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wheneclipsefalls · 7 months

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Ma Neteyam pt.14

Do me a favor y'all and let you me know what you think of this chapter. For some reason I really struggled to feel satisfied with it, constantly obsessing over whether or not it turned out ok. I could really use some feeback right now. Love you! <3

Part 13 I Masterlist I AO3

Pairing: Omega Neteyam (20 yrs old) x Alpha Male OC

Synopsis: The days following Neteyam's heat don't go as planned.

Warnings: aged up characters, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of smut MDNI, male x male, omegaverse, power imbalance, omega/alpha dynamics, gore, blood, injury, trauma, anxiety, etc.

The next few days were a jumbled mess, hardly conceivable for Kxolo who at least had half a mind left in the midst of heightened lust. He was drawn between sleeping, fucking, and small moments where he had enough sense to care for his omega. The days blurred together.

The sweet essence of his mate was quick to intoxicate him into a one track mind focus. The experience reminded him of the days he spent as a youth drinking the strong liquor with his friends for the first time and waking up in the morning with a spotty memory. This, however, left him bone-tired yet still yearning for more.

Neteyam was implacable, waking up every couple of hours with wandering hands and whining pleas. Naturally he was more than happy to help his needy little mate, but by day three he was starting to feel the physical toll it had on his body. The two would collapse upon the disastrous jumble of fabric that used to be a nest and Kxolo waned in the afterburn of overworked muscles.

Regardless, a word of complaint never left the alpha’s lips. One look at the sleeping boy curled up against his side and the Olo’eyktan knew his exhaustion was nothing in the light of his poor omega’s fatigue. Kxolo vowed to endlessly tire himself out pleasing his omega if it meant keeping Neteyam curled by his side forever. He, however, did worry for Neteyam as the days flew by. It took considerable persuasion to get any sort of food and water in the stubborn omega’s system. Some days required a creative bargain to placate him, promises of filling his tight hole in exchange for finishing the water and fruit prepared for him.

When those bargains still resulted in a pouting omega that constantly tried to get a hand under Kxolo’s loincloth, the Olo’eyktan would change his deal to a well spanked ass as reward for not taking all of the food like a good boy. One way or another, Neteyam always ended up begrudgingly eating his food as fast as possible.

Truth be told, Kxolo was oftentimes surprised that he was able to put a stern foot down in these situations. He had never experienced such an insatiable lust in his life before. Even his periodic ruts gave him desires that seemed easier to quench. Naturally he figured it would do with their destined bond, making him wonder what would happen the next time his own rut would come around. He knew if it was the same level of temptation to put health and wellness aside in favor of sexual gratification, he was in for a long ride.

The one time they were able to bathe had required Kxolo sneaking Neteyam out to the lake while the omega was fast asleep. It was only when the first rush of water brushed Neteyam’s skin that he awoke with a spew of whines. The entire experience was almost laughable as the omega alternated between pouting angrily and trying to kiss along the Olo’eyktan’s body. He had to admit, there were times that the boy’s bratty attitude was endearing. The excursion, however, did not end as anticipated, the smaller male somehow managing to trip Kxolo and straddle his lap.

“You really like to push your luck, Ma Neteyam.” Kxolo ground out, but it was more of an amused chuckle than a warning. Neteyam didn’t miss a beat, reaching down to stroke his mate’s twitching member.

“You said this belongs to me, no?” Neteyam’s voice came out surprisingly stronger than Kxolo expected after all of the screaming the boy had been producing.

“I did say that.”

“Then let me have it.” Neteyam insisted, already lining the head up to his entrance.

For the first time, Kxolo was momentarily rendered speechless. Concerns for hygiene evaporated as he couldn’t resist watching Neteyam ride him, large hands guiding the boy through it, slowly teaching him the best way to take him. That spit fire attitude along with the tight velvet walls of Neteyam’s hole had him throbbing and ready to burst in record time.

Kxolo couldn’t help himself from constantly checking the treeline for passerbys. The floral scent wafting from his mate had him on high alert for other individuals creeping in through the entirety of Neteyam’s presentation. Fucking up into him at the edge of the lake, Kxolo worried that an unlucky stumbling male wouldn’t just get a few hisses but rather the full wrath of a possessive alpha on edge. It’s hard to say whether or not his small omega would be able to save a stranger from such a situation.

They left the lake almost as dirty as they came, but Kxolo couldn’t find it in himself to care. The omega would be lucky to make it home before finding his hole dripping with a new round of cum.

Kxolo’s most complexing and yet entertaining discovery was the use of Neteyam’s second language. It came in the heat of the moment, Kxolo’s lips wrapped around his small cock as the boy cried and whined, his small wrists caught in one of the Olo’eyktan’s hands to keep him from reaching for tsaheylu. At first, he had beamed around the shaft, satisfied that his omega was already babbling literal gibberish. However, when a particular word had rained from the boy’s lips over and over, the older male’s ears twitched to try and make sense of the sound.

The frequency increased until half the words Neteyam would scream during heightened cries spread into wider vowels; it was impossible for it to be Na’vi. He often forgot there was another dialectic swimming in the omega’s brain. The alpha wondered if it ever felt strange to speak exclusively Na’vi within this clan.

Kxolo tried to find the meaning of these passing words, but Neteyam was either too far gone or too stubborn to give any translations. He promised himself to get it out of the boy someday, perhaps some edging would make him more agreeable. The alpha tucked away the idea for later. His main concerns for the week were satiating Neteyam and keeping the boy from forming tsaheylu while he slept.

It was borderline impressive how persistent and clever Neteyam had been in trying to form their bond. If there was one thing Kxolo had learned about the omega it was that Neteyam had a knack for finding an angle and exploiting it to get the desired results. Or at least, he never stopped trying. After the third time of waking up to Neteyam messing with his Kuru, seconds away from creating a bond, Kxolo had decided it was time to take precautionary measures.

The Olo’eyktan’s hand ached from the countless hours of sleep where he held the boy’s small wrists together tightly. He had been tempted to use a smooth rope but the moment the soft twine was revealed Neteyam was blabbering promises of being good. All it took was a few tears from those shining eyes for Kxolo to decide he could handle holding his wrists for a few more days.

On the fifth morning Kxolo awoke on his own volition and not to the feel of small hands struggling to get out. Wrist still clamped in the Olo’eyktan’s grip, Neteyam was sprawled out beside him, body twisted in a fashion that made the alpha cringe. It was a wonder how the boy managed to contort himself into the strangest positions during his slumber. Hesitantly, he let the boy’s wrists go. They dropped like dead weight.

Neteyam looked dead to the world, tailed curled around his own thigh as soft breaths blew from his pouty lips. Kxolo was content to watch the boy for a while longer, trying to analyze whether or not his presentation had fully passed. There was a new tang to the boy’s essence, but it was misted over by his own overwhelming scent mixed in. A proud smile curled at the edges of his lips.

As it should be Kxolo mentally affirmed.

He traced one fingertip gently along the boy’s vertebrae. Neteyam’s tail lashed out, tickling at the alpha’s nose. Tickling touches laced the omega’s back and sides, slowly coercing him to awaken from slumber. Kxolo was patient, murmuring his name softly, watching the boy’s ears twitch as the only form of acknowledgment. It was a stark contrast to the marathon of pounding him into oblivion. There was still a tinge of desire lacing his lower stomach, but the Olo’eyktan held it at bay.

Beneath the overwhelming perfume of their mixed scents, Kxolo could just barely make out the essence of calm washing over the omega. He was content. Exhausted, but content.

“Ma Neteyam.” He whispered, breath catching the wispy hair at the base of Neteyam’s neck. His tail swatted against the ground, giving away his feigned sleeping. “We can’t stay here forever, my love.”

“Why not?” Neteyam spoke, lips barely parting to create anything close to tangible words.

Kxolo grinned, finally pulling the omega backwards to spoon him from behind. His own tail naturally twisted around the omega’s ankle, tracing soft patterns on the skin there. It was a tempting fantasy, staying here while the rest of Pandora continued on to figure out its own problems.

“I suppose I could keep you here. Keep my precious little omega locked away in my hut, ready and willing to take me whenever I desire.” Neteyam’s huffed laugh coalesced with the alpha’s playful growl, sharp teeth nipping at the back of his neck.

“And let you go out and have all the fun? What if you are my prisoner for a change?”

Kxolo’s eyes twinkled with delight. Instinctively, his arms tightened around the male’s middle.

“Seems only fair at this point.” Neteyam insisted. Their legs tangled together lazily, the remnants of cum sticky along their skin. Face pressed against the nape of his neck, Kxolo’s nostrils flared as he breathed in his scent as if it was the only breathable oxygen left on Pandora.

He turned the omega to face him before surrendering his own wrists to the boy.

“Then take me now, omega.” Kxolo was certain there was nothing more beautiful than the wide toothy grin that Neteyam sent him in return. Small giggles threatened to escape the younger male’s throat, but he kept it at bay. The wrists were snatched by smaller hands that struggled to cinch around them completely. Neteyam playfully yanked on them, causing a deep chuckle to rumble from the alpha.

“You may find, however, that I don’t cause as much trouble as you, little one.” Kxolo’s smirk never dropped even as he lifted his arms to protect himself from Neteyam’s weak hits. Laughter bubbled between the two, legs intertwining and wrestling for the upperhand.

Despite his aching muscles, the Olo’eyktan’s strength still greatly outmatched that of his bone tired omega. He caught the small boy’s wrists, pinning them against the floor before straddling that slim waist and crashing his lips down feverishly on Neteyam’s.

All remnants of struggle melted into preening arched movements from Neteyam. Their tongues danced in perfect rhythm as the alpha kissed the daylights out of him. Kxolo bit at the bottom lip when he could smell the familiar scent of slick leaking down his omega’s leg. When they finally broke apart, Neteyam’s eyes were dilated and breath heavy.

“Alpha-”

“You need to heal, Neteyam. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Neteyam huffed in protest but apparently was too tired to fight back. It only took a few steps on shaky legs for Neteyam to almost fall out of the tree, therefore landing himself in Kxolo’s arms for the rest of the trek to the lake. Although his inner alpha slightly whined at having to wash away the visual claim, Kxolo meticulously scrubbed at the boy’s skin till all remnants of white were gone. Luckily, he was satisfied to find that their mixed perfume had remained evermore obvious.

The simple act of putting on clothes again felt foreign after days of primarily nudity. The weight of his carefully carved knife sheathed in its holster held a more present weight than he could recall. The bright side was that with some proper persuasion, the Olo’eyktan managed to convince Neteyam to adorn some traditional color of his clan. The sight made him swell in pride, grin only widening even more when the boy wordlessly added the waist beads.

“She is expected to return soon. Surely that will take some of the edge off.” Leynyey assured the young Na’vi girl. Vamai already knew first hand that Pulo was a tough trainer. She could easily imagine him running the poor girl through the reps endlessly, especially with the absence of his own mate on a foraging trip. Vamai herself was growing tired of Pulo’s constant presence.

Usually Neteyam’s petty dislike of Pulo was enough to grant Vamai and the Sully boy some proper alone time. However, it had been days since word of Neteyam’s presentation had surfaced and without Neteyam or Epok’s company, the task of keeping the other alpha entertained had somehow fallen to her. To say Vamai was growing restless would be an understatement.

