#FreePalestine

credits to @uzmacchiato (dividers)

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the Metkayina village. The air hummed with the distant calls of ilu gliding through the lagoon and the soft rustle of palm fronds in the breeze.

You and Jake had slipped away to a secluded alcove near the edge of the reef, a hidden spot where the waves lapped gently against smooth rocks, shielded by overhanging vines heavy with bioluminescent flowers that began to flicker as twilight approached.

It was your private sanctuary, a place where the weight of the world, the clan's expectations, and the lingering shadows of past wars faded into the rhythm of the sea.

Jake sat on a woven mat, his broad shoulders slumped slightly as he stretched out his legs, the muscles in his thighs flexing under the faint scars that mapped his history like constellations. He was a towering figure even in repose, his blue skin glistening with a light sheen of salt from the day's swim. But tonight, there was a tension in his jaw, a furrow between his brows that spoke of doubts he rarely voiced.

You knelt beside him, your smaller frame curling naturally into the space near his side, your tail flicking idly against the sand as you watched him with quiet concern.

"Y'know, kid." He started, his voice a low rumble laced with a self-deprecating chuckle, rubbing a hand over his knee with a wince. "These old joints of mine are starting to sound like the creaky marui huts after a storm. Squeak, squeak, every time I move."

He shifted and you caught the subtle pop from his elbow as he flexed it. His golden eyes met yours briefly before darting away, settling on the horizon.

"And don't get me started on this." His large hand patted his midsection, where the once-chiseled abs had softened into a gentle curve, a pudgy layer that spoke of years well-lived rather than neglect. "Getting rounder by the day. Hell, I look like I've been feasting on tulkun blubber. What happened to the guy who could outrun a thanator?"

His words hung in the air, heavy with insecurity, and your heart twisted. Jake Sully, the mighty Toruk Makto, the warrior who had tamed the skies and led clans through fire, reduced to critiquing his own reflection.

You reached out, your slender fingers tracing the edge of his arm, feeling the solid warmth of his bicep beneath your touch. He was still so massive, his body a testament to resilience, broader and thicker now in ways that made your pulse quicken with adoration.

"Jake." You murmured, your voice soft but firm, infused with the affection that had bloomed between you since the day he and his children sought refuge among the Metkayina.

As Ronal and Tonowari's oldest daughter, you'd grown up under the weight of leadership but with Jake, you felt unburdened and cherished.

"Look at me." You cupped his chin gently, turning his face toward yours. His eyes, those piercing yellow orbs, held a flicker of vulnerability that made your chest ache. "This body of yours... it's carried you through more than any young warrior could dream. Battles that scarred the earth, skies that tested the gods themselves. You became Toruk Makto not because you were flawless, but because you were fearless. Unbreakable."

He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your palm, but the doubt lingered in the set of his mouth.

"Yeah, well, that was then. Now? I'm just... old. And you're..." His gaze roamed over you, taking in your slender form, the graceful curves honed by years swimming the reefs. You were younger, vibrant, the pretty pearl and the envy of many women in the clan. "You're the daughter of chiefs, surrounded by these prime specimens of warriors with bodies like carved coral, no creaks, no extra weight. Why settle for a has-been like me?"

The question stung, not because it doubted you, but because it revealed how little he saw his own allure.

You thought of the Metkayina women, their lingering stares during communal gatherings, eyes tracing the powerful lines of his shoulders, the way his thighs strained against his loincloth as he moved. Lust and admiration burned in their gazes, and it ignited a fierce jealousy in you. A possessive fire that made you want to loose arrows at any who dared look too long.

He was yours, this massive protective force of a man who blanketed you in security with a single embrace.

You shifted closer, pressing your body against his side, your head resting on the swell of his chest where his heartbeat thrummed steadily. "Settle? Jake, you tower over me like the great tree of souls, strong and unyielding. I love how you envelop me, how your arms make the world disappear."

Your hand slid down, palm flat against the warmth of his abdomen, fingers splaying over the soft give there. It wasn't weakness, it was the mark of a life richly earned, a cushion that invited your touch.

"This? This pudgy curve? It's perfect. It's you. Real, lived-in, the body that protected your family, that fought for Eywa's balance. And those thighs..." You trailed your fingers lower, brushing the dense muscle that corded his legs, thick and unapologetic, capable of pinning you in place with effortless power. "They're like the roots of an ancient mangrove, holding everything steady."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, a faint flush creeping across his blue cheeks.

"You're just saying that." He muttered, but there was a hopeful lilt to his tone, his hand coming up to cover yours, holding it against his skin.

"No, Ma Jake." You whispered, using the tender nickname that always softened his edges, your voice laced with raw emotion. "I mean it. Every day, I see how the women here watch you. Their eyes hungry for what I have. It drives me mad, wanting to claim you right there in the circle. Because you're mine, and this body... it's everything I crave."

You lifted your gaze to his, locking eyes as you leaned in, your lips brushing the edge of his jaw.

"You've earned every bit of rest, every layer that speaks of peace after war. Let me show you."

