’t been for days.
It was you, back from the cabin, here in front of him again. He didn’t realize how often he whispered your name. How his voice wrapped around it like a prayer. How his grip lingered too long, his eyes saw someone else, his heart responded to a ghost.
The only person who noticed the unraveling was Lo’ak.
He watched his brother sit beside his girlfriend like she belonged to him. Watched him touch her hair with a faraway look. Watched him smile at her like she held the entire sky in her hands—and not once, not once, did he call her by name.
Lo’ak’s chest tightened with dread. Because he didn’t know who this version of Neteyam was. And he was scared to find out what it would take to bring his brother back.
The tide was low and gentle that afternoon, the water pulling rhythmically at the sand with soft hushing sounds. Lo’ak was returning from a dive task, surfacing with a bundle of netted sea urchins slung over his shoulder, droplets dripping from his hair as he approached the shore.
That’s when he saw them.
Tsireya sat on a woven mat of dried reeds, a shallow basket resting between her crossed legs, her fingers nimbly sorting through small, polished shells and tiny coral pieces. And behind her—Neteyam. Legs outstretched on either side of her, his arms looped loosely around her shoulders, chin brushing the side of her head, body curved around hers like she belonged to him.
They were laughing.
Not loudly, just that shared, intimate kind of laughter between two people lost in each other’s orbit. Neteyam was murmuring something to her, soft and teasing, his voice low near her ear. She leaned her head back lightly against his chest and smiled, relaxed, content.
He plucked a shell from her hand, pretending to inspect it dramatically before holding it up in mock approval. “This one?” he asked, eyes on her. “Too pretty to be left alone.”
She giggled, reaching up to nudge his chin. “You’re not even helping.”
“I am,” he protested lightly, wrapping his arm more snugly around her. “I’m the emotional support.”
Lo’ak stood still, halfway between the ocean and the sand, saltwater still clinging to his skin. At first he thought maybe it was innocent. His brother and his girlfriend had always been close. But something was different now. Something in the way Neteyam held her like it was second nature. The way his fingers brushed hers when she reached into the basket. The way his gaze lingered on her smile a fraction too long. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
It hit Lo’ak like a sucker punch.
Neteyam wasn’t looking at Tsireya like a friend.
He was looking at her like she was his.
Like she was someone he needed.
Lo’ak’s gut twisted. The weight of it made his chest feel tight. He watched for one more second, then turned sharply on his heel and stormed up the path, each step heavier than the last.
He couldn’t ignore it anymore. Tsireya was the love of his life, Neteyam knew that before he got shot.
Lo’ak stormed into the family mauri, chest heaving, dripping wet from the ocean, salt still clinging to his skin. The sack of gathered shells fell from his shoulder with a dull thump onto the floor. The sound made Neytiri’s head snap up from where she was weaving. Jake looked up from carving a small piece of driftwood, and Kiri paused, hand midair with her gathering bowl.
He stood there, fists balled at his sides, trying to keep it in, but it spilled out anyway.
“I can’t keep watching this.”
Jake frowned. “What happened?”
Lo’ak didn’t answer right away. He stepped deeper into the room, rubbing his hand over his face like he couldn’t believe what he saw.
“I went to the reef after the storm. I was helping gather shell bundles the current dragged out…” His voice was unsteady. “And I saw them.”
“Who?” Kiri asked softly.
“Neteyam. Tsireya.”
Neytiri’s hands went still in her lap.
Lo’ak scoffed, a bitter sound. “He had her between his legs. They were sitting in the sand like they do it every fucking day, his arms around her, helping her sort through little fucking shells, whispering to her. She was laughing. Leaning back against him like they were… like they were together.”
Jake’s expression tightened.
Lo’ak’s voice cracked. “He never looked at her like that. Never. Before he—before the ship, before everything—he- she was his friend, his best friend.. She was mine. I brought her into our family, I brought her home, and not him…”
He shook his head like it physically hurt. “Now he won’t leave her side. He follows her when she walks. He sits next to her at every meal. He touches her shoulder when he talks. He’s always smiling at her. I can’t even get a minute alone with my own girlfriend. He just pops up out of fucking no where and takes her away casually.”
He looked between them, desperate. “Why is he doing this?”
Kiri’s brow furrowed. “Maybe he’s trying to reconnect—”
“No,” Lo’ak snapped. “This isn’t about reconnecting. He’s obsessed. He acts like he’s known her forever. Like he sees something else when he looks at her.”
Neytiri stood, slowly approaching him. “Lo’ak, your brother went through something we don’t understand. He almost died. Maybe he’s not—”
“He’s not right,” Lo’ak whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s not who he was. He looks at her like he loves her, he looks at her the way I look at her, but I swear to Eywa, he doesn’t even see her. It’s like he sees someone else in her face. Like he’s talking to a ghost.”
The silence that followed was heavier than the storm that had passed that morning.
Jake’s jaw was tight. Kiri looked away, worried and thoughtful. And Neytiri, heart aching, placed a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder.
But Lo’ak just looked at the fire, eyes flickering.
“I don’t know who my brother is anymore,” he said. “And I don’t think he does either.”
Jake’s jaw was tight, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward. “We need to figure this out,” he said, voice low and tense. “This isn’t just about him acting strange—he’s not here. He’s somewhere else in his head.”
“He’s obsessed more like it, with My tsireya.” Lo’ak muttered, still fuming, pacing with his arms folded.
Kiri watched him, eyes sharp with worry. “He is. I think there was someone else… when he was gone. That’s why he’s not himself. He left part of himself behind—maybe with her.”
Neytiri, quiet until now, looked toward the entrance of the mauri. “Then we need to draw it out of him gently. He won’t talk if he feels cornered.”
Jake gave a slow nod. “So, here’s what we do—we keep him close. Watch. Ask things that sound innocent, things that might slip past his defenses. Especially things about where he was, how he survived.”
“We bring Tsireya around less,” Kiri added. “Maybe if he’s seeing someone else in her, maybe distance will help him see clearly.”
Lo’ak’s shoulders dropped slightly. “And if he doesn’t come around?”
Jake looked at his son, his voice firm but calm. “Then we help him remember who he is. Even if it means dragging it out of him piece by piece.”
Neytiri nodded. “Together.”
They all sat in the quiet a moment longer, the hum of the ocean beyond their walls steady waiting. Watching. Planning.
Because something was broken inside Neteyam… and they couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Neteyam is scary bro… no way this works. I think he’ll lash out if you take tsireya away from him, even if it’d slowly. He’s like her shadow. He’ll notice.” Lo’ak says after a beat of silence.
“Your right but Neteyam would never hurt us” Kiri went on looking between them. “But we’ve seen what he can do, we all know what he is capable off.”
“Like when that shoulder knocked spider over?” Lo’ak added. “Neteyam practically tore him apart. He didn’t even blink.”
Jake exhales through his nose, he was the reason Neteyam was so highly trained. “He’s trained to end threats, not negotiate with them.”
“We are assuming here from Lo’ak’s description that he’s seeing someone else. The. He is right. What if he snaps?”
Silence.
It was Lo’ak, surprisingly, who voice the next idea, “what if we do the opposite?” Everyone looked at him. “What if we use Tsireya? Not as bait but as a way in, maybe he’ll open up and talk to her.”
Kiri frowned, “he is not going to admit anything. Assuming he doesn’t know he’s doing it.”
“But maybe she can lead him there,” Jake said, catching on. “If we prep her, really explain what we think is going on, she could ease it out of him, ask the right questions.”
Neytiri’s frown depends, “you are assuming she’ll even believe us. My son is leveled headed in any situation. Everyone knows that. Why would she believe that Neteyam if all people is delusional and seeing someone else if her eyes?”
Sure enough the next morning they gentle pulled tsireya aside and say her down explaining what they thought might be going on with Neteyam. They explained they thought he was lost, fantasizing about someone else. And she blinked, wide-eyed and confused.
She shook her head genuinely puzzled. “But…he’s not in love with me. He never was. I am with you Lo’ak. And now he’s just… sweet. Clingy, yes, but…not delusional.
Jake stepped in, “we think that it’s not you he’s seeing tsireya. We don’t have another explanation for why he’d act like this out of nowhere.”
Lo’ak’s voice was tight, more hit than angry now. “You’re not who he thinks you are. But if you talk to him, if you help him open up about what happened when he wasn’t here. When he was healing that gunshot wound that should have killed him. He’ll go back to being your friend. My brother.”
She was quiet for a long time but ultimately decided to help. “What do I even ask him?”
The truth was, they were all worried this could go wrong. Neteyam was a weapon forged in war. But he was also a son, and a brother, a friend. And he was loved, they cared.
It was nearing twilight when Tsireya entered the Sully family mauri, soft-voiced and tentative. The air inside was still, heavy with the scent of the ocean and herbal smoke. Jake sat cross-legged near the fire pit, feigning focus on carving. Neytiri was sorting through drying herbs. Kiri shelled seeds in the corner. Lo’ak had returned from his task not long before and stood off to the side, jaw tight, watching.
Neteyam was sitting on his sleeping mat, hair tied back loosely, a bracelet half-finished in his lap. His expression shifted the moment he saw Tsireya — softened, lit with affection. “Hey,” he murmured. “Come sit with me.”
She did, settling cross-legged beside him, close as always. She gave a polite nod to the rest of his family, then turned to him. “I wanted to ask you something.”
Neteyam nodded, relaxed. “Anything.”
“Do you remember the first time you woke up? After you got hurt?” she asked, gently.
His gaze shifted to look at her for a second, “of course I do. I remember everything.you were there.”
Tsireya hesitated, “what was I doing?”
Neteyam chuckled, “she- you stitched me up and stopped the bleeding then put me on your couch to sleep and I woke up after a while and you were asleep in the couch right in front of me. You remember…. I had threatened to stab you I thought I was captured by the RDA. But I wasn’t it was just you and me in the cabin.”
They all heard it, ‘She’ they were right.
Jake subtly looked up. Kiri had stopped shelling seeds, Neytiri’s hands slowed and Lo’ak rubbed his hands over his face.
“And….the song?” Tsireya continued carefully, “what song did I sing?”
“You know it?” He said quickly. “You turned on the radio in the windowsill, you sang the words so much I memorized it, you said it was one of your favorite songs, it was…. we danced in the kitchen.”
He looked at her with pure devotion.
His family was reeling. They didn’t know what to think.
“And the brackets,” she went on, “when did you learn to make those?”
He smiled. “You taught me, my second week. We sat outside in the grass, and you taught me. Made me promise one day I’d teach someone else the patterns, so they’ll stay alive?”
His face dropped a little.
Kiri’s brow pulled together.
Lo’ak had stood up, taking a step then back.
Tsireya whispered, “and…where are we right now?”
Neteyam blinked.
“You and me” she clarified. “Where are we?”
He looked around at the mauri, his family seated around, and for a second his face twisted in confusion, “we are in my family home. It is not the forest though.”
He knew where he was, they noted.
Tsireya swallowed. “Neteyam… do you see me?”
He stared at her confused, “of course I see you.”
“No.” She pressed, voice breaking a little. “Do you see…me? Not the woman you spent time within the cabin, not who saved your life. Do you see me Neteyam?”
He frowned, visibly disturbed, “why are you talking like this? Why are you pretending?” His voice was strained now, shaken. “Why are you pretending it wasn’t you who saved me? You are. You kept me alive. You were there.”
The room held its breath.
Tsireya didn’t respond.
Neteyam reached for her hand, gripping it tightly. “why are you doing this to me? Don’t you remember? The cabin on the cliff, nice open yard space, private garden where you grow fruits and vegetables to cook and eat. The..porch swing? How could you forget?”
Tsireya’s breath hitched, her voice nearly there. “I wasn’t there.”
He froze.
Slowly her grip on his hands tightened. “That wasn’t me, Neteyam.”
The world around him tilted. His moth hoarded, but no sound came out yet.
“Why are you saying this? All of this happened, and so much more.” He stressed, “and then I brought you here. Home! To my family, I- you….you had dinner and my parents, my brother, my sisters they like you!”
His eyes dart around to his family.
Kiri stood up, Jake stepped forward, face tense calm, but wary, “son—”
“No! Dad! Don’t you like her? Isn’t she amazing? She saved my life she… for once I didn’t have to…she took care of me!” Neteyam’s voice was getting louder.
He let go of her hands and stood up fast, the sleeping mat shifted under his feet. “No. No, no, no, don’t do think. Why are you all doing this?”
“My son, you are not well,” Neytiri said softly.
“I am fine,” he snapped, “she just… she’s confused, why are you confusing her?”
Tsireya stood up her hands on his shoulder as he tried to calm him. “Neteyam please—”
His eyes dart from here to everyone else. “Why are you all acting like she isn’t here? She is here! She was there! She saved me!”
Lo’ak stepped forward, “you're not talking to her. You think you are but yours not.” He tried to be as gentle as possible.
Neteyam turned to him trembling, breathing shallow.
“I don’t know who yours seeing, I don’t know who you think is here brother. But it’s not Tsireya.”
“Tsireya? I don’t want Tsireya she’s your girlfriend bro, what are you saying?”
“Neteyam.” Lo’ak walked up to him holding his shoulders as he spoke again, “look at her.” Neteyam eyes darted unsure. What were they saying to him. “Look at her.” He repeated and he did. He looked at her. He saw you he still saw you and he was about to protest but then he saw it. A flicker of blue where your golden eyes were and it changed. Straight hair to curly, lighter skin, thick arms, legs, tail. He said tsireya.
He stumbled back abruptly, almost tripping over his own feet. His hand push Lo’ak away and he rubbed them over his face. He shut his eyes and open them, and you were gone.
“No, no… this isn’t…” he whispered. The memory of you flickering like flame behind his eyes, “where did you go?” He asked the air. “Where did… what the fuck!”
“I’m not crazy I swear I’m not crazy, you’re- she’s real! Mom! She’s real!” He was practically shouting now.
“She saved me life when you all left to get Kiri and tuk off that ship! You thought I died you left! She came up from the ocean and saw me! Saw life in me and she saved me! Stopped the bleeding and stitched it up so I could wake up! She…she cooked and helped me regain strength; she was peaceful. So peaceful and I- she… I brought her home..” he whispered the last part.
Neytiri with tears in her eyes walked up to her son, “I believe you, calm down—”
“Calm down? I- where is she!?”
Jake quick on his feet, held onto his son to ground him. “Hey, hey, hey. Look at me boy.”
Neteyam listened, still panting.
“What’s her name?”
“…y/n”
He knows now, you were not here. You were never here. Did he really leave you in the cabin. Eywa, he wishes he didn’t. He couldn’t leave everything behind. He wanted you to come. Why didn’t he ask you to come?
“How much time passed since I came back here?”
“Almost two months son” Neytiri answered.
Two months. Two whole months you’ve been alone while he’d been delusional and in love with you to the point where he imagined you in another person. Why did he leave you there? The question echoed. What was his excuse. You didn’t mean nothing. You meant everything.
Neteyam bolted outside, his family confused followed him watching him call his ikran and bond quickly shooting into the sky. His mother didn’t let him get far before she called her own and they all followed. Tsireya riding with Lo’ak followed Neteyam into the sky.
“Neteyam!” Jake’s voice cracked through the air.
“Bro, STOP!” Lo’ak yelled, desperately chasing the blur of blue and war paint ahead.
But Neteyam didn’t hear them.
Or rather, he did, but it didn’t matter.
He couldn’t stop. Not now. He knew where he was going. The wind stung his face; his eyes burned with salt and memory. He gripped Seze tighter, as if she could sense the ache in his soul. And maybe she could. She flew harder, faster.
His shoulders trembled. His mind replayed the look on your face when you first reached for him that night in the cabin. How you pressed a cloth to his wound. The warmth of your hands. The quiet strength in your voice.
“You’re safe.”
He let out a low, broken sound, part gasp, part cry.
He had to find you. He needed you.
