Rabbitboy

redraw of this:

The shadows of the tall trees seemed to reach for you, and the rustling of leaves felt like whispers of danger.

Your heart beat erratically, your ears straining for any sound that might give away your hiding place. You did not know if the danger was hunting you or passing, but every instinct screamed that you were not safe.

And then you smelled it.

Metal, blood, and something else, something familiar yet alien.

It was the scent of another Yautja. You froze.

The sound of heavy footsteps approached, slow and deliberate. You could feel it before you saw it, the shadow that fell over the entrance of the cave, the presence so large it made your chest tighten.

He stepped into view, tall, armoured, imposing, yet moving with a careful grace.

You knew him by sight, even if you had never met him, Kwei. His reputation preceded him. He is skilled, feared, and respected, but something in his eyes suggested more.

He stopped at the edge of the cave. His head tilted slightly, scanning the cave, your body, the blood you had left behind.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Somehow, even before he spoke, you felt he was not here to harm you.

“You are hurt,” he said, his voice low and measured.

Not a threat. Not a command. Just observation.

Your throat tightened, your lips trembling.

“I… speak your language,” you whispered, unsure if he would even respond.

For a heartbeat, he froze. Then his head tilted, eyes narrowing.

“You speak?”

“Yes. Please… I need help.”

He did not move closer immediately. Instead, he crouched carefully, studying you. His presence was massive, but he did not crowd you.

“Show me your wound,” he said.

Trembling, you lifted the side of your tunic. The gash along your ribs was deep and raw, the edges angry and red.

Kwei pulled a cloth from his pack. He cleaned the wound gently, muttering words in his language under his breath. His hands were precise and gentle.

Pain spiked as he worked, and you hissed softly.

He adjusted his grip, careful to avoid further injury.

“You survived this?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

You nodded, unable to speak.

“I… didn’t want to die here,” you whispered, the words breaking with the effort.

A low hum came from him, almost a sound of understanding. He reached into his pack again, this time producing a small bundle of food.

You were startled by the care in his actions. You accepted the food, and he watched as you ate, ensuring that nothing else was overlooked.

Hours passed in silence, except for the sounds of the jungle outside the cave and the occasional crackle of his movements as he made adjustments to keep you comfortable.

You dared to close your eyes for a brief rest, trusting, just a little, that he would not leave.

When night fell, Kwei did not leave. He arranged a blanket around you, carefully wrapping you in warmth where the cold stone pressed against your skin.

He sat at the entrance of the cave.

You drifted into a restless sleep, muscles aching, but for the first time in a long while, you felt the faintest flicker of safety.

Morning came with mist and the sounds of the jungle waking.

You were stronger, able to move more freely, but every step still reminded you of the pain you carried.

He examined you briefly, his eyes scanning for signs of infection or lingering injury.

“You should not stay here. A storm is coming. Come with me.”

Fear filled your chest.

This was a Yautja, after all, and despite the care he had shown, he could be dangerous.

Yet you trusted him.

You followed him through the dense forest, stumbling over roots and rocks, but he kept you from falling. The journey was long, but you felt safer than you had in days.

Finally, you arrived at his home.

The structure was formidable, built from reinforced materials and stone. Fire burned in the centre of the main hall, smoke curling upward. Even with the warmth, the cold seeped into your bones. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shivering.

“You are cold, I will make it warmer.”

Over the next few days, he moved through the home with efficiency.

Fires were adjusted, rugs and furs added, furniture arranged with care. Even small gestures, the careful placement of food, the quiet observation of your movements, spoke volumes.

Slowly, the unfamiliar space began to feel less alien, more like a shelter, a place where you could rest.

Kwei’s brother visited one evening, nodding respectfully at you.

“You are welcome here,” he said.

The words were simple, but the warmth behind them settled in your chest. For the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of belonging.

Despite the safety of Kwei’s home, fear lingered in the back of your mind. You had learned to be cautious, to mistrust, to survive in a world that had never given you a chance.

But each day, as Kwei moved about the house, bringing food, tending to your injuries, and keeping watch, that fear began to soften.