The air between you thickened, charged with the slow simmer of desire and reassurance.

You guided him back gently, easing his massive frame onto the mat until he lay sprawled, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. The bioluminescent flowers overhead cast a soft ethereal light, illuminating the contours of his form, the broad expanse of his pectorals dusted with faint scars, the dip of his collarbone where sweat beaded like dew.

You straddled his hips, your smaller body a contrast to his bulk, feeling the heat radiating from him as you settled over the impressive length nestled between those powerful thighs. Even soft, it was substantial, a delicious weight that promised more, stirring a warmth low in your belly.

Starting at his neck, you pressed open-mouthed kisses along the column of his throat, tasting the salt of his skin mingled with the faint, earthy scent that was uniquely him.

"You've survived so much." You breathed against his pulse point, nipping lightly to draw a low groan from deep in his chest. "This strong neck held your head high through storms. These shoulders..."

Your hands roamed, kneading the dense muscle that capped them, thumbs digging into the knots born of endless vigilance.

"They've borne the weight of worlds."

Jake's hands found your waist, fingers spanning nearly your entire midriff, gripping with a tenderness that belied his size.

"Ngh... easy there." He rasped, his voice husky, eyes darkening as they held yours.

But he didn't pull away. Instead, he watched mesmerized as you worked your way down.

You lingered at his chest, lips ghosting over a nipple, swirling your tongue until it pebbled under your attention.

"This heart." You said, pressing your ear to it, feeling the steady thunder. "It's the rhythm of my world. Beating for me, for us."

Emotion swelled in your throat and you kissed lower, tracing the ridges of his ribs with feather-light touches that made him shiver.

When you reached his abdomen, he tensed, that hand of his twitching as if to cover the spot he loathed. But you caught it, intertwining your fingers with his larger ones, squeezing reassuringly.

"No hiding." You commanded softly, your teal eyes never leaving his. "This is where I love you most."

You lowered your head, lips parting to suckle at the soft flesh just above his navel, drawing the skin between your teeth with gentle pressure. A love bite bloomed under your mouth, a purple-red mark against the blue, claiming him as yours.

He gasped, hips bucking slightly, his free hand threading into your dark hair. "Fuck, baby..."

The word was a growl, laced with surprise and budding arousal, his gaze locked on yours. Intense and searching, seeing the truth in your devotion.

You released the flesh with a soft pop, admiring the imprint before moving to another spot, lower this time, where the pudge met the V of his hips. Sucking harder, you hollowed your cheeks, tongue laving the tender skin as you held his stare.

The act was intimate, worshipful, each pull of your mouth a testament to your desire.

"So soft, so real." You murmured between bites, your voice vibrating against him. "I love pressing against this, feeling you blanket me completely. No young warrior could ever make me feel this safe, this wanted."

Jake's breath came in ragged bursts now, his thighs tensing beneath you, the heavy length between them stirring to life, thickening against the cloth.

"You... you really mean that?" He asked, voice cracking with emotion, his thumb stroking your cheek as you marked him again, a constellation of bites forming across his belly.

You nodded, rising slightly to capture his lips in a deep lingering kiss, pouring all your reassurance into it. Tongues tangling slowly, savoring the taste of sea and shared breath.

Pulling back just enough, foreheads touching, you whispered. "More than anything. You're my protector, my everything. Let me love every inch."

He groaned into your mouth, flipping you beneath him in one fluid motion despite his earlier complaints, his body caging yours protectively. The pudge of his tummy pressed warmly against your abdomen, a comforting weight that made you arch into him.

"Alright, baby." He murmured, eyes shining with renewed fire, nuzzling your neck. "Show me more."

Jake's body loomed over yours, a protective canopy that blocked out the first stars peeking through the vines. His weight settled between your thighs, not crushing but enveloping, the soft press of his belly against your navel a reminder of the life etched into him. The battles won, the family safeguarded, the years that had only deepened his appeal.

You could feel the heat of him everywhere, his skin feverish under the glowing light of the flowers, and it stirred a fierce hunger in you, one born not just of lust but of profound unwavering love.

Your hands roamed up his sides, fingers digging into the solid ridges of his obliques before smoothing over that curve he so often dismissed.

"Jake." You breathed, your voice thick with emotion, teal eyes searching his face. Those sharp cheekbones, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes that crinkled when he smiled. "This body... it's what draws me to you every time. Not some polished ideal but you, all of you. The way it fills my hands, the way it makes me feel so small and cherished."

You pulled him closer, your legs wrapping around his hips, urging him down until his clothed cock nudged insistently against your pussy, thick and unyielding even through the scant fabric separating you.

He paused, his breath hitching, golden eyes darkening with a mix of desire and lingering doubt.

"You say that like it's easy." He murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper, forehead resting against yours. One massive hand cupped your face, thumb tracing your lower lip with a gentleness that belied the power in his frame. "But seeing you like this... young, beautiful, the Olo’eyktan's daughter... sometimes I wonder if I'm holding you back."

