More details I saw and savored and haven't seen mentioned yet:
- Rocky's clock ticks at the slower almost 2-Earth-second interval that is an Eridian second (yes I counted one Mississippi two Mississippi in the theater, why?).
- Yao and Grace discussing how the unit conversion error was the cause of the explosion, which feels to me like a callback to that one time we crashed a Mars lander because the US part of the team worked in imperial units and the EU part of the team worked in metric and I guess they forgot to cross-check?
- The cut from the aircraft carrier karaoke bar scene to The Moment at Adrian mediated by the lil red-suited scuba guy in the fish tank.
- As Grace is starting to say "She said I had my head in the clouds", the background scenery of the mental health bay turns to a scene of a blue sky with fluffy clouds, camera angle slightly below his head and looking up to that background.
- The bright projector bulb with dust in its beam shown quite deliberately, twice, during the "What is Project Hail Mary" presentation, evoking a star and its Petrova line cloud of astrophage.
- The way the clock-like rhythm to the music and the night-day-night-day changes to the light show the passage of time while Grace is patiently waiting for Rocky to wake up during Taumoeba.
- When Rocky joyfully shakes the filaments in his ship to show Grace how it works, reminiscent of how some spiders shake their webs.
- How both the images and the sounds of Grace's very first memories were visually and auditorially hazy and blurry and fuzzy.
- Grace has his Rocky figurine on his ship's dashboard, and Stratt has her Grace figurine on hers.
- The art behind Stratt in The Betrayal is the two ships. I have seen someone else say this, but I had trouble seeing it at first. But now I do. I'd even say it's clear the Blip-A is the one on viewer's right and the Hail Mary on viewer's left.
- Curiosity killed the cat (Cats t-shirt, cat on San Fran bridge tshirt). (Dunno if this is a thing for real, but it occurred to me so I figured I'd throw it in, because Grace canNOT resist a mysterious person or situation).
- When Rocky's excitedly gabbling away before Grace gets the translator set up, he does the "together" rolling hand motion and points at his Petrova Line tattoo - he's already saying Grace Rocky save stars before they have even a single word in common.
fiancé!sae who never becomes overly affectionate publicly, but always keeps a hand on you somehow. your wrist, your waist, your fingers. subtle touches that quietly remind everyone you’re his.
fiancé!sae who learns your habits without telling you. suddenly your favorite drink is already waiting for you after work, your side of the bed is warmed before you sleep, and your schedule somehow feels easier.
fiancé!sae who shows love through consistency rather than words. he may not constantly say “i love you,” but he’s always there. every single time. without fail.
fiancé!sae who softens most at night. when it’s late, quiet, and just the two of you, he becomes gentler somehow. his voice lowers, his touches linger longer, and he lets himself relax completely.
fiancé!sae who absolutely stares at you when you’re not looking. not obviously. just quiet little glances while you’re talking, cooking, reading—like he’s memorizing every version of you he gets.
fiancé!sae whose proposal is private. no crowd, no cameras, no giant speech. just the two of you somewhere meaningful, somewhere quiet enough that he can actually be honest without distractions.
fiancé!sae who rehearses the proposal for weeks because despite how calm he looks, he genuinely wants it to be perfect. he hates uncertainty, but with you? he’s terrified of messing it up.
fiancé!sae who proposes late at night after a long day together. maybe after dinner, maybe during a quiet walk, but definitely during a moment where you’re relaxed and unsuspecting.
fiancé!sae who goes strangely quiet before proposing. his fingers keep brushing against the ring in his pocket while he debates the exact wording in his head for the hundredth time.
fiancé!sae who simply looks at you and says, “i don’t want a future without you in it anymore.” and somehow that hits harder than any dramatic declaration ever could.
fiancé!sae who gets visibly nervous waiting for your answer, even if he tries hiding it. you can see it in the way his jaw tightens and how carefully he watches your face.
fiancé!sae who exhales so softly after you say yes, like he’d been holding his breath for months without realizing it. then immediately pulls you into his chest without saying another word.
fiancé!sae who wears his engagement ring constantly. he twists it absentmindedly during interviews, training, flights—like grounding himself with the reminder that you chose him too.
fiancé!sae who definitely wants children someday, though he doesn’t admit it immediately. at first he says something vague like, “if it happens, it happens,” while secretly imagining your future family already.
fiancé!sae who becomes quieter whenever he sees you interacting with children. something about you being gentle makes his chest ache in a way he can’t properly explain.
fiancé!sae who would want two children at most. enough for a family that feels full, but small enough that he can devote himself completely to each of them.
fiancé!sae who secretly worries about being a good father because affection doesn’t come naturally to him. he’s terrified his children won’t understand how deeply he loves them.
fiancé!sae who plans the wedding far more seriously than expected. spreadsheets, schedules, venue research—he approaches it with the same perfectionism he applies to football because this is important to him.
fiancé!sae who pretends not to care about wedding details until you casually mention changing something he already envisioned. suddenly he has opinions. very specific opinions.
fiancé!sae who prefers elegant, intimate weddings over huge extravagant ones. candlelight, soft music, close friends, beautiful scenery—something timeless rather than overwhelming.
fiancé!sae who absolutely freezes seeing you walk down the aisle. not visibly to everyone else, but you notice it immediately. the way his eyes soften and how he forgets breathing for a second.
husband!sae who cannot stop looking at your ring finger after marriage. it genuinely distracts him sometimes because every glance reminds him that you’re really his wife now.
husband!sae who falls asleep facing you every night, one hand resting somewhere against you without fail, like even in sleep his body searches for yours automatically.
husband!sae who doesn’t love loudly, but loves permanently. completely. in every quiet action, every careful touch, every future plan that somehow always includes you without question.
a/n : lol ts was so rushed this is so booty oml. okey instead of studying im writing this cuz im gonna fail anyways whats the point of trying✌️. also first sae post what do we thinkkk. (also that aiku anon your fic is COMINGGGG i promise bby). tysm for reading, please req stuff, and other than that there’s nothing more to add !!
Summary: What you and Dean have is casual with no strings attached, so why do you get so upset when he shows interest in another woman?
Content warnings: smut, dissociation during sex, reader has less emotional intelligence than dean but we love her for it, mentions of bruising from sex, semi rough sex, doggy style, angst, kinda shameful feelings relating to sex, angst, cursing, lowkey self worth issues
wc: 5k
a/n: requests open!!! there most definitely will be a pt2!!
~~~
“You’re unbelievable.”
Dean’s eyes move to the scowl on your face, cutting short his beholden gazing at the waitress’s ass. He’s entirely unapologetic to be caught staring. The fact that he looked at all irritates you, but him doing it so brazenly in front of you infuriates you so much you lose your appetite.
“Easy there, tiger.” He says with an aloof smirk. “M’just appreciating the scenery, that’s all.”
He’s allowed to appreciate whoever he wants. That’s not the problem. The problem is that it's happening in front of your face this time, and you dislike this pretty waitress a little extra. She’d been so focused on calling Dean sugar and sweetie that she’d brought you out the wrong eggs. You’d been surprised she remembered your order at all, with how little attention she paid you.
You give Dean a sour smile. “Can you at least try to keep the drool to a minimum? I’m trying to eat.” Really, you’re just pushing the food around your plate.
He watches you for a second, then he waves the tacky waitress back over, and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
“What can I do for you, sugar?” She asks suggestively, only acknowledging Dean.
“Sorry to bother you, sweetheart,” He apologizes with a charming grin. “My friend here ordered over-hard.” He gestures to the two eggs on your plate, which are very obviously undercooked. “Think you could run them back and get her new ones?”
“Of course,” The waitress smiles and then takes your plate without even looking at you. She seems delighted by Dean’s labeling of you as a friend.
When she’s gone, Dean stares at you expectantly. You ignore him, so he says, “Y’know, it’s polite to thank someone when they do you a favor.”
“How is wooing the waitress a favor for me?”
“C’mon, we both know you won’t eat eggs like that. You don’t like when the yolk is runny.” He raises his eyebrows as if to say you know I’m right, why are you acting crazy.
He is right. You think runny yolks are gross. In any other situation, you might even think the gesture was thoughtful, and that it showed that he paid more attention to you than you thought. But right now, you’re annoyed and dedicated to maintaining your attitude. So the most logical explanation for the whole thing is that Dean cared less about getting you what you could eat, anx more about about getting another view of the waitress walking away.
“I’m not hungry, anyway.” You say.
“You gotta eat. Y’need to keep your energy up after last night.” He winks at you like he’s sharing some inside joke, as if he’s totally oblivious to how exasperated you are.
Him bringing that up irritates you even more, which you didn’t think would be possible. You look at your arrangement with Dean for what it is. You sleep together occasionally, partly because it's convenient and partly because he’s good at it. Scary good, sometimes. There’s no romance between you. The sex is hard and dirty. It’s not a situation you’re particularly proud of, especially when the nonchalant, non-committal nature of your relationship is thrown in your face, like it is right now. But the sex has proved too good to walk away from. The longer it's gone on, the more apathetic you’ve become to the arrangement, and Dean himself. You sometimes aren’t sure if you even like him.