You began to feel that perhaps you were allowed to rest, allowed to heal.

There was a subtle rhythm to life in Kwei’s home.

Meals were shared in silence. His eyes watched you, but in those moments when he spoke, his voice was soft.

“You are healing,” he would say. “That is good.”

And though words were few, the actions spoke louder than any phrase could.

By the end of the first week, you were moving more freely, and the pain along your side softened to a dull ache.

When you dared to look at Kwei’s face, you saw it, a depth of understanding, a hint of something unspoken, a recognition of the bond forming between you.

Trust had taken root. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to hope.

The storm came exactly as Kwei predicted.

The sky darkened long before the first thunder rolled. The air shifted, heavy and electric, pressing against your lungs as if the world itself was holding its breath. You stood near the entrance of Kwei’s home, watching the treetops sway violently in the rising wind.

“You should not stand there,” Kwei said from behind you.

Even after days under his roof, his size and quiet movement still caught you off guard.

He stepped closer, not touching you, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“The storm will be strong,” he continued. “Come inside.”

You obeyed, though part of you remained drawn to the wildness outside. It felt familiar. Chaos had always been familiar.

Inside, the fire burned brighter than usual.

Kwei had added more fuel, stacked carefully in a way that suggested preparation. He had also added more furs to the sleeping area.

Thick ones. Softer ones.

For you.

You noticed these things.

At first, when he brought you here, the house felt cold. Not just in temperature, but in spirit. It was built for a warrior. Stone walls. Weapons displayed with precision and pride. It had not been meant for comfort.

But over the last several days, it had changed.

He had adjusted things without speaking of it. Moved sleeping furs closer to the fire. Placed water where you could reach it easily.

Small things.

“You do not have to change your home for me,” you said one evening, watching him secure another fur across the stone floor.

He did not look at you immediately.

“This is my home. If you are here, then it must suit you also.”

The words were simple, but they settled deep in your chest.

The storm broke fully that night. Rain lashed against the stone. Thunder shook the walls. The wind howled like something alive. You flinched at one particularly violent crack of lightning, instinctively curling inward.

Before you could speak, Kwei had moved.

He did not crowd you. He did not grab you. He simply moved closer.

Close enough that your shoulder brushed his arm.

The contact startled you more than the thunder had.

“You are safe,” he said.

The words were not dramatic. Not whispered with intensity. They were steady. Certain.

You realised then that you believed him.

The next days were different.

The storm forced both of you inside. Neither of you left the house. The world outside was a blur of rain and wind. Inside, there was only the crackle of fire and the rhythm of breathing.

You learned the shape of his silence.

Kwei was not a talkative male. But he watched. Always watched. Not in suspicion. In awareness.

When you struggled to lift a heavier water container, he took it without comment. When your side ached from stretching too far, he noticed the slight tightening of your jaw before you could hide it.

“You push too much,” he said one morning.

“I do not want to be weak,” you replied instinctively.

His gaze sharpened at that.

“Healing is not weakness.”

The firmness in his voice made you look at him.

“You survived. That is strength.”

No one had ever spoken to you like that before.

Not as something worthy.

When the storm passed, the clan began to move again.

You met more of them in the days that followed.

Some observed you with curiosity. Some with indifference. None with open hostility. That alone surprised you.

Kwei’s brother visited frequently. Dek was more talkative than Kwei, but there was a different warmth in his presence. He brought fresh meat one afternoon and handed it to you directly.

“For your recovery,” Dek said.

You hesitated before accepting it.

“You are under our protection. No one here will harm you.”

Protection.

The word felt fragile in your mind.

You had once been under someone’s protection before.

Or so you had been told.

"Thank you." you offered Dek a smile as he nodded and left.

---

It happened at dusk.

You were outside Kwei’s home, breathing in the cooler air, when the scream shattered the quiet.

Your name.

Loud. Violent. Furious.

Every muscle in your body locked.

You knew that voice.

You knew it the way prey knows the sound of its predator.

Nkai.