Leynyey continued to carefully weave feathers into the younger Na’vi female’s hair as Vamai absent mindedly prepared the poison arrows carefully. Vamai had always felt a bit outside of the inner circle, especially when it came to her own gender, but listening to their endless chatter was a welcomed distraction from worrying about Neteyam. Five days was not a ridiculous or unusual amount of time for presentations to last. Some newly presented omegas were cooped up in their huts for an entire week. Vamai herself regretted the length of her own.

Cold but hot. Burning and empty. Shivering across the soft surface of a secluded hut, one that was not meant for her. It was meant for them. Dark webs of these memories cloud her mental presence without permission.

She shook her head, mentally flinging all residue of that dark time from her brain. Dwelling on the past would get her nowhere. She had learned. She had evolved. Nothing beyond that was important.

To her dismay, however, Vamai had found that her inner omega took comfort in shifting her thoughts towards the other Sully son. The same male that had given her the best orgasm of her life on a whim. The same who wouldn’t stop trying to contact her through the weird necklace. Although Neteyam's absence was the perfect time to adorn the piece without a hint of suspicion, she had held off. It was kept safely tucked away in her baskets, hoping to muddle any unexpected sounds while her parents were home. She hadn’t blatantly been ignoring the male, but the omega oftentimes let his calls drift off until he had given up.

On her weaker nights, she had answered. Only with short words and snide comments, but enough to keep Lo’ak chatting away. It was difficult to say whether he was making up for her own short answers or if he was simply that talkative. He spoke of his family and duties mostly. He had learned within the first day that any mention of what happened at the waterfall would result in immediate disconnection. Memories of that day still added to the regular program of Lo’ak lacing her dreams, but explicitly talking about it would be too much.

Occasionally he would ask about Neteyam, wondering how he was holding up. A tinge of panic would race through her heart at the mere mention of the omega. She didn’t require a specific request from the Olo’eyktan to know that sharing the news of Neteyam’s presentation with his family would not be appreciated. Luckily, her clipped and vague response was nothing out of the ordinary for these conversations.

Part of her expected him to give up, finding these interactions unsatisfactory. Still, he continued to persevere. Vamai lamented that her nature sent a wave of relief when his smirky voice echoed through her room every night. She fought the urge to answer immediately. A few nights she was stubborn enough to not answer at all, but those bursts of strengthened resolve were fleeting. Inevitably, her hand would on its own accord reach into the basket and grab the strange sky people tech with practiced familiarity.

“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to see Olo’eyktan till the end of the week.”

Vamai’s head snapped up, focus finally coming back to the present moment. Sure enough, off in the distance Neteyam could be spotted shyly walking next to their Olo’eyktan. Relief flooded her system, legs carrying her towards the other omega without conscious thought. Every other clan member was ignored and dodged as she bounded towards her best friend.

Neteyam nearly toppled over when Vamai sprung at him, jumping up to reach her arms around the taller omega. Thankfully, Kxolo was there stabilizing his mate within a second. She veered back slightly, but only to ensure that the boy’s already shaking legs wouldn’t collapse beneath him.

“Oh my Eywa! Never leave me with these skxawngs again!” Her grip was merciless, causing Kxolo to shift slightly closer, but Neteyam only laughed at her antics. Still, Vamai could feel the heavy gaze of an anxious alpha holding back the urge to sweep his mate away again. She squeezed him that much tighter, until the distinct smell of Kxolo bombarded her senses.

She pulled back and scrunched her nose.

“Don’t you think you overdid it a little?” Vamai sneered at her Olo’eyktan. While Neteyam’s ears twitched and cheeks tinted pink, Kxolo only grinned down at the small female proudly with crossed arms. “I mean my Eywa, putting a baby inside of him would’ve been a lesser effect.”

“Ok that’s enough.” Neteyam groaned, fighting the urge to cover his reddening complexion.

“Well I thought you would want to spend some time with my mate, but I’d be happy to take him off your hands if it bothers you so much.” Kxolo was already snaking both arms around the boy’s waist and pulling him back into his hard chest. He glowed with the arrogance and pride of a mated alpha. Vamai supposed she couldn’t expect anything less from an alpha still experiencing the lingering effects of omega presentation. She shot forward, snatching Neteyam away roughly. There was no telling how long Kxolo would keep him if given the chance and Vamai was not interested in finding out.

“Don’t be so selfish.” Her bared teeth glimmered in the sunlight. Although reluctant, Kxolo’s grip loosened before finally parting from his mate. A few words of salutations were whispered affectionately followed by a prolonged kiss, that was sure to have more tongue than necessary, before the Olo’eyktan strode off to join the hunting party.

Vamai wasted no time in corralling the other omega away from the clan members. They naturally fell into stride along the familiar path that led towards the small river. Teasing comments easily left her lips, amused by the faint glow of embarrassment that Neteyam’s face still held. It was endearing and amusing to see how shy the boy insisted on being.

However, when the conversation steered away from his presentation and the explicit acts that he and the Olo’eyktan had performed, Neteyam was surprised to find that Vamai didn’t immediately reel it back. She indulged his curiosity about the last few days, complaining about Pulo’s annoying badgering mixed with the boring conversations held by the other clan women. As always, Vamai spoke with a vibrancy and energy that left Neteyam exhausted, but he could sense a missing passion in each of her short stories.

They lounged along the river, this time Neteyam joined her in sprawling out over the shallow waters rushing along the colorful rocks. Gentle breezes and trickling water down her back sweetly cooled Vamai’s skin. They lay there for a while, staring up at the canopy of trees creating intricate shadows over the landscape. It was comfortable, even relaxing. However, Vamai could not stop herself from peeking over at the boy from the corner of her eyes periodically.

Neteyam preened under the golden sunlight with closed eyes and an evenly rising and falling chest that made her question whether or not he was asleep. Possessive marks and bites littered his skin. That was expected, but her reaction wasn’t.

Vamai’s chest tightened as her golden eyes danced over the marks left in a seemingly intimate fashion. Although her first habit was to imagine these marks as possessive branding left in an aggressive heat driven fashion, her mind couldn’t help but conjure sweet images of kind words whispered between those visual reminders of mating. And with Neteyam breathing in the sunlight with the satisfaction and peace of an omega who desired nothing more in the world, it was impossible to spin it any other way.

“What are you looking for?” His eyes didn’t open, but she averted her own.

“Nothing.”

He finally peeked through narrowed slits, studying his friend with a diligence that made her look away. Vamai clumsily grappled for a handful of colorful rocks in the rivers and began to roll them absent mindedly against her palm.

“We didn’t bond.”

She could hear the swish of water, indicating Neteyam sitting up and scooting closer.

“That’s good, right? Isn’t that what you were worried about?”

“Yeah…it’s good.”

The awkward tension filling the space flipped her stomach into constant summersaults. The rocks dug into the soft flesh of her palms. Electricity buzzed at her nerves, a constant temptation to run off into the treeline. She prayed to Eywa that Neteyam could not sense her sudden apprehension. However, those sparks singed her from the inside until it felt that the only release would be to spit out the words lodged in her throat.

“You are ok, though, right?” Vamai’ neck strained at the sudden snap turn. Neteyam blinked back at her, bewildered. “You can tell me honestly.”

Neteyam stilled under her focused attention, eyes darting cautiously along her expression.

“I actually feel a lot better.”

“Than during your presentation, yeah of course-”

“No, better than before it.”

Vamai’s tail curled in the air, ears twitching anxiously. Neteyam shifted slightly and rubbed at the back of his neck with a sigh but to her surprise, he didn’t back down from the statement.

“It’s hard to explain but…” Vamai jerked slightly when a sudden burst of energy had Neteyam shuffling to his knees and facing her properly. “Before it just felt like that voice at the back of my head was a constant annoyance, like some force of nature that worked against my own free will. It’s disorienting and confusing and always bashing in my skull, or at least it was.”

She knew that feeling all too well. Omega instincts were nothing to underestimate, something she had come to accept.

“And now, it’s less restless. Like it’s been satiated. I can understand the origin of thoughts and desires but they are easier to pick through, easier to comprehend. I suppose that’s what fully presenting is, getting rid of the fight between yourself and your nature. You know what I mean?” He nudged her softly with an eased smile.

Vamai’s own lips felt physically pained to send him one in return.

“Yeah, right.”

Her thoughts turned clumsily with an unleashed vitality. Cold chills raced along her vertebrae as she watched him beam. She wondered if it was wrong to agree with him, to let him think that these feelings were simply effects of omega presentation. It was slightly unnerving to watch him speak of the event with such fondness and relief. Surely, the sexual pleasure and release was not to be underestimated but it was the way he rambled on about alignment with his nature that left a heavy weight on her chest.

The longer he babbled happily about it, the heavier it became. The tangible strain of smiling and nodding along increased tenfold. His words tangled with her own racing thoughts that constantly worked to decipher the situation. They bounced against the inner walls of her skull until it was throbbing, until it felt as if it was on the brink of shattering.

“Vamai.” Reality snapped back into place. “I’m boring you.” Neteyam half heartedly huffed a laugh, but there was no mistaking the concern swimming along his features.

“Of course not.” It didn’t ring true in her own ears and judging by Neteyam’s grimace, there was little hope that he believed her either. Her fingers twisted through the colorful frayed strings of her loincloth, expelling the smallest amount of the zapping electricity. The gaze of sunlight upon her azure skin suddenly felt penetrating, eating away at her until a bead of sweat trickled from her forehead down the slope of her soft cheek. So much for subtly.

“I know that your presentation was different.”

Different.

Curled up alone in a miserable ball of grief and pain, tortured by her own nature. Cursing the name of Eywa for five days, while searching for relief from the aching fire that consumed everything in its wake. The cold slab of the cave floor a hollow and empty contrast to the embrace that she had grown accustomed to. The arms that were meant to be holding her dearly, soothing away every morsel of pain and desire.

Different is one way to describe it.

If only he knew.

“Maybe I should be a little more sensitive-”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nete.” She sprung to her feet, focusing on shaking the remains of water away from her thighs instead of the threatening wall of tears behind glazed eyes. “I’m not a baby. I can handle getting the inside scoop. In fact, I encourage it.”

As if caught in a steel trap, her eyes were forced to calmly peer down at the boy. His own tail was around his hip. She couldn’t tell if it was a sign of apprehension or rather pity, but either option caused her stomach to flip.

“I know…It’s just you don’t really talk about it that much.”

She knew this story. Knew how it was going to play out. The looks of sympathy, the casually thrown promises of better days. All just shields to the uncomfortable pity that other Na’vi don’t know what to do with. Simply masks that were worn to show support and comfort, while secretly thanking the Great Mother that their misfortune was not as drastic. If only they knew how transparent their feelings truly were.

Followed by the initial cheer of relief, each familiar face had been painted with those masks upon the morning of her return. Family and friends had constantly reached out, eager to put a hand of consolation on her shoulder or share personal remedies and advice. Kxolo himself had visited almost every day after the occurrence, feverishly promising assistance, or revenge depending on his mood.

Time had passed. The well-meaning, yet nagging, soothing had slowed until finally ceasing. Still, those looks continued. Her story lived on in the whispered conversations racketing along the clan in her absence, voices dripped in a somber tone.

Neteyam was immune to this, blissfully unaware and therefore holding the capacity to treat her like every other Na’vi.

Her best friend for a reason.

Vamai’s saving grace came in the form of a panting beta, rushing through the greenery with dilated pupils and a heavy chest. Dread fell over the pair. His presence penetrated the atmosphere brashly, swarming Vamai’s initial feelings of relief into a bundle of anxiety at his appearance. She recognized him as Lanil, one of the newer betas joining the hunting party after finally passing his Iknimaya.