Sometimes, you wonder why you bother answering when he calls. The easy answer is that it’s safer for you as a lone female hunter to work with someone else watching your back, but you know that’s not the entire truth. There are a handful of other sole hunters and groups that you work with when you cross paths, but Dean is the only one you see so frequently. And the only one you sleep with.
And you two certainly argue. A lot. It’s kind of your thing. Every so often, you team up to work cases, inevitably end up bickering, and then unavoidably end up fucking. The circle of life, as Dean would call it. He’s capable and reliable on a hunt, and you’d guess he felt the same about you, but once the job is done and all sexual frustrations are relieved, you don’t stick around. You don’t overstay your welcome or wait for Dean to ask you to leave. You find your next case and are gone by the next morning. He never asks you to stay.
That’s how it works. Just a few days together and then you leave the man with the emotional capacity of a teaspoon in your rearview.
Maybe the problem now is that you’d slept with him before finishing the case. So now there’s no avoiding him the morning after. Instead, there’s sitting at the dinghy town diner, forcing yourself to stomach breakfast while he openly lusts after another woman after being inside you not even twenty four hours ago.
Not the best start to your day.
“I could’ve handled it myself.” You snap. “I just didn’t want to get in the way of your eye fucking.”
“How considerate of you.” He says flatly. “Really, what’s got you so pissed?”
Literally everything you’re doing. But you say, “I’m not pissed.”
“You sure? You’re looking at me like you wanna murder me.”
You’re spared from having to answer when the waitress comes back, giving Dean big eyes as she sets the plate down in front of you. He smiles at her.
He catches you glaring at him. “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart.” The corners of his lips twitch into a smirk. “Don’t you worry. You don’t have any competition.”
You recoil. “That’s not- I’m not-” Stammering, you give him a look of disbelief. “I don’t care about competition. There is no competition, I mean.”
Dean smiles wider at your reaction. “Then what’s with the attitude?”
You stare at him as he eats for a second, trying to formulate a thought that isn’t kick him hard in the shin under the table. “I always have an attitude.”
“Ain’t that the damn truth.” He agrees around a mouthful. He swallows before continuing. “But you’re extra feisty today.”
This time you give in to the urge to roll your eyes. You’re reaching your wits end and he’s smiling at you, acting like this is all a game for his entertainment.
“I didn’t sleep well.” You say sharply. “I’m used to sleeping alone. You know, without someone taking up all the space in the bed.” You cross your arms over your chest.
“I don’t think that’s it.” He muses, still smiling smugly. “Looked like you slept like a fuckin’ baby to me.”
Your face heats up at that comment. You internally cringe as you're confronted with the thought of him perceiving you while you were asleep. It just feels like something too intimate for the insouciance between you. And even though Dean truly did take up the majority of the bed with his large frame, you’d slept well. You hadn’t even stirred when he got up to shower, so now you don’t have a good defense.
“Whatever, Winchester.”
“Y’sure you’re not jealous that I’m giving attention to-”
“Now I’m pissed.” You interrupt. “Get a grip, Dean. I don’t care what you do or who you give your attention to, alright? Now can you hurry up and finish eating. I don’t want to stay in this town any longer than I have to.”
Though your tone had been cutting, Dean appears unaffected, simply shrugging in response. “What’s the rush? Got your rocks off and now you’re ready to skip town. M’starting to think you might not enjoy my company.”
“Well, don’t think too hard. Might hurt yourself.”
“Cute.” He sneers. “But you seemed to enjoy my company last night, though.” He pretends to think. “In fact, you couldn’t get enough of my ‘company’ last night, if I’m remembering it right.” He leans across the table towards you and drops his voice, mirth glittering in his verdant eyes. “Hell, I’ll give you ‘company’ right now if it’ll fix that attitude-”
The more primal part of your body stirs at his provocative tone and the deep timber of his voice, but your annoyance quickly beats that side of you back into submission.
“At this rate, you’ll never have my company again.” You lean forward and taunt. You know it’s a total lie but it feels good to threaten him anyway. You’re also curious how he’ll react. You've tried to be done with him before, but for some reason, when he calls, you feel inclined to answer.
In his typical withdrawn nature, Dean deflects with a dismissive joke. “Oh, come on, woman, y’know it breaks my heart to argue with you like this.”
“But you have such a talent for it,” You say with fake sympathy.
“Fightin’ with you is just a hobby. My real talents lie elsewhere.” He counters with a smirk.
You recognize the innuendo immediately. Dean practically defaults to making sexual insinuations, and does it frequently that it frankly annoys the hell out of you. It’s just a constant reminder that the only thing between you two is sex. Sex and hunting. And you know he’s more than capable of handling a spirit or two on his own, so that makes your true value to him more than clear.
“Yeah, like driving me insane?” You mutter.
“If I’m driving you insane, sweetheart, it’s only because you gave me the wheel.” He gives you a deliberate look with his eyebrows raised. A look that somehow says and we’ll keep riding until we crash.
You roll your eyes and check the time. “Whatever that means. Hurry up. Library’s open.”
A few minutes later, the same waitress brings over the check. Dean snatches it off the table quickly, but not before you see the phone number written in pink glitter ink at the top. The corner’s of his lips lift as his eyes sweep over the digits, and you’re not sure why that makes your stomach flip.
You spend the next several hours at the library looking through old paper records. The research takes you both much longer without Sam but you’re thankful he’s not here. Though he’s easier to get along with than his brother, you don’t enjoy the looks he gives you and Dean when you fight, like he’s dealing with children. Like he knows something you both don't.
Eventually, you find the death certificate you were looking for. A hitchhiker had been struck and killed in a hit and run accident over thirty years ago, and now the spirit was apparently haunting the isolated stretch of road where he’d been hit, alongside the big cliffs on the east side of the town. The remains were buried by the family on the side of the road, at the site of the accident.
You meet Dean outside in the parking lot outside the library. He’s busy looking at his phone, so he doesn’t see you coming at first. Despite yourself, you find yourself admiring him as you approach. God knows he might be annoying and callous at times, but he sure is good looking. Tall and broad as he leans against his car, and when he looks up and sees you coming, his smile is blinding. No wonder you keep coming back. How does a girl say no to someone like that?
Dean slips his phone into the pocket of his jacket. “We ready to go?”
“Yeah.” You put the road map on the hood of the Impala and point out where you’ve circled the radius the burial site should be located in. “Bones should be somewhere in here.”
He’s standing close to you and you can smell the rugged mix of leather and cedarwood that follows him around. It makes your head swim for half a second, so you focus your attention on the map. He glances at the map, but then you feel him staring at you.
You flinch when he brushes hair away from your neck, stepping away from him immediately. “What are you doing?” Your heart races at your confusion from the intimate gesture.
“You’re a jumpy thing, aren’t you?” He muses. “Just noticed you have a bruise on your neck.”
Using the side mirror of the Impala, you examine your neck. There are three little bruises at the base of your throat, the exact size of Dean’s fingers you’re sure. He has a habit, which you enjoy but would never say it out loud, of holding you by the throat when he fucks you.
“So?” You ask with regained composure. “S’from you. Now let’s go.”
“From me?” He asks but you’re already getting into the passenger seat. He climbs into the car as well before glancing at the bruises again. “You mean from last night?”
“Yeah,” You say impatiently. “Can you start driving now?”
“In a second. Why didn’t you say anything?”
You give him a bewildered look. “About what?”
Dean looks away and starts the car, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He seems unusually tense. “I must have fucking hurt you last night, then.” He finally says. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You roll your eyes. “You didn’t hurt me. Seriously. I always have bruises after.”
“What?”
His scandalized expression makes you realize that he would have no idea about the bruises he leaves you with after you hook up because he never gets the chance to see you the next day. It irks you that he’s pretending to care about it, though. He’s not exactly the most gentle lover, so what did he expect? The bruises are always very minor, from getting caught up in the heat of the moment, and you’ve never held it against him.
“It’s just a bruise, Dean.” You murmur. “I’ve had worse.”
“Yeah but not from me.”
“It’s not a big deal. Now come on. There’s a three mile radius we’ll have to search. Better to get it done while there’s still daylight.”
Dean starts the car but he’s uncharacteristically quiet for the majority of the ride. Usually, you’re wishing he would shut up or turn the music down, but the volume is set at a respectable level and he’s not even singing along. You’re not sure what his problem is, but it puts you on edge. Part of the reason your arrangement with him works so well for you both is that it’s simple. No nuances, no extra baggage or anything like that, but today, it doesn’t feel simple. But it’s not your problem because you don’t let it be. He can be quiet all he wants. You don’t have to wonder why.
By the time he pulls off the road, there’s only a few hours until dusk. You grab the weapons and supplies you need from the trunk, which Dean offers to carry, and then start the tedious task of walking along the stretch of road, searching for any sign or marking of the grave site. After the first hour of walking and Dean’s phone constantly going off, you’re frustrated.
“Who’s even texting you, anyway?” You snap.
“Oh, that’s Sam.” He says, putting a hand on your shoulder as you step back from the side of the road the same moment a car goes speeding past. “Just checking in. You know how much of a tight ass he is.”