Your vision blurred. Your heartbeat roared in your ears. For a moment, you were not standing in Kwei’s clan.

You were somewhere else.

Smaller.

Younger.

Trapped.

The scream came again.

“She is mine!”

The clan responded immediately. The Warriors moved toward the outer boundary. Weapons ready.

Kwei stepped in front of you without hesitation.

“Inside,” he said quietly.

Your feet would not move.

Nkai emerged from the treeline moments later.

He looked the same.

Darker skin marked with older scars. Eyes wild. Jaw tense with barely restrained rage. His armour bore the marks of recent hunts, but his expression was not one of honour.

It was possession.

He scanned the clan, then found you.

“There you are,” he growled.

You physically recoiled.

“I followed your tracks. You thought you could run from me?”

Your hands began to shake.

Dek stepped forward.

“She is under our protection,” Dek said.

Nkai’s gaze snapped to him.

“She is my wife.”

The words felt like chains tightening around your throat.

A murmur passed through some of the clan members.

Nkai stepped closer to the boundary line.

“I claimed her when she came of age. By right, she belongs to me. Return her.”

Kwei’s body went rigid in front of you.

“You forced her,” Kwei said.

Nkai laughed, sharp and ugly.

“Force? She was given her place. That is how it works.”

“That is not how it works,” Kwei replied.

The tension between them was immediate and heavy.

Nkai’s eyes flicked back to you. “Come here.”

Your feet would not move.

“Come here,” he repeated, more dangerously.

You shook your head before you could stop yourself.

The reaction sent visible fury across his features.

Dek’s voice cut through the moment.

“You will not enter this clan territory.”

Nkai snarled.

“You would interfere in a marriage?”

Kwei stepped slightly forward.

“It is not marriage if it was taken.”

Nkai’s eyes narrowed.

“Careful. You speak boldly for someone coveting another male’s wife.”

The accusation hung in the air.

You felt heat rise to your face.

Kwei did not react.

“She is under protection. Leave.”

Nkai stared at him for several long seconds.

Then he smiled.

It was not pleasant.

“This is not finished. She is mine. I will return for what is mine.”

He looked at you one last time, a promise of control and punishment in his eyes.

Then he turned and disappeared back into the jungle.

Your knees gave out.

Kwei caught you before you hit the ground.

His grip was firm but careful.

“You are safe,” he said again.

But this time, your body did not believe it so easily as you cried in his arms.

That night, the fire felt smaller.

Dek remained in the house with you and Kwei. The atmosphere was different now. Heavier. Serious.

You sat with a bowl of food in your hands, but you had barely touched it.

Kwei noticed.

“Eat,” he said softly.

You forced yourself to swallow a bite.

Dek studied you carefully.

“Tell us,” he said. “Everything.”

The words trembled out of you at first.

"I was born on Yautja Prime. My mother was taken from Earth while pregnant. She died when I was still young. I grew up among warriors who trained me but never fully accepted me. I was useful. Never equal. I learned the language. The ways Yautja live and the weapons. But I was always reminded that I was not truly one of them."

“And how do you know the male?” Dek prompted.

You swallowed.

“Nkai chose me.”

Kwei’s jaw tightened.

“He claimed me publicly. Said it was his right.”

“Did you agree?” Dek asked.

“I was never asked.”

Silence filled the room.

“He said I would learn to accept it. That my resistance would fade. That it was an honour to be his.”

Your fingers tightened around the bowl.

“The day before I ran… he failed a hunt. He was angry, said I distracted him. I wasn't with him on the hunt. He... just blamed me for his own failure.”

You lifted your hand to your ribs unconsciously.

“That wound,” Kwei said quietly.

“He hurt me. Said if I ran again, he would break more than bones.”

The room felt very still.

“I do not want to go back, I would rather die in the jungle.”

Kwei’s eyes met yours. There was something there now. Not just empathy.

Something deeper.

“You will not return to him,” he said.

It was not a promise of comfort.

It was a statement of intent.

Dek gave a slow nod.

“He will come back.”

You knew that too.

Nkai was not the type to release what he considered his possession.

