#my mom also made a couple of recommendations but i feel like they won’t work because she’s allergic to emotion | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

runa-falls · 2 years

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chapter one: one look and you’re hypnotized

Pairing: ari levinson x reader

Rating: fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I’m excited to introduce my new series ‘angel eyes’ featuring ari levinson. i’ve been focusing on moon knight a lot and wanted to change things ups so once i heard angel eyes by abba i knew i had to write this! i hope you enjoy it ;)

series masterlist

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Your parents are excited to show you around the little town they settled in while you were busily studying at your local college. They moved to a small beach town a few months back, but you haven’t been able to visit and see their new house because your job back home won’t give you a break.

Thankfully, they’ve granted you time off in the summer. You plan to take this time to relax on the beach and use your photography hobby to do some freelance work. You need something to keep you busy before you drive yourself up the walls, and making a little money on the side never hurt anyone.

You arrived a couple of days ago, staying back from any excursions they went on to recover from jetlag. You have been enjoying catnaps on the hammock they set up on their back porch and taking late-night walks on the beach when you can’t sleep.

Now, you feel your body reorienting yourself to the time zone and can finally join them out for dinner. They decide that your visit is a good excuse to go to a beachside bar that their neighbors have been recommending since they moved here.

Apparently, (according to your mom,) it has a lot of great reviews from its ocean-side views, good food, and casual atmosphere. You would think your parents get enough ‘beach-side’ views from their own house which is only a few steps from the sand, but they can’t get enough of the rolling waves and breezy weather.

It’s a wonder how your parents haven’t visited the bar before since it’s only a five-minute walk on the beach from their place. When you arrive, there is a man-made path that leads to the back entrance of the restaurant.

You can see an external bar and seating area closed in by a small fence around the perimeter for those wanting to sit outside. It’s all illuminated by beautiful hanging lights and warmly lit lanterns.

You already hear chatter and faint music as you walk closer. You notice how crowded the main dining area outside is. Almost every table is taken, except for a few scattered throughout the venue that can only seat couples.

You see a disappointed look in your mom’s eyes as she stands up on her toes trying to look over the crowd for any vacant tables.

You sigh, deciding it is best if they get a couple’s table with an ocean view while you get your food at the bar, like the other single diners.

Their anniversary is tomorrow, and even though they came here to experience the outdoor restaurant with you, you wanted them to enjoy a meal without having to squeeze into a tiny table. You also feel guilty about holding them back for the last few days.

“Hey, Mom, if you and Dad want to get that table over there I’m fine sitting at the bar. It’s your anniversary eve, you deserve it.” She looks at you with a huge grin on her face, thinking of what a sweet child she has.

“Oh, Y/N, what did we do to deserve you?” She gives you a big smooch on your cheek, leaving a faint pink mark as evidence. “Get whatever you want, and treat yourself to some dessert too, okay?” You nod, quickly rubbing at your cheek. Well, she gave in fast, you think. Didn’t even try to fight me on it.

A waitress shows them to their table and you walk in the opposite direction to the bar. It was a lot louder in this area, everyone has someone to talk to. You squeeze yourself into a spot between two couples, their backs facing you, making you feel even more alone.

It surprised you to find that there is only one bartender serving this huge crowd of people. You try to get his attention, but he’s a blur as he quickly walks around the bar, from one person to the next.

You try to keep yourself busy by looking at the menu. You rethink you order, then go back to your original choice before rethinking it again. There are only so many entrees that pique your interest before you start counting how many combinations of sides and mains there can be.

He finally pauses in front of you for a second, head dipping low to read an order that was scribbled on a post-it note. His lips silently move as he mouths the words he reads, trying to memorize everything before moving on to the next thing.

His long hair falls in front of his face from the way he’s angled, but before it could bother him, he pushes it back with a large hand. He looks up after striking out a few things on the list to make sure that he’s not missing any calls from customers. His eyes stop their scanning and lock with yours. Where did you come from? He was sure that he’d notice a lone girl dressed in a tiny sundress sitting at his bar.

Air is sucked out of the room when you look at this man. He stands tall, boasting broad shoulders that stretch his blue long-sleeved shirt against his skin. His sleeves are pushed up around his biceps, displaying his strong tanned forearms to the audience of customers. You could see whisps of hair that don his chest from the few buttons he decided to leave undone.

A full beard perfectly frames the full lips that peek from underneath it. Despite your obvious stare, he glides his tongue over his bottom lip, actively inviting the attention. But what hits you the deepest is his cerulean eyes that are shamelessly peering back at you. You feel hypnotized by their intensity of them. A blush flows down your body as they observe the features of your face, then neck, then chest.

“What can I get you?” His low voice breaks the moment, somehow speaking over the sound of the busy restaurant. You look away before he sees how your whole body is engulfed in heat from his stare, pretending like you’re looking at the menu.

“The, uh, house burger, and a tequila sunrise, please.” You drop the menu right under your eyes and he tips his head in a nod. You slowly place it in his hand and he purposely slides his palm against the back of yours before taking it from you. You flinch, putting your arm to your side, not expecting the warmth of his skin on yours. He walks away like nothing happened, inputs your order on the computer, and pulls out a glass to prepare your drink.

He didn’t even ask for your ID you realize. He didn’t spark a conversation with you like he did everyone else either. Maybe he wanted to interact with you as little as possible, you thought, watching him as he focused on the task at hand.

He makes the drink with expertise, looking back at you as he mixes it up in a cocktail shaker. You give him a shy smile, embarrassed that he caught you looking. He finishes it off by garnishing it with a thin slice of orange that’s been twisted on a tiny umbrella. He slides the sweating glass towards you, slinging a towel over his shoulder.

“Thank you…” You said, your voice a lot smaller than you intended.

“Of course.” He looks like he’s going to say more before he’s called away by someone wanting a refill.

You watch him as he goes back to the rhythm of moving from person to person, offering customers a charming smile, picking up empty glasses, and near-empty plates as he goes. His smile perfectly complements his bright ocean eyes, you decide, even if it isn’t a real smile.

He turns around and looks directly back at you, almost like he can feel your stare while he’s working. An older woman is talking to him, and he nods at her words like he’s listening but he continues to make little glances your way while holding a small smile on his face. He knows exactly what’s he doing, holding your attention but never making a move to talk to you. You sigh at the realization that he’s probably not interested in anything but your attention.

You don’t look up until your food is placed in front of you. You expected to meet blue eyes, but it turns out a different bartender finally joined him. You eat your burger in silence, scrolling through your phone to distract you from watching the man of the hour flash smiles at everyone.

Your meal filled you up so you decide to skip dessert and ask the new bartender for the check. That was ten minutes ago. You’ve been waiting for the check as the seats around you slowly began to empty. You spot the other bartender coming back from the indoor part of the restaurant and wave your hand at him, trying to get his attention. He looks surprised when he sees you, thinking you had left already.

“Is there a problem?” He was genuinely confused, wondering if you had a complaint.

“I just haven’t gotten the check yet…” His eyes furrow before he turns looking around for something.

“I’m sorry about that, my colleague said he would take care of you…” He finally spots him talking to some customers closer to the beach.

“Oh, there he is! I’ll have it for you in a second, thank you for your patience.” You give him an understanding smile, watching as he power walks towards the bearded man.

He points to you as they talk for a minute, sending both of their gazes in your direction. You look away, not wanting them to know you are watching. Before long, you hear him walk back to you

“Here you go.” He places the check in front of you, taking a pen out of his front pocket and dropping it next to it.

“Thanks.” You open it up and see a little piece of notebook paper that sports torn edges all around it. Scrawled hastily in the middle of the note is a message: Couldn’t help but notice you over there… and right under it his number. Your eyes finally land on his name at the very bottom: Ari.

Even after you rejoined your parents to take a night walk before turning in for the night, you couldn’t get that note out of your head. The message burned the inside of your bra, right over your heart as your feet sank in the sun-warmed sand under you. You would’ve folded it up to put in your pocket, but you’re wearing a dress so you didn’t have the option. Ari. What a nice name, it suits him well.

You dreamily think of him as you sit on your bed, the note in hand as you prepare to go to sleep. Your thoughts are keeping you up, deciding whether to text him now or make him wait. Then wondering if he really meant for you to get this, or if it was an honest mistake. You put the note as negative thoughts fog your brain. You conclude that the best choice is to do nothing. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again…

—

But it seems like the universe has other plans for you.

The next day, you drag out your beach essentials late in the morning to relax on the sand before it gets too hot. Your favorite beach activity is pulling out one of your comfort romance novels and fantasizing about being approached by a handsome stranger.

It’s almost like you manifested the moment.

You did not expect to see the burly bartender from the night before approaching you with a large surfboard under his arm. He’s wearing a full wet suit that’s zipped halfway down showing off his pecks and even from here, you can see water travel down his neck inviting you to look under the suit. His hair is slicked back, still damp from his water activities.

After a few seconds of you blatantly staring at admiring the man, you come back to your senses. You quickly use your hand to feel around your towel, looking for something to use as a distraction. You swiftly scoop up your worn novel and open it up against your face, trying to hide from a confrontation. Your attempts are unsuccessful when he spots the familiar locket resting on your chest.

He was originally appreciating the way your swimsuit looked on you, hugging your soft body in a way he wished his arms could. As he tried to get a look of your face, he couldn’t help but notice the necklace peeking out from under the book.

Your pure wide eyes were the first things that drew him in last night. He made sure to memorize every part of you from your head to your waist, the bar blocking the view of the rest. As his eyes dripped down your body, they curiously landed on the cracked oval pendant that hung between your collarbones. The uniqueness of the locket made it easier to recognize you, even as you covered yourself with a racy-looking book cover.

You continue to pretend to read, minding your business hoping he’d just walk by. After a substantial amount of time, you close the book and sneak a glance to see if he left, but instead he’s standing right in front of you with an amused expression dancing on his perfect face.

“Enjoying the book?” He nods over at the novel that’s now gripped in your hand. You’re mortified. He just watched as you pretended to intensely read a smut-filled romance novel! “Looks exciting…” He chuckles under his breath as he watches you shove the book under your thighs in embarrassment.

“Uh… No, I wasn’t really reading it, I was just…”

“Avoiding me?” He finishes for you. You freeze at his words, he caught you. “Y’never got around to text me…I assumed you didn’t see the note I left you.”

“The note?” You try to act as if you forgot about it, even when your whole night was spent worrying about it.

“Oh, right…I-I must’ve dropped it somewhere on the way out, sorry.” Your eyes avoid him as you talk, a symptom of your bad lying and nervous energy. Even though he can tell you aren’t sharing the whole truth, he nods along with your story, accepting your excuse. He’s just going to have to try a little harder.

“That’s alright,” He shrugs it off, walking closer to you before squatting down to your level. Being so close, you can smell his coconut sunscreen and the salt water that’s starting to dry off of his skin. You straighten up as he leans closer. “I can just give you my number right now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, just hand me your phone.” You turn to your bag and shuffle around the items until your fingers grasp around the rectangular device. You unlock it and wordlessly hand it to him.