“Well, maybe you should answer, so he can stop checking in every five minutes.” You mutter, rolling your shoulder out of his grip. As far as you’re concerned, he’s only allowed to touch you in the bedroom. Any other time and anything else is off limits.
Another hour passes. A fairly strong breeze blows over the cliffs, blowing the dust and debris on the road, making the grass you’re walking through sway around your ankles. Your mind starts to wander and lands on the ghost of the hitchhiker. You cruelly compare him to yourself. At least he had someone who cared about him enough to mourn his death and bury his body. That’s more than you have. The thought surprises you, but there’s no time to grapple with its implications because Dean calls your name.
“Looks like a grave to me, what about you?” He asks.
Hidden in a tangle of weeds and tall grass, there’s a malformed wooden cross, desiccated from time and the elements, and an inscribed stone. Despite your arguments, Dean insists upon doing all the digging himself, even when you complain that it’s going to take longer than if you helped.
“Just be a doll and hold my jacket, will you?” He requests with an appealing smirk, holding it out for you to take. “Good girl,” He says when you do.
You narrow your eyes at him but stay quiet. He begins to dig while you just watch. In no time, he’s covered in a layer of sweat, glistening in the low hanging sun. You look away occasionally to avoid getting caught, but you sneak appreciative glances at his body as he continues the hard labor. His biceps swell with each lift of the shovel, the muscles in his back flexing as well.
“Rest in peace, you son of a bitch,” Dean mutters after salting the bones. He drops the match, and you’re just relieved you’ll get to skip town.
It’s after dark by the time you make it back to the inn on the edge of town. It’s a rare occurrence that a hunt goes so well, and you want to keep that momentum going. You see your truck where you left it in the parking lot and linger only to give Dean a half hearted goodbye. He’s texting, probably messaging Sam back that the case has been closed, but shoves his phone away at the sound of your voice.
“You’re headed out now?” He asks incredulously.
“Yeah. I can stop if I need to sleep.”
Really, three days with Dean has been more than enough for you. You feel thoroughly disoriented, like you’ve been adrift from yourself just by being near him. Driving through the night, alone with all the thoughts you’ve so savagely wrestled into tight little cages, doesn’t really appeal to you, but you know better than to linger where you’re not wanted.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Dean barks, jerking his head to gesture towards the inn. “I’ve got the room for another night, and I don’t wanna live with you falling asleep at the wheel on my conscience.”
“I’m perfectly well rested-”
“Thought this morning you said you didn’t sleep well?” He counters with raised eyebrows.
You concede without much other convincing, mainly to avoid getting back into that whole argument again. If he wants to pretend he wants you to stay because he’s worried about you, that’s fine, but you know why he really wants you to stay.
Not even an hour later, he’s coming on to you. The events of the day have soured you against him, but your body still wants him, still responds more willingly than your mind ever does. He’s pressing you up against the wall, with one hand tangled in the roots of your hair, the other pawing at your ass in your jeans, lifting your leg to hook it around his waist as his mouth ravishes yours.
“This what you needed?” He pulls away a fraction to murmur, his wet lips brushing yours. He lets go of your hair to grip your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Round two to get rid of all that attitude-” As if sensing that you’re going to say something snarky back, he rolls his hips against you, pressing the hard line of his erection against the seam of your jeans just right, so that you have to bite your lip to suppress a whine. “Such a bad girl all day, and now you’re playing nice ‘cause you want my cock.” His voice is making you wetter with how breathless, low and gravelly it is.
He dives in for another filthy kiss, his taste completely overwhelming you. His hand engulfs the base of your throat and he uses his hold on you there to pry you away from the wall and toss you onto the bed.
“Now you’ve got nothing to say?” He taunts, standing before you at the foot of the bed while you lay on your back, panting.
Dean pulls his shirt off before reaching for his belt and you feel your pussy spasm with interest. “Come on, you know the drill. Take all that shit off.” He gestures to your clothes.
A few moments later, he’s got you on your hands and knees, both of you entirely bare. He’d teased you with his fingers for what felt like forever, edging you until you left angry scratch marks down his chest. Stingy with getting you to your release as punishment for being mouthy all day.
“Fuck-” He hissed, pulling his hand away from the puffy, wet mess of your pussy to glance down at the fresh red lines running from his pecs to his ribs. “Kitty’s got claws, huh?” He smirked.
You hadn’t meant to hurt him, but the last time he’d stopped rubbing your clit right before you were going to come made you nearly deranged with desperation.
Now he’s dragging his cock between your legs, coating himself in all of your sticky arousal, before you feel the burning intrusion of him plunging inside. If he notices the little black and blue imprints from his fingers dotting your hips and the plush flesh of your ass from the night before, he doesn’t say anything.
He fucks you hard and fast, just the way you like, so that you can only focus on the sensations and not any of the shit flying around in your head. He fucks you like he hates you, and it brings tears to your eyes. Your jaw aches from clenching your teeth against the screams you hold back. You’re honestly surprised he has the stamina to fuck you so raw and aggressively, given he had exerted himself over digging up the bones not too long ago.
Dean folds his body over yours, so his sweaty chest sticks to your back, grunting in your ear with every slam of his hips into you. His hand is around your neck again, squeezing you in a firm grip but without really restricting your airway much. You like the drunk, fuzzy feeling you get from it, and you like the way he’s just making you take it.
“Such a fuckin’ bratty little thing,” Dean uses his grip on your throat to lift your head a bit, so he can murmur directly into your ear. “All fuckin’ day, until I give you what you’re too proud to ask for.”
His dirty talk is constant but you miss about half of it. While during the day your mind runs things, right now, with him pounding into you like it's his job to bruise your cervix, your mind turns off, and you’re just your body. Your pussy is throbbing, muscles in your arms and thighs shaking from the effort of holding yourself up, even with his help. You let him make you feel good. And you do feel good, like you’re floating, like you’re not real. Times like this might actually be the only time you do feel good, so you surrender completely to the feeling. You’re not yourself when you let him fuck you. You’re someone different, someone better and worse at the same time. Or maybe, when he’s using you like this, when you let him use you like this, you’re nothing at all.
He squeezes the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, and you moan in response. He pulls at your hair, and you whine at the pinpricks of pain that you love, pussy clenching hard as you get dangerously close to coming.
“What a fucking whore,” Dean pants in your ear. “Can feel the way your pussy loves that,” He slaps your ass again and laughs darkly.
He makes you cum by sliding a hand between your legs and playing with your aching clit. You scream into the pillow, as if you're cumming against your will, and he doesn’t relent until you stop shuddering, stop tightening your pussy around him. He comes, still with his hand around your throat, like he owns you, like you’re a dog he has on a leash, and when you think about that in the shower later, it makes you feel sick.
He lets you shower first, and then when you’re done, he goes. You never shower together. And you might sleep in the same bed afterwards, but it’s not like you cuddle.
You sit on the edge of the bed, slowly coming back to yourself from the post orgasm haze. You listen to the muffled noise of Dean singing in the shower, staring at the steam that billows out from under the door. Your body is satisfied and fairly tired, but your mind is restless. You’re thinking maybe you should have left town tonight when Dean’s phone rings beside the bed.
Expecting it to be Sam, you answer it. It’s just like Dean to focus on getting laid, before assuring his brother that he’d made it back unscathed. “Hey, Sam,” Your voice is a little hoarse.
“Sam? What? No, this is Penny, from the diner. Who is this?”
You blink. “You have the wrong number.”
“No,” The insufferable waitress says in her snotty little voice. You can barely hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. “I’ve been talking to Dean with this number all day.”
Your stomach drops to your feet. “Wrong number.” You repeat before hanging up.
You know you probably shouldn’t but you open up the message threads on Dean’s phone. No recent messages from Sam. Just a shit ton from this same unknown number. There’s bile rising in your throat as you realize what it all means. That Dean had taken the number from the restaurant this morning, had reached out to the tacky ass waitress, and had continued to flirt with her via text all fucking day. While standing beside you. And when you’d asked about it? He lied to your face and said it was Sam. And to make the entire situation worse, he’d fucked you after it, too. He’d kept you both on retainer, two chicks on the line so if one fell through, he’d still be able to get his dick wet.
Jesus, you’re such a fucking idiot. You let him do this to you, too.
You read a few of the messages before you feel so sick you have to stop. But you see enough to realize they were making plans to meet up. Tentatively for tonight. He calls her baby and beautiful and other shit he never says to you. Instead, he calls you whore.
Emotions boil under your skin, and you can’t make sense of any of them, until anger surfaces. You know there’s no real reason to be angry with him, other than the fact that he lied to you. You have no claim on him. He’s not yours. Not by a long shot. But you feel humiliated, insulted, and worst of all, fucking hurt. But that only lasts for a second before you smother it under more anger.
Dean steps out of the bathroom with a towel hanging low on his hips, torso naked. Your nail marks on his chest stand out against his tanned skin. “Think I pulled something in my back towards the end there. Think you could-”
“You were texting Sam today?”
The nonchalant expression leaves his face at your tone. He stares at you for a second before heading over to the side of the bed, where his clothes are. “Uh-yeah-”
“Really?” You press.
“Can’t a man get dressed before he’s interrogated.” He half heartedly jokes, but then catches the hardness on your face and becomes sheepish.