Twin tails perked in alert, watching the male with emploring eyes.

“The hunting party returned but Olo’eyktan-”

Neteyam was gone, racing through the trees with frantic urgency before the male could finish.

The healer’s tent was bursting at the seams with Na’vi. The crowd suffocated the outer walls, only shooed away by the young healers in training. A tunnel was forced through the crowd only to allow healers rushing in and out of the hut, carrying baskets of plants and ointments. It was the blood staining their hands, however, that had bile threatening to crawl up Neteyam’s throat.

The omega didn’t have to push through the crowd, to his horror they parted for him till he had breached the entrance. Out of respect as Olo’eyktan’s mate or out of sympathy, he couldn’t tell. Although he had rushed to the tent with a speed that had his joints aching, peeking through the gap in the tent, Neteyam found his feet planted to the muddy soil.

The sliver of sunlight illuminating the musky tent only revealed a peak of blue skin, nothing to indicate his mate’s wellbeing. Kxolo’s natural essence was woven too tightly with those of strangers and gushing blood. Who’s blood though? It was a smell that Neteyam had grown well accustomed to. However, back home it was commonly tinged with the perfume of gunpowder and a metallic undertone. It had always twisted his stomach into knots, urging him to check for injuries among his father and mother. Now, however, it rendered him stagnant.

He swore that Eywa herself had strung an entanglement of roots and vines as a binding for his feet to the forest floor.

“Neteyam, you can come in.” Tsahik poked her head through the sliver of an opening coaxing him inside with a rushed wave of her palm. He followed reluctantly, but she was across the length of the hut too fast for him to keep up.

Thick permeated air of smoke and herbal clouds weighed heavy in his lungs. Nai’vi warriors were sprawled across the expanse of the hut. Groans of pain emitted from younger warriors as wounds were patched and sewn while the elder stubbornly suffered in silence. Shriveled into himself, Neteyam trudged along, carefully directed himself around the thrashing tails and rushing healers.

The scream that broke loose was toe curling. It cut through the atmosphere with a merciless slice, causing a squeak to fall from his lips as the omega shuffled and tripped on his own feet.

It was then that familiar hands caught him from behind, slowly lowering him to sit.

A small sound echoed in his throat at the sight of his mate very much alive and not the male screaming beyond the curtain. With a quivered lip and the inability to form words that made sense in the situation, Neteyam geared his energy towards looking over the alpha for serious injuries. Patches of purple and dark blue littered his skin, broken up by small cuts, but they were minor. The only serious injury was the deep wound under his back shoulder blade that a small Na’vi girl worked on patching diligently.

“You’re ok.”

Kxolo simply grunted in response, eyes barely flashing to meet Neteyam’s for a moment. He sat motionless, still as the stone that Neteyam and his siblings used to jump off of and into the river. Although the girl rubbed a generous amount of ointment along the open wound, he never flinched.

“Who let you in here?” The gruff rumble of his voice cut brashly. The deep ember of calming affection had dissipated from his irises, leaving only a vacant stare in its place. Kxolo was already moving to shuffle the omega out of the tent, protests erupting from his healer. “I’m fine. Go home, Neteyam.”

“B-but-”

A shrilling scream whipped at the wind once more, cascading a shiver down Neteyam’s spine. Kxolo didn’t flinch, showed no visual signs of recognition but every muscle tensed and locked into place, the veins of his hands protruding from his tightening grip. A small beta sprinted from behind the curtain, blood scattered along her forearms and hands that held an empty basket firmly. Eyes followed her form till it had been swallowed by the tent’s closing flap.

“Olo’eyktan…I’m finished.” The small beta behind him quietly spoke, eyes meeting with Neteyam’s for a moment. He searched her expression for answers, foolishly hoping to find an account of today’s events and how it had led to such bloodshed. An explanation as to where the kind glow in his mate’s eyes had gone.

“Go home.” Kxolo’s voice came out as a distant whisper this time, body curling forward towards the mysterious curtain that hid a gory scene. Just watching his looming frame edge closer to the fabric made Neteyam’s knees shake. Images of wounds and shrapnel embedded in skin invaded his mind. Unwanted visuals that haunted Neteyam’s mind as memories, ones never meant to have been obtained.

Kxolo on the other hand took long strides laced with firm determination across the space. Although his head was not held as high as usual, the Olo’eyktan never looked down. Dark orbs staring straight ahead, ready to face whatever horrors awaited him behind that thin wall of protection.

A sudden burning to follow emerged. Neteyam wanted to warn him, to reel him back from scenes that can never be unseen. Memories that linger like smoke in the air, deeply seated in your lungs until there is no more room for fresh air. Having Toruk Makto, the mighty warrior and defeater of Sky People, for a father is a matter of fate. It can’t be escaped because it was strung into his destiny before Neteyam’s first breath. Eywa choses where we weave into the fabric of other’s lives. Neteyam couldn’t avoid seeing these griefs, but he could protect Kxolo.

The wailing grew intensely, the weight of heavy dread in the air sinking down onto everyone within earshot.

Neteyam’s hand just barely reached to circle around one of Kxolo’s wrists gently before his broad frame split the soft fabric. Less than two steps, however, and Neteyam realized he wouldn’t have to tug the male back after all.

“You are not needed here.” Tsahik braced an arm across his chest, backing him up until fully out of the secluded space. Kxolo planted his feet, but didn’t dare push back in resistance. Curious gazes fell upon the throuple.

“He is my student, I’m helping.”

“And now he lies among my wounded, under my care. You will only get in the way. Go home and rest.”

“Rest.” Kxolo scoffed, nose scrunching up to reveal the tips of his canines. Tsahik was neither bothered nor dettered by the attitude. The undivided attention from those around made Neteyam squirm and tighten his hold on the alpha’s wrist, but he didn’t allow himself to snuggle close for comfort as he desired. Not when he was caught in the midst of a showdown between the clan’s Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. Unspoken murmurs morphed into a frozen tension locking everyone in place, the only sound continuing being that of the injured Na’vi behind the curtain.

Were it not for his concern for Kxolo, Neteyam would’ve shrunk away, convinced that this was business between the clan’s leaders and not for him. He had been shooed out of enough conversations between his grandmother and father to know his place by now.

“Neteyam, take him home please.”

All eyes landed on him. He went to protest, to explain that this was not his place to speak out, but that sentiment didn’t seem to hold true anymore. He did have a role to play in this scene now. He was the Olo’eyktan’s mate, or at least in the eyes of the people he was. Tsahik’s pointed eyes softened upon falling on Neteyam. The slightest jerk of her head and whip of her tail finally gave the omega the encouragement needed to start tugging again.

Another mewl rang through the air.

“Get some rest.” She soothed, placing a hand on the alpha’s shoulder. The muscles of his back tightened visibly. “I will keep you updated on any progress.”

“Kxolo.” He pleaded.

Void of any reaction, the Olo’eyktan’s feet finally began to trudge backwards. Tsahik didn’t wait around to see her orders followed, slipping back past the curtain. The crowd parted for them outside the tent, some curious gazes looking for signs of serious injuries on their Olo’eyktan. Neteyam dared to peek back at the male only to find a stoic expression sunk into place. Eyes dead straight forward, Kxolo maintained a steady pace behind him.

Halfway home Neteyam finally realized that he was holding dead weight in his grip, an unnecessary urging to get his mate home, but he dared not drop it. His smaller fingers held tighter, cherishing their one point of contact. His hindbrain weeped and begged him to snuggle close, to encircle the male in his arms till that shine and affectionate smile would return. Still, all he could bring himself to focus on was making it back to their hut. Back to the place where answers could be received.

That is, if he wanted them.

If he wanted to know what had happened on such a short hunt to reduce his alpha into a shell of what he was that morning. The rays of a proud beaming alpha had dissipated into darkness. Netyam felt his own giddy feelings wash away with every glance he sent back at the stoic man.

Kxolo remained silent as he sat on the woven floor of their home. Although his back was straight as a rod, showing forth the confidence and surety of a true leader, Neteyam couldn’t help but see an invisible deflation. Only the slow occasional blinks over those sunken eyes showed Kxolo was awake.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

No explanation, no words or traces of comfort.

Neteyam sunk down onto his knees behind him, hands hesitantly placing themselves along those broad shoulders. Blood seeped through the thick bandage upon his left shoulder blade. Neteyam’s fingertips barely grazed the leathery texture of the leaf bandage. Pushing away the tangled braids, the omega fitted his face against the nape of his neck, breathing in the familiar scent.

It was tainted with riddle emotions. Dark edges clouding over the affectionate acceptance of his touch. Neteyam’s nose crinkled before softly resting his chin upon Kxolo’s shoulder. His expression remained stoic.

“What happened?”

No matter how long the silence stretched, Neteyam forced himself to sit into it. His fingers twitched along the smooth skin of his mate’s upper biceps, but he waited patiently for an answer. Solutions were hard to come by without knowing the problem. However, watching the grimace slink across the Olo’eyktan’s face, he had a fair idea of what emotion plagued him.

“A miscalculation.”

His tail lay lifeless across the woven floor. Neteyam’s own followed suit subconsciously. Somehow he managed to piece together an attitude of patience even as questions bombarded and swirled around his every thought. That frazzled energy was concentrated and expressed through simple touches along Kxolo’s shoulders and back. So fragile and light it could’ve been mistaken as a ghostly breeze. He didn’t know if it made any difference for his mate of stone as he drew idle circles along the warm skin, but it made his own heart beat slow down into a peaceful rhythm.

These actions felt familiar, almost practiced, although more times than not it was his alpha creating imaginary drawings along his form instead of the other way around. Nevertheless, his hindbrain purred and settled with every stroke, relaxing into the heat of his skin.

“The angtsik were meant to be at the drinking hole this time of day. The stampede was there and gone within an instant. Got most of the others relatively out of the way. Sian was less lucky.” He spoke as if in a trance, a flash of memory skating along his eyes. Still, he never turned; never let his rigid posture loosen.

Unfortunately it was a countenance that Neteyam not only recognized but knew first hand from himself. The weight of responsibility constantly pressed against his chest. Outcomes and solutions would never erase the horror of knowing that the origin of problems lied with you. That you could’ve stopped a misfortune but now the opportunity was lost.

“It’s not your fault.” Words that had been repeated to him over and over by his sister and grandmother, yet they could never hold the power necessary.

There were no magic phrases or string of poetic lines that could seep into one’s being until it had finally been accepted as truth. Loved ones had tried, reaching out for heart to heart conversations while he sat along the small river; his hideout. He knew then that nothing could be said to erase the blackened mark on his record with every mistake. Some days words of comfort brought forth a tinge of annoyance, as if no one could understand that the damage had been done. Every mistake saddled him with weighted guilt and reminders of his shortcomings.

Now, sitting here on the other side of the glass, Neteyam could finally understand the helplessness that must’ve racked his own family. They were the wrong words, but what more could he say?

“I’m Olo’eyktan. That hunting party was under my care. The People are under my care. My responsibility. My duty.” The tuff of Kxolo’s tail shortly whipped against the floor with a soft puff. The usually perked and attentive ears had nestled back against his skull, hidden partly by his dark hair.