When he gives it back, you see that he’s already sent a message to himself, and made his contact name, “Ari (the *cuter* bartender)” in reference to last night.

“I made the first move in case you’d forget again.” He winks at you. You sheepishly slip the phone back into your bag, turning away as your face flushes at his directness, taking your time to zip it up.

“So what should I call you, Angel?” He holds a smirk on his face, clearly aware of the way he affects you. After all of the moments you’ve interacted–okay it’s only been the second time, but each moment feels like a thousand years–you realize that he doesn’t even know your name. Feeling a little giddy from the casual way he coined the pet name when referring to you, you responded without thinking.

“Angel is fine.” You don’t know where it comes from, but from the look on his face, he looks inclined to agree. His eyes sparkle with playfulness pleased that you’re finally responding to his suggestive chatter.

“Sounds good to me.” He grins, pushing himself off the sand to stand back up. You expect him to walk away and text you sometime in the evening, but instead, he asks you out, “Would you like to grab some lunch with me, Angel?” He offers you a hand to help you up, but you don’t take it. Instead, the wincing expression you’re holding tells him you're about to reject his offer.

“I would, but I have an appointment in an hour and a half to get to.” Your voice is sincere and full of regret. Your mom's friend's daughter wants her pictures ‘professionally’ taken in front of the water for her Instagram, and even though it's not a serious meeting, you can’t just cancel last minute for a lunch date with the man of your dreams. It would be unprofessional.

"Well, how about dinner, tonight? I can take you to my favorite pizza place? It’s really good, real Italians and everything." He tries to entice you with the idea of a perfect pie. You act like you’re thinking about it just to tease him, looking up and tapping your chin. He watches you with intense anticipation almost making you giggle at the sight. You never thought you’d have a man like him hanging by your every word.

“Sure, tonight works”

“Ok, great, text me your address later and I’ll pick you up.” You nod in acknowledgment, watching him grab his surfboard, brushing off some sand that sticks to it.

“See you later, Angel.”

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fluff #ari levinson series #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader

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midnightswithdearkatytspb · 4 years

Note

Mob bucky/seb or mob chris/andy recs??

Updated 07/04/21 ✨ = Just Added

To be added please tag me in your future works!

Hey Anon! I’m so glad you asked this because Mob/Mafia! Any version of those boys is my favorite. In my previous fic recs I recommended...

If love was an option by @mianorth » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Part 1 🦋 Part 2 🦋 Part 3

Good Little Wife & Good Little Girl by @donutloverxo » Mob!Andy Barber x Reader – A little dark and it has some really good smut in it.

Blackmail by @stargazingfangirl18 » Soft!DarkMafia Andy Barber x Female Reader — You were just doing it to protect your family, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself, especially once you started to like it. (One-Shot)

Blow Sweet and Thick by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Bucky is having a bad day, you can help him feel good. (Part of Mafia Monday’s)

Run To You by @bestofbucky » Mob!Boss Bucky x Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. (Series)

Can’t Run, Can’t Hide by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!MafiaBucky Barnes x Reader — When you get noticed by the infamous mob boss, you flee. But Bucky doesn’t like to be denied anything and he’s coming for you. (One-shot)

Six Feet | Ch.1 ⚰️ Ch.2 by @queenoftheworldisdead » Dark Mob!Steve x Reader + Dark Mob!Bucky x Reader — Your family’s small funeral home comes into financial trouble. In desperation your father finds the most unlikely solution to solve his financial problems. | (Short Series)

Bankrupt by @mypoisonedvine » dark!40’s!Mob!Stucky x Reader — Your husband’s gambling addiction quickly got him in hot water with the mob, and you by extension. When some debt collectors come by to settle what is owed, you realize that you have a lot more to worry about than money problems.

Partition by @angrythingstarlight » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky comforts you after a bad day, and your boss learns why no one messes with his girl. —> Part 2: Let Me Show You — You wanted to know what your mobster boyfriend did, lucky for you he’s more into the show then tell.

Say the word and it’s yours by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mobster boyfriend rescues you from a long, boring day at work. Bucky always said, “ask and its yours”

Lost Without You by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Bucky Barnes would be lost with you. You’re his everything and he plans on spending Valentine’s Day proving it to you.

All Dressed In White by @angrythingstarlight » Dark!Mafia Bucky Barnes x Reader — You were going to marry someone else, Bucky won’t let that happen. You belong to him now and forever. Till Death Do You Part.

Thick As Thieves by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Mafia!Steve Rogers — The only thing the Mafia hates as much as snitches are thieves. And you’re planning on stealing from Bucky and Steve, what happens if you get caught?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that.

Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again.

To Have & To Hold by @slyyywriting » Bucky Barnes x Mob Boss!Reader — Bucky is trying his best to provide and care for his daughter who just entered first grade. Everything was alright until she asks why everyone else seems to have a mom except for her. You’re just a plain mob boss who wants to turn a new leaf. Challenges arise when the world refuses to let you take a softer, non-violent route. A little girl helps you navigate a compromise.(series)

✨ Mob!Sugar Daddy!Stucky Moodboard by @brattycherubwrites » Mob!Stucky x Reader

✨ Laced Around Your Throat by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve x Reader, Mafia!Bucky x Reader — Your Mob boyfriend knows that the only thing that looks even better than his hand around your throat is his custom made necklace. You’re his girl and the world needs to know it.

✨ Hidden Gems by @jtargaryen18 » Mob!Steve Rogers x Mob!Daughter Reader — Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

Necessary Arrangements by @stargazingfangirl18 » Andy Barber x Fem!Reader, Ari Levinson x (Different) Fem! Reader ft. Ransom Drysdale » One of my favorite series, chapters are decent sized and the smut is so good!

Hugs My Love by @thatfuckingweirdo » Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You just really need a hug, and Bucky is the only one you want it from.

my old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam by @cloudystevie » Mob Boss!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader — steve gives you what you want… kind of.

Brooklyn Wars by @world-of-aus » Stucky x Reader

Petals and Bullets by @revengingbarnes » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader (One of my all time favorites series)

I would check out @sinner-as-saint’s Masterlist they have quite a few Mob!Bucky series and one-shots that I have loved in the past.

Special by @buckycuddlebuddy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — this one-shot is really hot.

Love, Honor, and Obey by @constantwriter85 » Bucky Barnes — This one is good and I need to catch up on.

Mafioso by @captain-barnes-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Please do yourself a favor and read.

Lipstick and Crayons by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader - In Progress

A really good DarkMob!Steve Drabble called Please Hurt Me by @gotnofucks *chefs kiss*

The Mobster’s Little Girl by @smutsonian » Steve Rogers x Reader

off to the races 🐻 off to the races 2 by @harryspet » Soft!Dark Steve Rogers x Reader

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast by @mysterioh » Steve Rogers x Reader – With 21 parts sadly it hasn’t been updated in 8 months, it’s one of my favorite Mob!Steve Roger fics out there. *Thanks to @inactivewhore I found out this story was moved to AO3 and is now called where angels fear to tread it was last updated on 13/11/20*

What It Takes by @cherienymphe » Bucky Barnes x Reader — You left Bucky once you found out who he really is. The one thing you thought would guarantee your safety ends up sealing your fate.

Welcome Home by @punani » Chris Evans x Black!Reader — He’s been away for awhile, but he knows that his girl’s loyalty to him knows no bounds. Knows she’s been waiting for him after her adamancy in telling him there was no other option. It’s only right to make the reunion a memorable one. | So, so, so, so freaking good!

These are what I found on Tumblr that I plan on reading.

Handmaid by @extremelyblackandwhite » Sebastian Stan x ingenue!Reader — y/n works as a handmaid for the daughter of an influential mob leader who is promised to the new boss of the most powerful mob family in new york, sebastian.

AO3 Website Reccomendations

Satellite Heart » Stucky x Reader — You used to be Steve and Bucky's girl. Then they fucking left without saying goodbye. Little did they know, you were pregnant. But life went on. You raised your Talia to the best of your ability. But one day, everything goes to shit. Now your boys are back in your life. And they're not planning on leaving anytime soon.

Little Fox A/B/O Series » Soft!Dark Bucky Barnes x Soft!Dark Natasha Romanoff x OFC! & Peter Parker x Soft!Dark Tony Stark — So I can’t stress this enough you need to read the tags for this series and I kept getting confused as I read this story as to how old Violet Mason is. But this series takes you on a roller coaster, I like it, my cousin didn’t finish it, I need to catch up.

Pelmeni *finished* » Stucky x Reader — James Bucky Barnes has a good life, as a member of a powerful organized crime syndicate. His best friend Steve is a member too and his literal partner in crime. Bucky's got a problem though. You. His longtime love and secret girlfriend. Unfortunately, your father is his boss and has plans for you that involve normal life. Steve has a problem too. Steve wants in on your relationship and more than the semi-regular/occasional steamy threesomes. You don't have a problem, you're just busy with a big mob wedding coming up, which means a big celebration, that you're busy catering for.

Dying For This Love » Dark!Bucky x Reader — That was before. When you were Bucky’s girl. Now, you have a score to settle. That’s why you’re wearing Bucky’s favorite red satin dress, the one with the cuts that reach right up to the tops of your thighs, the tennis necklace he gifted you for your anniversary, and are fresh off of a mani/pedi and hair appointment. He’s going to regret the day he fucked with you. | This one is intense and a tad bit dark, but the smut is good.

off to the races » Steve Rogers x Reader — In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

The Mobster’s Little Girl » Steve Rogers x Reader — what happens when the big bad mobster gets blackmailed by your father to marry you? (kind of fluffy kind of not. kinda dark kinda not.)

Brooklyn Sweethearts » Dark!Stucky x Reader — Bucky and Steve had always been meant to keep her safe and happy. As far as anyone else was concerned, that was their sole reason for being alive. Unfortunately, the things that kept her safe were not always the things that kept her happy. Lately, she was making it pretty damn hard for them to compromise. | Probably one of my all time favorite Mafia!Stucky stories I have ever read, just sadly it also hasn’t been updated in like 8 months and I keep hoping it will get updated.

Hot Doll » Skinny!MobBoss Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there. | Dark and good!

Doctor Doctor » Steve Rogers x PlusSize! Reader — (1940 Mobster AU!) You're a war widow down on her luck; and the King of Brooklyn, Steve Rogers, takes notice. | Another one of my favorites. A little bit dark as well.

The Widow » Dark!MobBoss x Reader — It’s the 1920s and everyone’s having a roaring time but you. | Trust me it’s just dark enough.

Those are just some on AO3, I would just go through Mafia AU tag and go to filter and click Avengers or Captain America.