The confession slipped out raw, vulnerable, his free hand flexing against the mat as if bracing for rejection.

Your heart clenched and you surged up to capture his mouth, kissing him with a slow deliberate passion that poured every ounce of your truth into it. Tongues met in a languid dance, tasting the salt of the sea on him, the faint sweetness of the fruit you'd shared earlier. You broke away just enough to speak, lips brushing his.

"Holding me back? Ma Jake, you lift me up. This strength, this warmth, it's what I crave. Feel how my body responds to you?" You arched into him, grinding subtly against the rigid bulge straining his loincloth, a soft moan escaping as the friction sent sparks through your veins.

His groan vibrated through his chest, rumbling against your breasts as he lowered his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck.

"Eywa, you're gonna be the end of me." He rasped, nipping at your pulse point with restrained hunger, his hips rocking forward in response.

But he didn't rush, instead, he savored, his lips trailing fire down your collarbone, pausing to lave at the hollow of your throat. His hands, those callused palms that had gripped banshees and woven bonds with Eywa, explored you with reverence, sliding under your top to cup your soft breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they tightened into peaks.

You gasped, fingers threading into his queue, the sensitive tendrils there making him shudder.

"I love how you touch me." You whispered, voice laced with adoration. "Like I'm the most precious thing in the world. And you are to me, this body of yours that I can lose myself against."

You pushed at his shoulders gently, urging him to sit back, and he complied with a quizzical tilt of his head, his hard cock tenting the fabric obscenely, a bead of precum darkening the weave.

Kneeling before him now, you took in the sight of his body fully and unashamedly. The way his thighs spread wide, corded muscle flexing under azure skin marked by old scars. Between them, his cock throbbed, freed as you tugged the loincloth aside, heavy and veined, the head flushed a deeper blue, curving slightly toward his belly. It was imposing, matching the rest of him, and the thought of it filling you made your mouth water.

But first, you wanted to worship him, to erase any shadow of insecurity of his with your devotion.

Starting at his knees, you kissed the inner curve of each thigh, lips soft and lingering, tongue darting out to taste the salty tang of his skin.

"These legs." You murmured, looking up at him through your lashes. "They've carried you across battlefields, through rivers of fire. Now they cradle me, hold me steady when the world spins."

Your hands followed, massaging the dense flesh, feeling it tense and release under your touch. He watched, breath shallow, his hand coming to rest on your head. Not pushing, just anchoring as if you were his lifeline.

Higher you went, nuzzling the crease where his thigh met groin, inhaling his musky scent that always made your head swim.

"And this." You said, voice husky, one hand wrapping around his massive cock. Your fingers barely meeting around the girth as you stroked upward slowly, thumb swiping over the slit to spread the slickness. "So thick, so perfect. I dream about it, Jake. How it stretches me, claims me completely."

He bucked into your grip, a low curse escaping his lips, but you held his gaze, pouring your attraction into every word and every caress.

"That's it." He encouraged, voice strained with restraint, his free hand clenching the mat. "Show me, baby. Show me you want this old man."

There was a teasing edge but beneath it, the plea for affirmation, and you answered by leaning in, your tongue flattening against the underside of his shaft, tracing a vein from root to tip. He tasted of him, earthy and primal, making you hum in appreciation, the vibration drawing a guttural moan from deep in his throat.

You took him into your mouth then, inch by deliberate inch, lips stretching around his thickness lewdly. It was a challenge, one you relished, hollowing your cheeks as you sank lower, your hand working what you couldn't yet take.

His hips jerked but he held still, golden eyes locked on you, filled with awe and heat.

"Fuck... look at you." He breathed, fingers tightening in your hair. "So beautiful, taking me like that. You love it, don't you? This body that's seen too much."

You pulled back with a wet pop, nodding fervently, saliva glistening on your lips. "Love it? I'm obsessed. Every scar, every curve, it's what makes you mine."

To prove it, you dove back in, sucking with renewed fervor, your other hand cupping his sac, rolling the heavy weight gently. He panted above you, praises tumbling out in a mix of English and Na'vi, fueling your rhythm until his thighs quivered and he tugged you up with a desperate growl.

"Enough." He said, voice rough, pulling you into his lap so you straddled him once more.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to rub against his slick cock, the friction exquisite as it slid between your folds. You were soaked and aching but he took his time, rocking you slowly over his hardness, letting the anticipation build like a gathering storm.

"Feel that?" He murmured, nipping your earlobe. "How hard you make me? This is all you, baby. Your words, your touch... it's got me aching for you every damn time."

You whimpered, grinding down harder, your clit catching on his ridge with each pass. "Jake, please... I need you inside. Need to feel all of you, that thickness of your cock filling me up."

Your hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the unyielding muscle, and he finally relented, lifting you with ease. His strength undiminished by age, if anything it was amplified by experience. Positioning himself at your entrance, he paused, eyes meeting yours in a moment of profound connection.

"You sure?" He asked softly, though his body trembled with the effort of holding back. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You could never." You assured him, cupping his face, thumbs stroking his jaw. "I want it all. Your power, your love. Show me how much you trust this body too."