The fire crackled between you.

And for the first time since arriving here, you realised something else.

You were not shaking because of fear alone.

You were shaking because you did not want to leave.

Not this place.

Not this home.

Not Kwei.

So, that night, when Dek left, you turned to Kwei.

"He is brutal. I have seen him fight. He killed his own brother."

"Then he is not only not worthy of you as his... wife, but he is a disgrace of a Yautja."

"I'm afraid he would hurt you."

"I'm skilled."

"He fights dirty. Please... be careful."

"I will keep you safe. That is my promise to you." you were itching to hug him. As a tear left your eye, he moved closer, holding your hand in his. He lifted your hand and placed his forehead on the back of your hand.

A promise.

Sealed.

---

Nkai returned at sunrise.

There was no screaming this time.

No dramatic entrance.

The air changed before you even saw him. The clan felt it too. Warriors moved through the outer grounds, alert but composed. You stood near the entrance of Kwei’s home, your pulse already racing.

He stepped out from the treeline slowly, as if he owned the ground beneath his feet.

“I have come for my wife,” Nkai said.

The words were controlled now. Measured. But the possession in them had not changed.

Kwei stepped forward before anyone else could speak.

“You were told to leave,” he said calmly.

Nkai’s eyes flicked over him, assessing.

“You interfere in what does not concern you.”

“It concerns me,” Kwei replied.

Nkai’s lip curled slightly.

“Ah. So it is true. You want her.”

A murmur rippled faintly through a few of the clan members watching.

Kwei did not rise to it.

“You forced her. That is not marriage.”

Nkai laughed under his breath.

“You speak of tradition now? She was alone. Unclaimed. I chose her. That is enough.”

“No, it is not.”

Nkai’s gaze shifted past him to you.

“Come here,” he ordered.

But you did not move.

Your fingers tightened into fists at your sides, but your feet stayed planted.

Nkai’s expression darkened.

“She belongs to me. You cannot have her, Kwei. No matter how much you want her, she is mine.”

There it was.

The provocation.

The accusation.

The attempt to make this about desire instead of dishonour.

Kwei’s posture did not change.

“I do not fight because I want her, I fight because you took what was not given.”

Nkai’s eyes flashed.

“You think yourself righteous.”

“I think marriage requires consent.”

The word hung in the air.

Consent.

Several warriors shifted slightly at that.

Nkai’s jaw flexed.

“Careful. You challenge a bond.”

“I challenge force,” Kwei corrected.

Then Nkai stepped forward, dropping his weapons at his side in open challenge.

“If you wish to interfere, then fight me for her.”

The clan stilled completely.

Kwei removed his outer blade slowly.

“If I win, she is free to choose. If I lose, you take her.”

Nkai smirked.

“Agreed.”

Your heart slammed violently against your ribs.

This was happening. Because of you.

Kwei did not look back at you.

He stepped into the clearing.

Nkai attacked first.

Fast. Aggressive.

Their blades clashed with a metallic crack that echoed through the trees. Sparks jumped between them as metal scraped metal.

Nkai fought wild.

Powerful.

Unpredictable.

He pressed forward, attempting to overwhelm Kwei with force alone.

“You think she will choose you? You think she sees you as anything more than protection?”

Kwei blocked, pivoted, and countered.

“I think,” he said calmly as their blades locked, “that her choice matters.”

Nkai shoved hard, breaking the lock and circling.

“She is already claimed! She shared my home. She bore my mark. You cannot erase that.”

Kwei’s eyes hardened slightly.

“A mark given without permission is not honour.”

Nkai lunged low, aiming to destabilise. Kwei shifted, taking the strike along his forearm armour instead of his side. The impact rang, but he did not falter.

“You want her. Admit it.”

Kwei stepped inside Nkai’s range, forcing him backwards.

“I want justice.”

Nkai snarled and drew a secondary blade, slashing wide and vicious.

The fight intensified.

Metal rang.

Feet tore through dirt.

Shoulders collided with bone-shaking force.

Nkai tried again to provoke.

“You will never have her fully. She was mine first.”