Behind him, the Sullys followed in silence. Watching him, helpless and afraid. Jake’s jaw clenched. Neytiri’s heart raced with mother’s dread. Lo’ak… Lo’ak couldn’t even feel angry anymore.
“He’s not stopping,” Kiri murmured.
“No,” Jake said grimly, eyes locked on his son. “He’s not.”
The wind howled around them as they cut through the sky, chasing after Neteyam, who chased the only piece of peace he had left. You.
The cliff winds howled around him as Seze descended sharply, banking with precision toward the narrow ledge beside the cabin tucked into the trees. The ocean stretched wide and wild below, waves crashing violently against the cliff, but Neteyam didn’t hear them. All he could hear was the hammering of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears.
The cabin stood where it always had, carved partially into the stone, half wood and half earth, smoke curling faintly from the chimney. That meant someone was here.
That meant you were here.
His eyes dart around sharply looking for you and he saw you. Sitting in the porch swing cleaning some fruits from a basket you had on the table next to you.
Neteyam bolted. Ran as fast as he could to get to you. When you didn’t see him and look up your thought you were dreaming. ‘He came back?’
You stood up slowly and he didn’t slow down, he didn’t stop. He just crashed into you, arms wrapping around you like you were the most importantly thing in the world.
He was much stronger than when he had left. You almost lost track of time, it had been…nearly two months since the last time you saw him. He was leaner, more muscular, his hair was braided again. “Neteyam…” you whisper into his chest.
Your hands had slowly wrapped around his back molding into him like you did a million times before.
“I thought I…I thought I imagined you. Eywa you’re real.”
He pulled back and held you face in his hands, stroking your cheek idly, “of course I am real.” Your hand went up to rest on his. He was about to pull you in for a kiss but was stopped.
“Neteyam.” He knew that voice, his mother’s sharp tone cut through the air.
Neteyam didn’t let you go; he pulled you back to his body shielding you from them. His mother stalked towards them, her knife held in her hand, he knew if she got the opportunity she’d strike.
His father, brother and sister were behind her moments after. The tension was thick even though they were several paces behind his mother. Lo’ak watched in dread, holding tsireya’s hand to keep her close to him. Kiri furrowed her eyebrows. And Jake stood, jaw clenched.
Your eyes darted from his mother to his father, then his siblings. You had no idea who they were. He didn’t talk about them. You didn’t ask but you just knew in your gut. They were his family.
His mother’s voice was low and furious, “she’s one of them Neteyam.”
“She is not,” he snapped, still holding you close, “she saved me.”
“We thought you were dead. You vanished. For weeks!”
“She found me bleeding on that rock.” He yelled, voice cracking. “I wouldn’t died if not for her. She stayed, she cared for me. She—”
He looked down at you again his hands bringing you impossibly closer. His breathing hitched, “she never left.”
Neytiri turned to you. Her eyes were sharp, untrusting, like a blade drown just before it strikes. “Why?” She asked, voice low and hard, “why help him? Why hide him? Why not bring him back to us?” Her voice got louder, more strained.
You opened your mouth be no words came, before it could, Neteyam a stepped in again, more desperate now. “She didn’t know who I was. I threatened to kill her the first night—had a knife pointed at her. And still…she took care of me. She didn’t even know my name! She just…helped.
His mother’s lips pressed into a tight line. Her stare hadn’t heft you. Every instinct in her screamed danger, this was no ordinary woman. You were from the RDA, an avatar. And her son had chased hallways across the sky to fall into your arms like a wounded child seeking home.
Lo’ak broke the silence with a step forward, “so what now?” His voice was low and heavy. “We just…leave him here?”
Jake placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.
Kiri whispered, “he is not the same. You saw him these past weeks… he wasn’t himself without her.”
Still his mother didn’t back down, “that does not make her safe.”
But Neteyam turned back towards her, tears barely held back, “she is. She is the only reason I am alive, the reason I’m standing here. Please, sa’nok.”
For the first time in her life, Neytiri hesitated.
She saw her son not as the warrior, but as the boy, fractured and trembling. She looked again at you, not as a soldier, but as someone holding him like he mattered.
She didn’t lower her guard. Not yet. But she took one step back.
Jake’s voice finally broke in, loud and firm. “Alright enough! You will tell us everything! And I mean everything boy. Right now.”
Neteyam sat bringing your body down with his. Held you close legs wrapped around you as if to crest a barrier between you and everyone else. Jake walked to Neytiri and took her knife sitting her down gently and sat next to her, Kiri and Lo’ak on the other side of him and tsireya slightly behind Lo’ak.
“What happened brother?” Kiri asked him softly.
He looked at her before his eyes dart to his parents then brother, “the day I got shot on the rock, I didn’t die. I’m sure you all thought so but I didn’t. She was in the ship and swan up, only noticed me on the rock after.”
“I noticed he was alive and I… couldn’t just let him die” you finally spoke. You sat up as straight as you could since it was clear Neteyam wasn’t about to let you go.
“I brought him here because I didn’t have anything on me out there to help him. He was unconscious and he felt until almost the next day, when he woke up naturally, he had questions. Threatened to stab me, when he found out I was RDA he tried to leave but his injury was severe, he couldn’t even walk.” You explain softly.
The next few days I didn’t trust her, I didn’t even want her help, but she stayed with me all night in the couch since I couldn’t go anyways her else. Helped me clean up the dry blood if my skin in places I couldn’t reach. She cooked and fed me, helped me regain my strength.” Neteyam said softly.
“And I thought about you all… everyday. But I was in no condition to travel, and I couldn’t make her take me home. For her to fly in there and get an arrow to the chest? She’s the reason I’m alive, she… I...” he couldn’t find the words.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jake asked.
“I didn’t know how’d you would all react to this. It’s not that I wanted to keep it from you. It’s more I didn’t want you to think that she is a bad person because of where she comes from. Dad she…didn’t even know my name.. if she had some alternative agenda I would have been in a jail cell of dead. Not here.” He gestured to the cabin.
“We bonded over music and stars, we didn’t talk about the past or the RDA we were just in the moment, I didn’t have to worry, I wasn’t on guard for the first time in years, I relaxed.” He continued.
Jake exhaled through his nose and rubbed the bridge of it, his elbow propped on his knee. “So l-let me get this straight,” he said slowly, glancing between the two of you. “You were out here. With her. For over a month. And you didn’t think to send word back to us?”
“What was I supposed to do dad? Send a carrier pigeon? A text? Say ‘hey dad I’m alive, this pretty girl from the RDA saved me and now I’m living in a cabin in a cliff I’ll be back in a couple weeks.’”
Lo’ak snorted and Kiri covered her mouth to stop from laughing. Neytiri let out a hiss and Jake raises a hand, “don’t sass me boy. You can see where I might have issues understanding this situation.”
The words hung in the air like a storm cloud.
🩵Reblogs, likes and comments are always appreciated.
your alien boyfriend is just so alien in the sense that his anatomy is just slightly different and off putting but you kinda love it.
you’ve noticed his heartbeat doesn’t really sound like a heartbeat, and he’s so fascinated by the way yours beats so rhythmically.
or maybe his irises get slightly wider than a normal person’s would when he sees something he likes, making them seem darker than what they usually are.
he doesn’t drink, like at all, which is fine, but he tells you it’s because alcohol doesn’t effect him. you think he’s just realizing he’s a heavy weight but you’ve seen him take ten consecutive shots back to back and not even flinch once. but funnily enough he does act a little tipsy at the smell of your perfume.
he’s also weirdly light on his feet. like, you can barely make out his footsteps half of the time and he tends to scare you sometimes because of it. you can only tell when he’s approaching is if the door creaks, or he knocks something over or he trips on his own feet or something along those lines.
he can also hold his breath for an concerningly long period of time. whenever the two of you are at the beach or the pool and he dives in, he spends an uncomfortable amount of time underwater. and when you start to worry, even the lifeguard (if there is one) starts to blow their whistle, he resurfaces casually, barely breathless.
he also kisses you like he doesn’t really need oxygen to breathe, it’s almost as if he can breathe through you, quite literally taking the breath from your lungs. he’s always looking at you like a kicked puppy whenever you pull away, telling him you need a minute for air. he doesn’t really get that you don’t breathe the same way he does.
Can I ramble for a minute about knight!Neteyam because I know I’ll probably never write this (at least not any time soon), but I just can’t get him out of my head? Okay? Good.
Now imagine you’re a princess, an only child, and your parents and the whole kingdom adore you! You’re kind, pure and so beautiful, they treat you like a flower and basically raise you under a glass dome, keeping you away from any possible danger or people that could stain your purity. You’re not even allowed to have friends, walk freely or leave the castle ever. You’ve got several knights and maids serving you, but of course it’s not enough. So, one day your strict parents hire you a personal knight who follows your every step. His name is Neteyam, a big scary man with long black hair and bright green eyes. At first he doesn’t talk much, he’s silent most of the time and doesn’t even remove his helmet for the first few weeks until you literally beg him to show his face. And by the gods, he’s handsome, you think coyly.
Since Neteyam is forced to spent every second of the day (and night) with you, you just treat him like your big, tough bestie. You yap to him for hours, you ask him for his opinion on which dress to wear or which flowers should decorate your room, should today’s jewelry be gold or silver. Most of the time, he doesn’t seem very thrilled to be your part-time bestie, so he just answers you in short grumbles or huffs. What you don’t know however, is the grin he hides under his helmet whenever you smile at him simply for being there for you.
It doesn’t take long for him to give in to your silly little requests like sitting with you or laying down in the grass, because no, you’re a princess and he’s not supposed to do this. He’s supposed to guard and protect you not let you braid his hair. But how can he say no to you? You’re such a spoiled little thing and it brings you so much joy and by the gods, Neteyam wears these braids for days if not weeks simply because you made them.
Staying true to his duty’s, Neteyam fights every battle for you, even carried you inside when you fell asleep outside while reading before. He makes sure your maids can be trusted, your food isn’t poisoned, the bridge is safe to walk on. When you want to ride your horse through the garden, he helps you up with his big hands around your waist as if you weight nothing to him. And then slowly, it’s getting harder and harder for him to keep his professional distance. He‘s your knight and you’re a princess, but he can’t turn away anymore when the maids help you slip into your new dress. He can’t just wait at the door until you’re awake when he guards you at night, he’s standing directly at your bedside. And when you’re deep in your slumber, he can’t stop his fingers from brushing through your hair that feel like silk.
And you, little princess, are slowly growing bolder too. You talk, a lot. You always have, but suddenly you’re putting words into your pretty mouth that aren’t appropriate for the future queen. It starts small, questions of if he has kissed a woman before. If he has touched one. Laid with one. Neteyam is a man of honor, so he can’t answer that. But you’re smart. You know that he’s not allowed to tell you no unless it would bring you at risk, your father had told him so himself. And truly, was there any harm in answering those questions? What was he about to do when you started demanding answers with that cute little grin of mischief? So he told you, told you everything that the princess wished to know, no matter how much it made you blush and squirm and giggle. Until you wanted him to show you. You demanded a demonstration, crawled to him on your hands and knees on the soft grass until you sat between his thighs and asked him to kiss you because you were oh, so curious to know what it felt like. From then on, things took a sharp turn.
It was your knight to teach you all these things only the princess‘ husband was supposed to do with you one day. It was your knights name you called in the middle of the night, until his big hands clasped over your mouth and he fucked the pretty princess like she was a whore. It was him who took you, bend you over every furniture in your room, stuffed underwear between your soft lips so your cries couldn’t be heard by the maids outside in the hallway. It was Neteyam that made you cum harder than any princess has ever before.
Suddenly, you requested his presence not only in your dressing room for 'help' with your newest corset, but in the bath as well. Shooing the maids away, you asked them for privacy before your knight slipped through the door and joined you. Or, on special occasions, just watched his favorite little princess as she enjoyed herself in his presence.
As much as Neteyam enjoyed every second he’d spent with you, even if it meant pretending to be nothing but your knight and stepping away from your embrace as soon as footsteps approached outside of your door, he knew this could not go on forever. This becomes even clearer on the day of your birthday when he’s forced to spent the night watching you dance with the prince of a neighboring kingdom— your future husband. Standing in the far corner of the ball room he’s glaring daggers at the man that his his hand on your hip. What he can’t hear is the way the prince asks you of him, if you’re not scared of your knight who’s looking so frightening. What a gruff man, isn’t he? The soft princess must be afraid, he said, as he promised to replace him once you were his. But you just shook your head with a smile, telling him that he was the only knight for you, the only one you’d trust with your life, but not letting him know how soft your big scary knight could be. But only for you.
─ · · SUMMARY: From the Arcane fucking with his mind, people he thought to trust turning their backs on him and Piltover looking up to him for salvation... the only thing Jayce wants? you.
─ · · THE FOLLOWING CONTENT IS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADLUTS AND IS NOT MEANT FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. skip the smut once seeing the star! ⭐️ tags under cut
─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, protective!Jayce (low-key possessive in some parts), kissing, depictions of blood, gore, war and death. brief mentions of suicidal thoughts and torture. fluff, hurt/comfort, angst. smut: pinv sex, oral (fem receiving), dom!Jayce, chocking, marking/biting, size kink?, dirty talk, overstim, aftercare.
─ · · A/N: This is my first time EVER writing long-form smut... please be kind I was so embarrassed while writing this lol (hoping its not too shit) 🙈
─────── · ·
─ · · drip... drip... drip... water slowly fell from a corner of the ceiling in your cold cell, you hugged your knees to your chest, chair wobbling as you shivered. The lights were too bright to sleep and with what little food they expected you to work off of, you were scrambling for answers.
─ · · Everyday you tried to explain to the guards that you were only the assistant, could only work with your scientists. The last time you had conducted personal research was when apply to the academy yet nobody believed you, a slap to the face as they told you to work harder. Your hands shook around the barrel of a gun as you twisted on the scope- you looked at the blueprints one last time and then fired it at the wall.
The guards did not budge just listening to the bang echo, blankly watching as you fell backwards form the impact. The burst of magic coming out unstable and crumbling bits of the stone wall... fuck! you muttered underneath your breath. Using the end of the gun like a cane to help pick yourself up before stumbling back to the drawing board.
Hextech was not going to work, there was no metal strong enough to correct the blast... but what if it was not meant to hold... what if it exploded? You shook your head, disturb that you had even thought about it yet a hand shook the bars to your cell, your head whipping over, eyes wide as Ambessa looked down upon you. "Whatever it is that came though your mind, make it and you will be allowed out for a moment. Is that a deal?"
You looked down at your hands, holding them together as you nodded, waiting for her to leave before turning back around. You listened as the elevator doors closed but a new voice stopped your movements. "Please, just follow her words. It'll make everything easier," you gasped seeing the officer you shared a night with emerge from the shadows. His eyes sunken, scar across his cheek.
You winced, his name leaving your mouth as he nodded, "still as beautiful as that night," he said to you and you pulled your sleeves further down your arms. "I mean it," he adds, hands resting on the bars of your cell. "release me," you asked gently, hope bleeding in your wide eyes. He stared at you, mouth opening and closing before shaking his head.
You turned back around, going back to your desk yet he continued to speak even as another guard warned him, "I can't, not unless they find another person with the knowledge you have. They need these weapons for the oncoming war..."
"They don't need weapons," you scoff, pencil snapping in two, "just like we don't need war... people just want the quickest results." No one speaks another word as you disassemble the shotgun, breaking it down into smaller parts as the darkest parts of your mind comes to the surface... I refuse to be the one that places this land in destruction... I refuse.
─────── · ·
─ · · With the rune taking its place within his forearm his tattoo on the other, he was the polar opposites of what Hextech could do... of what it had done to the people he was closest to and loved the most.