Hair that had lost its shine and neat appearance, decorated braids had wrapped and tangled together into clustered knots. Some had nestled far out of place to the point where Neteyam’s eyes strained to find their origin at the male’s scalp. He wondered what sort of maneuver his mate had performed to put them in such a state. Images of scrambling Na’vi being pulled from the floor by the Olo’eyktan’s strong arms, seconds away from being crushed by the leather skin covered heavy feet flashed to the front of his mind’s eye. Another shot of panic bolted through him at the new onslaught of disturbing images. Although already knowing his state of injury, Neteyam couldn’t help but flash desperate glances along the male’s form in search of further overlooked ailments.

Hysteria was quickly squeezing his lungs together in a tight grip. His calming touches had stopped and Neteyam struggled to get a grip on himself. Now was not the time to panic. His mate was looking forward with a countenance of haunted death and he had not a single word of solace to pull him back. The omega needed an outlet, something that would feel like helping no matter how small the impact.

“Your hair is tangled.” Neteyam whispered in a jumble. He spotted the slightest of nods from the alpha. Another steadying breath filled his lungs, urging his body back into control. The racing of heated blood began to lose speed. “Let me fix it.”

However, it came out as a declaration rather than a seeking of approval. Neteyam crawled along the disastrous mess of their hut and dug through various baskets that had been toppled over in the heat of lust. Eventually he gathered the necessary tools; moisturizing hair oil and a bone toothed comb.

Settling himself back behind Kxolo’s towering frame, Neteyam took the first braid between his fingers. Dark silky hair reflected the shimmer of golden sunlight sneaking through the mouth of their hut. Although stubborn at certain points, the dark locks slowly began to unwind into fallen waves. Neteyam lathered his fingertips in the slick oil and diligently smoothed it through his mate’s hair periodically. Braid by braid, the omega found himself settling into the task.

To his delight, he was not the only one.

Although minimal at first, Kxolo began to preen back against the touch. Rigid shoulders fell away into a relaxed posture. There was gradually a shift in the tension that originally lay between them. The heavy aroma of troubled emotion laced pheromones slowly slipped into something lighter. The thick air of tension and looming images of bloodied bodies had begun to fade away.

Neteyam’s movements grew in confidence, falling into a natural rhythm that could’ve been mistaken as overdone routine. An assortment of feathers and beads pooled around Neteyam’s knees, quickly growing into a small pile with every untangling of a braid.

“Neteyam,” The omega perked up at the splitting of silence. “Tell me something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

Neteyam’s diligence faltered, daring to sneak a peek at the male’s expression.

“I doubt it’d be useful to hear my babbling stories-”

“I like your stories.”

And for the first time since coming across his panic stricken mate, Kxolo peered back at him. Their eyes locked, revealing crystal clear vulnerability underneath that Olo’eyktan facade. A softness that was neither shameful nor hidden from Neteyam’s gaze. The strength and trust required to let oneself be seen as you truly are.

Kxolo was a dominant alpha full of pride and courage. Every decision down to the last of his footsteps was laced with confidence and resolve. He stood by those choices and braced himself for whatever consequences followed. His leadership was humble and focused on those around him, taking on any burden he deemed fit for the good of the People.

Neteyam would be lying if he claimed to not find his character admirable.

However, he had never been more impressed than upon seeing Kxolo sink before him, opening himself up completely before the omega.

If there was ever a chance to exploit his captor’s weakness and plot an escape, it was now.

That thought, however, couldn’t break through the overwhelming warmth that seeped like liquid gold into Neteyam’s chest.

“I remember the first time I saw you.” The confession tumbled out on autopilot, without a warning thought. Kxolo’s ears perked upwards in tandem with a raised hairless eyebrow. It seemed too late to take the words back now that the Olo’eyktan’s attention had been captured. So Neteyam found refuge instead through concentrating on untangling braids and using the thick hair to curtain his rising blush.

“A long time ago when you first visited our clan as Olo’eyktan.” He continued, as if the setting would be enough to satisfy his curious mate. Naturally, a spark of amusement was evident in the male’s expression so he continued.

Neteyam had told himself that he would never tell this story. Not to his family, not to his friends, and especially not to the male himself. So why did the it flow effortlessly from his lips?

“I remember.”

Neteyam could feel his heart in his throat, strangling him from getting out a reasonable reply. The silky strands twirled around his fingers as he sat there motionless.

“No I don’t mean a few months ago-”

“I know. Almost a year ago now since you first spied on me from the trees above.”

Heat rose at a rushing pace to spread across his cheek and neck. Although Kxolo remained facing forwards, Neteyam couldn’t help but hide his heated expression between the Olo’eyktan’s shoulder blades. It felt foolish to be mortified being caught spying on his mate such a long time ago after they have now been so intimate with one another, but regardless, the omega felt as if he could curl up into a ball and die.

“Y-you saw?” Although moments before the alpha’s eyes had been tormented with images of murky death, Neteyam could imagine that signature smirk breaking his composure. Behind his back, the omega was given a moment to breathe, safe from the attentive eyes that diligently followed him to and fro.

However, a part of him itched to take another peek. No matter how embarrassing, it would be a relief to see a glimmer of warmth return to his countenance after such traumatic events. Instead, Neteyam adjusted the leaf bandages in faux concentration.

“Rest assured it was not a lack of agility that gave you away, little one.” Although slightly strained, his timber had soothed back into something familiar for his little mate. Caught between conflicting emotions of embarrassment and relief, Neteyam’s small fingers fumbled with the next braid while trying to clear his thoughts. “Even back then your sweet scent knew how to draw me in.”

Neteyam was starting to regret bringing the subject up in the first place. Nothing could change the fact that his devious spying had been not so secret after all, but that knowledge could’ve been left in the dark, allowing the omega to sleep soundly at night. Allowing him to look the Olo’eyktan in the eyes without becoming bashful.

All this time, the one card Neteyam felt he held close to his chest had been exposed from the beginning.

Their official first meeting when they had been formally introduced, how hard Neteyam had worked to school his features into that of pleasant indifference. The first few weeks they had spent with Neteyam denying his attraction towards the older male with every breath. His insistence of hating Kxolo and yet the Olo’eyktan had known. He had known that from the beginning he had captured Neteyam’s attention. There was always an assurance of interest from the young omega.

“It was more coincidental than intentional actually…”

“Coincidentally following me from your little hideout spots.”

“N-no. By Eywa, you can’t go two seconds without letting your big head get in the way.” Neteyam huffed before tugging on one of the half undone braids. It seemed to jolt a sound of surprise and cut laughter from the alpha. As if to break him out of the dreary moment finally.

Neteyam only wished that the laughter was not at his own expense.

“You knew this whole time and yet you never…” He trailed off into a scoff, but the edges of Kxolo’s lips were already tugging upwards.

“I figured you would be a bit bashful about it.” As Neteyam’s blush deepened he hated to admit how correct his alpha’s perception of him was. “Besides, I enjoyed spotting such a cute little omega peeking down curiously from above. The most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.”

Gulping down harshly, Neteyam felt the memories from that day surge forward. The twisted bundle of nerves that had laced his stomach while following the mysterious alpha had almost been enough to make him trip and lose his cover several times. Growing up to be such a responsible adult, practically a third parent for his siblings, Neteyam knew better than to wander off after strangers, especially ones from other clans. So he had been confused by his own persistence in continuing this pointless pursuit. Several times when his father and other Olo’eyktan had stopped and chatted out of earshot, he had turned back with a disappointed huff, only then to reverse his movements at the first twinkling of movement from the pair.

It had been a tug of war Neteyam was unfamiliar playing with himself. Strong desires and attractions for the complimenting genders was normal, he had fallen prey to his own feelings before during the heat of training and random musing he caught of other alphas bathing in the hot springs near his home. However, he maintained a certain level of self respect in quickly turning away and pushing those feelings deep down in his gut. Following this broad shouldered male, however, had felt completely out of his control.

The scent of pine and rushing stream had infiltrated his focus, luring him forward without a second thought. Although their conversation was hard to depict, he clasped to every rumble of the male’s incoherent voice. It was a ripple that spread over his chest in a deep flush till tickling the tips of his ears.

That night Neteyam had barely made it home before his father, rushing to throw himself into the hammock and feign sleep at the first moment possible. Jake had roused his son gently, laying a tender kiss to the boy’s forehead to his surprise, before ushering Neteyam to join them for dinner. Lo’ak must’ve been bored without Neteyam’s presence because he made the older brother pray for it at dinner. Not a moment of peace seemed to be afforded between Lo’ak’s stories and constant teasing.

Every time he had dazed off to stare into the distance, traces of the male’s slim form caressing his mind, Lo’ak had been quick to jump in and demand the attention of the ‘mighty warrior.’ That night had ended with their parents breaking the two of them up, Neteyam managing to pin his alpha brother down for once. He could still remember the flare of anger and surprise that curled along the younger boy’s expression.

Shame and guilt had lingered longer than night after a stern talk from his father. Still, the focal point of his attention had always been centered on Kxolo. The nameless male had infused his dreams that night, waking him up in a heated sweat enough times to leave the boy drowsy and grumpy the next morning. The memory of that secret encounter had conjured a faux essence of the Olo’eyktan until sleep had finally claimed him once more.

It took weeks to push the experience to the back of his head. He knew better than to lust after a strange alpha, let alone allow the simple experience to interfere with his training and daily duties. At some point dreams had faded and Neteyam had caught a grip of himself. Regardless, he had vowed to never reveal what had occurred.

Now, however, Neteyam was left wondering if that was his biggest mistake of all.

Silence had pulled a taunt tension between them once more. Silky strands of dark hair curled around his fingers till releasing into gentle waves, but the omega could no longer focus on the task without being pulled in another direction. A certain spice had taken over the alpha’s natural perfume, bleeding into the tightening strain along his shoulders and neck. Kxolo propped up one knee, flexed forearm laying over it with a forced appearance of nonchalance.

There were many times that Neteyam had found Kxolo hard to read, difficult to break past the forced impression that the Olo’eyktan was so good at projecting to others. Time had passed since then. It would be impossible to pinpoint when exactly that projection had flitted to dust around Neteyam, but regardless it was gone and the omega felt completely insufficient at handling these unbridled emotions.

Was this how it had felt for Kxolo?

Had he too been letting the true essence of himself slip through, negligent to the promises he had made to himself?

“The impression of you stayed with me for weeks…maybe longer.” Neteyam barely allowed his voice to rise above a whisper, afraid it would crack and let his true weakened composure through.

“And what type of impression did you receive?” Neteyam jumped slightly when the hair slipped from his grasp and golden eyes were trained on him intently. “What did you think?”

Think about how such an ethereal glow from an alpha could exist, pulling him taunt towards his presence insistently? What that roasted amber essence would feel against his nose, tucked into the stranger’s neck safely? How someone could single handedly take a hold of his heart within just one interaction. How hollow his soul had rung, upon lying alone with only the memory to taunt him.

“I thought you were the most handsome male I had ever seen…and also the most intimidating.”

Coward.

Perhaps it wasn’t a lie, but it still would never hold a candle to the truth that remained lodged in his lungs. The charade was up, he had already exposed himself more than he had ever intended, what more would be this last shred of sincerity? The last card he held close to his chest?

Against all reason however, taking that plunge felt like free falling from a cliff, only a promise to blanket that clash that would await him at the bottom.

Neteyam’s blunt nails dug into his soft palms, thoughts swarming into inner turmoil, but Kxolo’s expression had much improved. A soft almost imperceivable chuckle escaped his throat, and his eyes softened into a fond look that Neteyam was ashamed to only know from experience of receiving it and never shooting one back.