#you ask i answer #ktk rec ‘21 #ktk rec #ktk fic rec #mob!bucky #mafia!bucky #mob!andy barber #andy barber #andy barber x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mob!steve #dark!steve x reader #stucky x reader #fanfiction recommendation #fanfic rec #mob!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan x reader #mob!chris evans

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

It’s you against the world.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Alex Danvers x Niece!Reader, Kelly Olsen x Niece!Reader.

Word count: 3175.

Warning: Still angsty, I guess.

I would recommend checking the Rescue Mission series if you haven’t yet :)

Kara said, ‘one thing at a time’. You’re alive, and back on your feet. Brainy is nursed back to health. Alex is out commanding the DEO back again. Jamie is exhausted, but fine. Kelly looks like she never even was in danger in the first place. And your Gramm is talking about going back to Midvale. Everyone is doing ok, but Lena.

How can no one be talking about this? About the fact that she’s not even here. About the fact that she looked blankly at your face and told you she doesn’t have a daughter, nor a family? This should be the only thing on their minds because it’s the only thing on your mind. How can they bear the fact that one person from this family is not here? How is the fact that she’s alive and safe enough for them?

As soon as your feet touch the ground and you get the ‘approval’ for leaving -even though you still look like a war painting, with all the blood and the bruises-, you fly out of the DEO. Kara tries to stop you, but she doesn’t know where you’re going, so you guess she’ll show up in a while. You fly to where you found Jamie and Lena. The place is abandoned and none of the guys that you beat up are still there. Well, there’s no one to follow now, so you figured they have fled the scene.

You grab everything you can see that was possibly used to erase her mind. You even carry the chair out of that hiding place and into L Corp. You use your super speed to take everything into your lab, and then call the front desk to let Aly know you’re in there. You beg her not to tell Lena, because you’re working on a surprise, and tell her you don’t want to be interrupted by anything or anyone.

You’ve been working for hours, and you’re almost sure it’s night and you haven’t heard from anyone yet. Great, Aly is doing her job and not letting anyone disturb you. This should work.

“Baby, please.” Kara knocks on your lab door, and you breathe deep, trying to ignore her. You don’t have time for this, for whatever it is that she wants, you just can’t waste time. You only have time for one thing in your life right now and you don’t care about the rest of the world. “Can you open the door, so I can see your pretty little face?”

“I’m busy, go away!” You answer, rolling your chair to the computer behind you, and your hands go crazy on the keyboard.

“I’m not leaving.” Kara says, and you look at the door, rolling your eyes. “I need you to open the door, so I don’t have to break it.”

“Don’t you dare destroy L Corp property, Kara Danvers!” You speak loudly and your heart squeezes on your chest when you hear your own voice. You sounded just like Lena.

Kara sighs on the other side of the door, hanging her head low, thinking the same thing you are. You know that by the way her heart changes a beat the slightest.

“My love, I know you’re hurt. I know you want to solve this, and trust me, I want you to crack this too, but-”

“Then leave!” You yell, cutting her off. “If you want me to solve this, then you have to leave and let me work, because right now you’re distracting me.”

“It’s the middle of the night, you need sleep.” Kara keeps going, and you see her hand on the handle. No way in hell you’re going to let her break this door. You roll your chair towards the door and open to a puppy face doe-eyed Kara. “Little one, you just got out of a fight where you almost died. Let’s go home. Let’s wash this blood off and-”

“No.” You roll back to your workstation. “You can stay and help if you want, but you will not convince me to leave. This is my fault, and I have to fix it.”

“Kid, this is not your fault. You did what you had to do. You saved her. Rao, don’t you get it?” Kara goes to you and kneels next to your chair. “You saved everyone. You saved me, Jamie, Alex, Kelly, Eliza. And you saved Lena! Lena is safe! Alive! Because of you.”

“It’s not enough. I didn’t do enough.” You ignore her, hands still moving fast on the keyboard. Although, if you’re being honest, you’re not exactly typing anything that makes sense right now. You’re just distracting yourself, and trying to show Kara how busy you are, so she can leave.

“You did what you could’ve done. You did what I would’ve done in that situation, baby.” Kara says, putting her hands on top of yours so you can stop. With her other hand she holds your chin, and makes you look at her. “You are a hero. This is not your fault.”

“Stop.” You clench your jaw, feeling the anger boiling your blood. You try to stop it from coming up and devouring you, but you can’t. “Stop patronizing me. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I know you’re not. You’re an awesome superhero who just saved all National City. But you’re also a person, and you have basic needs. You need to sleep, eat, change out of your super suit, wash this dry blood off, you need to catch some sunlight to heal your bruises, and I-” Kara breathes heavily swallowing her tears. “I need you.”

“You can stay and help if you want, but-”

“Stop. Please, baby, please, stop.” Kara says, eyes full of tears. You can see the pain on her face. You can hear the pain in her voice. It makes you sadder. “I miss her too.”

“Not enough.” You get out of her grip, and stand up, going to the table behind you, distracting yourself with the first thing your hands can grab, in front of you. “You can’t possibly miss her enough if you’re here trying to convince me to stop trying and go home.”

“That’s not fair. You’re my daughter and I have to care for you.” Kara stands up, walking to where you are. She easily spins you around and strokes your cheek gently. “Look at you, baby, you’re battle-worn.”

“You can’t be here talking about sleep and shower when your goddamn wife doesn’t remember who you are!” You slap her hand away from your face. “She-she doesn’t remember me! I did this! You don’t get it!” Your eyes are full of tears too, but it’s more than sadness. It’s guilt, and pain, and anger. It makes you furious that everyone else in the entire world is out there doing anything, anything besides helping your mom get her memories back and be herself again.

“I do.” Kara tries, which only makes you angrier.

“NO, you DON’T!” You yell, making her flinch at the voice raise and she takes a couple steps back, giving you space. “And you NEVER will!” You grab the first thing you see and throw it on the floor next to her. Kara watches, motionless, the wrench breaking on your hand, and then kicking on the floor before stopping in front of her feet. “You will never understand how this is my fault. I made the wrong call. You’re Kryptonian, she’s human. I should’ve gone for her first!”

“Then why did you go for me?” Kara furrows her eyebrows, looking stung by your declaration.

“I thought you could help me.” You hold her gaze defiant. “But you didn’t. You couldn’t. I had to do it alone, and I didn’t do enough.”

“You have to stop saying this. Kid, you sacrificed yourself for us. How is that not enough?” Kara comes closer again, holding her hands out so you can hold it. “You nearly died. You did more than-”

“I told you to STOP PATRONIZING ME!” You punch your anger through the table, making a hole right where your hand went. “GET OUT!”

“Little one-”

“I said GET OUT! Get out of my lab!” You point at the door. “Only come back here when you realize that mom needs me. That I’m the only one who should-who can bring her back. Until then, you’re not welcomed here.”

Kara stands there, unmoving. Taking in your every word like punches in the gut. But you don’t care. You’ve been punched in the gut a lot today. By aliens, by your own gullibility, by Lena’s empty look towards you, by your guilt that’s been eating you out from the inside.

You turn around, so you don’t face her, and you go grab more things for your work. She looks lost, stuck there, drinking your words in. You don’t look behind yourself for a few good minutes, and when you do, she’s gone. No trace she was ever there, except the things you broke because you’re mad.

You are mad at so many things you don’t even know where to start. And you decide not to. You can’t start thinking about the things you’re mad about or this will never get done and you will have to go longer without Lena knowing who you are.

You go back to work. Solely focus on bringing her memories back, whatever it costs. You are tired. You’re past the point of hunger. You start to feel your blood drying up on your skin getting so parched it breaks it off when you move, and you know you could use a shower. You’re fueling your body with energy drinks only, and you guess they were put outside your door by Aly. You lose count of how many meals you’ve skipped; despite the fact that food is also placed outside your door from time to time. And how many sleepless hours it has been now. You’re battle worn, exhausted, and drained out, but you won’t leave this lab until you crack this.

“Kiddo, is aunt Alex.” You hear a voice coming from your door. Honestly, by now, you might as well be hallucinating this whole thing. It feels like you’ve been alone here for days now.

“If you’re not here to help, then don’t waste your breath.” You answer, finally looking at the door and you see she’s not alone. “I don’t think therapist Olsen can help.”

“Can you just open the door for a minute?” Alex asks and waits a little. You don’t go there. “Please, kiddo, it’s not fair you can see us, and we can’t talk to you face-to-face.”

“You want to talk about fair?” You run to the door, opening it with so much anger it startles both of your aunts on the other side. The sight of you, you imagine, also helps with this shock. “Let’s talk about how you made me decide which mom I had to save first! I’m just a kid! You put that decision in my hands! How is that fair?”

“Hey, that’s not, kiddo, come on.” Alex breathes deep trying to calm herself. “That shapeshifter was playing with us. I told you to go for Lena, but it-it had Kara’s location. It wanted you to go for Kara, so it could buy time to erase Lena’s mind.”

“You should’ve made me! You’re the grown-up! You’re the director of the DEO, you’re the one who was supposed to know what to do!”

“Well, surprise, I didn’t!” Alex raises her voice a little, and Kelly holds her arms like telling her to calm down. “I didn’t know what the hell was going on and my sister wasn’t answering. So when that alien gave you Kara’s location, I wanted you to go for her. There was no way for me to know what was really happening so you can’t-you just can’t blame me for this.”

“Lucky for you, I don’t blame anyone but myself.” You turn around, going back to your computer. “I see you didn’t come to help, so you can make your way out. If you're looking for confirmation, there, you have it. It’s not your fault.”

“Honey.” Kelly says in the most condescending tone you’ve ever heard, and you hold your breath and close your fist trying to hold the anger inside. “It’s not your fault either. You were tricked, like everyone else. Alex was tricked by fake Brainy, me and Jamie got tricked by fake Alex. We all got tricked too. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“And you don’t blame me?” You turn to them again, narrowing your eyes. “None of you blame me for this?”

“Of course not!”

“No, not at all!”

“That’s funny.” But you’re not laughing. “Would you still not blame me if Jamie couldn’t remember you? What if I were too late to save her too? What if right now your daughter didn’t know any of you? Are you sure the speech would still be the same or would you be here helping me find out the fucking solution for this nightmare I’m living? Huh?”

They blink at you. No words come for a few seconds where they just drink your words in like Kara did. You don’t have time to waste on this.

“Get out. And tell Kara to stop sending people that can’t help me.” You turn around again. They sigh and leave, defeated.

And you go on. Alone with your sick and raging mind. You have no sense of time anymore. It could be minutes since they left, hours, days. You wouldn’t know.

You look at the device ready in front of you. Run the numbers on the computer again. This looks good, it looks like it could work now.

“This is my tenth try on the memory recovery. I have changed the programing on the original alien mind wiper.” You breathe deep, recording yourself. “I’ll use my memory wiper to forget something stupid, then I’ll try to fish that memory back with the memory recovery. I’ll forget my school’s principal’s name, so I guess goodbye Mrs. Goodwin. Here goes nothing.”

