#nesim x reader

The plains stretched endlessly beneath a sky painted in warm gold and drifting violet, the grasses whispering as they bent with the breeze. Out here, where the Zeswa clan ran with the wind and travelled with the great zakru, life felt wide and unbound—just as Eywa intended.

You lay back against the sun-warmed earth, fingers tangled lazily in the thick, coarse hair of Zakrus. The great beast huffed contentedly, shifting slightly but making no effort to move away. He liked the attention—no, he expected it.

“You spoil him,” a voice murmured nearby. You didn’t need to look to know it was Nesim.

“I spoil both of you,” you replied, eyes still closed, letting the sunlight soak into your skin.

A soft snort. “I do not require spoiling.” But you could hear the faint smile in her voice.

Moments later, her shadow fell over you, blocking the sun just enough to make you crack one eye open. Nesim stood tall as ever, posture straight, presence commanding—the very image of a Zeswa warrior. Her armor caught the light, and her gaze, sharp and observant, flicked briefly to the Zakru before settling on you.

“You are supposed to be resting,” she added.

“I am resting,” you said, reaching up without hesitation, fingers catching her wrist. “Come here.”

There was a pause. Nesim was not one to be commanded—not by anyone. And yet… her stance softened. With a quiet exhale, she lowered herself beside you, movements controlled but unguarded in a way only you ever saw. The Zakru shifted again, nudging closer as if making room for her, his massive head settling near your side.

“See?” you murmured. “Even he agrees.”

“I think he simply wishes for more attention,” she said, though her tone had lost its edge. You hummed, then gently tugged her down until her shoulder brushed yours. She resisted for only a heartbeat before relenting, allowing herself to lean—just slightly—against you.

For a while, there was only the wind and the steady rhythm of the Zakrus’ breathing. Your fingers drifted from his mane to Nesim’s arm, tracing the lines of muscle beneath her skin, the faint scars that told stories of hunts and battles. She tensed at first—instinct—but slowly, gradually, she relaxed beneath your touch.

“You are quiet,” she said after a time.

“I’m enjoying this,” you replied. “You should try it.”

“I am,” she said, almost defensively. You smiled softly, turning your head to look at her. Up close, the fierceness of her expression gave way to something more subtle—something softer, reserved only for moments like this.

“Liar.”

Her eye narrowed, but there was no real heat in it. “Careful.” Instead of answering, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss just beneath her jaw. That got her attention.

Her breath hitched—just barely—and her hand came to your arm, gripping it with quiet intensity. “You are bold today.”

“Only with you.” Another kiss, softer this time, lingering. Nesim exhaled slowly, tension slipping from her shoulders. Her grip loosened, her thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin.

“You are… distracting,” she admitted.

You laughed quietly. “And you love it.” She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she turned her head just enough to meet your gaze—and then, unexpectedly, she leaned in, pressing a brief, careful kiss to your lips. It was restrained, almost hesitant, but unmistakably hers. When she pulled back, her expression had returned to its usual composed strength—but her eyes betrayed her. “…Perhaps,” she said.

The Zakru snorted loudly beside you, as if unimpressed with how little attention he was receiving now. You both laughed—Nesim softly, you more freely—and you reached back to scratch behind his ear ridge. “Don’t worry,” you murmured to him. “There’s enough of me for both of you.” Nesim huffed at that, but didn’t move away as you settled together beneath the open sky.

The sun drifted higher, warming the plains until the air shimmered faintly above the grasses. Time moved slowly here—unmeasured, unbothered. The kind of stillness the Zeswa rarely allowed themselves, always chasing the next horizon. But not today. Today, Nesim had not moved. That alone felt like a quiet victory.

You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at her. Her eyes were closed now, her breathing even, though you knew she wasn’t truly asleep—just resting in that careful way she did, always aware, always ready. Except… not quite as ready as usual. Your fingers brushed along her shoulder again, slower this time, tracing idle patterns. She didn’t tense. Didn’t correct you. Progress.

“You are watching me,” she said without opening her eye.

“Maybe,” you replied lightly. “You’re interesting.”

“I am resting.”

“And doing a very good job of it,” you teased. A faint flick of her ear gave her away.

The Zakru let out a low rumble, shifting his weight so his massive body pressed more firmly against your legs, effectively trapping you both in place. His tail flicked lazily through the grass. “Ah,” you said. “Now we cannot move. What a shame.”

Nesim huffed softly. “He has decided.”

“Then we obey.” Silence returned, but it was an easy one—filled with warmth and the soft sounds of the plains. A distant call of riders, the rustle of wind, the steady presence of Zakrus anchoring you both.

After a while, Nesim spoke again, quieter now. “This is… not unpleasant.”

You turned your head toward her, smile softening. “High praise.”

“You will not let me forget I said that.”