“Intimidating, huh?” Kxolo hummed in feigned thought, lips quirking upwards slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind. Perhaps that could come in handy.”

“Not now, you skxawng!” The omega roughly pushed at his shoulders, although the male barely budged, mirth quickly taking over Kxolo’s expression to swallow the last weight of lingering guilt. “That was before I learned about your empty threats.”

“Careful there, little one. I can recall more than enough threats I’ve followed through on. But if you need a refresher…” Kxolo crept closer, larger frame quickly overshadowing Neteyam’s till he was trapped beneath him. The soft waves of Kxolo’s hair curtained around them, blocking out the last of penetrating light and allowing the Tanhi across the alpha’s body to glow in spotted trails along the plains of his smooth skin. Neteyam squeaked and struggled to get away, but even he knew it was only for show. The alpha was completely breathtaking, no longer an Olo’eyktan shining forth. Simply his lover.

His lover.

His love.

taglist: @kayjaydee17 @theunfortunateplace @4ashes-stuff @perfectprofessorloverapricot @creepytoes88 @young5643-blog

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Book Drop Boy (Twice x Reader)

✧ pairing: library student worker!Twice x afab!student!Reader

✧ word count: 9.9k

✧ ao3 mirror

✧ warnings: college au/no quirks, maladaptive daydreaming (twice), twice is chaotic af, commits library related crimes, use of the term sweetheart a few times, smut, vaginal fingering/sex, doggy style, afab terms, no pronouns for reader, gratuitous swearing this is potentially the softest thing I've ever written, like she's pretty tame idk what Twice does to me

✧ summary: In which Twice learns that sometimes dreams do come true, except those dreams are just the maladaptive fantasies of a broke library receptionist and, while sexy, also involve more fraud than he expected.

✧ a/n: Hey y'all, this is set in the same universe as my shiggy college piece, but you don't need to have read that. There are some fun little easter eggs though if you have tho. This is like the most tame thing I've ever written and it's way longer than it was meant to be but oh well. Anyway, Twice deserves some love. Enjoy <3

Logically, Jin was aware you probably had no idea who the fuck he was.

But that really didn’t have any effect on the wildly intricate fantasy life he had created for the two of you during his long shifts behind the library reception desk. That, in fact, was the only reason he hadn’t up and quit just to save himself the embarrassment of another loud outburst in the middle of the most silent place on campus.

What was truly more shocking was the fact that none of those said outburst had gotten his ass kicked straight out the door.

But he held out.

If only for you.

Late nights or lazy afternoons you were always in the campus library—studying he assumed or…

'Studying,' because a lot of the time he noticed you’d show up with a drink from the cafe a few blocks down, set out a line of colored pens and not touch a single one of them for hours, content to stare blankly at the chipped desktop. And even that Jin was more than happy to watch.

He did a lot of watching.

Mostly because he wasn’t permitted to leave the desk unattended unless there were piling up returned books which needed to be replaced quickly.

So instead, he pretended to be busy scrolling through something on his old as hell monitor—which was conveniently set up directly across from the comfy chair/desk combo you always managed to grab—and he indulged in day dreams where you’d bring him a coffee from the cafe when you came in and set it on his desk, maybe kiss him on the cheek, maybe loiter by his workstation and play with his hair and—

Yeah.

It was a lot.

But you were always in that chair, always working or pretending to work and you never seemed to notice the uninterrupted hours of staring Jin did, so what was the harm?

If you never knew, you’d never get creeped out—cause it was creepy, he knew that, oh fuckin' boy did he know it was real goddamn weird.

He just couldn’t seem to give it up. Especially when the conditions presented perfectly for some good uninterrupted, totally not stalker-y at all, fantasizing.

Sometimes he thought you might have some mundane superpower that let you always snatch that perfect seat right across from his computer, and made it so the library was just cool enough that he’d get to watch you shrug on that cute extra sweatshirt you always brought. So he could catch a glimpse of some skin—in a totally normal and not invasive way—when your arms went over your head. So he could imagine it was his ratty old sweaters you were wearing just so you could smell him on you and god he really wanted to get close enough to smell you—was that too weird? No. Yes? No.

Not at all.

But the best part, the part that really convinced him on those awful days when he really just could not be bothered to drag himself out of bed and walk the couple blocks to campus just to sit in awful silence alone, in his head alone with the fucking thoughts that made him want to rip his hair out—

What made it worth it was those times every few weeks when your classes would get new assigned readings. Because then you’d have to check out new textbooks, since you were one of those geniuses that had figured out the library kept a ton of those books in stock. Of course you were, cause you were fucking perfect.

And when you had to check out new books, you had to come to reception.

Jin got to watch as your lovely figure moved through the stacks like you were ballroom dancing along the halls of faded, sea-green shelves, almost floating over the linoleum trying to find just the right volume in the right addition before anyone else beat you to it.

It was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen.

Spinner would call him a fucking simp if he ever dared to uttered any of that out loud, but it didn’t matter.

If it was you, he’d simp for fucking life.

And then, you’d walk that fucking glorious ass over to his desk and plop the books down, smiling—cause you were polite like that, so fucking perfect he couldn’t hardly believe it sometimes—and asking how his day was while he checked you out in every sense of the phrase.

In a completely platonic and not freaky way.

So Jin kept coming to work, to that god awful job he really hated and which hated him just as vehemently. He clocked in every day and waited patiently like a fucking puppy counting the hours till its workaholic owner arrived home, ears perking up when you walked through the door and flashed your ID to the attendant.

If only for that.

He’d put up with his boss’ complaints and the weird stares he got when the thoughts just wouldn’t stay in his head anymore and he had to start talking to himself to fill the silence.

If only for that.

Those few hours when he could lose himself in the fake inner life where you were waiting for him when his shift let out, waiting to gather him, tired and understimulated, into your arms. Where you’d sneak into the back room with him just to chat and lace your fingers with his and maybe sit that fucking wonderful ass up on the tables so he could stand in between your thighs and you’d pull him down to—

Yeah.

That was enough.

***

It wasn’t until Tuesday when he had to come in again that week, and he already knew it was gonna suck balls.

Friday he’d gotten another round of complaints from some stuck up fucking business students—it was always the fucking business majors with those silver spoons so far up their asses—snitching to his boss that he’s been ‘disruptive’ and ‘disturbing’ during his last shift.

“Not my fucking fault,” he muttered under his breath, kicking a rock along the side walk he’d picked up two blocks before. “Yes it is. No it’s not!”

Jin groaned and tugged at his hair, wishing he’d brought a Tylenol or something to curb the headache that was already sticking it’s ugly ass claws into his temples. He really, really heavily contemplated just ditching, calling in sick or some shit. Technically he was a student worker, so they had to work with his DRS accommodation and he was actually having a bad fucking time.

But one of his friends had already texted to ask if he’d try and reserve them that sweet ass study room on the third floor and Jin wasn’t really looking to disappoint anyone else this week. Besides, it was fun to abuse his minuscule power. Fun to go corrupt for once. Fight the system and all that.

He liked to think you’d be proud of him for it, based on the kinds of texts you checked out at least.

So, he dragged his sad ass back to the looming library looking far too much like a prison than was necessary and clocked in. Actually, the first thing he did was check the chair—your chair and nobody else’s chair, he might actually make a fucking scene if somebody ever did steal it—and his face visibly fell when you were not occupying it.

It was a bit early, Jin supposed as he paused briefly when he noticed the can of Monster and rando vending machine chips sitting next to it by the reception computer. The sticky note slapped to the top read 'For your troubles' in familiar handwriting and that pulled a bit of a smile from him as he quickly rearranged the scheduling of study room sign ups so the fancy third floor room would be free for the rest of the night.

Then Jin sat, staring at the study room schedules for a moment, feeling his eyes softly glaze over until a hand slapped down on the raised lip of the reception desk.

“Hey bro,” Spinner greeted him with a wild smile and a flurry of bright pink hair.

Jin had to blink a few extra times to get his vision to clear. When it did he saw, horrifyingly, that he’d been staring at the fucking blank screen for two hours without moving.

Why was it that his head was either deadly quiet, devoid of even a single errant thought or so loud as fucking shit at all times that he couldn’t physically keep the thoughts in?

“Hey, dude, what’s up?” Jin asked, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“Aren’t you supposed to like shush me or something?”

Spinner chuckled a bit at his own god awful joke and Jin couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, too glad for the company.

“I mean,” he shrugged, popping the can of Monster and ignoring the dirty looks he got for the sound. “I would if I was, uh, good at my job.”

“Which I’ve heard you definitely are not,” Spinner wrapped his fingers over the lip of the desk and leaned back on his heels, swaying side to side idly.

“You’re just figuring that out now?”

Jin didn’t bother watching while Spinner nearly tripped over himself fidgeting as he spun to stand at the little gate that corralled Jin inside like livestock. He was too busy glancing over to check you hadn’t slipped in while his brain had taken a trip to the astral plane without him.

“No, I been knew, but my sources tell me you’ve gone off the rails my friend,” long legs stepped over the wooden partition until the only friend he had who was quite possibly more annoying than Jin himself was sat on the counter next to his computer. “Finally been radicalized have you?”

Jin huffed and sipped his Monster, “Guess it fuckin’ took me long enough.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Spinner was messing about with the stacks of multicolored sticky notes littered across the desk before glancing up to wink at Jin. “So what can I get you to do for me in exchange for free food?”

“Now I really am gonna fucking shush you,” Jin smashed his finger against Spinners grin only to get a hand covered in spit for his trouble.

“Right, right,” Spinner held his hands up in defeat, “can’t have you cheating on your sweetheart.”

“Not my—yes I’m in a committed fictional relationship thank you very much—ugh!”

Jin could feel the heads shooting up from laptop screens and textbooks to stick daggers in his back with their angry stares. Spinner at least had the good sense to look a little fucking guilty for egging him on.

“Sorry bro, I had to shoot my shot ya know?” a hand disappeared into the mop of bubblegum locks in apology.

“It’s fine…” Jin trailed off, mumbling and blushing more than a little profusely as he turned to check the book drop box. “Not like I’m ever gonna fuckin’ shoot mine anyway.”

“Oh we are not gonna have that kinda of shit discussion,” Spinner’s hand shot out and grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, spinning Jin in his chair. “On god bro, we’re gonna get you a date one of these days.”

Jin didn’t dignify that kind of lie with a response.

Spinner once again, had the good sense to not push the envelope any farther.

“And in the meantime, you can come to the League meeting tonight!”

“Your gaming club thing?”

“Yeah, it’s Smash night and we need to fill a space sooooo…”

Jin knew Spinner and his roommate—the same friend who he’d gone study room rogue for—had started a gaming club their freshman year. Spinner had been trying to strong arm him into attending ever since. To, as he put it, ‘socialize,’ and ‘make new friends.’ All things which Jin was patently horrible at and avoided like the plague.

Needless to say, he’d refused every time.

It wasn’t just the whole being alone with like two people he kinda knew in a room full of strangers. Games themselves were just a lot for him. The flashing colors and the loud noises made his head—which was already so fucking full all the time and he really needed to keep any extra scrap of space for extra random facts he picked up about you and your future married life together—get a bit misaligned.

They just weren’t his jam most of the time.

“I’m good, thanks for the offer though,” Jin twisted out of Spinner’s grasp and craned his head to check your seat again.

Still empty.

He sighed.