You use your memory wiper on yourself.

“Ok, I forgot whatever her name is. Let’s try fishing that memory back now.” You grab the metal halo thing you took on the alien’s hiding spot and put it on your head. “Ok, the principal of my school is called-” You think and think. You go back to every moment you were face to face with her, every time you got called at her office. “I don’t know.”

You yank the halo out of your head, and drop on your knees, crying.

“I don’t know!”

It doesn’t work, nothing works. Nothing you do is enough!

“I DON’T FUCKING KNOW!” You yell, punching the chair out of your way, and it just rolls to the other end of the lab, falling loudly.

You didn’t save her soon enough. You didn’t stop them before they harmed her, and you don’t fucking care they are dead, they still won. Your mom doesn’t remember you; they have won. You’re alive, having to deal with this shit. Having to deal with the fact that you’re not enough. Not enough of a superhero, not enough of a scientist.

You’re weeping on the floor. So incredibly heavy-hearted and alone. And you’re also so mad. So freaking furious with the world. How dare it come for your family? How dare the world keep throwing drama and trauma on your back all the damn time? It doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, before sending more fucking ass suffering your way.

How dare National City depend on your family so much? Why can’t they save themselves? Why can't heroes catch a break? Is this a legal thing? Was it a contract you signed without being aware? Why. Can’t. You. Just. Be. Happy?

You don’t even see it happening, you’re too drained and reliving your own nightmare to notice. But Kara walks in the lab, sits on the floor, picks you up gently and wraps you up in her arms, wordless. You just stay there, sobbing mercifully on her shirt, while she strokes your hair gently and says something you can’t make out because of how loud your thoughts and words of accusation for yourself are.

“It was not your fault. It was not your doing.” You finally make out what Kara has been repeating like a mantra to you.

“Mommy. I want her back.” You sob and Kara kisses your head gently.

“I know, little one. I want her back too.” You look at Kara, and all the pain in her face. Pain that you helped add up, by the way. “But I want you back first, my love. I want you so much more.”

“I’m sorry I said I shouldn’t have gone for you first.” You stop clinging to her so you can raise your hand to her face and clean her tears. “I did what my heart told me to, and I’m not sorry for it.”

Kara kisses your hand and smiles softly at you.

“I know what you’re feeling, because if presented with the same situation I would have done exactly what you did. And I would be here feeling guilty and mad at the world.” Kara says, holding your face with both hands.“So I can’t judge you for feeling like this. All I can do, my baby, is tell you no one else thinks this is your fault. No one is going to blame you if you just go home and sleep, before coming back here again and keep going. And no one is going to say no to help you, because we all want Lena back as fast as possible.” Kara’s breath shudders out , like her heart is on your hands. “So please, my heart, please come home with mommy and sleep this through, and tomorrow I promise I’ll do no objection for you to come back to work. In fact, I’ll come back and help you if you want.”

“I don’t think I can fly right now. Will you please take me home?” You ask softly and Kara smiles at you, kissing your forehead as a response. She picks you up, walking out of the lab. She turns off the lights and closes the door.

And you close your eyes and wait.

You thought if you left the lab without a solution the world would instantly burn down and destroy you. But instead, you feel the wind on your hair. You hear the world's sounds. Smell Kara’s perfume, mixed with sunshine and that perfect familiar scent of home.

You open your eyes to see that the world is still the same. That you’re not going to be punished for not having a solution right away and even before Kara lands in the backyard, you’re sleeping this nightmare away. You can go back to fighting the world when you wake up.

Notes:

Thanks @yvonkayvonki for the idea of the kid fighting with Kara. I thought it made sense for her to be so angry after the fight she would take it on the world, STILL broke my heart though.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #alex danvers #kelly olsen #superkid #reader insert

136 notes · View notes

tellmenauineo · 3 years

Text

colored by you

pairing: mingyu x reader, vernon x reader

genre: soulmate!au, angst, fluff, smut, comedy (at some points)

warnings: mentions of alcholol and weed, language, unprotected sex

summary: eventually, we fall in love with people who the universe destined us to. but there are complications sometimes.

word count: 11k (i refuse to comment)

a/n: tell me what you think even if you found it bad 🤧🤧 i’m in NEED of feedback,, stay safe during the pandemic and feel free to talk to me!! i’m sorta back 🤠🤠

“I'd prefer if you showed more enthusiasm about it. Success is never an accident,” your mother reads you a lesson, a reproach can be heard in her voice. Your sigh, wishing this conversation to be over so you’ll finally be able to hang up your phone.

“Some people aren't built happy, or cheerful, or forever excited, you know,” you mumble. “I'm satisfied with my academical success – but maybe it isn't a thing I want to achieve now. I don't know.”

“Of course, people aren't built happy – that’s why the Universe made a soulmate for each of us. To make us happy. That's how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“One day you’ll understand,” your mother continues. “And you will be happier, happier than ever. Your time will come.”

You won't understand.

The Universe made a soulmate for each of us. The Universe made sure we’ll be aware who is the one, the one, as your mother says, who’ll make you happier and complete, too. It's pretty simple. First words addressing you that you would hear from your soulmate get imprinted on the skin of your ribcage. Close to your heart.

The mechanism of The Universe is perfect. But, sometimes, even perfect-made things get broken.

You won't understand because you already have words tattooed on your skin.

“I guess, we can say love is an accident, isn't it?” you say. “Anyway, I gotta go, mom. I'll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure. Take care of yourself. And don't stay up late.”

“We both know I'm gonna stay up late,” you smile. “Bye!”

It happened in cold January, four months ago.

“Shrimp Pad Thai?” Chan asks you.

“Mm, yes,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes innocently. Chan gasps and raises his eyebrows in a fake disbelief, but you don't let him open his mouth to say something very sarcastic about you and your habits in eating. “I'm your customer, where are your manners? What if I leave?”

“Then you'll leave and won't have our Shrimp Pad Thai which you order five days a week,” he shrugs.

“I'm older than you – pay me respect!”

“I do? Always? Our very important customer who always eats the same,” he playfully sing-songs and you roll your eyes, trying your best not to give him a smile.

“Go and get us food already,” Momo says. “Both of you better not play on my nerves when I'm hungry.”

When the orders are made and Chan leaves to the kitchen, you get up from your seat.

“I'm going to wash my hands,” you announce, and your friend nods at it.

On your way to the restrooms you recognize a bunch of boys sitting at the window booth. Kim Mingyu, Wen Junhui and Jeon Wonwoo – all of them are in Soonyoung’s group of friends. Wonwoo smiles and waves his hand and you return the gesture. You nod at Junhui and Mingyu – who looks incredibly soft and cute in his light-gray hoodie with his rose cheeks – seems that the ramen he is eating is too spicy for him. He gives you a little “hey”, smiling at you, and you immediately feel how your own cheeks turn blushy. To prevent your embarrassment in front of them, you try to speed up, but, suddenly, collide with someone.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You look up at the source of the voice, Chwe Hansol, the new Soonyoung’s roommate you heard a lot about (and you’re aware that Soonyoung not just can’t stop telling embarrassing stories about you to his roommate, but also shows him your pictures, because yes, in Soonyoung’s words, it’s a crime if you don’t put on display your best friend and your wonderful, a movie-worthy, friendship) and, apparently, there is no bottle of chilli sauce in his hands. A smug smile is playing on his lips and his chocolate eyes are glistening with a mischief.

“Nice try,” you don't hide a hint of a wipe in your voice as you start moving towards the restrooms – you swear a trip to them never took that long.

You catch Hansol's gaze on you on the way back to your and Momo’s booth and you have nothing to do but narrow your eyes at him, making him smile even wider.

“He's cute, though. The Hansol guy I mean,” Momo concludes after you finished your dinner. “But no shit they're loud.”

You cast an eye at their boost. Mingyu is the loudest and the most talkative among them – but, somehow, looking at him telling something, wildly gesticulating, makes your heart melt a little.

Stupid, you think, it's almost close to feeling happy.

You spot the tattoo when you go to take a shower that night.

Your heart sinks at the sight of the words.

“Uh, I can feel my chilli sauce dripping.”

You don't tell anyone.

“I can take it as an offend, you know,” Soonyoung whines. “You've been turning down my home party offers for more than a month!”

“Um, you haven’t had any,” you say.

It’s true – you try your best to avoid Hansol, and it works even despite the fact he lives with your best friend (sometimes you’re wondering how Soonyoung and Hansol, the pair of complete opposites, rub along okay together, but maybe opposites indeed attract?). You’re not fond of the idea you reduced all your social interactions, but at least you do your huge amount of homework in time – that’s why Soonyoung once called you a homework-doing machine.

Yes, that’s lame.

“It’s because you didn’t come!”

You’re clearly under pressure. You can crack under it a little bit.

Just a little bit.

“Because I-” you forget what you want to say to explain yourself. Or, rather, to fudge up an excuse to trick Soonyoung and keep staying from Hansol as long as possible. “It’s complicated. Besides, your roommate sticks at home for days on end, and if I want to spend time with you I want us to be alone,” you point at him with your pen.

His eyes are getting wider and wider with each millisecond and finally he gasps,

“Are you in love with me?!”

Well.

“What if I am?” you challenge. At the end of the day, that’s the words of the woman who has nothing to lose.

“I-” it’s Soonyoung, who is under pressure right now. “I love you, you know it-”

“But, there’s always a but,” you sigh in a fake manner. “I understand. Maybe I haven’t yearned it yet,” you place your hand over his, and his eyes are glued to your hands. “But, Soonyoung, I want to hear ‘horanghae’ from you someday. Will my dream come true?”

He lifts up his eyes to you. Soonyoung’s known you for over a decade and he clearly can say you’re on the verge of bursting into a hearty laugh despite your dying attempts to keep your face straight. He snaps his hand away and stands up.

“Yah! You betrayed me!” he points a finger at you. “Yah!” he continues in a voice that is a few octaves higher than his usual. “You are gonna pay for your betrayal!”

“Sure thing,” you manage to say through your laugh. You’re well aware that almost all eyes in the campus cafeteria are on you, but it was quite common when the two of you were together. “I’ll see you in court, horangi.”

You wish you were in court.

Instead, you’re in Soonyoung and Hansol’s kitchen, mixing the sickest possible cocktail ever – and you’re not proud of yourself.

“Why it looks like wiper fluid but tastes like lab alcohol?” Seungkwan asks, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Your mirror his expression.

“Um, the creator would like to take to his own grave the secret receipt of this… shit,” you say.

By the creator you mean Soonyoung. You’re on duty tonight – it’s Hansol and Seokmin’s double birthday party and you’re in charge of everything – your best friend had no mercy for the cafeteria joke.

“Don’t tell me the upcoming birthday cakes have the same creator,” the boy says, patting his blond locks back into place. You assume he was dancing, or, more likely, slamming in the living room, while you hide in the kitchen, still avoiding Seokmin co-star of this night, Hansol.