With that, you sank down, the head breaching you slowly, stretching your walls with a burn that bordered on bliss. He was massive, every inch a delicious invasion and you took him deep, inch by inch until your hips met his, fully seated on that impressive cock.

Both of you stilled, breaths mingling, foreheads pressed together as you adjusted to the fullness. He filled you utterly, the slight curve hitting spots that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

"So tight." He groaned, hands roaming your back, pulling you closer so your breasts crushed against his chest. "You feel like home, every damn time."

You began to move then, a slow undulation of rising and falling with deliberate grace. Each descent drew him deeper, your inner muscles clenching around him, milking his length.

"This is what I love." You gasped, voice breaking on a moan as pleasure coiled low in your belly. "You, so deep inside me. That belly pressing against mine, warm and real. It makes me feel owned, protected."

Your words spurred him and he thrust up gently, matching your pace, his hips rolling with a controlled power that spoke of years honing his body for more than just war.

The rhythm built gradually, like waves cresting the reef. Lazy at first then gaining force. His hands gripped the soft plush of your ass, spreading you wider, angling you so he hit that sweet spot inside you with every plunge. Sweat slicked your skin, mingling with the humid air, and the sounds filled the alcove. The wet slap of flesh, your shared gasps, the distant crash of surf.

"You're incredible." He panted, lips finding your neck, sucking a mark there to mirror the ones you'd left on him. "This fire in you... it's because of me? Because you want this?"

His voice cracked, insecurity flickering even now but you banished it with a fierce kiss.

"Yes." You cried, pace quickening as ecstasy built, your nails raking down his back. "Only you. Your thighs gripping me, that cock owning me, your belly flush against me whenever you fuck it back in me, it's everything."

You leaned back slightly, hands on his knees for leverage, giving him a view of where you joined, his aching cock disappearing into you.

His eyes devoured the sight, a growl rumbling from his chest as he took over, thrusting up harder, the pudge of his abdomen rippling with each movement. He flipped you then, without withdrawing, laying you on your back with his body blanketing yours as a secure heated shield.

The change in angle drove him deeper, and you keened, legs locking around his waist. "Jake... oh, Eywa..."

He moved with purpose now, long, languid strokes that dragged against your walls, building the tension unbearably. One hand braced beside your head, the other intertwined with yours pinning it above you, a tender dominance that made your heart race.

"Tell me more." He urged, voice strained, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest. "What you love... keep going."

You did, words spilling between moans.

"Your arms around me, so strong... that chest I can cling to... and here." You gasped as he ground against your clit. "This curve of you, pressing just right. You're my everything, Jake. Don't ever doubt it."

Emotion surged with the pleasure, tears pricking your eyes. Not from pain but from the depth of your bond.

He kissed them away, thrusts slowing to a torturous grind, drawing out your shared bliss. The coil tightened, your body arching, and he sensed it, angling to push you over.

"Come for me, baby." He whispered, voice breaking with his own impending release. "Let me feel you shatter around me."

With a final deep thrust, you broke, waves of ecstasy crashing through you, walls fluttering around his massive cock in rhythmic pulses. You cried his name, body convulsing, and he followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, hot and claiming, a groan muffled against your shoulder.

You clung to each other through the aftershocks, breaths syncing as the world reformed around you. He stayed seated within, softening slowly, his weight a comforting anchor.

"I see it now." He murmured finally, nuzzling your temple, voice sated and sure. "Through your eyes... thank you, kid. For loving me like this."

You smiled, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, the night wrapping you in its embrace.

As the echoes of your shared release faded into the soft hum of the night, you shifted beneath Jake's comforting weight, your bodies still joined in the most intimate of ways. The bioluminescent glow cast ethereal patterns across his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat and the faint tremors still rippling through his muscles.

But you weren't done, not yet. There was one more layer to this connection, a deeper weave that would etch your love into his very essence.

Your queues, those sensitive tendrils at the base of your necks, brushed against each other like whispers of fate. With a gentle tilt of your head, you guided yours toward his, the pink neural endings seeking, finding, and latching with a soft electric click.

Tsaheylu formed in an instant, a rush of warmth flooding your senses as his emotions poured into you. Raw vulnerability mingled with burgeoning confidence, the steady thrum of his heart syncing with yours. It was like stepping into his soul, feeling the weight of his insecurities dissolve under the tide of your adoration.

You captured his lips then, not in haste, but with a slow savoring kiss that spoke volumes through the bond. Your mouth moved against his, soft and insistent, tongue tracing the seam of his lips until he parted them with a sigh.

The taste of him, salty, wild, and uniquely Jake mingled with the shared pulse of your connection, amplifying every sensation.

Through tsaheylu, he felt it all. The fierce protectiveness that surged in your chest when you thought of him, the way your body hummed with satisfaction from his touch, the unyielding love that saw his every scar and curve as a testament to his strength and feeling so attracted to him like a girl to her crush.