Spinner continued to ramble and Jin continued to only half listen. It wasn’t as pleasant to day dream when you weren’t there for the added visual aesthetic. And he was trying to not be a dick and ignore the one friend he had managed to keep around over the years. But it was hard when his mind had a mind of its own.

Wow.

Meta.

“Jin?”

The voice—deep and dark in such a dramatically ominous way it might have been funny if it didn’t belong to his permanently disgruntled supervisor—interrupted his already derailing train of thought.

“Oh, uh, hello sir,” Jin stuttered, turning to find Kurogiri leaning against the reception desk with one arm, turning only slightly to accommodate Spinner’s form bolting over the gate and out the library doors.

He did manage to throw a fading, “See ya later, bro” over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

Yeah thanks for the warning, bro.

“Aren’t you supposed to be reshelving the books from the drop box?” Kurogiri sighed, perpetually disappointed in a way that had Jin’s face burning and shame bubbling up in his throat.

He hated this job. He was objectively terrible at it, and so usually he wouldn’t give that much of a shit at not doing it well. Kurogiri just had some type of vibe—like daddy but not in the sexy way Spinner always joked about—that made it really, really upsetting to let him down.

Father figure? Yeah that's what it was called.

“Right, yeah um, sorry,” Jin nodded quickly and leapt from his chair, only mildly bruising his knee on the desk as he reached to empty the book drop.

Another incorporeal sigh was the only acknowledgement he received as he loaded the cart with wheels louder than Jin on a particularly bad day and rolled the pile of books back to the stacks. He paused once more, just before the sea green shelving units swallowed him up, to sneak another futile peak at your chair. But it still sat empty—empty and lonely with no you and cold without your body pressed against the worn upholstery.

Jin felt a chill too, a slow tingling thing that worked its way up from the base of his spine. It drove him deeper into the walls of books, away from the empty spaces.

It was harder to look.

Harder to be reminded of what he did not have.

Of what he’d never have cause he was too much of a goddamn pussy to ever just fucking talk to you—

But then what if he did? What if he did talk to you? What would happen then?

Those were the types of questions he tried to avoid when crafting your intricate, fictional lives together. Precisely because they were the easiest to answer.

You’d realize within the first five minutes or so of conversation—if Jin could even make it that far without embarrassing himself—that he was just a generic brand weirdo that all your pretty, normal, aesthetically pleasing friends would warn you to stay away from and because you were also pretty and normal and not a fucking idiot, you’d have the common sense to listen.

He’d lose you in the blink of an eye.

Your chair would sit cold and empty forever and the imaginary garden he’d been planting for you to come imaginarily home too would wilt and die like all the other happy thoughts in his head.

It was quite the conundrum and one Jin was not keen to solve soon.

Not that things ever really went his way. Cause problems could only be avoided for so long before all that time spent ignoring them came back to bite him full on the ass.

Which, apparently, came this time in the form of what had to be quiet, muffled sobbing drifting in between the shelves from the back hallway.

It was dark here in this section of the building—free of most windows so as not to cause any sunning damage to the books—and Jin had seen more than enough horror movies to know that it was a horrendous idea to follow the ominous crying sounds coming from the bowls of this old as fuck building. But even as he made up his mind to ignore it, the hand currently working one of the returns back into its proper place dropped the book to his cart as his feet slowly turned to face the corridor.

He looked around skeptically for a second, not entirely certain his poor brain hadn’t simply malfunctioned again, as it was wont to do, and fabricated the sound entirely. But as he peaked out from between the stacks, and down the dimly lit hall, he heard it again.

Echoey and soft in the wide, empty space it—was definitely coming from the hall and it was definitely a person.

Jin caught himself moving without ever meaning too, the books laying forgotten as he crept towards the source of the noise and paused just before leaving the stacks entirely. This hall was full of small alcoves built into the centuries old walls and led to the lesser used storage portions of the library that only the janitorial staff and the university librarians ever entered. He really didn’t want to stumble across someone from the special collections department bawling over a damaged or lost manuscript.

But his wayward feet pushed him forward, too sympathetic for his own good. He found himself shuffling down the abandoned hall, peering into each small dip in the walls to find the source of his distraction.

And when he did, Jin was—for once in his life—thankful for his lack of self-preservation instincts.

And cursed his blatant lack in interpersonal skills.

Because it was you.

You curled with your knees to your chest and your head in your hands, shoulders shaking, as you cried into your palms.

The universe had handed him maybe the only golden opportunity he would ever get on right on a platter.

But Jin didn’t have a fucking clue what do with it.

And there certainly wasn’t much time to formulate a game plan as his nervous breathing and sudden intake of breath upon discovering his imaginary lover sniffling right in front of him, had certainly alerted you to his presence.

Your head shot up in an instant, knocking dully against the stone wall with a thud.

“Shit,” you cursed and hands flying up to cover the area as Jin jumped on the spot at your outburst.

“Are you okay?” he asked lamely as you glanced over at him, eyes red and wet and so fucking sad oh fucking god, widening as you realized you’d been caught.

“Huh? Ye—oh uh, yes,” your words came out jumbled, legs unfolding quickly to push yourself off the bench and hands wiping furiously at your eyes. “I’m fine, sorry.”

“You sure about that?”

Jin cringed visibly and frowned at the way you deflated under his stare. God the first fucking time he actually talks to you and he already made an ass of himself.

Spinner’s roommate was such a liar, it really fucking sucked to be right sometimes.

“I mean,” you crumpled back down onto the ledge and Jin took a careful step closer, “no, but yes. Like I’m definitely having a breakdown in the back of the fucking library but I don’t wanna, uh, bother you with that. So, yeah I’m good.”

“You can bother me,” he replied way too fucking quickly.

But he couldn’t really be embarrassed about it. Your voice was just so captivating, and you weren’t talking to him in that raised pitch anymore like you usually did—the way everyone does when they’re trying to be surface level and polite. No this was your voice how you sounded when you were relaxing with your friends or making breakfast in the morning or talking to yourself in the shower (he liked to think you did that, or sang maybe as you worked the soap into your skin, one of the two but he always imagined you filled silences with how fucking pretty you were).

“No, really. That would be weird, right?”

Jin grimaced as you fixed him with a watery yet suspicious stare.

Yeah it was weird.

Everything he did concerning you was weird, objectively. He was definitely being over-familiar and too eager, especially considering you didn’t fucking know him.

But he knew you.

Jin felt like he’d known you for all months he’d spent pretending to be by your side.

And you were crying and he had to do something.

“I mean, yeah I guess,” he mumbled, taking a risk and plopped down on the opposite end of the alcove and resting his head on the wall. “But not any weirder than having a breakdown in the employees only section of the library building on a Tuesday.”

You kept staring blankly for a few moments before the most miraculous thing happened.

Jin had to physically stop his jaw from hitting the floor when the quiet giggle bubbled up from your chest and spilled out into the hall, warm enough to melt even the freezing linoleum floor.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point,” your voice cracked a bit as a few more tears slid like pearls down your cheeks.

“My name’s Jin,” he said, shocked stupid both by your laugh and the apparent success of his comforting methods.

“Oh, hi, well I guess I don’t have to call you book drop boy anymore,” you rubbed at your face again and tucked your legs back into your chest, though it looked a bit more relaxed this time.

Not so trying-desperately-to-fade-out-of-existence.

“You called me that?” Jin asked, brain still functioning at half capacity, only shocked at the fact that he existed as a concept in your head enough to have a name and realizing a bit too late how accusatory he must have sounded. “Shit, I mean it’s totally fine I just didn’t think you, uh, well I mean, like, knew about me I guess?”

You finally smiled and his brain power cut out another fourth at being personally graced by the expression this close up.

“Yeah, you always check me out—fuck sorry not that you check me out, just you scan my books and I just called you ‘book drop boy’ in my head cause I never got a chance to ask for your name but I have it now so that’s cool….”

Your head dropped back down to your knees as you groaned and Jin suddenly felt a lot less nervous than he had a few seconds ago.

You were weird too.

For so long you’d existed on this pedestal thousands of feet in the air, and now you were stepping down from the heavens and onto earth. Not in a bad way! Just, Jin had never really stopped to think that you might be a person too.

Well.

No, he knew you were a person, just he never thought you might get flustered and ramble and be nervous in front of him.

Cause he was a fucking train wreck—the bar was so goddamn low.

It was almost as comforting as your smile.

“Oh, yeah sorry I’m not the best at customer service if you couldn’t tell,” he sighed and ran a hand through his wild hair.

You looked back up with a wry grin, “I don’t know, I’d say you’re going above and beyond right now.”

And you were funny.

He was gonna fucking combust.

“Ha, yeah, I try,” he trailed off for a moment before glancing back at your curled in your corner, fuck he could just imagine sitting behind you, your head on his chest while you—”So uh, did you wanna talk about it or…?”

“Uh, yeah,” you picked idly at the grouting of the stone and mumbled, “I guess it’s not so weird if we’re on a first-name basis.

And that was how Jin discovered that you’d been hiding in the back of the library bawling your eyes out for hours—since even before his shift started. Apparently you’d gotten here extra early, even skipped a class, to snag some super specific required text for your final thesis and right before you got to the shelf some jackass swooped in, effectively hit and running with the only copy of that book on campus.

The book in questions was one of the newer additions that had special added footnotes you needed for your paper and was a whopping 500 fucking dollars to rent from every other place online. You couldn’t afford it, and honestly what fucking student could? But you needed it to complete the paper or you’d fail and Jin very much understood the need for a good breakdown after a catastrophe like that.

“Damn, that’s uh, fucking awful,” he frowned on your behalf as your head hit the wall a second time in frustration.

“Yeah so, I’m like royally fucked either way. Now I just gotta decide which hole I’m taking it in I guess,” you groaned.

Jin’s eyebrows raised at your choice of words but they were apt, he supposed. People really do get comfortable with each other pretty quick when bonding over shared institutional rage.

“Well,” he began, wringing his hands nervously at what he was about to suggest. “You might be in luck cause I’ve recently decided to abuse my library powers for good and I maybe, possibly, could try and see if there’s some strings I can pull?”

You perked up a bit, looking at him incredulously.

Jin felt comfortably full under your stare.

“Seriously?”

The word was soft and it bounced off the walls just as much as it did the inside of his skull.

Swapping study rooms to help a friend out was one thing. But falsifying checkout dates for someone he barely knew—had essentially married in his maladaptive fantasies—could get him fired.

He hated this job but he needed it.

Were you worth the risk?

Of course, he found himself thinking without hesitation.

You were everything.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, any lingering uncertainty washing away at the way you looked at him through your lashes. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

“Are you always this nice?”

Jin didn’t answer right away. He was too caught up in how you’d leaned forward on your hands across the bench, peering like he was some exotic animal or a stray cat in the parking lot—all soft wonderment with fingers curling like they ached to grab hold and rescue him from this parchment scented monotony.

“Not always…”

“Should I feel special then?”

If his face wasn’t red before, it was now. Red and blistering under the summer campfire heat that radiated off you—woodsy and warm and so painfully familiar like an old friend’s hand.

“...I guess you—fucking definitely, ” he quite nearly shouted the last bit, startled by his own volume and already mortified at the outburst but then you chuckled again from beside him.

He turned to see you standing and offering a hand which he gladly too if only to feel the weight of your palm against his.

“Well, you’ll have to let me pay you back then.”

“Oh, no you don’t actually—”

You held a hand up and the words turned to ash on his tongue in an instant, mouth glued shut by your gesture.