“Just answer me.”
“Unless you wanna waterboard me, too. In that case, I can keep the towel-”
“Jesus christ, Dean!” You yell. “This isn’t a fucking joke!”
He stares at you, maybe shocked that you raised your voice, or surprised he’s been caught. “Yeah, I’m not exactly laughing here, sweetheart-”
“You asshole-” You round on him, shoving him as hard as you can but even then he only stumbles on step backward. “Keep lying to my face, Dean. Go ahead. I fucking know it wasn’t Sam. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot.”
“You know that’s not true-” He raises his voice slightly but it’s only to be heard over your own ranting.
“Oh my god, you’re actually disgusting.” You shake your head at him. “You disgust me.”
“I didn’t exactly do anything.” He frowns. “They’re just messages…and we’re not- uh, you and I don’t- You said it yourself. You don’t care who I-”
“You lied to me, Dean.” You bellow. You’re vaguely aware of the dramatics of the scene you’re causing, and later you’ll probably be mortified by your behavior, but right now, you can’t control yourself. You’ve never been this fucking angry at him, never this disappointed. It just confirms what you knew all along; you’re entirely nothing to him.
“You lied to me, and then you fucked me!”
“I didn’t think you would care! She’s just-”
“Then why the fuck did you lie about her!” You nearly scream, getting in his face. “You wanna fuck her, then do it! Don’t ask me to stay the fucking night with you, when you’re telling some other bitch you’re gonna see her tonight! God, are you really that stupid, Dean? You didn’t think I would care? No, you didn’t think about me at all, you piece of shit.”
He gapes down at you and says your name pathetically. You just stare at him, chest heaving. Finally, he says, “You’re right.”
“Fuck you.” You say, the anger leaving you fast. You have to get out of here. “I’m done. I’m so fucking done with you.”
You’ve had that thought about him before. But this time, as you let the door slam behind you, you think you really mean it.
─── in which nishimura riki takes you to a secluded lookout in seoul on the back of his motorcycle to show you the view, but he can't keep his eyes—or his hands—off of you.
biker bf!ni-ki x fem!reader ; wc: 3.5k. MDNI. oneshot. smut. fluff. established relationship. oral (f receiving). fingering. multiple orgasms. semi-public sex. riding. outdoor sex. ni-ki is WHIPPED. size difference. romantic sex. unprotected sex (NOT recommended).
my masterlist.
“Well, baby? Are you coming or not?”
Nishimura Riki was outside your house late on a Friday evening, leaning against his motorcycle with his arms crossed against his chest. His black leather jacket clung to every muscle of his torso, highlighting how broad his shoulders were in contrast with how slim his waist was. No matter how many times you looked at your boyfriend, you still couldn't believe how lucky you were that he was yours.
“Where are we going?” you asked, locking your front door before bounding over to him.
It was colder outside than you anticipated, as the warm summer's day had yielded to an unexpectedly cold night. You rubbed your arms to try and warm yourself up, but Ni-ki noticed immediately and pulled you into a warm embrace. You loved the way you fit against his chest—it was as if you were made for each other.
“It's a surprise.” Ni-ki said, his low voice rumbling through his chest. “Are you cold?”
You nodded, and Ni-ki shrugged his jacket off, revealing a tight black t-shirt and chain necklace adorning his neck. He helped you put the jacket on, and the corner of his lip raised at how large it was on you.
“You're so tiny,” he chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“Shut up,” you responded, but you secretly loved it when he teased you this way. The size difference between the two of you had always been one of your favorite aspects of your relationship. Ni-ki often had to pick you up to kiss you, cupping your ass in his large hands as he lifted you to his lips, but neither of you cared. It allowed you to wrap your legs around him, which always led to him fucking you against the wall.
“Let's get out of here, yeah?” Ni-ki said, helping you onto the back of his motorcycle before placing a helmet on your head. He secured his own before he swung his own leg over the seat and revved the engine. “Hold on tight, baby.”
The second you wrapped your arms around Ni-ki, the bike accelerated quickly and turned onto the street. The air whipped past the two of you as you sped down the empty road, and you loved the way it felt to be pressed up against your boyfriend on his motorcycle late at night.
You rested the side of your head against Ni-ki’s broad back, watching the scenery around you blur together as he drove you somewhere unfamiliar. You passed a variety of apartments, homes, and businesses, all deserted at the late hour.
As buildings and streetlights turned to towering trees and overgrown greenery, you noticed that Ni-ki was taking you up into the mountains that rose above the city. He had never taken you anywhere like this before, and you couldn't help but smile with anticipation.
As the motorcycle peeled off the highway and onto a small, paved road, you straightened your back and looked around. The scenery around you was even thicker now, with the trees so dense above you that you could barely see the night sky. You wrapped your arms tighter around Ni-ki—and that's when you saw it.
As you crested the top of the hill, the wide, illuminated expanse of Seoul became visible. The vast city stretched until it kissed the horizon, and you couldn't peel your eyes away from the view as the motorcycle rolled to a stop at the end of the road.
“Oh, Ni-ki,” you murmured as he turned off the motorcycle. It was quiet now, with the soft hum of cicadas and the sound of distant traffic filtering into your ears. “This is beautiful.”
“Just like you, baby,” Ni-ki responded, removing his helmet and shaking his head. His black hair fell back into place effortlessly, and he looked over his shoulder and grinned at you.
“How did you find this place?” you asked after he had removed your helmet as well. You climbed off the motorcycle and slowly stepped toward the railing at the edge of the asphalt.
“A friend suggested I take you here,” he said. He walked up behind you, snaking his bare arms around your torso as he drew you near his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and your eyes fluttered closed briefly with a smile.
“I love it,” you whispered. You could not believe that you had never seen Seoul like this before. Sure, you had seen it from an airplane as you took off from and landed at Incheon International Airport, but this was… different. Up here, when it was just you and your adoring boyfriend with his arms wrapped around you, it felt as if the city belonged to you.
“Happy ten months, y/n,” Ni-ki’s low voice came again.
You let out a soft laugh and looked up at him. “Ten months? Do people really celebrate that?”
“I do,” he said, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I’ll take any excuse to celebrate you, even if it's something trivial.”
Your heart swelled in your chest, and you turned around in Ni-ki’s arms so that your chest was pressed against his. The view was now behind you, but you didn't care. You just wanted to stare at your boyfriend's breathtaking face, and you loved the way the distant city lights gently illuminated his face and made his eyes sparkle.
“I love you so much,” you murmured.
“I love you so much more,” he responded, pressing his lips to yours.
You kissed slowly for a moment, and you could feel the love Ni-ki felt for you radiating in every movement of his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, unrushed—as if he knew that you fully belonged to him, and he had nothing but time to kiss you.
After a moment, Ni-ki’s hand slowly moved down your back and to your ass, and you let out a quiet moan as he squeezed it. At the same time, his tongue prodded your lips, which you happily parted to allow him in. He explored your mouth lazily, a quiet groan escaping his lips as you placed a hand on the back of his neck.
“Oh, y/n,” Ni-ki sighed, allowing his hand to drift lower until he was lifting up your skirt. You shivered slightly, and you weren't sure if it was from the chilled night air meeting your most vulnerable area or the way Ni-ki’s hand had found its way to the wetness between your thighs. When his fingers met the slick there, he let out a moan. “You're already so wet for me.”
“Of course I am,” you responded, biting his lip softly. “How could I not be?”
An animalistic growl rumbled from deep inside him, and he picked you up before carrying you to his motorcycle and placing you on the seat.
“What are you doing?” you asked curiously. His leather jacket was still draped over you, covering up most of your torso and thighs.
“You'll see,” he murmured. “Spread your legs, baby.”
“What if someone sees?” you giggled, looking behind you while Ni-ki lowered himself before you as if he were a sinner kneeling at an altar.
“Let them see,” he said, using his large hand to gently spread your thighs. He pushed your skirt up, exposing you to him. “Jesus Christ, baby. No panties?”
“Why would I even bother wearing them when I know you're just going to take them off?”
Ni-ki’s lustful eyes met your own, and you watched him breathlessly as he neared the apex of your thighs with his mouth. When his tongue finally made contact with your folds, you let out a moan that did not sound like it belonged to you.
Ni-ki began slowly, dragging his tongue up your center a few times before lightly flicking his tongue against your clit. He used one hand to pin your dress to your lower stomach, ensuring that it did not get in the way, as his other hand slowly grazed the inside of your thigh. You let out a chorus of moans, his movements so painfully slow that it almost drove you crazy.
“You're such a fucking tease, Nishimura,” you whined, threading your fingers through his hair.
“It's not my fault you have such a pretty pussy,” he said against you, the low hum of his voice devastating against your most sensitive area. “I have to take my time with it—worship it.”
And worship he did. He teased you for another moment, until he was sure that you were about to lose your mind, before he suddenly buried his face between your legs. Loud, slurping noises filled the air at the sudden intensity, and you dug your fingers into Ni-ki’s scalp.
“H-holy shit!” you cried, every cell in your body suddenly feeling as if they had been set ablaze. His tongue jutted in and out of your soaking vagina, his face quickly getting covered in your juices. However, you knew that he was exactly where he wanted to be, and you thanked whatever god was out there that you had been blessed with a man who was obsessed with eating you out.