“Nah, I ordered them in the bakery. Customized ones!”

“You should’ve asked me to bake the cakes,” the third person enters the room, and your heart skips a bit. Mingyu walks towards you and Seungkwan and leans on the counter, still having his eyes on you. “I need to improve my baking skills.”

You feel how your cheeks flushing up. Shit, you curse in your head, he just made an appearance and you’re already turning into mush.

“Next time maybe?” you ask, your voice is much more gentle than usual. “Whose birthday is next?”

“Mine,” smiles Mingyu. “But I don’t want to hold a party this year – wanna share a dinner tete-a-tete with someone.”

“Such a great plan! Except for one thing – you don’t have ‘someone’,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“I’ll find one,” Mingyu’s words are steady but his movements are not. His right elbow slips off the counter, and the boy hisses. “I’m already working on this.”

“Sure thing, tiger,” you smile despite feeling that something is scratching your guts in your belly – disappointment? jealousy? sadness? Maybe all of them and maybe none.

You have a soulmate for fuck’s sake and it’s not Mingyu.

“Whatever,” Seungkwan mutters. “I’m going back to the party and I strongly recommend you to stop hiding here,” he says, looking you right in the eyes. “He won’t bite you, you know?”

“What are you talking about?!” you exclaim, but Seungkwan only shrugs.

“Have no idea.”

You want to follow him, take him by the shoulders and ask about everything he knows about – did Hansol tell him about you? Seems so. Has he, Seungkwan, launched the making of the two of you a couple campaign? If yes, you’re doomed.

Mingyu stops you from storming out of the kitchen – you’re back to the reality with his warm hand wrapped around your wrist and you turn to him in surprise, your cheeks already flushed.

“Yes?” you manage to mumble.

“Who are you hiding from?” he asks, and you almost hear concern in his voice. Or maybe you imagine it all.

“Um- no one? He’s being delusional like always, you know?”

“You sure?’ his hand is getting lower, and unexpectedly you find your fingers intertwining with his. Mingyu’s hand is much larger and warmer than yours, his hold isn’t tight, but it magically makes you forget about the whole the soulmate and his wingman thing.

It makes you forget about everything except for this particular moment – Mingyu’s dark eyes on you, your hand in his and the echo of the music playing in the living room. His bronze skin’s glowing in the dim kitchen light (one of the bulbs is dead and neither Soonyoung or Hansol wants to do something about it), his face is innocent and the only thing you can think about – your uncontrollable desire to kiss off two worry lines between his perfect eyebrows.

You don’t even notice that you’re holding your breath, too afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m sure,” you whisper and he nods. Mingyu probably can hear the beating of your racing heart, and you don’t mind at all – you would eagerly tell him how he makes you feel if he wants to know.

He leans closer to you, his breath is tickling the soft skin of your cheek and you hear him ask,

“May I?”

But before you can nod, Seokmin’s piercing voice, like a bolt out of the blue, is calling your name,

“Soonyoung’s trying to kiss me!”

He is louder than any bomb, you think, and that’s enough to take you out of the trance. You slowly turn to him, letting go of Mingyu’s hold on your wrist.

“It’s his way to wish you a happy birthday,” you negotiate, but Seokmin’s gaze is wandering between your and Mingyu’s bodies. His hand follows his eyes, gesturing at the two of you.

“Are you-”

“No, no, no,” you cut him off.

“Man, you need me to get the thing squared away?” Mingyu sounds irritated. You turn your head to steal a look of him. You never saw him like that – at least, not with his friends. Even when his team was defeated at the bowling a month or so ago he seemed worn out, but no hint of irritation on his face – just an exhausted smile combined with a self-mockery behavior. That night you almost regretted saying your wrist was injured so you spent the whole game sipping bubble teas instead of helping your team from sinking to the bottom.

(Jeonghan didn’t buy that spectacular performance, by the way)

“I came to complain?” he looks at you, the eyes so innocent, calling for help, so you smile in response – it’s always like this with Seokmin – the boy can melt even stone hearts.

“Let me check on him,” you say to Seokmin, and he eagerly nods. You pat on Mingyu’s right forearm, your fingers stay on his hard bicep for a little too long, and it makes you lick your lips. “And if he needs to get into bed, I expect some help from you, Mingyu.”

His face softens, and he chuckles, closing his eyes for a second.

“Let’s get it then.”

“I ain’t leaving till I help you with this,” Mingyu says, referring to the apartment that looks like a battlefield (of beer pong). “You already look tired.”

“I’m tired,” you admit. “But you have classes like in…” you check your watch. “…four hours.”

“I’ll sit in the back of the classroom,” seeing the question in your eyes, he adds. “I’ll catch some sleep, don’t worry.”

“Sounds stupid, but I guess nothing would change your mind,” you give up, and a proud smile appears on his face. “The living room is yours then,” you give him an evil smile, your hand lands on his firm chest, patting it twice. “Have fun!”

When you step into the kitchen, a sigh of disappointment leaves your lips, despite your vain attempt to suppress it.

Hansol sits in the white plastic chair, mindlessly scrolling through whichever app is it’s feed. He looks up at you, but he next second his eyes are back on the screen.

Your body feels stiff, like you’re made of wood, but you force yourself to approach the counter. The desire to disappear is so strong that you find yourself not breathing at all – like if you make less noises, the more Hansol is unaware you’re in the same room with him.

You grab a handful of orange peels to throw in the trash can under the sink when you hear Hansol voice, “Why didn’t you throw out all of them?” You turn to the boy, cheeks already red, and anger is bubbling in your stomach. It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he lets a hoarse laugh.

“I’m joking, jeez. No need to sulk.”

You don’t return his smile, instead turning away from him to take the leftovers, and say,

“It couldn’t fit in my hand.”

He coos at your words, and you feel stupid.

“Soonyoung was right. You’re an absolute doll.”

“Not impressed,” you roll your eyes, but you feel no confidence in your voice. You face Hansol again, a mischievous glint in his big eyes can be spotted even from across the kitchen. “Your eyes are red,” you notice. “Are you stoned?”

“Maybe so,” he yawns, stretching out in the chair that is about to crack under his weight at any minute. “I don’t mind you tucking me in, though. You seem to be a pro.”

“Well, don’t overdo it,” you say. “The scientists say weed makes people stupid.”

“And affects their memory,” he adds. “But it makes me copy.”

“With what?”

Hansol shrugs and his gaze falls to his knees. He radiates hesitation, and you gulp the pulse in your throat, afraid to hear the truth.

“With me being avoided by my own soulmate like I’m sorta of a plague? Sorta.”

A wave of pure heat that feels like a fever, a bad fever, runs through your body. The whole soulmate thing was supposed to be a blessing, but it feels like a curse. Without thinking, you pathetically mumble,

“I thought you don’t care.”

You really did. For the last few weeks you’ve been living in the bubble made of your own sorrows, disappointments, and self-pity, and the thought of what Hansol feels and thinks about it never crossed your mind.

“Whatever,” he says. “I got your point.”

Hansol doesn’t wait for the unspoken words that are stuck in the back of your throat, ringing in your ears over and over as you watch him leaving the kitchen. He stops at the doorframe with his hand in his dark locks – it’s so odd to see him not wearing a beanie – and slowly turns to you.

“Leave this shit to Soonyoung,” he says.

“Okay,” you mutter.

He calls your name, shooting the arrow of guilt right into your heart.

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

When Mingyu returns to ask where he can find another bag for trash, you cling to the boy’s chest, and skipping all the questions on the tip of his tongue, Mingyu clasps his arms around you. His chin is snuggling upon your head and you feel pressure inside of the bubble reducing a little.

But a tremendous guilt envelops you with each minute.

Momo stares at your figure as you sit across her – your hair cascading down onto your hunched shoulders, your face is covered with your hands, and the girl only huffs.

“Should I expect some fake sobs?”

You spare a fiery glance at her, but she just waves you off in dismisal. Momo doesn’t even trying to hide her irritation with you – the first thing she asked you after you finally had decided to spill the whole situation to her was ‘Could you have taken any longer to tell me?” and you can’t blame her.

“Yah, leave these tricks for your future sweetheart Sollie. I’m not buying it.”

“He is not my future sweetheart,” you argue. “It doesn’t work!”

“Because you never gave it a chance,” she isn’t convinced, and her stern tone makes you consider the words more carefully.

“He hates me now!”

“First, you deserved it. No offense. Second, he seems like a crackhead, such people don’t hate other people, they just don’t care about them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” you exclaim, and her face breaks into a triumphant smile. “What?”

“Look at you, already defending your soulmate,” she says in a saccharine voice. “Ask him out and fall in love. Choose life. Choose a loveseat coach.”

“Isn’t it from Trainspotting movie?” you question, narrowing your eyes.

“And what about it?” she huffs once again. “It doesn’t make me wrong. It always starts with a crush. Just let it happen.”

A crush, huh? A crush that makes your heart beats harder; that sends you floating in your daydreams; that makes you the happiest person in the whole universe, but at the same time has the power to make you sadder than the most distant and loneliest star from the Sun?

Just like the one you have on Mingyu?

Momo still doesn’t know how you feel about the tall, black-haired boy, and you aren’t ready to tell her the truth. Partly because you want to protect this thing from the outer world, make it special, make it a secret that can be kept by the two only, and, partly because you’ll face the wall of misunderstanding. You could fool around with the boys before, but now you’re certain with the one who is destined for you. And you can’t – you shouldn’t – seek for another lover. It’s wrong.

The ability to make all your problems yourself will never fail to amaze you.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “If you’re so smart.”

“I could’ve been your mother, though. You should follow my every word.”

“Momo, we literally were born in the same decade,” you sigh, but the girl has no intention to follow any of your words.

[mingyyuu 17:13] it’s so cold today!! stay inside 🖤

[you 17:14] too late :// plans!!

[mingyyuu 17:16] any plans for tomorrow?

[you 17:16] not yet

[mingyyuu 17:17] now you have some!

The boy continues to type, but you have to put the phone in the back pocket of your jeans – you’re awkwardly shifting your weight from one foot to the other at the doorstep, not able to say anything – even a small ‘hello’.

“Soonyoung’s at the dance practice,” Hansol breaks the silence.

“I know his schedule better than he does,” you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I came for your soul.”

Hansol raises his brows, his eyes never leave yours as he steps aside to let you in. The boy helps you with your jacket, and you mutter a small ‘thank you’, hoping he’ll take the initiative, even despite the fact it’s you who came to talk.

“How are you doin’?” maybe it’s a soulmate thing to read each other’s mind? You look at Hansol and you have a feeling that you’ll never be able to go through the guard around him and straight to his head. His expression is neutral, and you admit that he doesn’t even need to try look beautiful.

“Nothing much,” you response. “What ‘bout you?”

“Okay. Wanna drink something?”

“A pepsi please?”

“We only have a few cans of coke, do you wanna?”