“Never.” Her eyes opened then, meeting yours—sharp as ever, but gentled at the edges. There was something searching in her gaze, something unspoken.

“You are… different here,” she said.

“Here?”

“In stillness.” A pause. “With me.”

You considered that, fingers idly brushing over the back of her hand now, letting your touch linger more deliberately. “I think,” you said slowly, “this is just another way of being strong.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “Explain.”

“You fight. You lead. You endure.” You shifted closer, your voice softer. “But this—letting yourself rest, letting someone close enough to see you like this—that takes strength too.”

Nesim was quiet for a long moment. Then her hand turned beneath yours, fingers curling just enough to hold. “I do not do this with others,” she said.

“I know.”

Her grip tightened slightly, grounding, certain. “Only you.” The words settled between you, heavier than they should have been—but not unwelcome.

You leaned in again, slower this time, giving her space to pull away if she wished. She didn’t.

Your lips met hers in another gentle kiss—warmer now, more certain. Her hand came up to your jaw, not rough, but firm, steadying you as she returned it with quiet intensity. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just that—sunlight, breath, closeness.

Then the Zakru made an impatient, rumbling sound, nudging you both insistently with his head. You broke apart with a quiet laugh, forehead resting briefly against hers. “I think we are being reminded,” you murmured, “that we are not alone.”

Nesim exhaled, something close to amusement slipping through. “He is jealous.”

“Of course he is.” You reached out, pressing both hands into the thick hide of Zakrus, scratching firmly. He huffed in satisfaction, settling again, though his eye remained half-open—watching.

“Demanding,” Nesim muttered.

“You love him.”

“…Perhaps.” You smiled at the echo of her earlier answer. The sun began its slow descent, painting the plains in deeper gold. Eventually, the clan would call, and the rhythm of life would pull Nesim back into motion. But not yet. For now, she remained beside you—no armor between you, no distance, no urgency. Just warmth, quiet, and the steady, grounding presence of something shared.

The light softened as the day began to turn, gold deepening into amber across the endless plains. The wind cooled just enough to carry the scent of distant herds, of earth and sky mingling in that way that always reminded you where you belonged. Nesim shifted beside you at last. Not away—but closer. Her shoulder pressed more fully against yours, her leg brushing yours where you lay half-curled against the Zakrus’ side. It was subtle, the kind of movement no one else would notice—but you did. You always did.

“You are thinking,” she said quietly.

You hummed. “Always.”

“About what?”

You tilted your head slightly, studying her. The setting light caught along the lines of her face, softening the sharpness she carried so easily. Out here, like this, she looked less like a warrior carved from stone—and more like something warm, something real.

“This,” you said simply.

Her brow knit faintly. “This?”

“This moment. You. Him.” You reached back, giving the Zakru a firm pat as if to include him. His tail flicked in approval. “It’s… enough.” Nesim was quiet again, her gaze drifting out across the plains.

“For the Zeswa,” she said slowly, “there is always movement. Always the next path. The next challenge.”

“I know.”

“It is strange,” she continued, “to stay.”

You smiled faintly. “And yet… you did.”

Her eyes shifted back to you, something steady and certain in them now. “I chose to.”

The words were simple—but they carried weight. You reached up, brushing your fingers lightly along her cheek, thumb tracing just beneath her eye. This time, she leaned into it without hesitation. A small thing. A big thing.

“I’m glad,” you murmured.

Her hand came to rest over yours, holding it there against her skin. “So am I.”

The wind picked up again, tugging gently at your braids, whispering through the grasses like a distant song. The Zakru rumbled low in his chest, content, unmoving—your living shelter against the cooling air. You shifted, settling more comfortably against him, and Nesim followed without needing to be asked. Her arm came across you—not restraining, not protective, just… there. Solid. Present. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly— “You will ride with me tomorrow,” she said.

You glanced up at her, a hint of teasing returning. “Is that an order?”

A faint smirk touched her lips. “An invitation.”

“Mm. Much better.” Her thumb brushed absently against your arm, a small, unconscious motion that made your chest feel warmer than the fading sun.

“There is a high ridge,” she continued, her voice softer now, “where the winds are strongest. You can see all the plains from there.”

“Sounds like your kind of place.”

“It is,” she admitted. Then, after a pause—“I want to show you.”

You studied her for a second, something quiet and fond settling in your chest again. “I’d like that.”

Another small silence.

Then you leaned in once more, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth—lingering just enough to feel her soften again beneath it. This time, she didn’t hesitate at all. Her hand came to your jaw, steady and sure, guiding you into a proper kiss—still gentle, still restrained in that very her way—but warmer than before, more certain. When she pulled back, her forehead rested briefly against yours.

“You are very distracting,” she murmured again, softer this time.

“And you keep letting me be.”

“…Yes.”

The Zakru let out a long, satisfied breath, as if approving of the arrangement, and settled deeper into the grass. The sun dipped lower.