“Feel good, baby?” Ni-ki asked, his nose brushing repeatedly against your clit.
“S-so fucking good,” you whined, throwing your head back in pleasure. The way Ni-ki alternated between licking, sucking, and penetrating you made your head spin, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer if he continued what he was doing.
“You close, y/n?” he asked, suddenly withdrawing his mouth from your pink folds. He gazed up at you, a smirk finding its way onto his lips.
“Maybe,” you responded. You hated how cold and empty you felt when Ni-ki was no longer pressed between your thighs.
“You always cum so quickly,” he hummed, standing up slowly. You eyed him as he rose, and you had no idea what he was doing to do next.
Ni-ki slowly walked around the bike until he was directly behind you, and he bent down, pressing kisses to your neck as his arm snaked around your torso and down between your legs.
“I want to be able to see the city while I make you cum,” he whispered against your neck. His fingers found your entrance, and he slowly inserted two digits, a low groan leaving his lips as he did so. “God, you're so fucking wet for me. I love this pussy.”
Ni-ki’s fingers began to move in and out of you—slowly at first, as if he was acclimating you to the sensation, before he quickened his pace. His fingers grazed against your most sensitive spot with every flick of his wrist, and you couldn't help but cry out loudly each time he grazed it.
As Ni-ki continued to fuck you with his fingers, his other hand wrapped around you and snuck beneath your top. He grasped your breast tightly, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger in the exact way he knew would make you cum.
“Jesus, fuck, Ni-ki!” you whined, desperately trying to find something to hold on to as he continued to push you towards your release. “Baby—ah—I’m gonna…”
“Cum for me, baby,” he growled in your ear, quickening his pace as he gently bit your ear.
This was all it took to push you over the edge. A cry so loud that it bordered on a scream left your swollen lips, and you felt the familiar gush of liquid exploding out of you. You desperately humped Ni-ki’s hand as he continued to work you through your high, and your cries turned to whimpers as the wave passed.
“You squirted so good for me, princess," he purred.
“Fuck, did it get on your motorcycle?” you asked, still dazed. You tried to look down at the bike to see if you had drenched it, but Ni-ki gripped your chin in his hand to stop you.
“I’d buy a new bike every week if that meant I would get to see you cum on it,” he told you.
“Oh, Ni-ki,” you said, looking up at him. “I love you so fucking much.”
“I love you too, baby,” he said, moving around the bike so that he was in front of you again. “Forever.”
“Forever,” you replied before his lips crashed against yours again. His kiss was hungry, your tongues immediately colliding in a desperate attempt to get even closer to each other. You lowered your hand to the bulge in his pants, and he growled as you began to jerk him off through his black sweatpants.
“Feels—fuck—so good,” he said against your lips.
You allowed yourself to explore the length of his cock this way, starting at his balls before you traced your fingers up the shaft and to the tip. When you reached it, you lightly rubbed your finger at the sensitive spot at the base of the head, and you knew from the way that Ni-ki sucked on your lip that you had found the spot you desired.
“I wanna be inside you, y/n,” he groaned, rolling his hips forward into your hand repeatedly. “I wanna feel that pussy clench around my cock while I fuck you.”
“What’s stopping you?” you asked, continuing to rub the most sensitive spot on his body.
“These,” he said, gesturing toward his sweatpants.
“Well, let's fix that,” you hummed, using both hands to tug his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to allow his long cock to spring free. You inhaled sharply as you took in the sight of it. Even though it was dim outside, you could see just how pink and leaky his tip was from the way you had been rubbing it just a moment ago.
“Wait,” Ni-ki sighed, leaning forward and resting his head on your shoulder.
“What's wrong?”
“I don't have a condom,” he said, his dick rock-hard between you.
“I don't care,” you said, desperate for him to be inside you. You pressed your lips to his, unable to keep yourself away from him. “It's just you and me, right?”
Ni-ki kissed you briefly. “Of course, baby. There's nobody else for me but you.”
“Then fuck me like you mean it,” you huffed, grabbing his dick and pumping it a few times. Ni-ki dropped his chin to his chest, letting out a soft groan as your hand moved along his shaft.
You knew that was all the convincing he needed. Ni-ki had never been the one to push for condoms every time you got intimate—you were. You were scared of what could happen if you didn't play it safe, but at this moment, you frankly didn't give a shit. Nishimura Riki’s cock was inches from your aching hole, leaking and desperate for your pussy. How could you say no?
Ni-ki allowed you to line his length up with your entrance, and you shuddered slightly as his tip pressed softly against you.
“You sure, baby?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt.
“Please, just fuck me already,” you ground out, and that was the only confirmation he needed.
Ni-ki slowly pushed himself inside you, and you both let out a moan at the feeling of his cock filling you up. Once he bottomed out, he paused for a moment, and he squeezed his eyes shut briefly as he grasped your hips.
“What?” you asked, allowing yourself just a moment to adjust to being filled by your boyfriend again.
“It feels so different,” he said, moving his hips slightly.
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“The best fucking way possible, y/n,” he groaned, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “It's like I can feel every part of you. Fuck, I didn't know it could feel like this.”
Ni-ki waited a second more before he began to slowly thrust into you, and it took no time at all for you to realize exactly what he meant. Of course, it had always felt great with a condom, but this was different. You could feel every vein, every ridge of his cock as it moved inside you. You felt his tip drag along your walls in a way you had never felt before, and it was better than anything you could have ever imagined.
“You're so tight, baby.” His pace quickened slightly, his breaths uneven as he stared down at where his dick disappeared into you. You followed his eyes, in a trance as you watched him fuck you raw for the first time.
After a moment, Ni-ki looked back up at you, and he gazed into your eyes as his hips continued to snap into you. You lifted your eyes to meet his, and he moaned at the way you looked at him.
“Fuck, I love you,” he groaned, leaning forward to connect your lips. You met his kiss passionately, your lips working together as he continued fucking you deeper and deeper.
“I would do anything for you,” he continued, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and drawing you even closer to him. “I would—ah—go anywhere, d-do anything, fuck, for you, baby.”
As Ni-ki’s hips continued thrusting into yours, you pressed a series of desperate kisses to his cheek and jaw. You felt tears gathering in your eyes, and you couldn't tell if it was because of his words or how good it felt when he fucked you.
“Baby,” you said into his ear. “Let me ride you.”
Ni-ki’s hips stilled, and he looked at you curiously. “Where?”
“What kind of question is that?” you laughed, running a hand through his soft hair. “On your bike, of course.”
You could tell from the sudden, dark look in his eyes that you had turned him on even more. He stepped back from you, allowing you to stand, before he straddled the seat as if he were about to go for a ride. However, you would be the one riding, not him.
“Lift me up,” you commanded, stepping close to Ni-ki.
“Demanding, aren’t we?” Ni-ki observed, grabbing your waist and lifting you as if you weighed nothing. He lowered you onto his lap, and he lined you up with him effortlessly.
“Holy fuck,” he groaned as your gummy walls sank down around him. You immediately began to roll your hips on him, and he threw his head back. “I don't know how long I’m gonna last like this, y/n.”
“Is my pussy that good?” you asked, continuing to fuck him rapidly.
“T-that, and I’ve been—oh my god—dreaming of you riding me on my bike.”
“Then why haven't you asked me to do it yet?” you asked, your hips grinding at a ruthless pace. You loved watching your normally composed boyfriend lose all control because of you.
“Dunno,” he exhaled, grasping your ass in his hands. He helped you move even faster, and the low moans that left his lips were ungodly.
“I want us to cum at the same time, baby,” you moaned against his lips.
“Are you close?” he breathed, his words clipped from the pleasure. “Because I—I’m about to—”
Ni-ki immediately moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing furiously. “Baby, I'm so close.”
“Me too,” you gasped. You continued moving together, and you both felt the climax boiling up within you.
“Baby, I can't—” you started, but you couldn't finish your sentence as your orgasm hit you like a tsunami. Ni-ki growled loudly in your ear as he reached his as well, and you both grasped each other tightly as you found your releases.
“Oh my god,” you panted as Ni-ki pulled you into a tight hug, his fingers running along the smooth leather of the jacket you were still wearing.
“I didn't know sex could feel that good,” he mumbled into your hair.
“I didn't either.”
You stayed there for a moment, both of you allowing your breathing to return to normal before you pulled back slightly, kissing Ni-ki deeply once more. “Thank you, baby. For taking me up here, and for fucking me.”
“Anytime, princess. Let's do it again soon, yeah?” he suggested, running a hand through your tangled hair as he gazed into your eyes with more love than you thought possible. “Happy ten months, y/n.”
You laughed lightly and rested your forehead against his. “Happy ten months, Riki.”
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 !!
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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 he affected you. 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."
Summary: After your ER visit with Nova, she’s constantly asking where her “Dada” is. On the other hand, it appears that Jack is also missing Nova. A chance encounter in the grocery store continues to build your little dysfunctional family unit.