─ · · Acting on what was beyond his mortal brain and body, Jayce was felt as if he was falling from the sky, his brain a blur of the horrors he had just seen mixing with reality just as he slammed down on Salo's figure. He staggered and stumbled afterwards, the voices still unpleased, demanding he go to Viktor's sanctuary where Jayce did not even recognizing the familiar faces he saw, he was determined to eliminate Viktor. To shoot him down, to watch as his body hit the floor, to see if he still bled.
─ · · The world went silent as soon as the shot happened as if a sound barrier went through the houses and homes before a thousand cries sounded and all of Viktor's followers fell to the floor, unmoving. Jayce fell forwards, his strength gone, vision clearing as he stared with wide eyes observing Jayce. His mind was still buzzing a voice demanding for him to continue brutalizing the corpse yet he held his arcane hammer. Forcing his muscles to freeze. Viktor still was his partner, a cold bucket of water feels like it spills over his skin, clarity in his mind that immediately goes to you.
─────── · ·
─ · · Piltover is cheering as he emerges from the sewers, he cannot find it in himself to smile or react, simply watching as the crowd parts. The cheers dying into gasps as they observe the scars across his chest, the torn white uniform and his unruly appearance. His hammer groans behind him, the arcane still unsettled as it picks and pries at his memories, trying to regain control yet without seeing you, there was no hope in hell he was allowing any force to come between him and you.
─ · · Jayce only stops once seeing that little girl again hiding behind her fathers legs, she appears so much older now as Jayce presses a hand to his forehead, pulling back his hair- eyes gone wide. Had he been gone that long? Had you already given up on him? Jayce would forgive you, it wouldn't be fair if you hadn't waited for him yet a large part of him prayed so... he wanted nothing more to kiss you, to feel his skin against your skin, to hear you call out his name. Jayce's boots picked up their pace as he was a one-track mind, determined to get to the lab where he last left you.
─ · · His hands gripped his hammer, his eyes hardened as he bursted into the lab, his eyes searching, weapon swinging as his heart dropped... you were not here. Jayce's hammer fell with a thud, cracking the floors as he yelled your name, spinning in circles as he looked towards the ceiling and all the dark corners of the room. Jayce chuckled, shaking his head as he saw blood all over your leftover journals. Your always organized tools sprayed out across Viktor's desk you both promised not to touch, a chair flipped over and then... he looked under his desk and felt sick.
He could see where your nails had dug into the wood, scratching, he could hear you begging and pleading as his fingers brushed over the marks. With a broken sob, Jayce fell to his knees, forcing a fist into his mouth as he choked but no tears fell. His shoulder began to shake, his muscles tensing as he yelled out in frustration, throwing everything off the desk watching it shatter against the floor, "Fuck!"
Jayce took a series of deep breaths before storming to his hammer, allowing it to drag against the floors as sparks followed his footsteps. He felt his side start to bleed again, he would treat himself, he was not that far removed in his anger to endanger you further... no he would prepare and then he would allow himself to enjoy the blood across his face and the weight of you on his chest.
─────── · ·
─ · · "Kiramman!" Jayce shouted, storming into Caitlyn's house. The blue haired woman did not turn, her long blue coat rested upon her shoulders as her gaze while looking at Jinx's face on the board, she had to continue playing her role up until the final moment. "That is general to you," she said turning around before seeing a familiar blue glow and Jayce's hammer charged- the words dying on her lips as she held her palms up calmly, "Jayce," she warned watching as the mans eyes hardened. His face appeared more aged, his clothes form fitting in a deep green button up and black trousers.
A soft glow coming from his forearm had her raising a brow as Jayce chest heaved, "where's my girl, Kiramman?" he spoke coldly, fixing his grip, the leather of his gloves groaning as Caitlyn took a few steps forward. "I have been searching for her as well, Jayce. I have a feeling it has something to do with Mel's mother."
Jayce remembers her stare as you sat in the medical tent together... those events seemed so distant now. Jayce cracks his neck, his arms tensing as Caitlyn slightly flitches, trying to hold her ground. Jayce stares her down, daring her to lie but Cait only spoke the truth. The man nods, powering down his stance before leaning against his hammer, "How far has the search gone? How do you know she's with Ambessa? How can I know to trust you?"
Caitlyn sighs, removing her hat, arms crossing over her chest, shotgun leaning against her desk as she stares at the gemstone within it, rattling around in its cage. Jayce follows her stare, his eyes widening, the voices in his head threatening to rise to the surface. He shakes his head, physically trying to remove them with a growl.
"I am her friend as I am your's Jayce. Had I had known this is what Ambessa was planning... I would have never sided with her. The gemstone has been unstable since (name) has been taken, I assume it has something to do with her playing around with magic to appease the tyrant," Caitlyn explains, picking at her nails before looking up at Jayce, "Now how do I know to trust you with the rest of the information? Are you sure she'll want to see you more animal than man?"
Jayce glares, "I am still a man, perhaps more than I had been in the past-"
"That was not my question, Jayce," the General cuts the Councillor off, "I was asking, are you ready if she does not want you back?"
─────── · ·
─ · · You could hear shouting again and rolled your eyes, assuming the red guard to be training once again yet a part of you swore to hear Jayce's voice roaring, the sound of his mechanical hammer wizzing with magic- you stood up from your chair as did your assigned guards. Maybe it was just imaginative hope...
You could hear their weapons click on as you picked up the last gemstone you hadn't used and hid in a corner of the cell. Whoever was coming was leaving a trail of destruction that you did not want to see nor be a part of.
You listened to the trail of blood and guts becoming closer, bodies thudding to the floor as you closed your eyes, hugging yourself, making yourself smaller as you pleaded for it all to be over. In all honesty, you realized just how safe this cage allowed you to be. It saved you from Ambessa's lashings, saved you from the eyes of the guards when you hid in the shadows... and then you could hear your assigned officer stuttering, metal shattering with a slam, your door being swung open.
You listened, squeezing your eyes shut as laboured breaths echoed in the cold air, heard as their boots walked up to your desk, moving papers gently before picking up your unfinished models, a thoughtful hum sounding before they turned around abruptly. Another slam was heard, blue dimming as you held your breath.
The metal chair you spent so much time on groaned as it was pulled out and away from the table before... nothing, they must have sat down... why? You opened your eyes slowly, trying to squint through the darkness, your breaths shallow- "I can see your boots, sweetheart, come, now," You hear a deep strained voice commands as you feel their stare on your face.
You push your hands against the stone walls, helping yourself to stand as you take a half step into the light, just enough to see whoever is at the other side... Jayce? Jayce! Your eyes see your lover before you as he sits utterly exhausted yet eyes wild; sweat dripping down his forehead, his lips parted as he inhales deeply, tipping his head back. Broad shoulders rising and falling with his shirt as he stares at you, legs spread lazily- one encased in metal.
You blink once... twice... thrice. Your throat dry as you try and comprehend how he is here... you start to look away, eyes catching drops of blood across the concrete floors, you start to follow the trail before Jayce calls for you again, "don't look over there. Come here, please," he adds a bit more softly this time, his palm facing upwards on his thigh, fingers wiggling in leather to entice you.
You take a few steps closer, still unsure if this was your Jayce as you stand just barley within reach. You watch as his hazel eyes drink in your appearance and form, starting from your shoes, up to your waist, chest, and then settles of your features. His eyes caress your face in a loving stare, you can feel the warmth in his gaze hidden underneath his cold exterior, your cheeks warm as you grab your arm.
"Jayce?" you ask timidly, you watch as his eyes darken as you say his name before closing, a small smile appearing as his head hangs low -swaying. "Jayce?" you ask again, a bit of panic in your tone as you rush to stand in front of him. You gasp once feeling him grip the back of your thighs, squeezing gently. He opens his eyes, looking up through his long lashes at you with nothing short of adoration, "I've missed hearing my name between your lips."
Your mouth gapes as your mind goes blank, eyes staring widely into his own- listening to him chuckle as his hands slide up over your butt to your lower back before pushing gently for you to take a seat on his lap. Your hands start to shake, brain exploding by the hundred senses you experience as his thumb draws circles upon your hip, his chin resting on your shoulder, beard scratching at your skin as you squirm by the heat of his breath. He grips your hips, taking a sharp intake of air, he bites his lip, concealing his moan, "Can I kiss you?"
You place your hands on his chest, a palm feeling his heart beating rapidly just like yours before you feel around to his back and grip his shoulders pulling him in for a hug. You close your eyes, sobbing into the crook of his neck and shoulder as he holds you closely, shushing you gently. You squeeze your thighs and arms against him, trying to get closer, to feel that he was not just a dream, "Yes."
─────── · · ⭐️
Jayce being aware of his strength gives you a tight squeeze, listening to you gasp before he slowly lets go and presses a kiss to your shoulder. You lean your head to the side, exposing your neck- feeling as Jayce's fingers comb your hair aside. Next you feel his mouth leave open wet kisses trailing from your shoulder slowly up to just above your collarbone before moving to a place on your neck that has you scratching his back from the sensitivity.
You feel Jayce's smirk against your skin, he bites down playfully hearing you yelp but before you can turn your head to glare, he blows on the spot gently before sucking on the sore skin. Your entire body shakes, "Jayce," you breathily say his name, eyes closing from the thousand tickles that go up to your brain as you collapse against his chest, you tap his back thrice, Jayce pulls away with a satisfied hum, admiring the mark.
You nuzzle your face into his shoulder, hand reaching to pull his shirts collar aside as you quickly kiss up his neck eager to feel his lips against yours. A sudden slap against your butt has you pulling your head back as you see Jayce playfully glaring at you, "eager little thing, aren't you?"
"Jayce," you whine out, shaking your head and pulling away- suddenly feeling embarrassed, eyes looking anywhere but at him. Seeing your shyness, Jayce braces you against his chest with his forearm against your back, your chests pressed up against one another; he knows how eye contact effects you, allowing your eyes to reset as you looked around the room, enjoying his touch.
A few moments pass before you feel his lips by your ear as his other hand plays with your hair, "I want us to enjoy this, we have time, sweetheart." You nod as Jayce moves his hold back to your waist, his head tilting as you press a tentative kiss to a vein, listening to him hum in approval before continuing, slower this time.
You press kisses up his neck, biting just behind his ear to hear him growl. Your thighs clench at the sound, your hands gripping his hair as you feel a large palm place a gentle pressure at the back of your head, keeping you on that one spot before allowing you to pull away with hooded eyes.
Jayce licks his lips, chest heaving, his eyes watching your puffy lips part in a silent ask before he leans forwards, pressing hard as you moan against his lips. Your hands start to unbutton his shirt, feeling his skin against your palms before shrugging off your lab coat. Your brain feels foggy from the lack of air as you start to pull away, feeling as Jayce softly bites down on your lower lip before letting go.
You pause, seeing the scars against his chest, your finger hovering over before you feel leather against your wrist as he pushes your hand over the mark. You don't move, looking to Jayce for clarity, "I'm still the man you knew before, I promise." You can sense an equal truth and pleading to his tone.
"Do they hurt?" you ask softly, Jayce shakes his head, "not anymore. It feels good when you touch me actually." You laugh, shaking your head feeling as Jayce kissing your jaw, "I missed that sound too." Your heart swells as you trace the lines and contours of his chest. "I love you, Jayce."
"I love you too, so please, let me show you." Your eyes go wide, your brain returning to you as you feel as Jayce touch loosens on you his eyes widening too, "I mean we don't have to, I just-" you place a hand on his mouth, eyes shinning with humour. "Jayce, I'm not going to let you fuck me in a cell with corpses on the other side."
Jayce kisses your palm, you remove your touch. "First rude, I thought I taught you not to do that." You roll your eyes, feeling him tap your thigh in warning as you sigh. "Second, what corpses?"
You look over and to your shock, there is not a body in sight, "While I was waiting for you, Caitlyn and her team cleared and cleaned everything up," Jayce explains as you look back at him in shock. "And third," You could not believe the sass was still in him. "I never 'fuck' you, I make love to you." You begin to gag but see that Jayce is completely serious in saying this, "I mean it, (name). I love you and only want to show you that."
You look into his eyes before giving him a kiss, hearing him sigh out in relief. "Is that a yes?" you nod. "I need to hear it from you," Jayce clarifies. You take his face between your palms, "Yes, Jayce. I-I trust you." Jayce tilts his head, kissing your palm. "I might be a bit rough, but you know how to stop me, right?" You look over his dishevelled appearance again. Seeing his long hair sticking to his forehead, the lines across his face and chest, the feeling of leather against your skin.
"Three taps or shout hex." Jayce nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead, "Good girl." You shift in his lap, "That still does it for you, huh?" You don't respond and Jayce takes that as his answer with a smirk before gripping your thighs and standing. You rest your head on his shoulder before he places you on the desk and shoves everything off- clattering to the floor.
You watch as Jayce fully removes his shirt while looking down at you, unable to help himself he kisses you once before pulling away. He places his shirt on the desk before helping you out of your clothes being sure to kiss every patch of new skin he sees.
You feel warm underneath his dark stare as he looks down watching as his hand cups your sex- his thumb nears your clit through the material, resting just above, teasing, feeling as your wetness soaks through the fabric before pulling the material upwards sharply. You gasp from the friction, pressing your legs together with a moan before feeling your thighs become forced open, large hands gripping them apart. Jayce slowly bends down, his eyes focusing on how yours cloud over in pleasure as you feel his breath.
Your hands immediately latch onto his hair at the first feeling of his tongue giving a tentative lick, light yet the texture rough, you tilt your head back with a moan, body buzzing from the pleasure as he kisses your lower lips again and again. "P-please," you beg, locking your ankles over his shoulders and sigh contently once feeling the cloth get pulled aside, his touch amplified as one of his large fingers tease your entrance another circling around your clit- spelling out runes that your foggy mind couldn't even begin to concentrate on.
Jayce groans, he slowly pushes his finger deeper inside, the material of his gloves catching your walls- creating a pleasurable texture against as you clench down yet. He pumps his fingers at a slow pace, in an out, you should be embarrassed be the lewd sounds, by hearing Jayce chuckle. But when you try and move your hips- chasing his touch he pulls away swiftly, your legs falling off his shoulders as you pout at your boyfriend watching as he brings a finger up between his lips with a sigh, "I've missed this taste so much- so sweet."
You moan watching as me brings his fingers back down, your juices soaking through the leather of his gloves, his fingers glistening as he brings them closer to you mouth, taping your lip, signalling you to open, "Taste yourself."
You lower your jaw, feeling his fingers against your tongue before circling around them. Jayce observes you face as your eyes close, hands gripped your thighs in want while listening to Jayce's heavy breathing. You wiggle in your seat as Jayce pushes his fingers in more, teasing at the back of your throat as you gag before pulling out. "Such a good girl," he praises you.
But before you can respond, Jayce teases one large finger, then two. You grip at his wrist, feeling his lips leave lingering wet kisses across your chest before latching onto your nipple, his teeth graze it, you shiver before you feel him start to suck. You feel as a third finger slides in easily, you pulse and moan as his fingers curl to hit just the right spot inside of you. "Jayce," you whine in a high pitched tone.
"Already?" he chuckles picking his head back up. You hum out in pleasure, "Mhmm, I'm almost there Jayce, please," you beg but just before you can reach your peak, Jayce pulls away as you cry out in frustration. Jayce shushes you by gently squeezing your neck and pulling you in for a lingers kiss.
He pulls away, standing back as you grab the edge of the table in wait- watching as he uses his teeth to remove the straps around his wrists, his gloves falling off as he moves his shirt behind you. "Lay back," he says, watching as you lower yourself, slowly to the table.
Jayce unbuckles his pants, stepping out of his boots and kicking everything aside as you tilt your head up to watch him, heart racing as he sends you a wink. You will never get used to the sight of him, the size of him.
Jayce walks slowly up to you, your breath hitching once feeling his bulge rocking against your clit, the sound of your wetness catching on his boxers erotic as it echos in the empty room. Your chest is rising and falling in sort breaths, that peak closer than ever as Jayce teases you, his hands in fists beside your head, caging you in and when you open your eyes to meet his wild ones- you feel nothing but security.