You already feel strange of that crazy amount of questions for the beginning – the situation becomes more and more awkward that you’re able to feel the pressure of the air in the room. Your temples pulse a little, threating a headache.

“Nah, I’m fine then,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I came here to say I’m sorry and-”

“And?”

“Do you think we should be together?”

“It how it works,” he lets out a dry laugh. Hansol looks down to your face, his hand reaches out to stroke your shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

The grip on your temples is too tight to bear, and you let out a heavy pant.

“My head hurts,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut – the light is too bright.

“You need to lie down,” Hansol says. “It’s probably because the temperature difference between inside and outside. I’ll bring painkillers to Soonyoung’s bedroom.”

You nod, heading off to the bedroom. What a great wat to talk - show up at someone’s doorstep just to say you have a headache. Great. Not bothering yourself with discarding your clothes, you collapse stomach-down onto the bed without removing the cover, your face is buried in the soft material.

“Shit, you’ll suffocate if you stay like this,” Hansol’s deep voice wafts on your ears. You slowly lean on your elbows to steal a glance at him. After placing the glass of water and the blister of painkillers at the night stand, he gets down on his haunches, his eyes at the same level as yours. You stay like this for some time, not saying a word, mesmerized by his face.

“What did you do before I came?” you ask out of sudden. Hansol seems to be taken aback with your question.

“Tried to make some music,” he gawks, blinking at you.

“Really?” you ask in a low voice.

“Mostly checked the mic with some ‘yeah’s’ and ‘yo’s’”, he admits, an amusing laugh escapes his mouth. “I’ll try to do something while you’re resting, good?”

You nod you head and smile at him. He gently squeezes your shoulder and stands up. Before he disappears out of the bedroom, you say,

“Do you have any siblings?”

He turns to you, leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah. I have a little sister. You?”

You shake your head no and he nods.

“But it was easy to guess you’re not the only child, though,” it’s difficult to see his face in the darkness, but your eyes never leave him.

“How so?”

“You offer a compromise when it's unnecessarily,” you sniggle. “A man of settled habits.”

You see his wide smile in the dark.

You force your eyes open and sit up in the bed, your hair disheveled and slightly damp at the back of your neck. Headache has gone, at least for now, but your throat feels dry. When you come to the kitchen, you see the note in Hansol’s infamous unsteady handwriting left on the counter:

you can find pepsi in the fridge!

You smile at the gesture and inside you sense warmth.

You knock at Hansol’s bedroom door twice and after the boy calls out for your entry, you slip through the door.

Hansol sits at the table, bobbing his head in time with the song that hums from the speakers. His eyes are glued to his laptop, the headphones rest above his ears.

“Does the work go smoothly?” you ask, sitting at the corner of his bed. He turns to face you; a soft smile is playing on his lips.

“Yeah, it’s okay. There are many things that I think I’m lacking in, but I work on them,” he says in a serious tone. “But I’ve finally finished the song that had been haunting me for weeks.”

“Oh, that’s great!” you beam at him.

“Your snoring from the next room inspired me,” he places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be forever grateful for that.”

You lightly kick his calf, and the boy laughs. Rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes, he draws his attention back to you.

“Feel better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer. Nodding, Hansol notices your gaze focusing on the screen of his laptop. There’re the unknown for you tools placed on his table, except for the microphone, of course, and you’re wondering what kind of music he’s into.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks, once again showing his amazing ability to read your mind.

“Yes!” you hearty nod. “Want my headache to be back.”

Hansol rolls his eyes, muttering a small ‘sure’ under his breath, and places the mouse cursor over the play button. The speakers are small, but even despite it you sense the music vibrate through your body. The beat is harsh, his voice is piercing, and it feels like the most Hansol’s thing he could’ve ever done, but at the same time you’ve got an inkling that the tune and the lyrics were created by his mysterious twin.

“You really made this?” your eyes are wide and your hand clutches hold of his wrist.

“Yeah,” he hums nervously, bringing his free hand to rub at the back of his head.

“It’s good! I can’t believe you haven’t signed a ten-million dollars contract yet!”

“You heard just one song,” he smiles in a protest. “Thanks anyway.”

“I’m right, though,” you say, your hand leaving his as you smile at him. “You should be a star! I can’t say what I liked about it ‘cause I don’t know anything about music, but the whole thing is perfect!”

He looks up to you, your cheeks flushed with passion and your eyes glisten as candles burn bright, and it brings a proud smile on his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts.

“You’re beautiful too,” your words are sincere, filled with pure appreciation you have for this melted chocolate eyed boy. The idea of you frightened of meeting him a few hours ago seems like a pure absurd right now – when the two of you sit that close to each other, you having a string of questions to ask him about his life, interests, hopes and dreams, and on your tongue the whole story of your life is tingling to be uttered at the same time.

“It was unexpected,” he chuckles. “Thanks again.”

“Thanks for the pepsi,” you return. “I thought you had only coke?”

“Um, I went to the convenience store across the street while you were asleep,” he says, his eyes are wandering on the wall. You can hardly take a breath.

“You shouldn’t have,” you say.

“It’s not a big deal,” he shrugs. Nodding, you slip off his bed and go toward the window. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a deep breath.

“Is Soonyoung still at the practice?” you ask, your voice is low.

“I guess,” Hansol perches at the windowsill. “I kinda lost track of time.”

You feel the heat his body radiates. Theoretically, you think, you find him somewhat sexy, really manly. His long scraggy neck, broad shoulders, a spectacular torso you can notice even under his oversized t-shirts, and athletic thighs. A month ago, your informant told you that Hansol barely shows up in the gym, and you wonder if the boy was gifted with capability of being perfect without even trying.

And still, he isn’t Mingyu, who makes you feel being in love.

You want to tell Mingyu the truth about your wrong destiny, your aching heart that can be healed with his smile only, and the feeling of your stomach filled with butterflies. You want him to hold your hand, pushing all the doubts and fears away, and make you his. His, despite the cruel joke The Universe played on you.

You think, you have a feeling, he would understand it, because he believes in strength of choice. Mingyu is in a constant state of moving forward, overcoming all obstacles he might face.

Would it be the first time when he stops?

You and Hansol both stay silent till the whole apartment echoes with Soonyoung’s ringing voice.

“Woah, I like the pictures!” Mingyu approves with a hum, adjusting something on his camera. “They’re perfect.”

“Because they’re pictures of me or because it’s you who took them?” you smile, a playful glint in your eyes as you nudge him.

“Let me think,” the boy stops in his tracks, his brows furrow in a fake manner, indicating he is absorbed in his thoughts. “Both.”

“Wow,” you play along, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. “Groundbreaking.”

He giggles and slides his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Wish I could tickle you right now, bit your jacket doesn’t give a chance.”

You shove off his hand and see a small pout forming on his plush lips.

“It’s my protection from pervs like you, Mingyu,” you smile innocently, casting sheeps eyes on him.

“Pervs don’t ask for a permission,” he opposes matter-of-factly. You raise your brows at him in question, and it doesn’t take long for him to explain. “Let me kiss you.”

You raise your head at Mingyu to see him smiling down at you with shining eyes, his cheeks are glowing from the frosty air.

“Go ahead,” you smile, and he leans down and kiss you. His lips are warm and sweet, and you never expect to feel care through a kiss as his mouth is covering yours. His hand cups your cheek while the other is placed tightly at the base of your neck. You trace your tongue against his lower lip, his tongue is eager to meet yours. You tease the inside of his mouth, and Mingyu lets out a small groan, which is enough to bring you to senses, and you break the kiss.

“We’re outside, Guy,” you softly remind him, your grip at his forearms is loosen.

“And so?” he whines, tugging at your sleeves to keep you body close to him.

“And we’re late,” you try to reason, but frankly speaking, you better would have stayed in the previous position you shared with Mingyu than going anywhere. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”

The idea of karaoke night seemed promising, to say at least, but with Seungkwan occupying the microphone and Seokmin taking the guise of being his bodyguard, preventing any attempt of borrowing the tool out of his hands, ebullience faded into despair.

Jun is scrolling through his phone, and you find it okay; Soonyoung is busying himself with fourth bowl of ramen in a row, and it begins to worry you; Jihoon is yawning in thirsty eight second intervals, and the fact of you really counting begins to worry you; Mingyu’s playing with your hands, his head rests against your shoulder, you find it normal too.

You toy with his dark hair and lower yourself to whisper in his ear.

“Take me out.”

“Your wish is my command,” Mingyu smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He straightens up off the sofa and extends his hand to you. You stretch out your own hand and place it in Mingyu’s warm palm.

After wrapping everyone, except for Seungkwan who is too absorbed in the singing and waves the two of you off in dismissal, for a goodbye hug, you go downstairs to put the clothes on.

“Stop staring,” you say to Mingyu, catching his gaze in the mirror, a smile parts your lips. You pull up the hood of your jacket and turn to the boy.

“Can’t help it,” he admits, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb is stroking your cheek gently, and he leans to steal a kiss from your lips.

“Oh, shit,” Seungkwan says, puckering his face into a frown. “Came to say my goodbye, but this,” he gestures at the two of you.

“Grow up,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders. Seungkwan’s glare bores a hole right through your head, and you can only silently pray for him to not allow his anger upstage his reason.

“Seungkwan, please,” you say. “Let’s talk about it later.”

“Sure,” the younger boy rolls his eyes. “It’s not me who you should talk to, though.”

“What’s the problem?” Mingyu groans in frustration.

“I don’t know. What’s your problem?” Seungkwan scoffs, shifting his gaze from Mingyu to you and back to Mingyu again.

“It’s none of your business,” you snap. “I’m not in the mood for one of your soap operas.”

You storm out of the building, your blood is boiling with the mixture of anger, fear, and realization of all things you used to have fell to pieces in a matter of seconds.

“Hey, wait,” Mingyu grabs your hand, and you stop, too afraid to look at him. “What’s the matter?”

You’re struck by an incredible sense of fear, of confusion, of vulnerability, but you finally have to face the reality.

“The problem is,” you sigh. “Hansol is my soulmate.”

“Don’t cry,” Soonyoung tries to conciliate you, his hand is rubbing against your back, and he tightens the embrace. “I’m here for you.”

At this point, you even hate yourself for the damp spot on his sweatshirt made with your tears. You want to concentrate on Soonyoung’s words uttered in a small voice, almost whispering, but as you think about Mingyu, about how on his face thoughts and feelings seemed connate – his pained stare said everything, – standing in front of you, you feel a sharp pain in your heart.

“Do you despise me?” your voice sounds desperate.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask such a shitty question to my best friend,” he says. “You’re the best.”

You laugh bitterly. Soonyoung treats you too nicely – without asking why you’d been keeping so many secrets from him till this night, rebuking Seungkwan for standing guard over Hansol’s feelings, promising Mingyu will pay dearly in the nearest future for his superior sense of morality or whatever.