"Feel me." You murmured against his mouth, your voice a velvet caress in the quiet alcove. "All of this... it's for you. Every beat, every breath."

He groaned into the kiss, his large hands cradling the back of your head, holding you close as if afraid the bond might slip away. Waves of his own affection crashed back. Gratitude, desire, and a profound sense of belonging that made your eyes sting with happy tears.

The kiss deepened, languid and exploratory, your lips molding to his, breaths intertwining until the world narrowed to just the two of you. His tongue swept against yours in lazy circles, drawing out the moment, letting the emotional current build until it hummed between you like a living thing. When you finally parted, foreheads resting together, the bond thrummed with shared contentment, his doubts silenced by the undeniable truth of your devotion.

Sleep came easily after that, wrapped in his arms, the reef's gentle waves lulling you both. His body spooned yours, that soft belly pressing warmly against your back, a secure barrier against the night. Through the lingering echoes of tsaheylu, even in dreams, you felt his peace settling like dawn light.

The next morning dawned with the first rays filtering through the woven canopy, painting the space in soft golds and aquamarines.

You stirred first, blinking against the light, a lazy smile curving your lips as you took in Jake beside you. Sprawled on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. His queue lay across the mat and you resisted the urge to reach for it again, content for now with the memory of last night's intimacy.

Slipping from the cot with quiet grace, you dressed in your simple top and skirt, the fabric whispering against your skin.

Jake roused moments later, stretching with a low grunt, his joints popping faintly. A sound that no longer carried shame, but rather the quiet assurance of a body well-lived. He caught your gaze, golden eyes warm and unguarded, and pulled you back for a quick morning-soft kiss before rising himself.

"Morning, baby." He murmured, voice rough with sleep as he fastened his loincloth, the motion drawing your eyes to the canvas of his torso.

There, across the gentle swell of his abdomen, bloomed a constellation of purple bruises. Marks from your lips and teeth, sucked into his skin with possessive fervor the night before. They stood out vividly against his azure hue, they were badges of your claim and a smug satisfaction bloomed in your chest.

He was yours, every inch, and soon the clan would see it too.

Hand in hand, you stepped out into the bustling village, the air alive with the calls of ilu and the chatter of your people. Jake's frame towered over you, a solid, reassuring presence that made you feel both tiny and invincible. His broad shoulders blocked the breeze, his thick thighs flexing with each step, and that belly, softened by time and marked by your love jutted just enough to brush against your side as you walked.

You couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips, possessive and proud, especially as you noticed the sidelong glances from the Metkayina women.

They were there, as always. Gathering shells by the lagoon, weaving nets under the palms, their eyes lingering on Jake with that familiar mix of admiration and hunger. His history as Toruk Makto and his warrior's build, it drew them like moths to flame.

But today, their gazes faltered, flicking to those telltale bruises peeking from beneath the edge of his loincloth and on his belly, the deep violet imprints that screamed of nights spent in passion. One woman, a weaver with intricate tattoos, paused mid-conversation, her cheeks flushing as she quickly averted her eyes. Another whispered to her companion, a hand rising to cover a knowing smile.

Your smile widened, smug and unapologetic, a quiet thrill racing through you at their retreat. He was yours. Claimed, adored, and untouchable. The jealousy that sometimes simmered now felt like victory, a warm glow that made your steps lighter.

Jake noticed, of course. He always did.

His large hand squeezed yours, thumb stroking the back in lazy circles, and a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, vibrating through your joined fingers.

"Got that look again." He teased softly, leaning down so his breath ghosted your ear, his voice laced with amusement and something deeper, affection that’s pure and unfiltered. "Like someone gave you the world. They see it, huh? Your handiwork."

He glanced down at his torso, fingers brushing one of the bruises lightly, not wincing but tracing it with a newfound tenderness. The touch sent a spark through you, a reminder of how you'd worshipped that very spot, sucking the flesh until it yielded under your mouth, marking him as irrevocably yours.

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze with teal eyes sparkling mischief and love.

"They do. And they know better than to stare now." Your free hand slipped to his side, palm pressing flat against the warmth of his skin just above the bruises, feeling the subtle give of his belly under your touch. It was intimate, even in the open air, a subtle claim that made his breath hitch. "I love seeing them there. Proof that you're mine, that this body, every part of it, belongs with me."

He stopped walking then, in a quieter stretch near the tide pools, turning to face you fully. His height loomed, protective and enveloping, casting a shadow that felt like shelter.

Cupping your cheek with one massive hand, he searched your face, the lines around his eyes crinkling with a soft laugh.

"You make me feel like the luckiest skxawng alive, you know that?" His voice dropped, sincere and rough-edged, golden eyes holding yours with an intensity that stole your breath. "Waking up marked like this... walking with you, feeling your pride through every glance. It's like you've rewritten how I see myself. Loved. Wanted. All of me."

The words wrapped around your heart, pulling you closer until your bodies aligned, his warmth seeping through your clothes. You rose on tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to his jaw, lips brushing the faint stubble there.