Series Link
Lovergirlnote: lol this was supposed to be uploaded yesterday, but I had to get my hair braided for a family trip. As always, thank you so much for all the support on the first part! Im curious to hear what you all think of this chapter!
Chapter II: Maybe Child Leashes Aren’t So Bad
You’re not too prideful to admit this.
You used to judge people who put their children on child leashes. In your honest defense, the thing all seemed so mundane. Do you really need a leash for your own child? You’ll gladly admit that you’re eating your words and you owe every parent you silently judged an apology. Because at this very moment, you wish that you had a child leash to put on your daughter, who had miraculously decided that this moment in the grocery store is the perfect time to escape.
It was one of those Saturdays when you and Nova went grocery shopping together. You enjoyed going grocery shopping with your little girl. You liked watching her little eyes light up as she took in the new scenery. You’d always buy her a little sweet treat at the end if she was good.
However, it appears that today just isn’t one of those days for you guys.
You were standing in the fresh fruit and vegetable aisle as you tried to pick out the best tomatoes. You didn’t have Nova in the basket today because you wanted to try to give her some semblance of independence at this age. Turns out, you should’ve strapped her in the basket. One minute, Nova was beside you, babbling about Bluey, while you hummed in agreement to show her that you were listening.
Little did you know your daughter had stopped speaking and had her eye on a very interesting man. That interesting man, being Dr. Jack Abbot or “Dada” as Nova had christened him.
Since the Emergency Room visit, Nova had been constantly talking about Jack. She’d spent every second of the day at home asking you about “Dada.” To avoid upsetting her, you just had to play it off as “Dada’s at work right now.”
Nova clocks Jack almost immediately. However, he doesn’t see you or Nova yet. He throws a couple of packs of meat into his basket before going down the cereal aisle.
Nova’s eyes light up, “Dada.”
She panics as she sees Jack walking down the cereal aisle without her. In her mind, he’s supposed to be taking her there with him. With a frown, she toddles away from you and towards the cereal aisle where Jack is standing.
She makes it to the cereal aisle and smiles even more when she sees that Jack is still standing at the cereal boxes. Jack is still clueless about the little girl who is walking in his direction until he feels small arms wrap around his leg.
He jumps before quickly looking down to see Nova clutching his leg and looking up at him with her wide eyes and a huge smile on her face. She squeals at the notion of Jack finally noticing her, “Dada! Up!”
Nova throws her little arms up and waits for Jack to oblige her request. The moment stuns Jack as he can’t believe that the little girl is still remembering him, along with the fact that she’s still referring to him as “Dada.”
He bends down to scoop Nova up in his arms, “Hey there, sweetie. What are you doing here, huh? Where’s your mommy at?”
He looks around the aisle to see if he can spot you and figures that Nova must’ve walked off without you noticing. He figures that by now, you’re most likely panicking, so he sets out with Nova to find you.
“Come on, sweet girl, let’s go find mommy,” Jack says to Nova.
Nova claps her hands together excitedly before yelling, “Mama!” Jack chuckles at her obvious enthusiasm.
“Nova!” You call out, searching the aisles relentlessly for your daughter. One of the employees at the grocery store had offered to help you find her. Tears prickle in your eyes as the panic seems to increase. How had you managed to lose your own daughter?
“Mama!”
You whip around as you spot Nova in Jack’s arms. A deep breath leaves your chest as you rush over to Nova. You run your eyes over her to check and see if she’s been harmed, but you calm down once you notice that she’s okay. It’s only when you take another deep breath that you finally notice that Jack Abbot is the one holding Nova.
You give him a rather embarrassed smile, “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. I had my eye on her, and then I didn’t. Thank you.”
Jack shrugs, “Hey, it’s no problem at all. She must’ve spotted me in the cereal aisle and decided to come by to say hi.”
You look at Nova, “Nova, you scared mommy really bad. You have to stay beside me, okay?”
Nova appears to take in your distressed state and pouts a little, “Sowwy, mama.”
You smile, “It’s okay, baby. I’m not mad at you. Mommy was just a little worried. That’s all.”
You rub a soothing hand down her back as the employee who was helping you pops up. “Oh, I see you found her. I’m assuming that this is your husband!”
You and Jack both go to correct the girl before Nova yells out, “Dada.” She lays her head down on Jack’s chest as he looks down at her. The girl smiles at the three of you, “Awww, how cute! You guys make a beautiful family. I’m glad that you were able to find her.”
You give her a polite smile before thanking her for her help.
You turn back to Nova and Jack, and peek at the big lollipop in her hand, “Where’d you get the lollipop from, Nova?”
It’s now Jack’s turn to give you a sheepish look, “I gave it to her. Sorry if I overstepped.”
You shake your head, “No, it’s fine. I definitely trust you, Jack.”
He swallows at your sweet voice, saying his name. He admits to himself that he really likes the way that it sounds coming from you. He runs his eyes down your frame and swallows at the way that the sundress conforms to your body.
He plays the moment off by trying to hand Nova back to you. In response, Nova whines a little bit before Jack settles her back into his arms. You chuckle, “Nova, Jack has to do his grocery shopping. Don’t you want to help me grocery shop? We can go look at the cookies.”
Nova lights up at the mention of the cookies, but it still doesn’t seem to be enough to persuade her to leave Jack’s arms. She looks up at Jack, “Dada. Ookies.”
Jack smiles, “That’s right, pretty girl. You and mommy are going to get cookies.” He nods along with her as she laughs. Jack glances over at you, “How about I just walk with you guys? Keep you company if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. Plus, it’d be nice having you around.”
You both smile softly at each other as you retrieve your buggy. You follow behind Jack, who is still holding Nova as he walks back to the cereal aisle to retrieve his buggy. He passes Nova over to you as you place her inside the buggy and strap her down with the seatbelt. She gives you a blank look, but checks to make sure that Jack is still following behind you.
Jack gives her a quick smile, “Still here, Nova.”
She seems content with the sentence. She looks at both you and Jack before clapping excitedly and yelling out, “Mama! Dada.”
At this point, you and Jack figure it’s a good idea to just let her have this moment. You pull out your phone as you look over to Jack, “I still have a few things on my list that I need to get. I hope that we’re not pulling you away from your list.”
He shakes his head, “Definitely not. I have a few things, but I’m not in a rush either. Take your time.”
As you and Jack walk down the aisles together, it’s not lost on either of you how much of a family that you look like. In the cart, Nova hums happily and babbles to Jack, who is listening very intently and even asking her follow-up questions.
Soon, you both go to the register to check out. You move to the register to swipe your card as the checkout girl gives you your receipt, and Jack helps to place the bags inside your cart. Without thinking, he scoops Nova up in his arms as she wraps her arms around him. He moves beside you to check out at the counter. He hands Nova’s lollipop to the checkout girl before giving it back to her.
“Tank you, Dada,” Nova said, pressing a kiss to Jack’s cheek.
Jack is practically goo on the inside. He smiles warmly at Nova, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
Cue your ovaries exploding. Jack shifts Nova in his arms slightly as he grabs his wallet to pay. He seems like a natural at all of this as he types his PIN in all while talking to Nova. The three of you walk out to your car, where Jack hands Nova over to you, while he puts your groceries in the back.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Jack.”
He raises his eyebrows at you, “Actually, I did. What kind of man would I be if I wasn’t helping you with your groceries?”
You smile before thanking him. You’re about to turn to strap Nova in when Jack calls out your name, “I know this may be a little forward, but would you and Nova want to grab a bite with me right now?”
You look down at Nova, who’s already looking at you. “Yeah, we’d love that. Did you have anything in mind?”
“There’s this little restaurant right around the corner. They have chicken nuggets if Nova prefers those.”
Nova perks up at the mention of her favorite food, “Chikky nuggies!”
You laugh, “Yeah, that sounds good. We’ll follow you there.”
You, Jack, and Nova all sit across from each other at the table. Nova’s sitting in a high chair between you and Jack after she demanded to be sat next to “Dada.”
It’s funny that in her one-year-old mind, she’s already feeling like she runs things.
The waitress hands you all menus before sliding a coloring sheet over to Nova, along with the crayons.
“What can I get you all to drink?” The waitress asks.
Jack nods for you to go first, “Can we both get lemonades?”
The girl nods before looking to Jack, “I’ll have a lemonade as well.”
The waitress nods before asking you all what you want to eat. Naturally, Nova chooses the chicken nuggets, while you and Jack both get sandwiches.
As the waitress leaves the table, Nova is already preoccupied with her coloring sheet. She spares a glance in Jack’s direction, “Dada color.”
She leaves no room for discussion as she passes the crayon over to Jack, who happily obliges. You watch as Jack and Nova color the teddy bear together with Nova directing Jack on which spots she wants him at.
From his point of view, Jack’s just happy to be included. This is the first time in years that he’s actually felt included and wanted. Selfishly, he’s enjoying the time with you and Nova, and he thinks about what this would look like in a more permanent situation.
But the doubt creeps in, what if you’re just being polite? What if you can sense that he’s a desperate and lonely old man with no sense of work-life balance?
Frankly, he likes the attachment that Nova had seemingly grown towards him, along with the fact that he’s crushing on you so hard right now.