“Coffee on me or something, there’s a nice cafe a few blocks from here,” you dropped your hand and your eyes were clear now, no sign of the previous afternoon sobbing alone in the hallway. Jin felt a surge in his chest knowing he was the one who did that. “You gotta pass off the contraband anyway, and I don’t think it would be that great of an idea to do it here.”

God you were fucking perfect.

“Can’t argue with that.”

***

Jin was sweating profusely as he snuck past the library attendant, totally inconspicuous and not not all looking like he was doing a single thing wrong in the slightest.

Yeah they definitely didn’t suspect a thing.

The process of fraud was actually a lot less complicated of an undertaking that Jin had expected. All he had to do was search up the book, find the student that had stolen the success of his sweetheart’s educational career and flag his account. They’d get an automated message about the flag, instructing them to return any borrowed items or they’d be forced to pay fines while the account was examined.

Technically he needed administrator credentials to report student accounts, but luckily Kurogiri had his login info written on a sticky note hidden on the back of the monitor. All in all it was a pretty easy job.

The whole thing had taken only a matter of days, in which time you had returned to the library only twice—the first to get confirmation on the success of Jin’s newest descent into low level crime which had set his heart thundering in his chest as you bent conspiratorially over his desk, your face just inches from his.

The second time, Jin had horrifically been absent from his desk, however he was met with possibly the most wonderful sight of his life upon returning from the labyrinth of shelves.

On one of the hundreds of post-it note pads that littered the library reception area, there were scribbles that he was sure hadn’t been there before. He almost tossed it, but upon closer inspection, you’d written your number there and signed just below it. In the cutest fucking handwriting he’d ever seen—cute not for any stylistic reason, but it simply felt that way just by virtue of it being yours—was written the digits and “-for book drop boy”

The noise he made reading that turned more than a dozen heads and almost got him fired there on the spot before any of his indiscretions were even discovered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.

So, nerve wrackingly, Jin texted you as he nearly sprinted home from his shift after that piece of shit asshole who made you cry had trudged angrily in and dropped off his ‘stolen’ book.

— HEY IT’S JIN!

— from the library

— shit sorry that wasn’t meant to be in caps

— n e way….

— I’ve intercepted the ~package~ so whenever you’re ready for the hand off, I’m good

Most perfect fucking human being to…

Oh my god thank you so much!!!—

Is tomorrow at like 5ish good for you?—

Also send me your order—

so we don’t have to do that awkward waiting in line for drinks bit—

Holy fuck you multi-texted too! Spinner would roll over in his fucking grave, he hated when Jin did that. But there was always so much to say and he could never think of it all at the same time. Plus, you wanted to save him from that god awful silence where you both stand in line next but he can’t talk cause he has keep repeating his order in his head over and over or he’ll blank when he gets to the register so it’s just this painful weird glancing back and forth—

Ugh, maybe all the shit about manifestation that girl who always loaned him exacto knives in his sculpting class always talked about was real.

Cause there was no way you weren’t just heaven-sent, handcrafted especially for him and all his general brand of weird.

The hours which usually flew by without Jin’s notice dragged all that night. He was so full of excess energy that made his hand shake and his thoughts race, not sure what to do with themselves now that they didn’t need to fantasize about you.

He decided to use all that extra motivation to vacuum the kitchen at 4:30 in the morning, much to his roommates' chagrin. She liked to get a nice solid eight hours every night and constantly reminded Jin of this, trying to sell him on that sleepy time tea before bed, though he really hated the smell of camomile.

Magne may lose out on some of her beauty sleep—not that she needed it and Jin would tell her that constantly, even if he did have some patently horrible judgment most of the time so he wasn’t really the best at offering reassurance—but the kitchen would be clean when she woke up so win-win really.

When she did wake up—wandering out of her room looking effortlessly put together in a way Jin could never hope to emulate—she sat at the table, sipping her tea and appraising him worriedly.

Jin was still in his jeans from the day before, hair spiking in every direction but down, and chewing his nails nervously despite losing most of them to the hour or two of early morning floor scrubbing.

“Babe,” she shook her head slowly, “take a breath.”

“Yeah okay,” he sighed and inhaled deeply, letting himself slide off the couch cushions and to the newly sparkling floors on the exhale.

“There, now wanna share what the hell is going on?”

He glanced up at her from the hardwood and groaned as she looked back down, brows furrowed over her glasses.

“Huhh, okay. So that absolute work of art from the library is meeting me for coffee later cause I have trade over this book I sort of stole, it’s a long story, and I don’t know if it’s a date—it sounds like a date, cause that’s where people go for dates and shit—but it might just be to pay me back for stealing the book. And if it is I’ve only ever been on that one date before which was with fucking Spinner like two years ago so—”

Magne held up a hand to quiet Jin before the speed of his words tied his tongue in physical knots. She looked contemplative, taking another soft sip of tea and nodding her head for a moment getting up to crouch on the floor by his head.

“You think too much for your own good, but never about the right things,” she mumbled, smoothing some of the hair from his face. “Does it really matter if this is a date or not?”

Jin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she chuckled in that way people do when kids ask them obvious questions—kindly, appreciative of the curiosity, “either way you cut it, you’ll be spending time with this person you like, yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed and sat up to face her as she stood.

“A date is just hanging out with a special name anyway,” Magne’s hands were firm but gentle as she hoisted Jin off the floor and onto his feet. “You’ll be fine.”

His shoulders slumped both in mild relief and dejection that he’d waisted so much precious time he could have been preparing possible topics of conversation or strategies to ask you out for real date on worrying over how this first time would go.

How did Magne always fucking know all this stuff?

Other people were such a mystery to him.

To be fair, though, Jin was a mystery to himself most of the time as well.

“Thanks, sorry for not saying anything about it earlier,” he sniffed as she smiled and pinched his cheek way fucking harder than necessary.

“It’s alright, I’m only a little insulted you waited until now to tell me about this massive crush you’ve developed.”

“Yeah it’s got its own gravitational pull at this point.”

Magne laughed at that and Jin felt the room lighten.

“I do expect details when you get back though,” she said pointedly, finishing her tea wandering back to her room to grab her bag. “Spinner asked me, very begrudgingly might I add, to fill in at another of his club tournament things tonight so I’ll be out late.”

“Really? I didn’t think you liked that stuff.”

Jin shuffled over to her doorway and peaked into the neat little space. Magne was rummaging through the meticulously organized closet and frowning as she answered.

“I do, Spinner just doesn’t agree with my battle strategies,” she huffed. “My alignment is far too ‘chaotic’ and ‘recklessly violent’ for his tastes apparently.”

“Oh, yeah that makes sense,” Jin laughed this time just envisioning the two of them stuck on a team. “Well have fun with that.”

“Yeah well,” she brushed by him into the hall, keys jangling as she went and calling over her shoulder. “Text me how it goes, and wear that new button up you got last week, it looks good on you!”

***

Much to Jin’s surprise and delight, Magne was right.

He was fine.

Fine was a bit subjective—as he was most certainly still highkey panicking on main as he got out of his last class and walked the short few blocks to the cafe on campus—but regardless he was perfectly okay.

Of course that all went right out the fucking window in the split second between him walking in and you already staring at the door as he entered. Your eyes widened just a bit and this smile broke out slowly across your cheeks when you waved him over and it was like suddenly every single creepy as hell day dream had just become reality.

It was a little overwhelming to say the least.

His heart may have actually stopped in his chest for a bit and he did contemplate the possibility that Kurogiri might have actually discovered his little plot, murdered him in cold blood and stuffed his body in the records room. This might all just be the afterlife, but that would mean that Jin had gone to some kind of heaven which didn’t really add up with his current tract record.

But it was fine.

Because you were really fucking easy to talk to.

Like, really fucking easy.

It was sorta strange actually, how you seemed to know all this shit he was into before he even really mentioned it.

After you traded off the goods, you both sat in the big comfy couches upstairs in the loft and you listened to him info dump, inevitably getting lost down innumerable unrelated tangents. You managed to keep up well enough though and not question the winding conversation.

“Damn,” he said, sipping at the last dregs left behind in his cup. “How do you know about all this stuff?”

“Uh,” you paused then, looking maybe just a bit sheepishly into your own drink. “I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time eavesdropping into your conversations while you’re on shift.”

He saw flashes at that moment—dial up sounds going off between his ears.

Jin.exe has stopped working.

“...What?”

You grimaced and hid your face in your hands for a moment, “I know it sounds really creepy, my friends just sorta made a, um, game out of it? They tease me a lot about going to study at the library just cause of the cute guy that works there, so we all kinda stalk you a little bit just—wow this is sounding exponentially worse and worse every second.”

He gaped a bit despite himself as you cringed visibly and Jin tried to discreetly pinch his thigh to make sure this really wasn’t some sort of cruel, cruel fever dream.

“You think I’m cute…?”

He blinked once and your eyes shot up to meet his, a pained, half smile caught between your teeth. “I mean, yeah. I kinda thought I was being a bit obvious, sorry.”

“What no, holy fuck,” he spluttered, face on fire and legs bouncing restlessly against the couch across from you. “Don’t apologize, I have a, uh, staring habit too I guess.”

“I know,” you rubbed at the back of your neck and Jin didn’t think it was possible for you to be anymore endearing. “I’ve noticed, that’s like the whole reason I insisted on buying you a drink.”

“So wait is this a date?”

Jin wished almost immediately that he hadn’t asked, because Magne was right, it super didn’t matter but fucking shit on a stick he really wanted it to be a date!!!!

“Yeah,” you nodded. “If you’d like that.”

“Yes!—ah, I mean, uh yeah mhm,” Jin choked on his spit with enthusiasm, but it did earn him a concerned shoulder pat so he’d take the win.

It also afforded him the opportunity to walk you home after hours chatting until the streets were lit by burnt orange lamps and the cafe was closing. You didn’t live all that far from him actually and when you stopped to point out your door, the two of you were overcome by that telltale, charged silence.

Filled with potential.

Like a gas stove waiting for a spark to go up in flames.

It was you that struck the match.

“So, um, I promise I don’t just, uh, do this with everyone but, do you wanna maybe come inside,” you let your hand trail down his arm and slip into his palm, “I don’t feel like you’ve been properly compensated for saving my ass.”

Jin’s mouth was watering at the thought. He nodded slowly, eyes like saucers as you pulled him up your steps and through the door which shut promptly behind him.

Your place was nice in the sense that it fit you. He wasn’t really paying all that much attention to his surroundings as you locked the door and squeezed his hand in yours, leading him towards the end of the entrance hall.

When he stepped through to your bedroom, you toed off your shoes and he did the same, staring nervously and waiting for you to show him what exactly you meant by ‘further compensation.’

It was exactly what he’d hoped.

You approached him, still in the doorway, and stepped close so your chests brushed together. It was soft, the way you looked at him, sort of fuzzy around the edges while your hands trailed down his arms to place his palms at your waist.

It wasn’t like Jin hadn’t done this before—he totally had and definitely remembered all of it and wasn’t shit faced at all nope—but it hadn’t really mattered before. He knew in theory that he should take the lead, be a gentleman and make the first move and holy fucking god he was dying over there with the desire to finally live out his months and months of fantasies

But what if he did it wrong?

What if he ruined it now when he was so close to the finish line?

He’d never fucking forgive himself for it, and he could goddamn hear Magne in his head.

“You think too much for your own good.”