“What about Hansol?” you ask him, your eyes still are full of tears and pain, but you force a small smile.

“Will kick him out,” his voice is firm, and you sink your face into the soft material of his cloth, suppressing a bigger smile that threats to appear on your lips.

“Soonyoung, I’ve made four enemies this year, and it’s only the end of February,” your voice is muffled as you keep pressing your face onto the boy’s chest. “Momo, Mingyu, Hansol, Seungkwan – all of them hate me for being stupid, for not telling the truth, for being a bitch, for-”

“Shh. It’s their problem, not yours. It’s them who won’t survive ‘cause they made enemies of us. Listen to me,” he calls your name, making a passionate appeal. “We’re undefeatable, you and me.”

You lift your head at him, finding him keeping his eyes on the ceiling in a dramatic way, and you snicker. His lips twist into a broad smile, and he looks at you.

“They don’t hate you,” he says. “Life is complicating, so are we. They know about it.”

You meet Mingyu at the library. There are dark circles beneath his eyes, and he’s surprisingly quiet.

“Seungkwan said Hansol fell for you only after Soonyoung’s countless ramblings about you. He indeed stared at your pics, I suppose.”

He’s in pain.

You feel empty inside; a terrible anguish seizes your heart.

“Do you feel the same about him?” an involuntary question slips off his tongue.

You want to say it’s him, it’s only him who made you fall, who made you feel at ease, who made you want to give and not just to take, but you can’t.

He waits for a response you’ll never be able to come up with.

This night you cry yourself to sleep.

Weeks go by.

The three of you – you, Hansol, and Soonyoung – glue your eyes to the television set placed at the wall of the boys’ living-room. Watching different tv series with them somehow has turned into therapy sessions – despite experiencing triggers at almost everything that is shown, you feel you’re not alone. The two of them act like nothing happened, and all of you are ready to meet your soulmates someday.

But, if nothing happened, why Mingyu’s name is forbidden from saying out loud because it would fill you with pain?

“You have popcorn crumbs on your shirt,” you notice, pointing at Soonyoung with the remote in your hand.

“I preferred watching tv to reading books when i was younger,” the boy says, dusting the crumbs off his torso and lap.

“And it shows,” you tease. Soonyoung gives you a light pinch on the side and straightens up with a huff.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces. “The bathroom is occupied for the next thirty minutes.”

Hansol nods and bids Soonyoung goodnight as you blow him a kiss – his laughter never fails to boost your mood.

“Resuming?” you ask Hansol. “I’m not sleepy.”

“Neither am I.”

It’s completely dark apart from the television’s dim yellow glow. Somehow, you find yourself being distracted by almost everything – the pattern of the wooden floor, the material of the couch, the streetlamp right outside the window, the plant that is going to die soon due to Soonyoung and Hansol’s lack of care.

Hansol.

His eyes flicker in your direction, catching you staring at him. You don’t look away.

“Am I more interesting than the show?” he asks, not expecting you reply with a quiet ‘yes’. A blush coloring his cheeks can be spotted even in the poorly illuminated room.

“You’re so shy sometimes,” you remark in a low voice. “You didn’t seem so when I first met you.”

“I felt some courage out of nothing,” he shakes his head, his long and slender fingers tapping his knees. “When I saw you.”

You sigh. How the Universe can be broken? Maybe you’re broken?

“I read that if you’re dealing with schizophrenia your emotions are mixed up – you feel something you shouldn’t have felt and express something you don’t feel.”

“Scientific facts again, huh? You’re referring to me?” he grins.

“To myself, I guess,” there is no smile at your features as you sigh. “Or maybe it’s – I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Hey, I know its not gonna work but I’ll say it anyway,” he reaches out his hand to yours and gently squeezes it. “Don’t think shit about yourself. Don’t say shit,” he pauses. “When the words appeared I was surprised, no shit. But as I find out more and more things about you, all of it start to make sense. I don’t want anyone’s words but yours on me. That’s it. That’s the thing I feel.”

He’s beautiful, you think, very beautiful.

Your eyes wander over his face and finally stop at his lips. The contour of his mouth is perfect – Hansol’s lips aren’t plump, but neither are thin – just perfect – and the little bruise on his lower lip makes you unable to brush your overwhelming desire to have a lick over this exact spot. You hesitate – and even now the image of Mingyu settles on you.

But when you feel Hansol’s lips on yours, you let him in. He claims your mouth passionately, and you slide your hands into his hair, pulling on his locks, and he groans in your mouth. When you pull back for a moment, your eyes flooded with haze, Hansol traces his thumb over your slick with his spit lips, sending a shiver down your spine. He leans onto you again, his lips ghosting over yours, the redolent scent of his musky cologne makes your head even more dizzy.

“I want you,” he whispers into your lips, his voice is cracking.

“You can have me,” you breathe out, closing your eyes as his lips decorate your neck in sloppy kisses.

You can have me, but can you have my heart?

The question finds lodgment in your mind.

You might lose the thing you love the most, but life goes on… and here we stand.

You’ve discovered you’re an excellent pretender.

Pretend you think nothing of going without sleep for several nights and then attend your classes. Pretend you’re not tired. Pretend you like the tasteless dish in the restaurant Momo brought you to. Pretend it’s not painful to be in the same room with Mingyu. Pretend you love Hansol back.

“My legs are killing me,” Seungkwan whines. “I just don’t know how much more of it I can take.”

Same, you think, fucking same.

“Wait a little more and I’ll buy you a hotdog,” Mingyu promises, looking over his shoulder to see you wearily stagger behind them. The combination of the three of you is weird, you find, but life goes on, isn’t it?

It’s May, and the three is you are stuck in Ikea’s mazes – Mingyu needs to buy some new furniture – this is what brings him to the mall, but also Mingyu needs someone to keep him company – and this is what brings you and Seungkwan to the same place. Mingyu calls your name, and you lift your head, furrowing your eyebrows in a question.

“You good? How ‘bout a few hotdogs after?”

“And milkshakes,” Seungkwan adds.

“Just an ice cream please,” you mumble, and he nods. Sometimes it’s so awkward – to be around him. Sometimes it’s natural. But mostly it’s painful.

Standing in the parking lot, waiting for Mingyu and Seungkwan while they’re stuffing the things Mingyu bought into the trunk of his car, you dumbly watch the ice cream steadily dripping down your hand.

Damn.

No ice cream can help you feel good even a bit.

You enter Hansol’s bedroom and find him at the wooden floor, lying on his back, eyes closed. With his arms and legs splayed out, he reminds you a giant starfish.

“Are you even breathing?” you chuckle, bending over him.

“I am,” Hansol smiles, his eyes stay closed, and he taps slightly on his chest. “C’mere.”

You oblige, your head nestle against his chest, and you hear his steady heartbeat. He wraps his left arm around you and inhales deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes out of sudden, and you turn your head to look at him. “The first words were stupid, and you’ll have them for forever.”

“Suit us very well,” you poke, and he sniffs, reaching out to slightly pinch your cheek. “Hey! Stop!”

Hansol laughs, squeezing you tighter, and the sound of his slow and steady breathing lulls you to sleep. Your gaze is directed at the ceiling as you try to fight against sleep. “You’re so composed, but also so goofy, but also so delicate,” you sigh, thinking out loud as your fingertips trace up and down the soft skin of his wrist. Hansol’s warm. “But the first words were wacky,” you chuckle. “What’ve done to deserve them?”

“It was Russian roulette, baby,” he hums, and you can hear him smiling.

You fall asleep like that. You dream about buying the beige sofa you saw in Ikea and Mingyu’s endless attempts to change your mind – the green one is a way better, he insists. The green one would suit the interior perfectly, you agree with him, but the beige one is so classy, and maybe even a little obligatory? Every apartment should have one, but Mingyu only shakes his head in frustration.

“I'm not sure you’re one hundred percent positive about what you’re convincing me of,” he purses his lips.

Dreams that are hardly can be distinguish from reality are exhausting. You wish there was a way to put this worry to bed once and for all.

“Okay, so the concept of your birthday party is dubstep,” you verify. “And the main dish excepted for a barbeque duck is an ice cream cake?”

“I scream, you scream, gimme that ice cream,” Soonyoung’s enjoyment is evidenced by his wide smile. You playfully roll your eyes, not really hiding the excitement you share with him.

“Why do I feel that we’re constantly hanging out at birthday parties?” Hansol asks, peering at his phone screen, not bothering to straighten his head from its bending position.

“Because our friend group is too huge for people our age,” you make a point.

“It’s so expensive to have a lot of friends,” Soonyoung complains, but when he meets your questionable gaze, he adds. “But for you, my bestie, money’s no object.”

“Good to know,” you laugh, your fingers leisurely run above the rim of the empty cup of matcha latte. “I’m more upset about my dear boyfriend didn’t show any interest in volunteering at preps for the party.”

Hansol smiles, tapping on his phone, his eyes are anchored on the screen, and you narrow your expression at him, shaking your head in a scolding manner.

“And now he pretends he doesn’t hear me,” you say. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Hansol’s face brightens and broadens out into a beaming smile, and the sound of Soonyoung’s giggles fills the air.

“I’ll ask Seokmin to help you,” the older boy suggests, and you raise your eyebrow at him.

“I know you’re saying it for the best of reasons, but Seokmin rather is a distraction than a help,” you debate, and Soonyoung raises his small hands in surrender, his eyes becoming crescent-shaped due to his laugh.

“Okay, I’ll send backup,” he promises. “At the end of the day, Mingyu’s good at cooking and cleaning.”

It would’ve been hard for him not to realize he put his foot in his mouth mentioning Mingyu as the mood tensely shifts. You freeze, alike Hansol, his thumb is hovering over the phone screen for seconds. Soonyoung offers you an apologetic smile, and you smile at the boy back, reassuring him it’s okay – he really did nothing wrong. Hansol’s avoiding your questioning gaze, hiding his eyes behind his curly bangs, and you gently brush a section of his hair from his face, wanting to see him clearly.

“Are you jealous, Sollie?” you try to joke, a soft smile playing on your lips, your hand placed on his cheek. As he raises his eyes at you, nerves are evident in them, your heart sinks, and you feel breathless. He won’t ask you if he should be, he won’t make any scenes – but he may shut himself off, locking his feelings deep inside, and you fear it the most. You don’t mean to hurt him, but you’re still providing him a good amount of pain – he isn’t an idiot who can’t figure out that Mingyu’s never really left your heart.

“No,” he simply says. “I’ll help you with everything.”

“You’re a bigger distraction than Seokmin for me, but how can I say no to my sweet boyfriend?” you take his offer, your thumb is stroking his cheek, and the action soothes away the tension he has. Hansol smiles gently at you, and for a second, you’re wondering if he is as good at pretending as you are.

“How did you manage to rent this beach house?” Soonyoung asks in a pure awe. “Such places are always booked!”

“Nothing’s impossible when you love your friend,” you muse. “Besides, thank Hansol – he used his “music industry contacts” to make you happy.”