He can’t stop the way that his eyes keep naturally gravitating in your direction, and how much he keeps looking at your lips. Every single aspect of you, Jack can’t help but think how perfect you are.
He catches your eyes again and smiles.
“So what do you do for work?” Jack asks, multitasking between looking at you and giving Nova attention.
“I’m an art curator for the museum,” you reply before looking down at Nova’s coloring.
“That sounds like a really cool job. Do you like it?”
A wide small crosses your face, “Yeah I do. I love it actually. I grew up around a lot of art and my parents really liked for me to be exposed to different cultural perspectives, so we took a lot of trips to museums.”
Jack listens attentively. “What’s your favorite part of it all?”
“I love the process of telling the story and working with artists to craft their story to the space. I know people probably think we just hang the paintings up, but there’s so much that goes into exhibitions. Just meeting all these new people is always an amazing experience,” You said.
As if you couldn’t get cooler. Nova chooses the moment to hold her picture up to you and Jack, “Mama! Dada! Look!”
The picture is a combination of scribbles and neat coloring on Jack’s end. You smile, “That looks really good, bug! You even colored in the lines.”
Nova smiles at the praise before turning to Jack. He smiles brightly, “It looks amazing, Nova! A real piece of art, sweetheart.”
She blushes as she kicks her legs in the chair. It’s then that Jack decides to bring up the question that’s been nagging him, “I’m sorry if this is intrusive to ask, but is her father in the picture?”
You shake your head, “Nope. When he found out that I was expecting, he decided that fatherhood wasn’t something that he wanted. I respected his choice. I rather he not be here at the beginning as opposed to jumping in and out of Nova’s life. She deserves consistency, not instability.”
Jack nods at your words, but internally, he wonders how someone could ever not want you and Nova? He’s only just met you both and is craving to be around you both 24/7.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But he’s missing out. You and Nova are both amazing.”
“Thank you, Jack. Now, tell me a little bit about yourself. I assumed you’d be still working days right now. I know ER Doctors tend to work pretty crazy hours.”
“I’m actually on the night shift. I just help out on day shift when it gets pretty hectic. I don’t have much really. I’m kind of a boring guy,” Jack states with a laugh.
You chuckle before shaking your head, “That’s not true. You’ve made a big impression on me and Nova so I wouldn’t call that boring.”
A faint blush starts to creep upon Jack’s skin, “I guess you can say I work entirely too much, so I really don’t have time for hobbies.”
“Well what do you like to do?”
“Fishing. My best friend, Robby, and I go all the time,” Jack responds.
“I always wanted to take Nova fishing. She loves being outdoors. I think she’d really like it.”
The little girl perks up at the sound of her name, “Fishy, mama?”
“Yeah, baby. Jack goes fishing.”
Nova looks up at Jack with a curious expression, “Fish, Dada?”
He laughs softly, “Mhm, I can take you and your mommy fishing if you’d like that?”
He looks up at you with a questioning gaze. “We’d really like that, Jack. Wouldn’t we, Nova? You wanna go catch some fishes?”
Nova nods while clapping her hands together and saying, “fishey.” You and Jack know that she’s probably assuming that you’re meaning a pet fish, but you’ll let her have it for now.
The waitress brings your dishes to the table. You pour ketchup into Nova’s plate as she starts to eat her chicken nuggets. She holds one of the nuggets up to you which is covered in ketchup, “Nugget, mama.”
“Why thank you baby,” you answer back, taking a bite out of the nugget that she was offering you. Nova shoves the rest of the nugget into her mouth before dipping another one into her ketchup.
This time, she holds it out to Jack, “Nugget, Dada.”
Jack looks at the sweet expression on her face and turns to absolute mush inside. He takes the nugget that Nova’s offering and munches on it. He graces the sweet girl with a big smile, “Thank you so much, Nova. It was so yummy.”
Seemingly satisfied with herself, Nova goes back to munching away on her nuggets.
“You’re really good with kids. Do you have kids?” You ask.
“None. My ex-wife and I had talked about it in passing before, but we never actually settled to have any.”
You raise your eyebrows, “Oh, do you think you’ll ever want any now?”
Jack clocks that you don’t inquire about his ex-wife. “I wouldn’t mind, but I think that timeline had kind of passed for me, sweetheart.” He looks over to Nova with a soft smile before glancing back at you.
“It’s never too late for that, Jack.”
A second passes between the two of you before Nova pulls both of your attentions back to her. You all finish your meals together while making idle chat.
The waitress comes to the table with the bill and immediately slides it to Jack. Without even a second thought, he hands his card to the waitress as she leaves.
“Jack, you didn’t have to do that. I would’ve covered Nova and I.”
He shakes his head, “Sweetheart, whenever we’re out together, you don’t have to worry about things like that. You or Nova.”
Cue your ovaries exploding for the millionth time. You raise a teasing eyebrow at him, “Ah..so you’re planning for more of these to happen?” You gesture to the three of you.
“Yes. To be honest, spending time with you and Nova has been the highlight of my week. I like your company and I like hers. If you’re willing, I’d like for us to have more outings together,” Jack responds.
He recognizes how the end of the sentence must come off and quickly corrects himself, “As friends, I mean. I didn’t mean to imply anything else.”
Your heart clenches before you steel your expression, “I’d like that, Jack. I think Nova would like it too.”
As attracted as you are to Jack, you don’t want to risk blurring any unnecessary lines and confusing Nova.
You and Jack are friends.
That’s all you can be. No matter how much you imagine feeling his lips against yours or spending all your time with him.
Little do you know, Jack’s going through a similar dilemma.
After the outing with Jack, you both exchange numbers, which consists of daily communication.
Jack will ask about Nova, who in turns demands that you call “Dada.”
When Jack has a moment to spare, you’ll hand the phone over to Nova, who rambles to Jack about her day, and he listens closely because he doesn’t want to miss a thing.
You find yourself highly amused when you hand the phone over to Nova and she goes over to the other side of the room to have her conversation with Jack.
She’ll come back twenty minutes later saying, “Mama, Dada talk.” Which typically means that Jack wants to talk to you.
The whole thing is very domestic, yet you and Jack don’t label it as that. You’re just two friends who happen to enjoy talking to each other, and maybe your daughter keeps calling him “Dada,” but hey semantics, right?
You go to the daycare to pick up Nova and find Ms. Berta standing there holding her hand. The older woman gives you a mischievous smile, “Well..well..Ms.Girl, you didn’t tell me that you were seeing a new man.”
You frown in confusion. You’d grown close to Ms. Berta so she was very privy to a lot of the things that went on in your personal life.
“Ms. Berta, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Ms. Berta scoffs, “Little girl, you ain’t slick. Ms. Nova here ain’t been able to stop talking about her Dada. She even made this today.”
Ms. Berta hands you a piece of paper, which is clearly from their arts and crafts period of class. In the picture, you recognize the little stick figures that represent you and Nova.
You look into the corner of the picture and see a blue stick figure that resembles a man standing next to yours and Nova’s stick figures with hearts all around.
You kneel in front of Nova, “Hey, bug, who’s this?”
Nova looks you dead in your eye with a bright smile, “Dada!” She looks utterly proud at the way that she’s drawn Jack in the picture.
You glance at Ms. Berta, who gives you a look in return. You smile sheepishly, “It’s definitely not what you think. You remember a few weeks ago when Nova was sick and I took her to the emergency room? Well there was this doctor there. His name is Jack Abbot, and he was in charge of taking care of her. I guess Nova really liked how well that he took care of her and she’s started calling him her father.”
“She also said that you ate food together.”
You spare a glance at Nova, who’s playing with Bun Bun. “Yes, we ran into him at the grocery store. He invited us to lunch and paid for it. We talk on the phone a few times, but mostly he talks to Nova.”
The older woman gives you another teasing smile, “Chile, sounds like that’s your man now. You may be denying it, but baby girl over here knows it. You and Mr. Abbot seem to be the only ones oblivious.”
She gives you one last smile before turning to leave. You pick up Nova while holding her drawing in your hand.
You strap Nova into her seat before placing her drawing in the passenger’s seat. Arriving at your apartment, you and Nova walk into the space while setting your things down.
Nova goes to the carpet to start playing with Bun Bun and her other toys.
“Come here Nova. I want to get a picture of you with your drawing,” You said, as your little girl walks over.
She holds the paper in front of her with a wide toothy grin, “Say cheese, bug.”
“Cheeseee.”
It makes your heart swoon at seeing your baby grow up. You press a quick kiss to her forehead as she goes back to her previous activity.
You open up your text thread with Jack. You send the picture to the Jack.
You
Looks like you’re haunting every part of her life now
Jack
Wow! The resemblance is uncanny. She even managed to get my hair right
I’d love to have it to hang up at home
…and it’d also be nice to see you both tonight or tomorrow. I have an hour lunch
You
We could stop by tonight and bring you lunch
Jack
I’d like that. But I’ll send the money to you. I just want to see you and Nova
A ping appears on your phone.
Jack Abbot has sent you $60.
You
Jack what exactly do you think costs $60.
Jack
I’d rather be safe than sorry.
You look over at Nova, “Hey Nova, do you want to go visit Jack?”
Nova’s eyes light up at the mention of Jack’s name. She claps excitedly, “Yay! Dada!”