And he did, and he was right now, cause the room was only dimly lit by the street light streaming in through the window and you were reaching out to loop your arms behind his neck.

Should he lean down now?

Tilt left or right?

What if he clacked your teeth together?

What if—

Your lips were soft and hot against his, rubbing at the stubble on his chin before pressing close in that precious, puzzle-piece way human bodies fit together. He didn’t do much thinking after that.

His hands were too busy digging into the flesh of your hips separated by way to many fucking layers of fabric, and he couldn’t quite stop himself from indulging just a bit. Jin sucked gently at your lower lip, knees going weak at the glorious fucking sound you made in the back of your throat as he licked over the taught skin and tugged it between his teeth.

He could feel you smiling into his mouth, sharing breath and raking your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. Jin groaned and you—fucking cheeky little bastard—slipped your tongue right past his lips and licked at the back of his fucking teeth like a popsicle in July.

Your hands in his hair hard tugged and his breath was coming faster, lips gliding against yours as the room turned to steam around him.

Through the haze he clung to the few remaining seconds of clarity.

Jin pulled away for one painful second to mumble against your lips.“You meant have sex, right?”

“Yeah,” your voice was barely more than a whisper, but you nodded frantically and rolled your hips against his.

“Ohh fuck, ‘kay good, thank god.”

For once Jin had nothing more to add.

And you weren't exactly willing to give him back his tongue long enough for any interruptions anyway.

***

“Holy fucking shit, look at you,” Jin gasped into your ear.

Both of your clothes had been discarded long ago, and he had your bare back to his chest while he sat propped against the headboard with your legs hooked on either side of his knees. It didn’t afford him the best view, but he got your head resting on his shoulder and pretty moans spilling right into his ear.

He didn’t need to see your pussy anyway.

The slick pouring out of your pretty fucking hole and coating his fingers as he pumped two of them into you was more than enough. His other hand wandered in the lovely expanse of space between your chest and your waist, running softly over the skin and pausing to pinch and roll your nipples just to hear you whine.

His cock was so fucking hard, trapped between your ass and his stomach, twitching every time you thrust your hips to meet the movement of his wrist.

“Jin, fuck please-”

You used his name every time you begged him for more and it was really going to his head.

“You’re so goddamn perfect, I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he groaned and sunk his fingers deeper into your soaking cunt while his mouth dropped to your neck and sucked hard to mark you lovely skin.

He licked at the indents of his teeth, tasting your sweat on his tongue that tangled with yours again as your hand reached for his cheek and pulled him in. It was less of a kiss and more of a sloppy forming of your mouths that left you connected by a silvery string of spit that flashed in the low light. Jin sighed at the sight, rutting his hips against the cleft of your ass.

Your thighs twitched where they were spread and your hips lifted off the mattress to meet the languid thrusts of his fingers that curled up on every push in to hear the hitch in your breath.

He took pity on you and brought his other hand down to rub circles on your clit, listening for the telltale whimpers and the way your nails dug into his arm to find the perfect rhythm.

“I don’t really—mm, there fuck—feel like I’m paying you back right now,” you mumbled nipping your own trail of stepping stone bruises onto his throat as he picked up the pace and held steady on that sweet bundle of nerves.

“Are you fucking serious?”

He didn’t really mean to full on growl at you then, but just the thought that you’d really believe he wasn’t about to fucking drown in ecstasy just from watching you get off—just from touching, speaking, being in anyway acknowledged by you at all. Jin nudged your head to the side and bit down harshly into the crook of your neck, shuddering as you moaned and arched against his chest.

In any other scenario, he could never really find the right balance between too many words and not enough. The sheer volume of thoughts and interjections that raced like cars reaching the end of rush hour traffic made the formulation of any coherent conversation impossible, but now—

Now with your body so pliant in his hands, so willing and sweet and wanting him.

Wanting him.

What a concept.

He needed you to understand, to know how fucking over the moon, sunshine bright you had him burning.

And for once, he finally had the words to do it.

After all, he’d had months to prepare.

It was surprisingly easy to change your positions, to pull away from you for just a moment so he could roll and cage you on your hands and knees under him, ass in the air nestled against his cock.

“You really don’t think I’m getting anything out of this?” he groaned into you ear, rocking his length against you both for emphasis and because it felt so fucking good.

“Ah, well ya know,” your voice was so wrecked he was desperate to find out how much it would take for you to lose it entirely. “When you put it like that—mmh—I just feel bad you’re doing all the work. ”

You had this cheeky fucking grin on your face when you rocked forward so back so his cock slipped down to your dripping lips. The heat of your cunt was mesmerizing and it took a fuck ton of self control Jin was unaware he possessed to not ram straight into you right then.

“Yeah cause I’ve wanted to for fucking months goddamn it’s driving me insane.”

“What?”

Now that he’d started, Jin couldn’t find it in himself to stop. His hands dug hard into your hips, rocking so the tip of his dick caught your clit and you shivered below him, hot skin sliding with the motion of your bodies.

“It’s all I think about whenever I see you,” he was shaking when his hand reached down to grip himself, spreading your folds and soaking his length in your slick. “When you come in to work I just fucking lose myself thinking about how bad I want you to be mine, my pretty fucking thing to bring me coffee while I work and let me fuck you in the backroom.”

You whimpered under him, face pressed into the mattress as he draped himself over you, chest to back with his breath ghosting over your ear.

“Literal hours I just sit there at that awful fucking job and I only keep coming cause of you, cause I can watch you sit all cute in your chair and watch the way your cheeks squish up when you put your face in your hands and imagine they’re my hands and I’m about to spit in your fucking mouth so you remember who you belong too.”

“I—” you were nearly choking on the drool that soaked through your sheets as Jin lined himself up with your pretty little hole, pressing just the tip into your heat. “I didn’t think you ever—nggh, shit—noticed much about me.”

The corners of his eyes burned as sweat dripped down his forehead, he had to hold back a sob as he sheathed another inch into those perfect walls.

“Notice you? You’re all I fucking think about,” he pressed his lips softly against your shoulder, hands running from your chest to your sides as you took his cock and every word that slipped from his lips without complaint. “I could take such good care of you. I just fucking know it, just please, let me take care of you?”

“Fuck Jin,” your voice was closer to a sob than anything else but he needs you screaming. “You don’t really have to convince me—”

His patience had run out long ago, not even willing to let you finish before he’d sunk in to the hilt, spearing you on his cock with one final thrust. You ass was flush with his hips and his balls hung heavy and tight against the back of your thighs. The strangled little cry that worked its way out of your throat had gooseflesh erupting across his arms where he held you to him.

Jin couldn’t really be sure—it wasn’t like his brain was all that functional on a day to day basis and it most certainly was not now—but your walls clenching around him and that addictive warm, wet feeling milking his cock was on a whole other level than any fuck he’d ever had before.

There was something about the curve of your back against his chest, and the way you seemed to suck him in, drawing his length back in just seconds after he’d pulled out. Some about the feeling of your chest in his hands, of the sweat on your skin that he licked off in a long strip up your spine. Like you really were made for him. As though all those months spent in dream land, concocting your pretend lives together had spilled over into reality, molding you into the perfect shape to take him deep and hard and cry while you came on his cock just like he knew you were meant to.

“Oh, fuck yeah, gonna make you feel so good, I promise,” he mumbled, forehead pressed to the nape of your neck as his hips drew back and he sunk into you over and over again.

He needed you to moan louder, needed your neighbors on the other side of every wall to hear what he did to you, how he fucked you dumb on his cock and made you drunk with the pleasure of it—slutty and perfect and better than any fantasy he could ever concoct.

The room was filled completely with the wet slap of your bodies—his balls tightening up just at the squelch of you taking him—leaving only enough space for your cries and his grunting, no room left for any bitter doubt to creep in and ruin the sweetness in the air.

He could feel the surge growing in his stomach, the tensing in his thighs as his hips stuttered, but he needed you to cum first. Wanted to tip over the edge to the feeling of you spasming around him, so he let a hand slip from your hip to your folds. Jin only paused for a moment to run a finger around your stretched hole, feeling himself plunging into you, before drifting back up to your swollen clit and working the sensitive bud.

The mattress creaked and rocked along as Jin increased his pace, shifting his hips until his tip knocked against something that had your hands fisting in the sheets and your tongue lolling out in between cries of his name.

You didn’t give him much a warning, not that he minded really. Just a muffled shout with your head smashed into the pillows and the tightening of your walls surrounding him before he felt your whole body wracked with tremors so hard he had to wrap both arms around your middle and hold you while he rammed into you.

Jin wasn’t really keeping track of the filth that was pouring from his lips as he brought himself closer to release. A lot of encouragement, that you were taking him so well, cumming so pretty for him, mixed with a lot of thanks—for letting him have this, have you, for not casting him aside like everyone else always inevitably did.

He did have the clarity to drag one arm up and link your fingers together, pressing hard into the bed while blood pounded in his ears and his hips stuttered in their relentless rhythm. When Jin did finally cum, it was a strangely silent affair, all the words and sound that usually roared inside him dying on his lips as his cock spilled milky release deep inside you and your walls fluttered at the fullness.

And then it was as though every muscle in his body changed physical states.

Boneless, he collapsed onto you with a little huff. You didn’t even complain, just squeezed his hand tighter in yours and hummed at the weight of him.

“Well I think that was a, um,” you panted while he nuzzled his face deeper into your neck, “pretty equivalent exchange yeah?”

“I don’t know,” Jin kissed and nipped at the sweet skin of your shoulder, “I think you might have over paid a bit.”

You laughed, the joyous movement of your chest jostled him from your back and had his soft cock slipping from you in a gush of combined release. “I doubt that very much, I didn’t know I’d be getting to take your fucking load as part of the deal.”

“Shit,” he felt his heart seize in his chest, raising up on his elbows to look down as you turned to him. “I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

Your hand came up to stroke his cheek, clammy but welcome. He sat up enough so you could lay on your back and pull him back down to your chest amidst the sweat and cum slicked sheets.

“Don’t worry about it, I would have asked you to anyway,” you kissed the baby frizz at his hairline and if Jin hadn’t already melted into a puddle, then he certainly was now. “If I’d been able to talk at all.”

“Ha, yeah….”

A short silence descended in your dark bedroom. The noise of cars and the occasional shout filtered in through the window, but there was no other sound than your evening breaths. Jin tried not to ruin the peace while he had it.

It was such a rare commodity.

But he couldn’t say he mourned the quiet when you finally spoke.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you asked in that soft way he always envisioned you would.

Soft so he’d know it was just a courtesy.

That you didn’t want him to leave.

“Uh, yeah, yes I would,” he stumbled over the words a bit, trying not to sound too eager but wanting you to know he would work a thousands shifts at the reception desk if it meant you held him for just a second longer.

“Good,” you sighed.

He felt you scoot down the bed and flopped onto his back so you could settle your head on his chest and drape an arm across his stomach. After another few minutes he felt you go limp at his side, soft and relaxed as you slipped away into dreams.

But though his muscles ached and his eyes felt heavy, Jin resisted the call to sleep.

He didn’t need to now.

You were here, in the flesh, and he could study you intently while his eyes were open.

No need for his brain to conjure up scattered images of you.

Because he had you now, tucked safely under his arm for him to keep and hold and fuck and love the way he wanted.

So there was no more need for sleep.

And no need for dreams.

#twice x reader #twice x you #jin bubaigawara x reader #bee writes #bnha fanfiction #college au #library!twice x student!reader #twice mha #bee.writes

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