"I love you, I love you so fucking much Jayce," you cry out, nails dragging against the skin of his back as he shakes, you can visibly see how much he is restraining himself in this moment. How pained he looks in his pleasure yet so focused on you, watching as his hips roll into your own, but the friction is not enough, "just loose control, love."
Jayce snaps his head back up, "what?" he says albeit a bit breathlessly. "Let go, I-I just want to feel you, Jayce, want you, need you." Jayce curses underneath his breath, his movements pausing, "are you sure?" you nod your head, "words baby," he kisses your neck. "Yes, please," you croak out and next thing you know, you are being flipped over.
Jayce positions himself, tip just teasing your leaking hole as your legs shake in wait- in want and with one sudden thrust, all the air is knocked from your lungs in a silent scream- your wrists trapped between his larger hand forcing them above your head as you lose yourself to the pleasure.
You listen to Jayce growl, "I've missed you so fucking much." You listen to the sound of skin slapping, filling the room alongside your combined moans- tears stream down your cheeks. "I'm close, Jayce!" you warn, still sensitive from earlier. "Hold on, breathe, sweetheart-"
"I can't Jayce," you sob out, feeling the fire start to form in your gut, spreading out to every vein in your body, a hand comes down on you ass. "You can and you will, baby," Jayce commands, his hips positioning down, reaching deeper than before as you freeze at the sensation starting to rise from your toes, focusing on your breathing.
You mumble blankly, feeling as Jayce kisses your shoulder blade, head becoming lighter than ever. "Good girl," he praises you with one sudden and sharp thrust. You are barley hanging on to reality to your impeding orgasm, trying to wiggle and shift your body away yet Jayce's hips just follow you. "Please, please, please," you beg like a broken record, you swore that if you were looking at yourself in this moment- you would be unrecognizable- withering underneath your boyfriend.
"Come for me. come. for. me," Jayce repeats, feeling as you clench down on his cock, choking it- watching as you bit down on your lip that forces him to release his hands from your wrists to pull it back down. "I want to hear how good I make you feel."
You moan out loudly as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, you claw at the desk, sobbing as your body shakes from the overstimulation tears welling in your eyes as Jayce praises you, "You're taking me so good baby. Your pussy feels so good around my cock, just listen to her. Gonna make you cum again, aren't I-hm?"
Jayce feels as your pussy flutters before gushing around him again with a smirk, he places his body weight atop you as you struggle to comprehend the pleasure you feeling through the endless waves crashing through your body- your blank mind as he fucks you dumb. "Nothing to say, my love? That good?" You nod yes with a sob as Jayce coo's at you, continuing his brutal pace.
"T-too much, Jayce!" you yelp, sensitivity now overwhelming- on the cusp of hurting as you bite down hard on your lip, eyes closing as Jayce hums, "you know what to do love, tell me and I'll stop." Yet you don't move, don't speak, you don't want to stop feeling him, not yet at least, teetering on the line between pain and pleasure.
Jayce picks himself back up, taking your wrists as he positions you to bend off the table. He takes in the side of your tear covered face, his marks across your neck and shoulders, how his hands created indents on your hips as he feels the markings your nails left against his back that push him just over the edge just in time with your final orgasm.
Jayce quickly pulls out, you hear him moan loudly- you feel his seed against your back, warm and dripping down your butt as he slowly helps you rest back on the table. You both are panting- coming down from your highs. Your head lolls to the side, a soft smile coating your features as you feel Jayce brushing the hair out of your face and "you did so good for me baby, so proud."
"Yours, all yours," you say back as you close your eyes, a sudden rush of tiredness rushing over you as you feel Jayce press a kiss to your temple before cleaning you up, allowing you a moment to rest.
─────── · · ⭐️
─ · · Jayce helped to redress you, your legs weak as he picked you up into your arms, your head resting against his chest as you lulled yourself to sleep by the sound of his heartbeat. The only thing left behind in your cell were the pieces of a shattered blue gemstone, pulsing before fading.
─ · · By the time you were awake, you found yourself under Jayce's covers and heard the kettle click off, a record softly playing in the background as Jayce hummed along to it. You joined in, walking over humming, and grasping onto his pants, fingers looping through the empty belt buckles.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Jayce greets you, you smile, pressing your head against his back with a giggle before letting go without a word, watching as Jayce frowns, your heart swelling as you place yourself on the countertop and open your arms, wiggling your fingers as you both laugh. You pull Jayce in by the collar of his shirt- kissing him gently on the lips before moving across his jaw, stopping to cup his cheek as he nuzzles into your palm.
"I love you, Jayce."
"I love you too, always and forever."
"Kiss me?" you ask, eyes pleading, and how could he refuse?
Jayce presses his forehead against yours before capturing your lips. Pulling away, you both are breathless, you look to the side to see only your favourite breakfast items on the menu with a smile- gosh I missed your cooking.
When you look back at Jayce, your eyes go wide seeing him kneeling before you, a box in his hands, blood rushing up to your ears as you jump down from the countertop. "J-jayce? what are you doing?" you stutter through shock, your heat racing at a mile a minute.
"Not going to marry you just yet, through you will be Mrs. Talis in the future," Jayce speaks with such conviction, your heart is beating at a mile a minute. "With this ring I want to promise you that no matter what, I will always put your thoughts and needs first and I will always love you." A goofy love-sick grin is on his face but his eyes are scared yet equally hopeful. You crouch down with him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder as you cry.
Jayce's heart drops, he can't seem to touch you in this moment, can't look to you for comfort. Not feeling him returning the touch, you pull away, seeing his glossy eyes, "Whats wrong?" you ask timidly, listening to the ring drop.
Jayce opens and closes his mouth before falling back, hissing and gripping at his wrist. "Jayce? You're scaring me," you reach out again yet he slides away swearing- looking to be in immense pain, his eyes clouding over and then silence... his body falls before you as you grasp and squeeze his hand, calling back for him.
And then suddenly, he flashes back to life, gripping his head, beads of sweat dripping off his forehead, "fuck, wait, did you say yes?" He completely disregards his pain, forcing on a smile for you as you sit there in shock and horror.
"Of course, Jayce but what the fuck? Are you okay?" you ask again, giving him space this time. Jayce's stares at you, stares through you for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "I will be after this all is over but I'm better knowing I'll have you forever." You smile at his words, brain still racing with what just happened but Jayce appeared back to his regular self now, helping you to stand and finishing up breakfast.
"Sit, please. Let me take care of you like you've done for me," Jayce asks, turning from the stove with soft eyes, and how could you refuse?
─────── · ·
─ · · A/N: running away and hiding now! I hope that all was at least readable/skippable... 😬
like, you’re both on the couch or something, and jayce wants to occupy his fingers. he’s always fidgeting, so he decides to trails his fingers into your underwear, rubbing your clit while he reads a book on thermodynamics or some shit.
it’s a win-win situation tbh. he’s occupied AND making you feel good, even if he’s low-key overstimulating your poor cunt, but he’ll stop eventually just let him finish this last chapter
chapter warnings: a lot of exposition, but trust me
chapter notes: first time writing a hybrid, let me know how i did, this will be multi-chaptered
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five
want a handwritten letter from a character? / join the discord
When your friend had suggested you get a pet, this is not what you imagined.
A cat or dog perhaps, even a fish would've made more sense, this whole thing started with you coming into the shelter asking for just that.
You’d asked about their cats or even their smaller dogs, but they’d all either been adopted or were reserved by potential owners.
“Have you considered a hybrid?” Those five words, and your inquisitive “A hybrid?” Is what landed you in this situation.
The lady excitedly lead you through a few different doors until you were in a room that overlooked a large spacious area.
“There’s so many of them,” you muttered to yourself, but it was clearly loud enough for her to hear you.
“Not many people want a hybrid, they prefer a traditional cat or dog,” her tone was melancholic, and a pang of guilt hit your chest. That was exactly what you’d done.
“Chances are the majority of these guys will spend their whole lives here,” she sighed sadly.
A high pitched yelp interrupted her train of thought as she perked up to see who the culprit was. It seemed to be a pink haired girl, her matching feline ears were pressed back against her head whilst another hybrid had their hand raised into a fist.
“Jinx no!” Your guide leaned over the small balcony to scold her. All the hybrid’s snapped their attention to where her voice was, but the blue-eared one slowly lowered her fist and skulked off to another corner; content that the conflict was over the rest of the room relaxed and continued what they were doing previously.
However, one pair of eyes remained on the balcony.
You couldn’t place it at first, but then you spotted him. His eyes were so piercing that you quickly avoided eye contact.
“Who’s the one on their own?” You asked quietly as if he could hear you. The vet leaned into you and the excitement was radiating off of her.
“That’s Jayce, our chocolate Labrador hybrid,” she paused for you to ask questions, but continued quickly anyway.
“He’s been with us for about 3 months, he was completely feral when we found him. He’d been abandoned by his previous owner when he was a puppy and was surviving on his own for so long,” her voice lost its usual joyful lint the more she spoke.
“When he arrived he was practically uncontrollable, we thought we’d have to separate him from the others entirely,” she paused as she realised her voice was getting louder, “But he bonded well with one of our felines, Viktor his name was, but he was adopted quite quickly-“.
The entire time she was talking your eyes kept darting back to who she was talking about.
He was sat in a chair with with his leg on his knee, away from everyone else, his annoyed gaze continuously on the balcony as if he knew he was being spoken about.
“-We encouraged them to adopt the two of them as a pair, but they didn’t want a canine, so he stayed with us. Unfortunately, some of his feral habits returned but he mostly keeps to himself now,” she finally finished her monologue.
You furrowed your eyebrows with empathy and glanced towards her, "He's lonely, like me," you commented and put your elbows on the railing to rest your chin on your palms, overlooking the space again.
His eyes were still on the two of you, you could feel it.
"Do you want to meet them?" the vet asked a little too swiftly.
The thought bounced around in your mind for a moment, contemplating if you should even entertain this idea; but as you looked around the room you felt your heart ache for them.
You sighed as a sign of conceding to the idea, "Yeah, why not?" you pushed yourself up off of the balcony and turned to the vet, waiting for her to start moving.
The smile on her face was one of relief and joy. It was clear that not many people were jumping at the opportunity to adopt a hybrid, let alone even entertain seeing them.
It didn't take long to get to the 'sanctuary' door - that's what she called the main communal area for them - she swiped her key card and the door beeped open.
For some reason your heartbeat increase slightly as you stepped over the threshold and into the room.
"Hello everyone!" she said in a slightly elevated voice, not loud enough to be shouting but loud enough for it to carry throughout the room. "We have guest today, she's very nice so don't worry," she warned them.
Although the atmosphere didn't feel hostile, it didn't feel welcoming either. The majority of them observed you from a distance.
There were so many questions you had, but you didn't know where to start.
"If we take a seat over here we can let them come to us," she lead you to a sofa in the middle of the room, but as you sat down she moved away to a cabinet to retrieve a big folder.
The time you were alone was minimal but a spike of anxiety went through you, some of the hybrids moved closer to observe you but never close enough to speak to any of them individually.
The vet returned and sat next to you on the sofa, placing the big folder onto the table, "We have all the information on the residents in here," she didn't open it but left it for you, if you felt inclined.
It didn't take long for the blue haired feline from before to bound over and sit next to the vet, "Hello sweetie," the vet said as the feline put her head on her shoulder and started playing with her hair.
"This is-" she started, but this time you interrupted, "Jinx?".
Both the vet and Jinx looked up at you when you spoke, "Yes! She's quite the troublemaker, especially with her sister Vi," she pointed at the pink-haired feline that was being bapped earlier.
"I see," you spoke slowly as you opened the folder to their joint page. 'Must be adopted together', it read in bold under their photos.
"As they're actually siblings, we can't have them separated, it wouldn't be healthy," she explained as she started to tighten one of Jinx's braids.
It reminded you of her story from before and you instinctively raised your head from the folder to where the Labrador hybrid was sitting before, he was still staring at you.
"What type of space are you working with?" you were thankful she was asking you questions, you felt completely out of your depth.
Your eyelids fluttered in surprise, he must be territorial, you thought.
"Just a one-bed apartment," you eventually answered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the vet lean back to glace at Jayce and her lips curled into a smile again.
"Ah," the noise of disappointment, "That's not a lot of space for play, if you were to adopt it would need to be someone more relaxed,".
She leaned forward and started flipping through the folder, unclipping certain pages and laying them in front of you.
"Unfortunately, they're all a little rambunctious here, but these are who I'd recommend," she'd placed two folders on the table.
"Caitlyn', and 'Ekko", she said aloud even though their names were written down in front of you - Jinx stuck her tongue out and made a 'Bleh' noise when she said Caitlyn.
You spent some time reading their files, they seemed nice enough, two felines; but the whole time you were reading your mind kept drifting back to the one who's eyes you could feel in the side of your head.
"What about-" you started, pausing for a moment to reconsider if you actually wanted to suggest this, but before you could get the courage to complete the sentence the vet interjected with a surprised "Jayce?!".
You glanced up from the pages to ask her how she knew what you were going to say, when you realised there was a large figure basking you in his shadow.
Immediately, your heart started beating quickly again and a nervous rush went through you. "Oh, hello," your voice shook as you spoke.
Now that he was closer you could see that his eyes were a golden yellow, which complemented his chocolatey brown hair pretty well. His nose twitched as if he was also rethinking his approach, or he was catching your scent.
"Jayce, this is..." the vet started the introduction and waited for you to say your name out loud for him, which you did.
His eyebrow raised slightly as he seemed to look you over; from your shoes to the top of your head.
Before, it felt like you couldn't make eye contact with him, but now you were struggling to look away. There was a sadness in his eyes that you recognised all too well, he was lonely too.
Unsure of how to manage the situation, you stuck your hand out for him to shake. He studied your hand silently and without movement, you were starting to think you should put your hand down when he slowly took it.
His hands were large, much bigger than your own and very warm. Although he didn't move his hand, he held a gentle grip on yours and watched where they connected.
"Nice to meet you, Jayce," you tried to say as softly as possible and timidly shook his hand up and down. His brown ears twitched slightly at the mention of his name.
After a few long seconds he let go of your hand and with a quick exhale he walked away.
You blinked a few times and lowered your hand, "Did I do something wrong?" you asked the vet, she chuckled to herself "Not at all, I'm actually surprised he showed any interest at all, he normally never moves from his spot,".
"Oh," was all you could say.
After some time, the vet stood and gestured for you to do the same, leading you towards the exit, "We should leave them to it, we try not to overstimulate them with new people too often,".
Once you were out in the halls again, you asked "Why's his hair so long?". Whilst it wasn't an unmanageable length, it was certainly dishevelled and outgrown.
"He doesn't really let people near him, let alone people with scissors and a razor," she laughed, "Like I said, he still has some feral tendencies, nothing that we're concerned about but it does mean he's a bit scruffy sometimes." she explained.
You nodded slowly to show your understanding. Whilst you felt yourself being drawn towards Jayce, the more you heard about his behaviours the more you were thinking that you weren't cut out to have a hybrid.
"I don't think I’m capable of looking after someone like him," you confessed even though it physically hurt your chest to say.
The vet chuckled again, "When it comes to hybrids, they look after themselves. All you really need to do is feed them, give them a home and attention when they want it.".
She picked up the folder again and flipped through the files, "I know it might seem overwhelming, but we don't just let anyone adopt our hybrids, there's a vetting process to it," she said as she handed you another file.
"What about my apartment? It's only one bedroom, and he's quite..." you didn't know what word to settle on, "Large,".
She nodded at your concern, "Ordinarily, I'd say it was an issue, but for a canine like Jayce, he just needs companionship and intellectual stimulation.".
You took in her words, you were hoping she would agree and tell you that it wasn't possible, that it wasn't meant to be. Then you could let this go and move onto something less demanding.