"Because you are." You whispered, voice thick with emotion. "Every day, every mark, every step beside you, it's all to show you that."

Around you, the village hummed on but in that moment, it was just the two of you, his chuckle fading into a contented hum as he pulled you along, the purple flowers you sucked to his skin a silent testament to the love that bound you tighter than any bond Eywa could weave.

Eywa, he’s so in love with you it hurts.

The forest was a mouth. Open, gaping, waiting.

The trees curved like crooked teeth against the night sky, their bare branches twitching in the wind, rustling like whispers too soft to catch. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called once—brief, hollow, alone. The clouds hung low, gravid with rain, and the air held that electric stillness that comes before something breaks.

It was a foolish thing to do—going in alone. You knew that.

You’d told yourself it would be a sweep. Quick. Clean. Just a check on a report that hadn’t even been flagged as urgent. A cabin in the woods, a disgruntled neighbor, a history of noise complaints, and a thin thread that might connect it to a string of missing women. Thin enough to ignore. Thin enough to file. But something about the report itched. You’d followed that itch.

Maybe that was your mistake. Maybe that was your curse.

You’d learned early in this job—and in life—that the quietest things were often the deadliest. The moments you second-guessed yourself. The doors you opened too fast. The questions you didn’t ask in time.

The cabin was crouched like a wounded animal at the edge of the treeline—half-swallowed by moss and shadow, windowpanes like dead eyes staring out at nothing. There were no lights. No obvious movement. But the hairs on your neck stood up the moment you stepped out of the SUV.

You’d told the team you were taking a detour. You’d promised you’d be ten minutes, tops. But the silence here felt… intentional.

Inside, it was worse.

The house breathed. Not literally, but the boards underfoot shifted and groaned, the wind slithered under cracks, and the air was dense, thick with the scent of mildew and rot. You stepped cautiously across the floorboards, one hand on your holster, the other brushing the earpiece in your ear. Static. Odd.

You checked the signal. Still green. Still strong. But when you whispered Luke’s name into the comm, the only reply was silence.

A pulse throbbed behind your ribs—deep, ancient, lizard-brain panic.

You moved slower, room by room. Shadows carving strange shapes in the walls. A mug half-full of something congealed on the counter. A newspaper from last week splayed open on the floor like a corpse. You noted the strange juxtaposition—normality and horror touching fingers. The signs of life too recent. Too staged.

You found the basement door open. That was your first real sign.

That yawning blackness. A pit.

You knew better than to go down. You did. Years of training. FBI protocol. Muscle memory. But your feet moved anyway.

The descent was slow. Each creak of wood beneath your boots echoed like gunfire. You flicked your flashlight on. The beam caught on dust motes. Concrete. An old mattress in the corner. Chains. Something metallic. Something dark.

And then—he stepped out of the shadows.

He wasn’t tall. Not imposing, physically. But his stillness was what did it. That unnatural calm. That predator’s patience. He stood like a man who waited. Like he knew you would come. Like he had rehearsed this moment.

You drew your weapon instantly. "FBI. Hands where I can see them."

He smiled. Not a grin. Not even a smirk. Just that slow, thin-lipped twitch that made your skin crawl. A knowing smile.

"You're early," he said. The sound of his voice was worse than silence.

You tried to step back. Called in—"Alvez, I’ve got something here, I need backup now"—but the words fizzled in your ear. The comm still showed green. But nothing came through.

And that’s when he lunged.

You moved, instinct firing like lightning. You dodged the knife, deflected the weight of his charge, struck back. A blur of limbs and breath and panic. You could feel the hate in his hands. Not rage. Not frenzy. But calculation. Like he knew exactly how much damage he wanted to do and where to place it.

The knife slashed across your cheek. Shallow, but bloody. Meant to rattle you. To disorient.

You fought harder. Concrete scraped your palms. Your shoulder smashed into a pipe. You wrestled control of your weapon, lost it, regained it, lost it again. Every second felt stolen. Every move pulled from some hidden reserve of training and desperation.

He had you by the throat when the door crashed open above.

Luke.

His name didn’t come from your mouth. It ripped from your chest.

The thunder of boots on stairs. A blur of tactical black. And then—he was there.

Luke’s voice was a gunshot. Sharp, commanding. "FBI! Get your hands off her!"

The unsub turned, blade raised.

Luke fired. Not to kill. To disarm.

The blade spun out of the man’s hand with a metallic clang, and in seconds Luke was on him, bringing him down with force that rattled the basement. Fists collided. Cuffs snapped shut.

You slumped against the wall, pulse screaming in your ears.

You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until Luke dropped to his knees in front of you and said your name—broken, soft, like it cost him something to speak it aloud.

"I'm okay," you whispered. A lie. A shield.

His hands hovered. Then landed—gently, reverently—on your arms, your face.

"You're bleeding," he said, as if saying it made it less unbearable.

"It’s not bad." He didn't reply. Just looked at you.

And in that look—God. You saw everything.

All the seconds he thought he was too late. All the horrors that played behind his eyes as he drove here. All the versions of this moment where he found you broken. Dead. Gone.