You dress her in warmer clothes before you both load up in the car again. You pick up sandwiches for you and Jack with chicken nuggets for Nova. You text Jack as you pull up into the parking lot.
You and Nova walk hand-in-hand to the front desk where three people are sitting. The woman in the glasses smiles at you, “Hi, how can I help you?”
“We’re here to drop off lunch for Dr. Abbot,” you reply.
Just as Lena’s about to respond, Nova spots Jack walking down the hallway. She gasps and yells out in excitement, “Dada.”
She lets go of your hand to run to Jack. Jack sports a similar grin upon seeing Nova and scoops her up into his arms, “Hey there, Princess.”
Nova immediately jumps into telling Jack about her day as he walks to the desk with her in his arms.
When Jack makes it to the desk, he gives you a quick hug. At the desk, Ellis, Shen, and Lena all look between you, Jack, and Nova to decipher what’s going on.
Jack eyes them before introducing you, “This is Nova. Sweetest little girl on the planet. This is Lena, our charge nurse. Dr. Shen, another one of the night shift attendings, and Dr. Ellis, our senior resident.”
“It’s nice to meet you all,” you said, waving at each of them.
Nova wiggles out of Jack’s arms before walking to you. She tugs at your hoodie before you give her the drawing.
She walks over to Jack, who picks her up again. Jack analyzes the picture as she points to you and her in the picture. She points to Jack’s stick figure, “You. Dada.”
If it was possible to implode into confetti and goo from cuteness, consider Jack Abbot a deceased man. He looks down at Nova, “This is amazing, lovebug. I’m gonna hang it on my fridge so I can always see it. Thank you so much.”
He hugs Nova as she throws her arms around his shoulders. You smile at the sight of Jack and Nova bonding. You all bid the night crew a goodbye as you go to your car to have lunch.
Lena, Ellis, and Shen all watch the three of you leave. Shen looks down at his Dunkin’ coffee, “Maybe my coffee is rewiring my brain, but did Jack just debut a secret family?”
Ellis squints, “I’m not quite sure what any of that was. Jack Abbot with a secret wife and kid? It tracks.”
Later in the week when Jack’s alone in his apartment, his eyes naturally drift to Nova’s drawing on the fridge.
His heart thuds rapidly in his chest as he sees the stick figured labelled “Dada.” In the recent years, he’d grown used to the fact that maybe fatherhood was something that he’d never have the chance of experiencing.
Sure, he always wanted a family of his own. He always wanted to come home and be greeted with his children running to tell him about their day. But how could he ever be a father when he was too busy prioritizing work over his own wellbeing?
However, seeing Nova’s picture and remembering your words, Jack allows himself to think that maybe it isn’t too late to finally be a father.
For a moment, he allows himself to be selfish. He allows himself to imagine what it’d be like to be with you and Nova forever. By the end of the daydream, he finds that he really wants it be a reality.
Almost a year of dating dating Rafe Cameron has taught you one thing, he’s not good with words. However a simple favour of his leads you to something on his phone you were never meant to see, you discover that maybe Rafe has been paying more attention and feeling more deeply than he’s ever let on.
The day had started easy. Warm air, clear skies, the kind of Outer Banks afternoon that made everything feel slower than it actually was.
You were sitting in the passenger seat of his Blacked out Range Rover Sport, freshly done nails catching the sunlight every time you moved your hand, whilst Rafe Cameron pulled out of the parking lot like he owned the entire place.
“You took forever.” Rafe muttered, though there was no real bite to it.
You turned toward him, unimpressed. “You literally got a haircut.”
“Yeah, and I was done before you.”
“Because all they did was trim your ego.” you shot back.
He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head, one hand steady on the wheel. “You’re funny.”
“I know.” you replied, a teasing smile ghosting your lips.
The corners of Rafe’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile too much. It had been like this all day, easy teasing, soft touches, little glances that lingered longer than they should. Almost a year together, and somehow it hadn’t dulled. If anything, it had only gotten… deeper.
Rafe drove around for a while after that. A stop here, a quick pickup there. He handled everything with that same confident, slightly impatient energy, but every time he got back in the car, his hand found yours without thinking.
Like it belonged there.
“Last stop…” he said eventually, merging onto the highway. “Gotta head out to my dad’s site.”
You hummed softly, turning your head to look out the window as the scenery shifted, the busier parts fading into quieter stretches of road. “Cameron Industries?” you asked.
“Yeah. He needs me to drop something off… it’s at some new spot built on the site.”
A moment passed, then he spoke up again. “Hey, grab my phone.”
You reached over, picking it up from the center console.
“Go on my notes, there’s coordinates in there. Should be near the top.”
“Okay.” you said, unlocking his phone easily. The Notes app opened, and your eyes scanned quickly until something caught your attention…
Pinned.
Right at the top, labelled “Her.”
Your thumb stilled. You weren’t supposed to open that. You knew that. He hadn’t asked you to. But something about it… so simple, so intentional, made your curiosity spike.
Just a quick look… You tapped it.
The note opened, and your breath softened without you realizing.
It was a list…
Not messy, not rushed. It was carefully written.
~~
• The way she laughs when she’s trying not to
• How she always reaches for my hand without thinking
• Her hugs
• The way she says my name when she’s tired
• How she looks at me like I’m not crazy
• The way the sun makes her freckles glow and her eyes change to a more hazel green colour
• She makes everything feel quiet
• Her perfume
• Her smile when she thinks I’m not looking
• The way she calms me down without even trying
• When she doesn’t fry off her curls
• She’s the only person I don’t get tired of
• Her glasses
• How sweet she is around kids and animals
~~
Your chest tightened, warmth blooming through you so suddenly it made you still. There were so many other things Rafe had written about you.
This wasn’t just something he had typed once… He’d been adding to it. Thinking about it… about you.
“Did you find it?” Rafe asked, voice cutting through gently, but there was a hint of impatience now.
You didn’t answer… you couldn’t.
“Uh…yeah, I’m just looking..” you said, a little too quickly.
Rafe’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly.
“…looking at what?”
You froze for half a second before tapping your screen like you were doing something important. “The coordinates…” you said, trying for casual. “You didn’t label it very well.”
He let out a quiet scoff. “It’s literally labelled on the-“ He glanced over and paused.
You didn’t even realize you were still on it.
Rafe went quiet for a second, then let out a short, disbelieving breath.
“You’re kidding me.”
You tried to defend yourself but Rafe interrupted. “I was trying to find the-”
“You opened that?” he cut in, finally looking at you properly.
There it was… that edge. Not full anger… but definitely something.
“I didn’t mean to,” you said quickly, even though you both knew that wasn’t entirely true. “It was pinned, I just-”
“You just what?” he pressed, cutting you off with a brow raising slightly.
You looked down at the phone, then back at him, caught. “…I got curious.”
Another pause.
Rafe shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair. “Unbelievable.”
But there was no real heat behind it. If anything, he looked… tense. Embarrassed, even.
“You weren’t supposed to see that…” he muttered.
You bit your lip, glancing back at the screen for a second before locking the phone and setting it carefully back onto the console.
“…I think it’s really sweet.” you said quietly.
“Don’t-“ he said immediately.
“I’m serious.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird, Rafe..”
“Yes, you are.” he cut in, but his voice dipped, less sharp now. “You’re doing that thing.”
You side eyed him, confused. “What thing?”
“That look.”
You blinked. “What look?”
He glanced at you again, then away just as fast. “Like I just-” he stopped himself, jaw tightening. “Forget it.”
You looked at him with soft amusement. “The one where I look at you like I love you?”
He exhaled sharply, almost like a laugh but not quite. “Yeah. That.”
Silence settled for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… full.
You leaned your head back slightly against the seat, looking out the window onto the highway, trying to hold back a smile. “I didn’t know you thought all that…” you admitted.
Rafe shrugged, trying way too hard to seem unaffected. “It’s just stuff.”
“It’s not just stuff.” Your brows scrunched slightly.
“It really is.” he muttered.
“It’s really not.” you said with a soft smile.
He shot you a look, but this time there was something lighter behind it. “You always argue this much?”
“Only when I’m right.”
That earned the smallest smirk.
You let the moment sit for a second before gently nudging him. “So… how long have you been writing that?”
Rafe groaned under his breath. “Oh my G- can you drop it?”
“No.”
He shook his head again, but this time there was a hint of a smile he couldn’t fully hide. “…it’s nothing, alright? Just things I notice.”
Your chest warmed again at that. You reached over carefully, pecking his jaw softly. “Well… I liked it…” you said quietly.
Rafe didn’t respond right away. His hand reached over, grabbing yours, his thumb brushing over your skin once, absentmindedly.
“…you weren’t supposed to see it yet.” he admitted after a second, quieter now.
Your heart skipped. “Yet?”
He immediately tensed. “Don’t read into that.”
But it was too late.
You smiled, turning your gaze back out the window, your hand still locked with his. And even though he kept his eyes on the road, you could see it… that barely there smile he was trying so hard to hide.
I lowk wanna write more for our fine babe, rafe soo please give me ideas! 🙏
Thank you for readingg, virtual hugs for everyone xx