"Take this home, have a read and see how you feel. If you're still interested we can set up another meeting," you took the file from her and held it close to your chest.
Over the next couple of days, that's exactly what you did.
You read the file over and over, it felt like every detail was engrained into your brain, along with those piercing yellow eyes that were so full of sadness.
He was like you. As much as you hated to admit it, he was your reflection.
"Hello?" you spoke into you phone, the voice on the other end greeted you and asked you to verify your name, which you did.
"How can I help you today?" the receptionist was characteristically bubbly, "I'd like to set up a meeting, please?" you asked hesitantly.
The line was quiet, save for the tapping of her fingers on the keys, "Of course, is that for Jayce?" she eventually said and you felt a bolt of excitement charge through you.
"Yes, please," you confirmed. A few more details were exchanged and the meeting was set, "Perfect, we'll see you tomorrow at 1pm!".
The evening went by too quickly and too slowly at the same time.
Luckily, you worked from home so you were able to be fairly flexible with your availability, despite your morning being relatively unproductive.
Instead of doing your job, you'd spent the first three hours of your shift researching canine hybrids; their needs, requirements and any medical issues.
You'd only just started researching about feral hybrids before you realised the time, 12:30.
When you arrived he was sat in the same chair as before, but this time he wore a black tunic with the sleeves rolled up.
If not for the fluffy ears and tail, you'd think he was a business man or politician of some sort.
As you approached him - with the vet in tow - he stood.
It took you by surprise and your steps faltered. He blinked a few times and his eyebrows softened slightly for a second, before putting his hand out the same way you had a couple days prior.
A soft smile came across your lips as you tentatively took his hand and shook it, he’d copied your gesture to make you comfortable. His touch felt familiar, as if he was someone you’d known for years.
Despite the gentle nature he was showing you, his eyes still bore into you like he was trying to figure out if you were a threat or not.
When he eventually let go of your hand, he sat down and his eyes looked between you and the chair opposite him. He wanted you to sit as well.
You glanced at the soft armchair behind you and side stepped until you were in front of it; before you lowered yourself down, you turned your head back to Jayce to check this is what he wanted.
When there was no change in his demeanour, you plonked yourself into the soft cushions less than gracefully, it was a lot lower and bouncier than you’d anticipated.
“He got this out when he heard you were coming today,” the vet said from behind you, honestly you’d forgotten he was there.
You’d somehow failed to notice that on the table in between the two of you was a chess set, set up and ready for a game.
“I’m sure you’ve already read his file, but Jayce here is very intelligent, he loves these types of games,” the man sounded so proud.
Meanwhile, Jayce stared at him with a displeased facial expression, like he was waiting for him to stop talking.
“I’ll leave you to it, but I’ll be over here if you need me,” the man gave you a small wave as he moved to the other side of the room.
This was the first time you and Jayce were somewhat alone, there was a spark of excitement as well as nervousness.
It's been so long since I've reposted something, haven't been active on Tumblr since 2022 if ill be honest, just silently reading through things here and there, so glad I found an immersive read/series!!!
PLOT: Its Reiner's birthday and what better way to help him celebrate than by a sweet little treat he is sure to obsess over...
W/C: 3.2K
A/N: Requested by @wifeofallfictionalmen "I was wondering if you could doooo Reiner reacting to the reader wearing a crotchless lingerie for him on his birthday night", NSFW obviously lol, pet names and some sweet and freaky stuff.
Reiner took a moment and looked himself over once more, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of his white button down. He double checked the folds in his sleeves and the creases of his dress pants before releasing a soft sigh. This should be a happy day for him. He made it another year but for some reason, his emotions weren’t on his side. “Okay Mr. Braun.” He drawls out, that familiar twang making his words linger. “You gotta get yourself together.” After another deep breath and a final check, he picks up his leather jacket and heads to the door.
Reiner looked down at his phone, checking the messages that you had sent him to where he was supposed to be tonight. He inputted the address into his GPS before getting in the car and starting the engine. “I'm serious Rei, don’t you dare be late.” You fussed at him that morning. He smiled to himself slightly, a rare sight. You always seemed to do that for him. From that one fated moment he saw you in the coffee shop. He walked into his favorite shop like he always does, ordered his regular and made his way to his “assigned” seat. Only this time when he went to sit down, his table wasn’t empty. Reiner was a simple man. He kept to himself and followed his routines. Nothing to cause him extra stress or frustrate him too much. He wasn't one to make a lot of friends and didn't care to meet new people. So he can't say he was exactly pleased to see you sitting in his chair. Nonetheless, he was raised a gentleman so he wouldn't make you move. You hadn’t noticed him standing there, your music turned up in your headphones as you worked.
Reiner took the time to look at your features. He found himself getting lost at your beauty. The way your hair frames your face, your supple skin, each intricate detail. Reiner was so lost in you that he hadn’t noticed you staring back up at him. “Huh?” He let out, snapping back to reality. A small smile tugged at your lips. “I said you’re more than welcome to join me.” You repeated a little louder. He blinked a few times, taken aback at the sweetness of your voice. “Oh.” He said nervously. He wasn't used to this and for some reason, your eyes on him were making a ball of energy form in his stomach. You waited patiently for his response, the small smile still on your face. Eventually Reiner sucked in a breath and pulled out the chair next to you. The waiter approached the table with his drink, eyes widening slightly at the sight of another person with him but he kept his comments to himself.
You both sat together in comfortable silence, sipping you coffee and working. After a few minutes you started to pack up. Reiner can’t believe it but he was completely relaxed around you and that was big for him so the thought of you leaving tugged at his heart strings a bit. “Well, it was nice sitting with you Reiner.” You say. His eyes widened. “Wait, you know my name.” He asked, confused. “Of course I do. You sit here everyday.” You say sweetly. “I- …” he didn't really know what to think. “So you knew who I was and yet, you came and sat at my table anyway? Why?” He questioned. . “I mean,” you started leaning closer to him. “How else would I get to spend time with you if I didn't?” You smiled. He felt a blush creep across his face. “See you tomorrow Rei.” You threw your bag over your shoulder and gave him a wink before heading out the door. And tomorrow, you were there again. And the following days after that. It became a new part of his routine. Quiet days at the coffee shop with you
The next day Reiner found himself in a lighter mood than normal. He took extra time looking over himself and a little bit longer picking the right outfit to wear. He settled for his dark blue wrangler jeans with a nice striped button down that he cuffed at the sleeves. Reiner walked into the coffee shop and made his order then shuffled his way to his table. His spirits dropped slightly when he didn't see your familiar hair sitting at the table. He shifted his eyes slightly but you were nowhere to be found. With a small sigh, he walked over to the table and sat down. Today seemed hard for him to focus without you around. You were just running behind that morning, having left your laptop on your desk. Reiner was already there when you arrived. The waitress was getting ready to walk over with his drink but you stopped her. “Don’t worry I got it.” You whispered. You take the cup and make your way to the table, sneaking up behind him. “One special drink for the sexy brooding blonde with gold eyes.” You say leaning over his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly as the scare but he recognized your voice in his ear.
“You made it.” His deep voice said as a bright smile spread across his face. You gasped slightly, Reiner has never shown any change of emotions other than his normal neutral face with lightly furrowed brows. Seeing the way his pearly whites shine against his smooth skin, golden eyes sparkling send a very needy throb down to your center. Reiner was fucking beautiful. You couldn’t help but return the same gesture as you plopped down into the seat next to him, scooting yourself a little closer to his. He didn't mind it at all much to the surprise of the other coffee goers in the shop. They had noticed the way his attitude and emotions had shifted since you came in and they didn't hesitate to send glances your way each time you both interacted with one another.
“So rei rei you ready to get to work?” You ask, pulling your things out of your bag. “Yeah. Yeah I am.” He smiles.
Reiner smiled to himself again as he thought about that flashback. He turned into the parking lot of the huge building. His brows pulled together in confusion. From the outside, the building looked closed. No lights were shining from the windows and no music played that he could hear. He was getting ready to turn around when a ping chimed on his phone. He pulled up the message you sent.
You’re in the right place. Keep walking forward.
He smirked and tucked the phone back into his pocket before taking a deep breath and walking towards the door. It opened easily as he stepped into the darkness. “Y/n?” He called out. “Are you here sugar?” He looked around in the darkness. A small light came on down the hallway. Reiner shook his head, you were always one for the dramatics. He walked towards the opening as the light glowed brighter. “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY REINER!” A group of people called out. Reiner looked around the room in shock, eyes widening. There were people from the coffee shop including a few old friends and some family. It was a small group of people but nonetheless it meant a lot to him. And there in the middle of the crowd, was you. Wearing a silk cocktail dress that draped low around your back and tied around your neck. The dress hugged you in all the right places and Reiners thoughts went completely feral. You walked closer to him pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, spreading your hands against his chest. “Calm down big boy, there are people around.” You teased, giving him a knowing look. He cleared his throat slightly, redness washing over his features. You smile up at him, wrapping your hand in his and pulling him deeper into the party
Reiner was an addict and you were his drug. It was barely 30 minutes into the party and he was itching to get inside of you. It didn't help that you had been dancing on him earlier. The thin fabric of your dress rubbing against his dress pants. He could feel the curve of your ass on his groin and it was literally giving him a hard time. He found himself touching you every way he could. Rubbing circles into your hips, pulling you back into his chest, anything he could do to get your skin on his but nothing was enough. “Rei, baby you are insatiable right now.” You giggle as he discreetly presses his lips into the side of your neck. Reiner whimpered softly onto your flesh. “When is the party over?” He fussed. “Don’t be a brute. People came here to see you.” You smack his shoulder. He rolled his eyes and pouted slightly. You shook your head as he pulled you towards a back corner as the party went on. No one paid attention to you two disappearing into the darkness. “I just want a little taste. Please” he begged. “Rei…” “Come on Sugar, it's my birthday. You don't wanna make the birthday boy upset.” He said softly, the deep twang in his voice causing a drumming to stir between your thighs. “Fine.” You smirked at him. “But you can only use your hand.” You said softly. His eyes lit up at he slips his hands underneath the skirt of your dress, dragging his thick fingers up your legs and towards your pussy. He just wanted to slip your panties to the side and dip his fingers in.
What he doesn’t expect is to reach between your legs and feel your slickness against his fingers. His eyes widen and you give him a huge grin. “S-sugar…” he stammers. “Whatsthis?” He says. “Your other birthday gift.” You say sweetly. “Ya not wearing anything under there?” He asks, accent getting heavy. “Well technically yes I am.” You shrug innocently. “Show me.” He said, his voice dropping low. “Rei, baby you have to wait until we get home.” You say breathless. He presses closer to you, his gaze heavy as he repeats himself. “Show. Me.” You roll your eyes before carefully checking your surroundings. No one seemed to be bothered that you two weren’t anywhere to be found. You took the time to grab Reiner by the hand and lead him into the private bathroom at the end of the hall. You locked the door behind you and prepared to turn to your birthday boy but his lips were on yours before you could say anything.
Reiner presses hard against you, his mouth battling with yours. Your plump lips soft as he drags his tongue across them. A low groan releases from your body as you grant him further access. Your tongues collide in a fit of passion. Reiner wraps his arms underneath your thighs and lifts you up, pressing your back against the door. Reiner removed his mouth from yours and trails his lips down your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot you love so much. “Reiner.” You moan out, your voice bouncing off the plaster in the walls. “Fuck Sugar, you sound so good.” Reiner says as he continues to tease you. He can’t help it. He loves the way your skin tastes on his tongue. Reiner kisses lower into the cut of your dress as his grip on your ass tightens. He knows that he is being reckless but he couldn’t help it. Not with the way you were dripping. You knew what wearing these panties would do to him. “Rei, baby.” you moan out and the sound of your voice sent a chill down his spine. His thick fingers fumbled with the zipper on your dress as he worked it off of you. There would be no way to explain your dress being ripped to shreds to the people outside the bathroom door.
Your dress falls, pooling at your feet and Reiner freezes. You standing in front of him in the sexiest 2 piece cream lingerie he has ever seen. He looks down at the thin straps of lace wrapping around your hips and the slit between the fabric revealing your juicy pussy and his mouth starts to water. “Jesus Sugar…” he breathes out, dropping to his knees in front of you. “You gone give me a heart attack on my birthday.” Reiner crawls closer to you, his big hands gripping you as he brings his nose to your center, taking in a deep breath. You shiver at his reaction. Rei has always been as affectionate as he could be with you, giving you gentle squeezes here and there or small pecks. But seeing this side of him was your favorite thing. Watching those golden eyes darken and gloss over as he obsessed over you. The way he went feral feigning for a taste of you.
Reiner absolutely loved your body. He gripped your hips tighter as he pressed his face deeper between your legs, nudging your thighs apart so he could slip in and catch the juices dripping from your lips. Reiner slips his tongue in between your folds, and releases a heavy groan. “Damn it sugar. You taste so fucking sweet.” He calls out swallowing your juices. You run your fingers through his thick hair gripping tightly as he suckles on the head of your clit. Reiner drags his tongue from your opening to your clit, the wet sounds of your arousal getting louder as he sloppily takes more of you into his mouth. “Fuck Rei baby.” You whimper, your toes curling in your shoes. Reiner feasted on you without end, taking his time to worship your pussy. You feel your body reaching its peak as you grip him tighter. Over and over his name falls from your lips. Reiner refuses to let up. He sucks your clit without mercy, using the tip of his tongue to tease against the hood.
“Oh God Rei please.” You cry out to him. “Shh princess.” He comes up for air. “You don't want anyone to hear you, do you? I wouldn't want you to interrupt the party.” He teases you. You shudder underneath his command. Reiner loved the way he could make you fall apart just at the sound of his voice. He rose up, towering over you. “Now Sugar, you gonna be a good girl and take daddy’ dick, yeah?” He states. You nod breathlessly. He smirks before turning you to face the mirror. “Hands on the counter, eyes forward.” He directs you. You follow his instructions quickly, eager to feel him stretching you apart. “So impatient.” He chuckles. Reiner grips his length, stroking twice before lining it up with your center. You were already dripping down your legs, the opening in the panties exposing you to the cool air.
“Ready for me sugar?” He pants, tip throbbing with anxiousness. You nod, body thrumming with anticipation. Reiner took a steadying breath before inching forward, pressing his tip into your walls. You tense slowly at the delicious stretch. It took everything in his power to keep his knees from buckling. Years later and he still wasn't used to the tightness of your walls as he sheathed himself deeper into you. “Damn it sugar.” Reiner whispered in your ear as he fucked you without mercy. You let out a low, whimpering groan as he pushed deeper into your walls. Reiner leaned forward, pressing his chest against your back until he was level with your ear. “Shhh sugar,” he breathes in your ear. “You don't want anyone to hear the nasty thing you're doing in the bathroom, right? They don't gotta know how I'm fucking you right now, now do they?” He feels you shudder in his grasp. Reiner was obsessed with the way he knew your body. It always sent him into a state of euphoria to see how you broke down under his command. He removed a few inches from your wetness slowly before slipping back inside of you. Your eyes roll backwards at the intensity of it. Fucking him hard was one thing, but when he switched it up. Slipping his thickness inside you slowly, your walls contracting around each inch, he was punishing you. Your legs start to vibrate underneath you. “Rein baby please, you’re torturing me -- I need it.” you whimper.
Reiner loved hearing you begging. “IF…I speed up, will you be good and stay quiet sugar?” You nod frantically, anything to get him to make you reach your climax. Reiner smirks and then rams himself deep into your opening. Your body jolts, knees buckling upon impact but he holds you up by your waist. He repeats the same action again and your hands turn white from the way you gripped the sink. Reiner slams into you repeatedly, your pussy clenching around him each time he pulls out. The sound of your arousal ricochets in Reiner’s ears as he pumps into you steadily. He looks down at your conjoined bodies and a whimper releases from his throat. You push back against him, arching your back as you slip him deeper into your body. He grips your hips in warning and fucks you. And yes, he fucks you. Death grip on your hips, Reiner forces your back flat onto the counter and ruts into you fast and hard, not caring how he was torturing you. You bite down on your lip, the taste of copper fills your mouth as the blood rushes, flooding your senses. Reiner’s strength waivers as he continues to fuck himself dumb, grinding deep in your walls. You are both reaching you breaking point. “Come with me Rei baby.” you beg him, legs trembling underneath you.