"I should’ve been here," he rasped. "You should’ve waited for me."

“I thought I had time.”

His hands were trembling. Just barely. But you noticed.

“I didn’t want to risk someone else walking into a trap,” you continued. “I was trying to—”

"Don’t," he cut in sharply. “Don’t you dare justify it.”

Silence. Then he looked away. One hand clenched into a fist against the floor.

“I walked in and saw you on the ground. Do you have any idea—” His voice cracked.

You touched his forearm. Slowly. Carefully. His eyes flicked back to yours.

"I'm here," you said.

But he shook his head. “You almost weren’t.”

And there it was. The real wound.

Luke Alvez wasn’t scared of much. But he was terrified of loss. Not abstract loss—you. The person whose laugh he memorized. Whose coffee order he knew by heart. Whose presence was quiet gravity in his life.

He didn’t shout. He didn’t break. But you saw the grief anyway—hovering behind his eyes like smoke from a fire still burning.

He reached up and brushed blood from your cheek. His thumb lingered.

“This job doesn’t work,” he said finally, “if I have to keep wondering if I’m going to lose you every time we split up.”

“I know.”

“You don’t act like you do.”

You winced. Not from the wound. From the truth.

Luke exhaled, steadying himself. Then, voice low: “I can’t protect you from everything. I know that. But you can’t keep acting like you don’t matter.”

“I don’t—”

“You do.”

The silence thickened.

“I don’t know how to be someone people worry about,” you confessed.

“I do,” he said, without hesitation. “Because I worry about you all the damn time.”

You looked away. Swallowed hard. Luke shifted closer, his hand on your knee now. Warm. Grounding.

“I care about you,” he said. Quiet, plain, and no pretense, making your breath catch.

“I care so much it scares me,” he added. “I didn’t even know it could feel like that—until the second before I saw you.”

You turned back to him. “What do you mean?”

“The second before I saw you alive… I thought you were gone.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

And then he wrapped his arms around you—slow, tentative, like he didn’t want to break what was left. You sank into him, finally letting your body collapse into the safety of his warmth, his strength, his heartbeat pulsing steady against your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured into his chest. He just held you tighter.

“I don’t need you to apologize,” he said. “I need you safe.”

And so you sat there—two people breathing through the aftermath. One who almost lost, and one who almost disappeared. And somewhere far above, the rain began to fall.

Later, in the quiet of his SUV, wrapped in a blanket, patched up and exhausted, you sat beside him with your legs drawn up on the seat. He hadn’t let go of your hand since the medics cleared you.

“You didn’t have to ride back with me,” you said softly.

“I did.”

You glanced at him. He was watching the road, but his knuckles were pale from the grip on the steering wheel. His jaw was tight.

“You okay?” you asked.

He gave a half-laugh. “You ask me that?”

“I mean it.”

He was silent for a long time. Then, “No.”

You nodded. "Me neither."

“I think I need to tell you something,” he said, voice lower now. “And I’m not saying it because of what happened. I’m saying it because it was almost too late.”

You looked at him.

“I love you.”

The words didn’t crash. They landed. Soft, inevitable, final. You felt them settle inside you like the first deep breath after being underwater.

“I think I’ve loved you since that first case,” he continued, still watching the road, “but I didn’t let myself know it until today.”

You reached for his hand again. And held on. Hard.

“I’m not used to being loved,” you whispered.

“I’ll teach you.”

And for the first time in hours, you smiled.

It’s quiet.

The only sources of sound are the crickets chirping outside and the occasional crack and snap of a worn out engine in an old ass vehicle.

You’ve washed your face and changed into some pajama pants and a tank top. You're sat atop your and Reacher's shared bed in some 3 star hotel room, wondering how fucked up tonight got.

It was supposed to be a simple stakeout. You and Reacher were meeting with someone at a bar a little outside of Margrave.

But of course, shit hit the fan as soon as possible.

You were drinking a soda, waiting on Reacher to finish conducting his little interview when jackass and friends came over.

“Why you drinkin’ all by your lonesome, hun?”

You act deaf but that just pissed them off.

“Hey. You fuckin’ deaf or somethin’?”

You look at them sideways which makes them laugh and oddly enough, think you’re playing hard to get.

“Come on now, baby, don’t be like that.”

“Yeahh, we could show you a real good time.”

The one that looks like the leader of the trio winks at you and you just can’t stand it anymore.

You pay for your soda, get off the stool and turn around to walk away when one of the 3 stooges grab your wrist, causing you to be yanked back.

“What the fuck-?!”

“Where you goin’?” He doesn’t sound so pleased but you don’t give a fuck.

You punch the guy restraining you in the nose, hard.

“You fuckin’ bitch.”

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

You blink and feel yourself being shielded.

Reacher.

You feel his large hand on your arm, maneuvering you behind him as he takes on the 3 short and scrawny (compared to mountain man over here) bastards quite easily.

Obviously, it’s not a bar fight without somebody playing dirty and pulling out a weapon at their convenience, and that’s exactly what happened!