That did it.

Not rage.

Not loss of control.

But precision.

Kwei shifted his stance.

You saw the change instantly.

He stopped reacting.

And began deciding.

Nkai swung high.

Kwei ducked beneath it, pivoted sharply, and drove his blade across Nkai’s exposed side. Blood spilt against the ground.

Nkai roared, stumbling back but not falling.

“You think that is enough?” Nkai shouted, charging again.

Kwei stepped forward instead of retreating.

Their blades collided once more.

Locked.

Close enough that their foreheads nearly touched.

“You confuse possession with bond,” Kwei said quietly.

Then he moved.

In one fluid motion, he twisted his wrist, disarmed Nkai’s primary blade, and stepped behind him.

Nkai barely had time to turn.

Kwei’s blade flashed.

Clean.

Nkai’s head separated from his body in a single, brutal arc.

Silence fell immediately.

The body dropped first.

Then the head.

The jungle seemed to hold its breath.

Kwei stood still for a moment, chest rising steadily.

He wiped the blade clean with one precise motion and turned.

To you.

The clan parted slightly as he approached.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely hear your own breathing.

He stopped a few steps away.

Removed his mask.

His eyes met yours.

“I fought for your honour,” he said, voice low but carrying across the clearing. “You are not bound by force anymore.”

He stepped closer.

“You may live free. No claim. No bond. Or you may choose me.”

Your throat tightened.

He did not reach for you.

Did not assume.

“You owe me nothing, but he was right about one thing. I do wish to have you.” he finished.

The entire clan was watching.

But in that moment, it felt like only the two of you existed.

You stepped toward him slowly.

"The only way I can truly live free is by being your wife. Because with you… I am chosen. Not taken. I cannot imagine a life without you, Kwei.” you admitted.

Silence.

Then he reached out.

You placed your hand in his.

“I choose you,” you said.

“Then I accept,” he replied.

---

The ceremony was held at dusk.

Public.

Honorable.

The clan gathered in a circle around the central fire. The flames rose high, casting golden light against stone and armour.

Dek stood at the head of the circle, as leader.

“You stand here by choice?” he asked you directly.

“Yes,” you answered clearly.

“You stand here without coercion?”

“Yes.”

Dek turned to Kwei.

“You accept her as equal?”

“I do,” Kwei said firmly.

“Not as possession.”

“Not as possession.”

“Not as lesser.”

“Not as lesser.”

The words carried weight.

Kwei stepped closer to you.

From his belt, he removed a small blade. Not for violence.

For ritual.

He cut his palm lightly.

Then offered you the blade.

You understood.

You did the same.

When your palms met, blood mixed between you.

Equal.

Shared.

“You are my wife,” Kwei said, his voice steady but full. “Not because I won you. But because you chose me.”

Your chest tightened.

“You are my husband,” you replied. “Not because you fought. But because you respected me.”

A low sound of approval passed through the clan.

Kwei lifted your joined hands slightly toward the fire.

“From this day,” he said, eyes locked with yours, “you are my equal. My partner. My home.”

Tears blurred your vision.

For the first time in your life, you did not feel like an object to possess.

You felt chosen.

Dek stepped forward.

“The bond is recognised.”

The clan responded with a unified sound of cheer.

Kwei lowered your hands but did not release them.

The fire crackled.

The storm that once shook this place was gone.

In its place was warmth.

Belonging.

Safety.

Later, when the clan dispersed and the night got deep, Kwei walked you back into his home.

But it did not feel like his home anymore.

It felt like yours.

He paused near the fire, looking down at you.

“You are sure?” he asked quietly, one final time.

You smiled softly.

“I have never been more certain.”

His hand rose gently to your face.

“You will never be forced again,” he said.

And you believed him. He pulled you closer, placing his forehead against yours.

You were no longer running.

You were no longer hiding.

You were chosen.

And you chose him.

A/N: I know that in the movie Dek and Kwei's clan doesn't live by a jungle forest, but I thought it would fit this story better. I hope you could still enjoy the story!

~Masterlist~