“Fuckfuckfuck.” he cries out as his cum spurts out in ropes, coating you inside and out. You feel a rush of liquid drip down your legs as you collapse onto the counter. Both of you take a moment and breath, trying to come down from your high. Realization splashes over you. “Shit…SHIT.” you push yourself off from the counter and fumble with your clothes. Reiner tilts his head slightly, giving you a confused look. “The party Rei!” you fuss, grabbing some rags and wetting them to clean yourself up. Reiner walks to you, pressing his hands on your sides and halting your movements. He takes the rags from your hands then drops to his knees, he drags the fabric over your skin wiping you down slowly. Your heat races at the sight of him on his knees for you. You take a moment with one another before you get dressed.
Reiner checks the hallway to make sure it's clear and you slip out of the bathroom. The party is still going on, friends dancing and everyone seems to be okay. You both walk hand in hand back out to the room of people. “Well…” Annie says as you walk up to join them. “Someone looks freshly fucked.” Your eyes widen and lips part slightly. Your friends are quiet for a moment before laughter erupts around you. You roll your eyes playfully and shake your head. “Damn Rei, couldn’t wait until you got home huh?” Eren laughs, clapping him on the back. His face is beet red as she shrugs his shoulders, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright you too. Now you’ve had your fun. Let’s enjoy the rest of the party.” Annie raises her glass in the air. You all cheers and you look over to your boyfriend. His face was soft and content and you couldn’t be happier. You stretch up and press a small kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Happy Birthday Rei baby.”
⤳ Living a life of luxury, you had never expected your world to be overturned in one night; in just a few hours. From a life filled with balls; extravagant evenings and people falling to their knees at the sound of a mere word to having it all swept from under your feet. You’re torn away from your world and left to struggle through a world you’ve never seen before: he takes you away from everything. But he doesn’t just steal you away. He takes you on a journey you never would have had in your world.
⤳ FLUFF/ANGST — 10.2k — repost from my previous blog, fem! reader, royal au, violence, death, alcohol, suggestive, ambiguous end, so self indulgent
The scream erupts from your throat as you watch him fall to his knees beside you as an arrow, that you’re certain was aimed at you, fatally hits the man to your left as you’re rushing down the hallways. Stopping in your tracks, there’s little time to glance back at the man that had been your guard, since you were a young girl, before you hear the shouts of the other men, begging you to continue your escape down the dimly lit hall.
“Princess!” The voice interrupts; you can feel him grab you by the arm and pull you away from the lifeless body you’re staring at in your frozen state of shock. “We have to go.” You’re fighting the grip he has on you, pulling your arm back to no avail: he’s much stronger than you. Before you can even begin to complain, you’re yanked away from where you’re standing and, between him and another–Jean Kirstein, you’re dragged into a run again. Or, at least, they attempt to but the stubborn behaviour they’d become accustomed to stands in the way of your safe freedom. “Move Princess!” He yells once more, in a tone no one had ever dared use against you before; it scares you into action, running beside them as fast as you could–the worry of your dignity lost somewhere in your mind as the fear takes control.
The thwip of another arrow screams past your ear, only narrowly missing you, sending chills down your spine. You were already aware of the danger not only you, but your entire kingdom was in; being in the centre of the worst of it had your palms sweating and blood running cold. It was a fear you’d never felt before.
You’re pushed towards Jean with one quick movement by the older guard., “Move!” He barks out the order like there’s no tomorrow; there might not be for some. “Both of you, now!” He flails his arms around in desperation; had he known how difficult it would have been to get the recently trained knight as well as you, the unruly princess, to listen to orders he would have run directly into battle himself–though, having been caring for you since you were able to walk, he was not going to leave without knowing you would be safe; a job he was reluctantly leaving to Jean.
Jean takes you by the hand; the soft and soothing action a juxtaposition to everything happening around you. Sprinting down the remainder of the corridor, before his commander yells at him one more time, he’s pulling you behind him as you struggle to move at his speed.
It amazes you that mere hours ago you were preparing for your usual evening: a meal planned and executed to perfection by the countless castle staff; when you were having the dress you’re now running in tightened around you by your maids, to make you look as stunning as you did every night, the last thing you’d expected was to be destroying their hard work in a panic Your evening was supposed to be a regular meeting with your parents, who are now nowhere to be seen, ending in your usual walk alongside your father through the castle as he told you about his day–it was always information you had little interest in but the time spent with him was perfect.
Now, down those very halls, you’re running for your life.
“Jean!” You call out to him, struggling to breathe as he relentlessly rushes to where he needs you to be; the only place you’ll be safe. “Slow down, please.” Your tone is filled with nothing but urgency as you beg him to calm himself; allow you the chance to just catch your breath. He hears you, but he can’t take the risk. It’s not only his job as your knight to keep you away from harm, it’s his duty as the man that cares deeply for you; he’d die for you if he saw it necessary– any risk to your life was worthless. At that moment, your fatigue and desperation are nothing compared to what hell you could go through if you don’t reach safety.
“y/n.” Jean whispers your name when he does come to a halt, stopping in front of the entrance to the underground passageway that would lead you to safety; he turns to you to carefully cup your face in his hands. “You have to go.” There’s a different urgency in his voice than initially in yours. He’s panicked and full of his own fear; they’re emotions he knows he’s supposed to suppress but can’t.
“Not without you.”
“There are horses waiting for you on the other side, take one and go.”
“Come with me, I can’t be alone.” He pauses for a second, searching through your tear-filled eyes and silently battling with his own thoughts. His official duty was to protect the kingdom, you were just who he was assigned to. But, for years, he had been fighting for you—why stop now? How could he leave you when you looked so afraid?
“Okay.” He whispered, retaking hold of your hand.
“Wait,” you refuse to move, “my parents. I can’t leave them.”
“They’ll be safe; everyone is protecting them.” He insists, pulling you to stand beside him. “We have to go, Princess.”
“Not without them!”
“Others are leading them to the horses but we have to leave, now.” You pause for a second, unsure if you believe him or not as you let him pull you through the darkened passage with only the light at either entrance, and his knowledge of the castle, to lead you through.
Reaching the other end, you snatch your hand away from him, staring at him with a newfound venom in your eyes: what lies ahead of you is what you didn’t want to see. There are only three horses and no sign of your parents and a silence that tells you they aren’t anywhere close. “Where are they?” You spit, pulling your hand back as he reaches for your hand again. He holds the reins of a horse and brings him to you. “Where are my parents?”
“They will be here, but you can not wait.”
“I won’t leave without them” You insist, stepping away from him as he reaches for your arm again. “I can’t leave.” There’s nothing he can say that will change your mind as you fear the worst for your parents.
“There’s no time to wait, Princess. You must leave.” Jean’s quietly pleading with you; urging you to the horse. “Please, y/n.”
You’re about to refuse again, your mouth opens and the words are on the tip of your tongue but you don’t have the chance to say them. Not when you feel yourself being swept off your feet. You’re silent for only a second, needing a brief moment to process what had happened, before you’re screaming for Jean to help, yelling his name continuously as the tears in your eyes fulfilled their threat, falling down your cheeks in your panic.
Jean’s quick to mount a horse, riding after you in a haste and calling out to you, trying to catch up to you and your abductor. His voice barely reaches you; it’s fading quickly with his horse’s futile attempt to catch up. Within what feels like seconds, he’s completely out of sight and, mere minutes later, the castle is but a speck on the horizon.
With your attention away from Jean; away from your unwanted escape, you turn to the person who’s tightly holding you against him. You’re trapped on the horse no matter how much you struggle.
“Who are you!” Squirming in his grip, you screech the words so loudly he feels almost deafened; he loosens his grip ever so slightly as he cringes at the sound giving you the chance to turn to face them as you throw your first at his chest again and again and again. The tears in your eyes make your vision blurred; your punches are weak as you slowly give up on fighting, tears streaming from your eyes at the idea that your parents were somewhere else, but now you can make out the figure of the man taking you away from your home. “Take me back.” You beg, grabbing at his clothes in your desperation.
He ignores your pleads, encouraging his horse to go impossibly faster, and you begin to cry loudly once more; your emotions come pouring out of you as the cries grow in strength and volume. Everything overflows at once, the fear of losing your family, of losing your home, of the man that won’t let you go. Everything you don’t want takes control of your body as you swing your fist into his chest repeatedly.
“Let me go!” Your voice is shrill enough to hurt his ears again, he swears he can see his horse’s step falter at the sound and the words are shrieked through your tears; they’re almost incoherent.
Apparently, your agony gives you a burst of adrenaline; you start pounding at his chest again except, this time, there’s power behind it. Each punch gets stronger as you get more desperate for freedom, there’s enough power behind them for one blow to wind him and he finally slows his horse as he tries to catch his breath, coughing as you continue to hit him. He catches you by the wrists, holding you still as he scowls at you, an expression that is mirrored by you.
“I’m here to help you.” His voice is harsh; it’s not what you were expecting but you’re not truly sure what you were expecting. “Calm down.” His horse is standing still now: he knows you’re at a safe enough distance for him to deal with you now. The horror scene he’d saved you from witnessing is completely out of sight; there’s no speck in the distance or faint sounds of the hell reaching your ears but, with the sight he’s witnessing, he’s sure you’d rather be there to witness it all, regardless of the risk.
“If you’re here to help me. Take. Me. Back.” Each word is punctuated with a blow to his chest; he’d be surprised if he wasn’t at least bruised by the morning. The last thump hits him hard enough to force him out of balance; you continue striking him until he topples backwards letting go of you just before he falls from the horse and your sudden lack of support has you following suit, squealing out again as you fall backwards
He scrambles to his feet, quicker than he ever has before, ignoring the pain in his back as he catches you before you hit the floor, narrowly missing an injury of your own. He drops you to your feet just as quickly as he caught you with the unimpressed expression still, unpleasantly, sat on his face.
“Are you crazy?” He yells, “Had we been closer to the castle–” stopping to take a deep breath, he tries to calm his anger and channel it into something other than his annoyance with you “You could have been hurt!”
“Watch your tone, do you know who you’re talking to? I am the Princess of–”
“Princess of what?” You scoff at the sound of his voice as you’re interrupted–an action you’ve never experienced before. “It doesn’t look like you’ve got much of a kingdom to rule over now, Sweetheart.”
“How dare you!” You spit, “I am still a princess and you will address me as such.”
“Well, Princess. If you’re adamant about going back, by all means, go ahead. I’m simply here to help you but, if you’d rather not receive my aid, I won’t stop you. Just remember, when you start screaming for help, because I can guarantee that your pampered self will do exactly that, I won’t come running.”
You cross your arms over your chest at the sound of his words with an entitled huff: don’t want to admit it but you know he’s right. In your life, the only responsibility you’d ever been given was choosing your personal maid which was, ultimately, a decision made by your mother. The idea of navigating the unfamiliar route home alone sounded like hell to you and, for the time being, he was your only ally.
He grabs the reins of his horse, stroking its nose gently as it neighed at the action–the shouting and the animosity between the two of you had unsettled the animal; the little movement calms his nerves. “You’ll be safe with me, but if you truly want to go your own way there’s an inn not far from here, we can part ways there.”
“No.” Your reply is instantaneous as the panic quickly sets in. “No,” you repeat, calmer this time, “You said I’d be safe. You’ll be trialled for treason if I’m harmed–Jean saw you; I’m your responsibility now.”
“He doesn’t know anything.” He scoffed, “I made a deal with your father; I know the consequences if your safety is not ensured.”
“You saw my father?” Your voice is quiet, rushed; you’re itching for some sort of answer to the question that had been ignored for too long. “Was he okay? Are my parents safe? Jean didn’t say anything.” Your thoughts are rushed to words, bombarding him with further questions regarding your family’s wellbeing.
“Because he doesn’t know anything.” He repeats, “The castle guards know nothing of the real world; they know what they’re told–all that’s just to protect you. Jean couldn’t even get you on a horse, how was he going to be able to protect you against an actual enemy?”
“They’re trained to know what to do.”
“And look where that’s got you.”
“If you’re supposed to be helping me, should you not be trying to build some rapport, not insulting my people.” You look to the floor, the anger you thought had begun to subside coming back at the sound of his words.
“It’s not the people you’re offended for, is it y/n?” It’s a question you hadn’t expected, yet he’s seen through you immediately. “I don’t care about your reasons for worrying about him but your energy is better placed elsewhere. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”
“It’s not—”
“Like I said, Princess. The reason means nothing to me.” He readjusts the saddle on his horse, “All I care about right now is getting Titan rested, and you a change of clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothing?” You glance down at the white dress you’ve been wearing all day, the skirt now covered in mud.
“It’s too extravagant. We don’t want you being found too easily.”
“Someone’s looking for me?” Panicked, you freeze again; you only move when he takes you by the hand–touching you in such a gentle manner it doesn’t match the impression you currently have of him–and pulls you towards him.
“I don’t know.” He whispers, in contrast to your panic, he seems confident; calm. “You can never be too careful.” His hands come to your waist, lifting you off of your feet with ease that makes him wonder how you were able to push him off his horse in the first place.
He wraps the reins around his wrist, holding Titan close to his side walking level with the saddle, encouraging the horse to begin moving again at a much slower pace–giving you a rest form being shaken by the urgent galloping. It’s quiet, too quiet, compared to the way you’re used to living. You don’t like it.
You keep your eyes focused on the animal taking you away, the way his beautiful mane moves with the wind entrances you; you reach to stroke it softly. “His name is Titan?” Filling the silence, that he was certainly enjoying, you ask the question as he’s led towards the inn you’re assured is close. There’s been silence between you for some time now; he hasn’t as much as looked your way as he slowly keeps a steady speed in the right direction.
“Yep.” The blunt and quick response warns you that he wants nothing to do with this conversation; you had never been one to listen to those warnings. You had never been accustomed to silence and solitude and he would soon learn that you weren’t a person that would allow yourself to be in either of those situations.
“And yours?” He’s quiet for a second, you can see that he’s not going to answer the question without you pushing him further. “If I’m to trust you, the least you could share is your name.”
“Reiner,” He turns to you, with the faintest (arguably non-existent) smile you’ve ever seen, “Reiner Braun.”
“Eat.” Reiner ordered with a grumble and a tap on the wooden bowl holding your food ignoring your look of dissatisfaction–anyone that looked your way could tell that the last place you wanted to be was there, with him. . “Look, I know it’s not the fancy shit you’re used to but you have to eat.” Sighing, he stabs at the food in front of him as he tries to pretend you’re not there. Which is an impossible task with the way you fidget and groan opposite him.
“This dress is uncomfortable.” Ignoring his orders and his obvious vexation, you pull at the sleeves of your dress. It’s significantly low quality compared to what you had worn every day of your life; it’s too tight in some places; too loose in others and your skin feels like it’s on fire underneath–you dread to think exactly what is making you want to scratch.
“You’ll get used to it. Whether you like it or not, you don’t look like the princess anymore and that’s good.” He brings the cup to his lips, wincing at the taste of the water. He can tell it’s been some time since they were cleaned: the water tastes faintly of beer–a drink he’s sure you’ve never touched–and the wooden tankard has tainted the purity of the liquid.
He’s immediately dreading the complaints he knows you’ll have.
“Eat.” He repeats, eyes on his own food rather than the frown on your face.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come on,” He taps your bowl again, trying to overlook your childish responses, “We need to leave today, and you need your strength.”
“Can we not just stay here?” You continue to ignore him; he sighs in defeat as he leans back in the chair, taking another large gulp of his water, his face falling at the flavour once more.