Reacher is nicked along the lines of his abs before he snaps the guy’s wrist, jamming the knife into the other dude’s shoulder.

You wince and look away.

Reacher rounds up the last dickhead and turns his lights off (temporarily) before you both skedaddle outta there.

And now you’re here.

Reacher opens the bathroom door to let some steam out, you observe his shirtless and injured state.

“Reacher...” Your guilt shows.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine. I was just doing-”

“Please don’t say ‘your job’.”

He looks at you with an amused smile. The mountain man takes out the first aid kit and starts disinfecting his wounds.

You walk over and sit beside him on the counter, taking the alcohol soaked cotton ball and dab it gently.

It’s quiet again for a few minutes, no sign of awkward silence.

It’s strange, you didn’t even know this man a few weeks prior and now you’re cleaning his wounds. Not to mention, you’ve never seen the guy half-naked before and hot damn is he built like a Greek God. You’re basically heating up! (from the steam, of course...)

“It doesn’t look like it’ll need stitches, right?”

Reacher’s too busy staring at you. Your fixated eyes, your furrowed brows in concentration. He lowers his eyes towards your lips, slightly bitten in focus.

“Reacher?” You blink up at him.

“No.”

The husk in his voice catches you off guard. You gulp harshly, focusing back on the task at hand.

“You didn’t have to go that hard, you know.” You change the topic, dismissing the almost electric atmosphere.

He tilts his head at you like a confused dog.

“Those bastards were giving you shit, so I handled it.”

He says it with such clarity that you’d think it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shake your head playfully, a smile tugging at your lips from his show of ferocity for you.

“And I appreciate it, I do.”

“I sense a rebuttal.” He quips.

You laugh through your nose. “I just wanted to say that despite your valiant efforts,” You pause to press a bandaid on his abs.

“Uh huh.”

“I was doing just fine.”

“That you were.” He agrees.

He says it like he’s proud, like he’s so relieved to see you have your own back and toughen up when it’s time.

You know the world is a cruel place and that sometimes, only the strong survive. But you proved your strength and he recognizes it.

You meet his eyes and see him staring back into them. You see the different shade of blue in this light and angle; a dimly lit orange hue casts a nice glow onto his freshly shaved, chiseled face.

“I never noticed the many,” He inhales. “Freckles and moles and little scars on your face.”

“Now that I think about it, your nose is kind of big.” You humor him.

He squints his eyes playfully.

You really hope he picks up on the fact that you’re flirting. You want him to break the ice; to make the first move but would he be so willing? You think he’d be a tease and let you grow frustrated before appeasing.

“What are you thinking about?”

His hand comes up to rub the ends of some strands of your hair together, liking the softness of it.

“You.” You boldly answer.

He raises an eyebrow at your declaration. “What about me?”

There’s that voice again, god. The low timbre with the breathy whisper.

The smell of wood and cologne, everything clouds your senses.

Your breathing quickens just a tad when you feel the feathery touch from his fingers touch the sliver of exposed skin on your hip. You wore the tank top because you were comfortable but now you applaud yourself for the smart choice.

He inches closer and closer; you could just push yourself up on your heels and meet him halfway. Your eyelids flutter, fighting the battle between closing them to enjoy the moment or keeping them open to see the suspense.

Will he? Won't he?

Suddenly, he leans back with a tube of Neosporin, screwing the cap back on. Your eyes open up and he stares down at the tube, pretending he wasn't just about to indulge you in your wildest fantasies.

“Really.”

You know he knows, but he just has to be a teasing little shit about it.

His face cracks and his lips split open to reveal the most beautiful smile; it makes you smile a little, too.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop.” He croons.

He leans forward and grips the countertop, trapping you between him. His gaze dart around your face before landing on your lips. He takes a deep breath.

“Can I-”

“Yes!” You pull his face in with both hands, not wasting any more time.

He laughs into your mouth and you find yourself wanting to hear more of it.

You’re lifted from the countertop with such ease, you’re reminded of his strength. Time and time again, his strength makes an appearance and you can’t help your attraction.

Reacher’s hands squeeze at your hips when you lick his bottom lip, wanting a little taste of something more. He nips at your throat, leaving love bites messily across your neck and soothing the painful pleasure with the coolness of his tongue.

You bring him back to you and kiss him with tongue and teeth, feeling your nerves on fire and your heart about to burst.

He groans when your legs tighten around his core. “You keep doing that, I won’t last.”

You giggle at the that and think about teasing but your resolve is weak when he lays you down on the bed.

You see a sparkle in his eyes, the kind that hypnotizes you; makes you want to swim in the turquoise waters of his mind.

“I’m so down bad for you.” You softly admit.

Your hands are in his hair, softly toying with the brown strands.

He kisses you with such fervor, you can feel everything he’s ever wanted to say. You can feel his desperation, his devotion, his care for you. You feel the longing in the way he holds you, in the way he kisses you soft and slow. He pours his emotions into the searing kiss and you can cry from joy.