“If you are being followed, this is one of the first places they will check. We need to leave as soon as possible.” You meet his eyes again, feeling small under his stare.
“Do you really think someone is following me?” He pauses for a second and you feel your blood run cold at his silence; it’s an unnerving response to the question you already dreaded the answer to.
“You shouldn’t ask so many questions.” He sighed, pushing his empty bowl away and crossing his arms.
“Well, do you?” Urging him to answer, you’re searching his face for any tell he accidentally exposes–you’re yet to learn he’s too careful to let that happen.
“That is simply a worst-case scenario.” He sighs, rapping his fingers on the table as he thought. “I learnt it was better to expect the worst a long time ago.”
“But they would be after my parents as well?” You are desperate for an answer. An honest and real answer, not something vague that means nothing to you. You need to know the facts that no one is willing to share with you.
“Your parents will be safe.” He assures you, “That I know.”
“How?” He groans, letting his head fall back and looks to the ceiling for a few seconds before he’s meeting your eyes again with a slight frown on his face.
“Enough questions.” One last time, he taps the side of your bowl. “Eat.” You huff as he orders you, for the last time, to eat something even if it’s the smallest scrap on your plate: he knows you’ll complain later regardless.
You don’t move: you’re waiting for him to answer your question with anything but he stays silent. There’s not another word shared until you’ve both finished eating which, in your case, is only a few more mouthfuls. He tells you, once you claim to be finished, that it’s not enough but you’re adamant you’ll be fine. Even with the warnings he gives, of not knowing when the next chance to eat will be, you refuse.
Your complaints don’t cease as he packs up the little belongings he owns, ears filled with childish grievances about the fact you had nothing but the clothes on your back since he had forced you to dispose of the dress you’d worn. It’s only when he takes hold of your arm, dragging you out of the inn and towards the stables, that you stop talking–it’s a moment of peace for Reiner just before you begin your onslaught of caviling.
Shortly after, he’s lifting you onto Titan’s saddle before locking his foot to the stirrups and throwing himself over the horse, sitting behind you in the position you’d quickly have to get used to.
The long journey starts slowly with him shutting down every question you send his way until you’re riding in silence–one he’s been longing to return since you woke up. Soon enough, you’re sitting in silence watching the trees pass and wishing, once again, that you were home and wondering how long it would take to get home; how far away you were and where your parents could possibly be.
Your mind fills with more questions as the thoughts overwhelm you, and you turn your head to look at him with those very questions burning your tongue; he doesn’t notice you, you think, and you know he’ll either answer vaguely or ignore your questions completely. But you want to know–need to know–what exactly his plan is; what he knows about your family and your home.
From the corner of his eyes he sees you turn to glance at him again, he wants to ignore the feeling of your stare but it’s so severe he swears he can feel a line being drawn around his face as you examine every detail. And, as he sees you open your mouth once more, he wishes he could buy another horse to keep you in sight but not in earshot.
“No.” Reiner stops you before you can say what you want to. “No more questions, I’ve answered enough for today.” You scoff and turn away from him, crossing your arms and he rolls his eyes: he senses your royal tantrum coming.
“You took me away from my home, against my will. I have the right to ask questions.”
“And I have the right to peace and quiet.” He counters, hoping his harsh tone of voice would cease your questions; he’s forgotten the rumours he’d heard about you. No matter what he did, you always managed to get your own way.
“If I am such a problem to you why are you helping me?” He pulls at Titan’s reins slowing him to a complete stop, the horse neighs at the order but he’s quick to notice the long grass around him; he’s distracted by his meal whilst you focus on Reiner.
“Okay.” He gives in, posture relaxing, “I’ll answer your questions. I am helping you because your father sought me out, he found me in the midst of all of that,” he points behind him, the direction of the castle that’s long out of sight, “to give me a job–to protect you–and I’m not one to refuse pay.”
It’s not the answer you want to hear, but it’s an answer. And the look he’s giving you is telling you you have time to get more–you’re not going to complain when there’s more pressing matters your breath can be used for.
“Where are we going?”
“We have to lay low until I get a message.”
“Message?”
“The all clear to take you home.” You brighten up at the thought, grabbing his arm in your excitement.
“How long will that take? How will you get the message? Should we not stay somewhere, what if no one can find you?” He covers your mouth with his palm, sighing once more as he internally regrets indulging your curiosity.
“I don’t know how long, I’ll get it and staying still is the worst option: you have to trust it’ll happen.” He uncovers your mouth as you softly nod, readying himself, and Titan, to begin your journey again.
“What if–”
“I don’t know.”
“But–”
“Princess.” he stops you again. “All I know is that I will receive a message but only when it is safe; until then turning back will put your life at risk.”
“And my parents?”
“I’ve already told you. Your family will be fine.”
“You promise?” You ask so sweetly it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. Two words. It’s two words that make his stomach turn. And that look in your eyes, the saccharine look that’s screaming for an answer–the answer you want to hear.
He can’t: it’s an impossible ask. A promise? A promise. He could count the times he had said that word on one hand; he made a vow–a promise to himself–never to utter it again. Not when the last time resulted in the loss of not only a friend but a brother.
Your eyes are begging him for an answer; they’re screaming at him to say the words you desperately want to hear. He can’t because Reiner Braun doesn’t make promises. Not now–not again.
But there’s something in the way your hand grips his arm; desperate is an understatement. It’s as though the simple word, whether it’s truthful or not, will take away the weight crashing down on your heart. Reiner knows he shouldn’t: he doesn’t have the capability to make good on his word. It’s not fair.
“Yeah,” He whispers, voice shaking and mind whirring with thoughts of how brainless he had become. “I promise.” The words are hard for him to say; they come out so quietly he’s not sure you can even hear them. He can’t say them again–he won’t say them again–so he hopes they reached your ears as he has Titan restart your journey, and he keeps his eyes off of you for as long as he can.
It's five, maybe ten, minutes before he looks down at you again; he sees you staring forward watching as the everchanging yet identical greenery passes by. Even though he’s accustomed to travelling solo he finds himself wanting to say something; to fill the silence enveloping you. For once, the sound of Titan’s galloping and the wind gusting by his ears isn’t enough to satisfy him. Reiner feels as though he has to say something to you but he chooses to stay silent. It’s uncomfortable and it’s odd yet he’s quiet: he deems the silence better than the never-ending questions you may have.
And that’s how you spend the beginning of your journey. For days, the only times you talk are during meals, which are few and far between and with you finally eating more than a few bites, and most conversation begins with your distaste for the cheap food and all end with Reiner losing his patience–those moments where he wants to talk to you are heavily overshadowed by the, more frequent, moments he finds himself wanting to leave you behind.
Sometimes he thinks buying another horse would be a good decision; with Titan holding more weight than he was used to, progress had slowed but there simply wasn’t enough money for now. Every day you’d be sat against Reiner’s chest, in that excruciating silence, riding with no set destination and a companion that would rather not have you there. Your criticisms only worsen as your desire to go home grew with every passing second.
When the sun sets on your seventh day of moving, you believe you’ve become used to the cold that comes with the darkness; you’ve started to ignore the goosebumps that litter your skin and you’ve stopped asking exactly when you’ll find where the next inn you’ll be sleeping in is. Things that you had once made a priority seem insignificant now.
Reiner had watched you slowly change in the little time he had known you; he was watching your entire personality be altered by mother nature and he was starting to see a woman he was content to have at his side.
Each day that passed you’d stopped complaining at the uncomfortable beds you were forced to sleep in; you stopped caring that he had no choice but to sleep beside you in those beds. In fact, his presence to your right every night was comforting–it was the only familiarity you’d experienced since being upheaved from your home.
And, on the eighth night, you find yourselves without the luxury of an inn or a bed. Left with only the ground you walk on, there’s no choice but to settle down for the night with only the woods around you to ensure your safety; and Reiner’s word.
The fire burns in front of you, after the countless attempts from Reiner to ignite the wood you had helped collect, it shines bright in the tree-enclosed glade. “Show me how it’s done then, Princess.” He teases, handing you the rocks he was using to start the fire–to no avail–and your attempt was just as futile as the many he’d taken himself. He takes them back with a small laugh, sparking them easily and lighting the fire; you laugh as he avoids your entertained gaze in his embarrassment..
“I’ll best you next time.” You jest with a small smile on your face, sitting on the ground near the fire, feeling the slow growth of heat and comfortably resting against the log Reiner had expected you to sit on.
“I’ll hold you to your word, y/n.” He replies, grabbing the saddle that’s been taken off of Titan as he peacefully lay underneath a nearby tree, and untying the bag strapped to it. “It’ll be just another surprise from you.” he mutters, pulling out a thin blanket he’d had stashed away for a moment like this.
He makes his way back to you and drops himself beside you, looking at your face before he unfolds the sheet; he sees a look that’s all too familiar to him now–you’ve got questions.
“Go ahead.” Though he’s no longer bothered by the excessive questions you frequently send his way, he groans the words. But, by now, you’ve also come to understand what his mannerisms and forced tones mean: he’s not really annoyed by your queries–not anymore–and you’re sure he’s at least a little curious about what you’re curious about.
“Why take a job like this?” You ask as he wraps the blanket around you, sitting with his arm resting on the log behind you, keeping the blanket in place and you have to consciously ignore the way you can feel his muscles flex as he moves himself into a more comfortable position with his legs stretched out towards the fire. “Why take such dangerous work with no backing; no security?”
“You mean,” He pokes at the fire with his boot, pushing a small log further into the flames, “why am I not a knight?”
“Yes. It seems like the perfect role for you.” You reply softly, fingers smoothing out the wrinkles in your clothes.
“To stay cooped up in the castle and listen to you bark orders all day?” You frown at the words, regardless of whether they are meant as a joke or not, you’re reminded of the image he once had of you.
“No–”
“You would have me running around; try to have me wrapped around your little finger–just like Jean.” He chuckled as he displays his little finger to you, laughing more as your expression changes to one of slight offence.
“Jean is not wrapped around my finger.” Pushing his hand away as you retort with a huff.
“I saw you with him for no more than five seconds, I saw the way he reacted when I took you away. He’s painfully smitten with you, no knight thinks that way of their master.” It’s almost impossible to look him in the eye as he’s talking; telling you things you already know but have never been truly admitted. “But, I’d say he wasn’t just pining for you. You love him too, don’t you?”
“You’re–” The words are there but it’s as if you’re just incapable of saying them to him.
“You can deny it, Princess, but you can’t hide the expression on your face. I merely mentioned him but your face says it all.” You touch your cheeks like doing so will help you see the look you’re wearing, “You can’t hide it, it’s a subconscious reaction and you’ve never had to learn to hide your emotions.”
Taking a deep breath in hopes of hiding the emotions you’re allegedly showing, you begin to voice the thoughts in your head–for the first time they’re spoken aloud. “Maybe I do love him but my thoughts and my feelings don’t matter.” Your efforts of hiding your expressions are useless as the frown falls on your face; your gaze drops to the ground.
“Are they not the most important?” Reiner watches as your demeanour completely changes; he wants to comfort you but he’s not sure how and he’s almost certain you’d shake off his arm if he protectively threw it around your shoulders.
“I am a princess, Reiner.” You sigh, sending him a soft smile that he can see through immediately; he says nothing about it. “My marriage is solely for my father to build bridges between us and other kingdoms–my feelings; who I love does not matter.” You repeat.
“Surely yours are the most important, if you’re to spend your life with a man.”
“Weddings within the royal family are political. To gain power, barons, dukes, earls, viscounts; anyone with money that wants more sends a proposal to me, via my father. He makes the decision, I simply have to fulfil his order.”
“But–”
“If I marry for love, the kingdom may pay a price. As a princess, I cannot allow that to happen.”
“You sacrifice happiness for the good of your people?” You nod at his question, “I thought you were a much more self-centred princess.”
“I was never–”
“You were against everything when we first met, you refused to so much as eat if I didn’t answer the endless list of questions you had–you were one of the most selfish people I ever met.”
“Is that what you really thought?”
“At first,” his voice is just as quiet as yours, and he’s sees the way the light in your eye fades at the thought that he truly thought bad of you, “but now. Now you’re different. Good different. What happened?”
“Enough questions,” You smile, changing the subject at hand quickly, as you move quickly to face him; sitting cross-legged. “Let me know more about you.” You’re uncertain why you do so; why you’re too concerned about the idea of exactly what has changed you to answer the question.
“Is that an order, Princess?”
“No jokes, I know little about you yet you’ve deducted a lot about me. Tell me something.” You poke his chest, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees; Reiner’s a little surprised you allow yourself to appear so improper.
“There’s nothing for me to tell.”
“Well, surely you weren’t always like this. Acting as some ‘righteous’,” you make finger quotes in the air, enjoying the tiny smile that sits on his face at the action, “saviour taking the role of my protector–why take this job when my father could have assigned it to one of his own men?”
“His men don’t know this terrain like I do. I was the safer choice.” There’s honesty in his answer but you know there’s more to it than he’s admitting.
“Okay,” it may not be the right choice; it may ruin the trust you’ve built between the two of you but you decide to pry—he must have known you would and you’re not one to hold in your curiosity. “But you only answered one of my questions. Why be this way?”
He goes quiet, glancing your way and you sit up straight again. Something in the way he looks at you tells you your question has reminded him of something he may not have wanted to remember; it’s a memory that pains him to think of.
“I made a promise.” He admits quietly, averting his gaze again.
“Well, that’s rather ominous Reiner.” You attempt to joke but immediately see the way his face stays flat; you know it’s not the time for humour. “What did you promise?”
“I promised a man I would work beside him; train with him to become a castle knight.” Admittedly, it’s a surprise to you that he had once had the inclination to work for your father—for you—within the castle he had shown his distaste for. “He wanted nothing more than to work within those walls.”
“Did he–” You clear your throat, the question you want to ask filling your chest with a vile sensation—it doesn’t feel right. “Would I know him?”
“No; he never made it.” “He,” his lip began to quiver and his voice cracked; he may have stopped there if it wasn’t for the way you gently covered his hand with your own. It’s an action that means nothing and everything at the same time. “He died and I–I couldn’t carry on without him.” Your suspicions are confirmed and you squeeze his hand one more time.
He holds your hand softly, bringing it to his other as he gently starts to play with your fingers in an effort to calm his nerves; you let him. It’s the first time he’s seemed like a real person—not the man wearing thick layers of impenetrable armour.
“I thought of stopping; I lost him and began to watch my comrades fall one by one and I just could not stay.” He lets out a shaky sigh, halting his actions but still cupping your hand with both of his. “But I promised him I would do good by his side. After I left the castle, I went home and I thought of ways I could make him proud; keep that promise.”
He looks at you again with an expression you had never expected to see from your saviour: he has tears in his eyes. “I decided that if I couldn’t do it beside him, within the castle, I would do good alone.” The smile on his face contrasts every other emotion he’s showing; your heart hurts at the thought. “I decided that would be enough to make him happy.”
“What was his name?” Your voice is a whisper, breaking as you ask the simple question.
“Bertholdt Hoover.”
“How did I not know this?” It’s more a question directed to yourself; you mutter it so quietly if it wasn’t for the silence of the forest, Reiner wouldn’t have been able to hear it.
“We were never official knights; you were too young to know us.” He lets go of your hand, taking the blanket away from his shoulders and wrapping it completely around you–the fire has begun to diminish, taking its warm with it. “But I was there with Jean.” He throws a few more pieces of wood into the fire, pushing them further in with a long branch he had found, waiting for the flames to rise again. “Your father had tried to recruit me as your knight, you know, a long time after I left.”
“He did?”
“He thought you would be safest with me.”
“Is that why you took this job?” It’s another question that makes him stop for a second, forgetting about the way the cold breeze hit the back of his neck
“I would have done this regardless, Princess. You were in danger,” His voice trails to almost nothing as he glimpses at you again, wrapped tightly in the blanket; holding it together at your chest; he has to contain the grin that threatened to paste itself to his face at the oddly adorable sight you’re showing to him. “I was always going to step in.”
“But you said–” There’s no need for you to finish your sentence; he knows exactly what you’re thinking in response to his own admission.
“You were different then; I thought that lie would end your questions.” He sits beside you again and gladly scoots closer when you open the blanket to offer him another layer of warmth.
“So he didn’t hire you?” You whisper, shivering slightly at the sudden welcome to the air and Reiner takes it as an opportunity to wrap an arm around you, pulling you into his side.
“He asked me to look out for you when I tried to help him.” You lean against him, oblivious to what you’re doing to him with the simplest action; it’s just because you’re sleeping outside–probably for the first time–and it’s the easiest way to keep the two of your warm throughout the night but there’s something about you that he realises at that moment: you’re different now. “But I was always going to.” He whispers, patting your arm with the hand wrapped around you.
“Mr Righteous again, I see.” You joke, yawning as you fall against him completely; resting your head on his chest. “I’m glad you did.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” you smile, “my father was right, I am safer with you than with any knight that has stood by my side.”
Reiner realises quickly that the tavern was a mistake. He’s not sure exactly how many tankards you’ve emptied but he knows he’s only handed you two. Maybe that was enough to get you, the sheltered princess, relaxed enough to wander the quiet building and be roped into inconsequential conversations, under his watchful eye. But it certainly wasn’t enough for you to be stood on a table; ignoring his protests and beginning your nth stein of foul liquid.
“y/n!” Reiner’s stern; he knows it’s useless but he needs you to stop. You’re unaware of everything around you but he can see their wandering eyes and he can hear their putrid remarks—they’re turning you into a piece of meat with their words; acting as though they’ll all get a taste. They wouldn’t—couldn’t—have that chance. Even with the tempting sway of your hips—no.
He shouldn’t think like that.
He snaps when he sees someone’s hand reach out to you; in your drunken state you don’t care who’s planning on leading you away and, with the assumption it’s Reiner, you reach for them in return.
“That’s enough!” The blonde’s loud voice cuts through the chatter and fearfully forces the bard into silence. You turn to him, almost falling in the process, and fall into a fit of giggles as you drop from the table and straight into his arms.
It takes a few seconds for everything to be as it was; most men realise they’ve lost any chance they thought they had as they watch your hands trail up and down Reiner’s biceps, face so close to his you can feel his breath in your lips, whilst others scowl at the man.
He can feel their dirty looks but he’s far too distracted, a dangerous feeling for a man with his occupation, by his close proximity to you.
“You—” You manage to lose your footing from where you’re stood still and your laughter begins again; you try to talk but you’re slurring your words and Reiner’s too worried about you. “You said I should have fun but you stopped me.”
“Not like this, Princess.” His voice can barely be considered a whisper, it’s so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the bustle of the tavern–he doesn’t want to alert anyone that the princess with a bounty on her head is among them.
“Then how?” Your eyes meet his with a twinkle he’s seeing for the first time and his heart clenches with the thought, which he tries to ignore, that he’s not the first to see it. God, he wishes he was. “Fun with you?”
He wishes you weren’t drunk and he wishes you meant the words you whispered. And, more than anything, he wishes you weren’t imaging another man’s face where he was: he knows. You’ve told him about Jean during the late-night conversations when he’s the only one there to help you through the sleepless nights or rough nightmares, so he knows that you’re not seeing him.
Taking a step back, he holds you by the forearms to keep you steady. “You’ve had enough.” He tells you and he doesn’t care about your complaints; you insist you’re fine but he’s leading you out of the tavern regardless: some fresh air and water will work wonders.
You grumble as you walk but you don’t fight the grip Reiner has on your hand; in fact, you think his delicate touch has sobered you up quicker than a few glasses of water would. He keeps you on your feet as you stumble; muttering something about you needing to learn your limits, until you reach the inn you’re staying just one night in.
He regrets taking you to the bar as he’s helping you up the stairs to the room but he can’t help the laugh that comes from him as he watches you stumble and fall to the bed; it’s the first time you’ve seen him so relaxed in the time you’ve known him.
The blonde stiffens as he feels you push on his shoulders, keeping him where he’s sat, leaning against the wall behind the bed. “y/n?” Throwing a leg over his lap, the skirt of your dress bunches around your waist and his hands, instinctively, come to rest on your thighs.
“What?” You bat your eyelid innocently, an uncharacteristic smirk on your face as your fingers gently stroke a trail up his chest; his neck before your hand gently cups his jaw.
“y/n—Princess—stop.” He blinks up at you, his words holding no real instruction as his thumbs rub soft circles over your clothes.
“Stop what?” Your thumb brushes his lower lip and he’s left completely captivated with you, more so than he already is. His eyes mirror yours, both alternating between brief eye contact and the lips of the other, he’s enamoured with the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips before you, albeit unconsciously, bite your bottom lip.
“That.” He pushes himself closer to you, “That’s unfair.”
“I’m not doing anything,” you whisper, “not yet.” He doesn’t have the chance to react to you: you press your lips against his before he can think. Your nerves are noticeable through the way you move against him but, as you quickly gain confidence, the atmosphere in the room dramatically changes.
This shouldn’t happen, Reiner thinks as he’s returning the kiss with just as much, if not more, passion. Your arms are around his neck, holding yourself steady as you lean close to him caught in a messy relay for the first time—with anyone.
He doesn’t know this, of course, he doesn’t. How could you, a princess whose heart belonged to a man of lower status and whose wedding would only ever be for political gain, share such an intimate moment without damaging your reputation—the royal family’s image?
This shouldn’t happen but it is.
Reiner doesn’t care anymore: he’s spent every waking second at your side for days now. He’s seen you leave behind the uptight personality he had met first and become a person who didn’t stick their nose up at the idea of lodging in a run-down establishment and who didn’t complain at the very idea of being beside him. He’s watched you lower your shield and become the woman you are; not who you’re expected to be.
It shouldn’t happen but he won’t stop it, not right now.
His arms hold your waist, wrapping around you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest as the kiss turns into a rushed, messy interaction mixed with clashing teeth and desperate breaths. He can feel your heart pounding in your chest; it’s beautifully synced with his and, together, they sound like one.
You’re panting when he pulls away, your cheeks are red; your lips are swollen and your chest is heaving. Even like this, the messiest he’s ever seen you; he thinks you’re beautiful.
He moves quickly, there aren’t many coherent thoughts in his brain anymore, pulling the tunic over his head. The voice telling him to stop is forced to the back of his mind as he relishes in the feeling of the soft skin of your fingers tracing the scar on his broad chest; your hand stays there, gently caressing his rough skin, as his calloused fingertips tickle the nape of your neck.
Catching you in another kiss, he’s careful not to further ruin the hair you’d neatly styled that morning, his touch is gentle as he cups your face desperately trying to get closer to you.
He wants to feel more.
He wants to feel your skin against his, burning red under his touch. He wants to make you his; mark you and deter any man that thinks he can take his place by your side. His mind is so plagued with thoughts of you, ones that he would never be able to say aloud, that he’s no longer telling himself to stop.
Not when your hand leaves his chest, never breaking the disorderly tousle of your lips; not when you lift yourself by your knees, forcing him to crane his neck, with your fingers tangled in his hair, to keep you connected and, especially not, when your hands come off him once more and begin to untie the thick string holding your dress together at the bust.
Wait.
Just as quick as you started it, he ends it, pulling back with eyes filled with panic and hands shooting to hold your wrists. “Princess.” He splutters and his heart pounds at the sight of your slightly dishevelled appearance, deep crimson on your cheeks and hazy eyes. “Stop.”
“You don’t want to?” Your voice is quiet and pained. Yes, of course he does. How could he not when you looked so gorgeous above him; he just can’t. Whatever could happen, shouldn’t. This is a job for Reiner—you are a job—he can’t allow himself to get distracted because it’s you his unprofessionalism will hurt.
With ease, he lifts you from his lap, dropping you to the bed and sitting up, turning his back to you and refuses to look at you as you stutter out complaints—“Why not?” You whisper. It’s sad and gently; you’re hurting at his actions. “Am I not enough?”
“Go to sleep. Princess.” He orders keeping his back to you so you can’t see the crimson hue he feels warming his face.
“Reiner–”
“Sleep.” He looks over his shoulder with a harsher look in his eye than intended; you time your back to him before you can see it soften and the regret in his posture as he rests his head in his hands.
You’re the princess, he has to remind himself; he’s amazed that he let that happen in the first place–that he let it go that far. But he can still feel your body heat against him and the softness of your skin on his fingertips. He can still taste you on his lips and he feels as though he’s going insane.
How could you have had such an effect on him?
You fall asleep quickly or you’re simply closing your eyes to avoid the awkwardness he’s created and, only when he’s certain you’re fully asleep, he lays beside you, staring at the curling with an arm resting behind his head; his heartbeat is still quickened and he’s not sure it’ll ever return to normal
He wakes the next morning with a jolt; there’s a pounding on the door and he’s cautious. There’s one of two outcomes coming his way when he stands and opens the door.
It’s been too long now; he knows that, with the amount of time that has passed, there’s no guarantee that good news is on the other side of the door. The excessive knocking, and lack of forceful entry, however, has him hoping it’s the news you’ve been waiting for.
It begins again, but he’s too distracted by you, once again. Still, in a peaceful slumber, you’ve wrapped yourself around his arm, fingers laced between his and holding him tight to your chest. For a moment, everything is fine. You’re there; you’re safe and, in your sleep, you’d blissfully forgotten your disappointment in him.
The pounding begins again; this time it’s accompanied by a shout of his name and he knows.
It’s time. Time to take you back; almost time for him to say goodbye.
“Braun!” The yell jerks you awake beside him, hand squeezing his as you stare at the door with a wicked fear in your eyes. “Open the door!” It’s a woman’s voice, one you don’t recognise. You hold his hand tightly, as he climbs out of the bed.
“Reiner.” You whisper to him–you’re afraid. “Don’t.” He gently loosens your grip on his hand; sending a soft smile in your direction.
“Stay put, it’ll be fine.” His voice is quiet and those few words are reassuring but you’re still reluctant to let him leave his spot beside you.
“Braun!” Her voice is louder now, there’s more animosity behind the thumping on the door. You watch him open it and you wonder who it could be as his physique blocks any view you could have; you can only hear the hushed sounds of their whispers–not one word is clear to you.
“I received word from Porco; it has taken some time to find you.” Annie sighs, crossing her arms as Reiner finally opens the door.
“You received word?”
“Take her back, Braun.” There’s a soft smile on Annie’s face as she notices Reiner’s, usually tense, body visibly relax. “It’s over.”
You lean comfortably against his chest as Titan moves at a steady speed; you feel nothing but excitement as the castle out of sight slowly becomes a spec on the horizon again before it’s in sight. It’s there, in all its glory.
Home.
How many days had you been travelling now? Or had it turned to weeks? Compared to how long you’d been away from the very place Titan is now galloping toward, it feels as though you’ve simply blinked before returning.
With a lack of diversions, and a more certain destination, you felt as though every hour of the day that is where you were sat. On Titan, resting against Reiner’s broad chest as he directs the horse the right way.
There are a few more days–two at most–until you’re home. And not just home. Home with your parents; safe with your parents. And, you hope, with the speed at which Titan is moving, that time could be cut in half.
The minutes pass quickly, hours shoot past like seconds and the days come and go in an instant–soon enough you can see the castle. Soon you’re within the castle.
Reiner’s hands are on your hips as you jump from the horse; you want to run the second your feet hit the ground but you’re glued to the floor–there’s an unexplainable fear coarsing through you at the thought of seeing your parents again. They’re the same as they always were, you presume, but you’re not. Would they look at you any different? Would the king see his daughter–the princess–in the rags she’s had to wear to act as though she’s not a royal and see someone else?
Would they see the way you look at the man beside you now and be disappointed?
Reiner’s hand brushes your ever so slightly, the touch is enough to snap you back to reality. It’s a lingering touch you yearn to turn to more; you want him to hold you and tell you everything will be okay. He wants the same, he wants to promise you everything is okay.
But he can’t.
His touch is the only thing that can ground you, and his whisper of ‘are you ready?’ leaves you with no response but a small nod. You’re not sure you’re ready but at the same time, he’s never been more ready for anything. You were home–where you’d longed to be from the second Reiner came into your life. Yet, now, you weren’t sure the way you wanted him gone again was so truthful.
What was the point of being home if he couldn’t stay by your side?
You learn the point quickly, when Reiner pushes open the doors to the almost empty room. You’re parents are sat there, adorned in clothes just as common as your own, holding each others hands tightly as they raise their heads to look in your direction.
In an instant, the feelings that you’d kept to yourself overwhelmed you. The tears begin to fall and your parents rush to their feet. Had your father not been there to hold you tight, the overwhelming relief that turned your bones to jelly would have had you crumbling to the floor—left in the puddle your tears were creating. .
Tears of happiness, that is. Tears of solace. Tears of overpowering joy.
It’s all so perfect; it’s the moment you’ve been waiting for but you can’t help but feel as though there’s one thing that’s missing as you’re cradled by both your parents. There’s a moment where everything is content and normal. Your parents may be wailing just as loud as you are; they hold you tight enough to stop you from even moving but you don’t care.
How could you care when they’re holding you.
Only when they loosen their grip, you turn to the door, expecting–wanting–to meet the face of your saviour but, instead, it’s the grinning face of the man you’d once longed to see again.
Jean stands there, tears welling in his eyes as they land on you; he smiles ear to ear showing too much emotion for a guard, your guard, to send you at your return. And he knows, he clears his throat, smiling through his water-filled eyes, “Princess—” you can see his lips continue to move but the words don’t reach you; there’s a ringing in your ears that drowns the words in silence.
You thought seeing him again would make everything seem worth it. The loneliness; the arguments; the wishing Reiner was him; the cold nights warmed by the blonde that had effortlessly saved your life and continued to protect you; the kiss you shared after the long night and the choice to let your walls down to him.
Him.
Of course. You hadn’t realised how much you had grown to need him. To care for him; just how attached to the warrior you had become. And you hadn’t even realised he had left.
Before you realise what you’re doing you’re rushing out of the room leaving behind your parents, who call your name in a panic, and the expression on Jean’s face that, just mere weeks ago, would have left you heartbroken. But, for a reason that you can’t truly pinpoint, you’re sprinting down the faded wooden corridor, searching every turning for the familiar body clad in dark clothes and an unruly number of bags.
Faster and faster. Every turn and every open door is explored and you’re almost ready to give up; turn back and give in to the life you once expected. But you see him, swinging his bags over Titan, holding his reins in one hand and he’s, almost, ready to climb his horse and leave your life for good.
“Reiner!” You yell his name as your feet carry you to him in such a rush you nearly trip over your own feet halfway there. But you don’t care: he’s turned to face you and he’s wearing an expression you’ve yet to see on his face. He looks distraught yet concerned; somehow simultaneously both sad and ecstatic and, most of all, he looks confused.
“What are you—” You collide with him before he can finish his question; you knock the wind out of him as you wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly. He’s slow to reciprocate but he eventually does, wrapping his arms around you and holding you in the embrace with the same force as you. His hand rests on the back of your head and, for once, you don’t care if he’s making a mess of your hair. You’re just glad he’s still here.
“You can’t—no,” Your voice comes out with a broken sob, tearing at his heartstrings with every following sniffle, he knows what you’re thinking and he knows what the tight hold you have of him means. It can’t happen; it shouldn’t happen.
You’re a princess; a woman living a completely different life than him. He can’t stay by your side, he’s not willing to give up his job–he kept his word. He fulfilled his promise: your family are safe and you are safe with him. In another world, he may have given in to the way his heartbeat for you but not, in reality, there’s nothing either of you can do to change the lives the two of you have–and will have–now. Even as you whisper through your desperation, “I won’t let you leave.”