“Hey, you insult me using air quotes around ‘music industry contacts’,” Hansol slides his arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him, and places a quick peck on the tip of your nose. You stab him in the chest with your index finger, and he fakes a gasp.

“Eavesdropping?” you ask.

“Learning a lot about me,” he grins and draws his attention to the birthday boy. “Like the party?”

“No shit,” Soonyoung laughs. “I’ll like it better if you dance with me,” he says your name, his eyes sparkle brighter than colorful lights blasting through the house.

“Anything for a five stars rate.”

You’re out of breath, the clothes stick to your covered in sweat body, and you wince.

“I’m done,” you announce to Soonyoung, his batteries fully charged as he continues his active dance.

“Get some fresh air and come back!” he yells over the music, and you nod. Crossing the room to the back porch, you spot Hansol in the corner, talking to Joshua and showing the older boy something on his phone screen. Unnoticed, you go directly to the shore until the music of the party drowns in the sound waves, and inhale warm salty air. The water seems so tempting, calling you to step into the waves, their rhythm is hypnotizing you, and you kick your shoes off, perfectly understand the night water is too cold for swimming.

A familiar voice stops you, calling your name. You turn around, greeted with Mingyu’s tall figure, shining like a bronze statue, his tanned skin sheens magical when graced by the evening sun.

“Why do you always tend to sneak out?” he asks, once he made it up to you, a warm smile already crept onto his mouth as he saw you.

“I don’t know, maybe I just like being in crowds,” you shrug your shoulders – it’s true. You really don’t know the answer. He moves closer to you, and you finally spot a small bouquet in his hand. His eyes follow yours, and he chuckles.

“It’s for you,” he shyly passes you the flowers, his teeth press into his bottom lips. “I passed by those wildflowers on my way here and picked them for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” you laugh. “But thank you, I love it,” you say, nuzzling your nose against the tender petals. You look up at the boy and lock your eyes with his, a tickling feeling spreading in your chest. The waves are lapping on the peaceful and quiet shore, but you feel electricity surging through your body. You stand on your tiptoes and place a delicate kiss on his soft cheek, the action is innocent, but for Mingyu it’s like hearing a starting whistle.

“You’re still in my thoughts,” he breathes. “Still here,” he reaches over to grab your hand and place it over his chest, and through your fingertips you’re able to feel his rapid heart. Tears are starting to form at the rim of your eyes, and your vision becomes blurred. Your fingers crawl into the flowers he gave you, pressing against the vulnerable stems. “It’s egoistic, I know, you’re dating my friend, your soulmate, but why does it feel like you’re mine?”

“I don’t know,” you sob. The next second you find yourself against his firm chest and you inhale his scent that feels like home. Not a place where you live, but home. He plants a kiss to the crown of your head and puts his hands on your shoulders.

“Look at me,” the golden boy suddenly says. “Please.”

You look up at him and see his eyes briefly dropping to your lips, and despite yourself you feel that familiar tingling in your gut, wanting him to kiss you. He reads you like an open book and he is kissing you, his lips softly press against yours, a tender flavor on your tongue.

“Mingyu,” you whisper in a small voice, pulling out from him. “I can’t. I can’t do this to Hansol.”

The boy looks at you with a pained expression, and in his eyes you can see that he wishes he didn’t have a heart at all.

“I’m sorry, angel,” he mutters, and you nod your head, your heart is swelling at the nickname.

“I know. I’m sorry too.”

You lock yourself up in the bathroom, hoping no one saw your state while you were hurrying upstairs. Suddenly, someone tries the handle, but it jingles with no success.

“It’s occupied!” you try your best to sound calm, but your voice is trembling.

“It’s me,” Hansol’s muffled voice leaks through the door. “Let me in.”

You turn the lock and face Hansol, your eyes are all red and watery from crying. The boy locks the door behind him and turns to face you, his piercing eyes burn right into your soul.

“You love him,” he says, too delicate to torture you with questions, and you feel even worse – if it’s possible – paralyzed with fear and regrets, guilt eating you inside out, and you swallow the lump in your throat. You let out a wet sob, not being able to look into his sad eyes.

You broke his heart.

“I’m sorry, Sol,” you say, feeling powerless, loss for words to say to him, to explain yourself, to apologize. “I don’t know what should I do. I don’t know what should we do.”

“If he makes you happier than I could,” he looks above your head. “I’ll accept it someday.”

“You don’t deserve this,” you say, feeling so stupid, only wishing that the floor would open up and swallow you.

“Maybe soulmates aren’t bond only by romantic shit,” his deep voice comes to you through the mist. You don’t ask him to give you a chance, don’t change his mind – maybe this painful reveal of the truth will make your heart feel a little bit lighter one day, even if right now you’re sure this is never going to happen.

You don’t complain and do not want pity from anyone – you’re sick and tired of Soonyoung tiptoeing around you, trying to keep you from collapsing; of the silent treatment Seungkwan gives you, scornful looks he spares you every single time you see him get you to another level of anger; of a constant scratching sense of guilt you’ve been racked with since your break-up with Hansol, but somehow he never blames you even if he should; of Momo dragging you to the shop malls and making you keep shopping until you cheer up.

Of you can’t getting up the nerve to answer any of Mingyu’s calls, too afraid of something you can’t even describe.

Momo’s straight face catches you off guard, and you only gasp,

“He what?! No, no, no,” you shake your head in disbelief. “You’re making this up.”

“What for?” the girl rolls her eyes back deep into their sockets. “Mingyu invited you to his picnic party or whatever through me cause you’re too deaf to pick up your phone, nothing special.”

“Will you come with me?” your eyes meet hers in the bathroom mirror, your expression makes Momo give you her infamous crinkly-eyed smile.

“He didn’t ask me to come – only you,” she purrs, taking her lip gloss out of the small bag. “He’s so fucking in love with you, you little witch.”

“I-” you stutter, the crimson red blush spreads across your cheeks, and Momo laughs and gives you a playful shove.

“Don’t you dare to say no,” she warns. “You’ll deal with me.”

“What would I do without you, Momo?” you smile at her. Even if you asked playfully, you really mean it – and the warmth in your chest proves it.

Mingyu seems nervous as he clumsy steps into your apartment, his chest is tensed with the breath he holds. The boy is dressed in a loose white t-shirt and high-wasted velvety pants, and you sigh in relief – the picnic party - as Momo called it - obviously wasn’t planned as something fancy.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you smile.

“Thanks for coming. Means a world,” he says, poking his cheek with his tongue, a shy smile follows his words. You missed him. Missed everything about him – the small giggles he lets while talking with that slight lisp to you, the shake of his head when he can’t understand something, the pout appearing on his plump lips when he realizes the item he wanted to buy is out of stock, the bright smile beaming on his face while he spills out his ideas for photography, the warmth of his palm holding yours in the pocket of his woolen coat.

“Who else is gonna be there?” you ask during your drive to the beach – Mingyu found the place perfect for a picnic, especially in the hot summer.

“Um,” he hesitates for a moment, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to look at you. “It’s just the two of us.”

“Oh,” you breath. “I see. Momo didn’t tell me.”

“Blame yourself for leaving me on read,” he grins obnoxiously and you roll your eyes defensively. “Now you’re stuck with me. I forgot to mention one thing, though.”

“Which one?” you rake your eyes over him, admiring how the sun’s rays paint his skin in a golden glitter. “It’s a date.”

You dig your toes into the cool sand, glancing into the evening sky. Mingyu follows your eyeline.

“You can’t see the stars for reflected light from the city,” you notice. “But here we have a chance.”

“No way,” Mingyu protests. “And you know why?”

“Why so?” you turn your face to him, a big smile spread on his lips.

“All Seoul’s stars are in your eyes,” he is smiling so wide that his cheeks must have hurt and he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you, tugging you into his lap.

“Shut up,” you laugh, smacking him on the chest, your fingers touching the soft fabric of his shirt. Mingyu’s lips are ghosting over your cheek for a moment before he speaks again,

“But I have lots of things to say,” Mingyu murmurs, biting softly at your earlobe, and a very familiar feeling creeps up into the pit of your stomach.

“Like what?”

“Like, let’s swim,” he takes you aback with the suggestion and you blink at him dumbly. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit with me,” you say.

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “We’re alone here. No one’ll see.”

You push up from his body and meet his eyes glossy with playfulness and challenge, and you nod at his words. Mingyu grinning at you mischievously, while he removes his clothes – his shirt and pants find their place at the sand – as you see each piece of his skin revealing itself. You inhale deeply, and he leans his head closer to yours, the warm palms rubbing up and down your arms.

“Don’t be nervous,” he whispers, and you’re surprised he can tell this just from your body language, and it makes your heart flutter, pounding even faster against your ribcage. His words encourage you, and he silently watches you removing your dress, the only pieces of clothing on your skin are your bra and panties. Mingyu gently squeezes your hand, his thumb softly strokes back and forth over your knuckles. “Catch me.”

And within a couple of seconds, he is already pushing into the water, everything below his waist out of sight. You slowly step onto the sparkling waves, a lazy smile playing on your lips, as you see Mingyu splashing over to you with a childish pout on his face.

“You’re supposed to catch me, but you don’t even try,” he whines and steps closer to you, pressing his hands to either sides of your neck, his thumb rubbing the hollow of your throat. He looks dreamlike with his skin stick from the water, making him glisten in the soft evening light.

“It’s not the only thing I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. I was born to live without you, remember?” you whisper against his wet lips as he leans over you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he hums, letting his fingers brush against the words inked on your side. “I don’t need to be told who I love.”

You’d been feeling like you were drowning for too long, drowning in the cool water of sorrows, doubts, and self-destruction for too long, but only now you can breathe -

“You love me?” you say in a quiet voice, almost as if it was a secret, and the soft look on his face makes your heart skip a beat, overflowing with love and affection.

“I do. So I ask you to stay with me,” he pleads. Not just for tonight, not for tomorrow morning, but-

“Take me home.”

Rattling keys, the sound of giggles stopped with the kisses, Mingyu’s hot mouth on your pulse point, your hands tugging at his black silk locks, and the heavy weight of the wall meets your back.

“Right in the corridor?” you hum, panting into his ear. “Where is your decency, Kim Mingyu? Not bringing your lady to the bedroom is-” Mingyu doesn’t let you finish, forcing his leg between yours. He is grinning at you with his bottom lip between his teeth as he guides your hips into motion against his thigh, satisfied with the garbled moan ripped from your throat. Bringing his lips to the side of your neck again, Mingyu plants wet kisses on the soft skin. He licks your ear, gently tugging the lobe between his teeth. When the boy releases the tender flesh, he hisses,

“This… you made me forget about my good manners,” Mingyu drawls and attaches his lips to your throat. His voice is sweet, but the material of his pants is rough and the combination drives you crazy, whimpering into the air between you, your clit aching.

“Please,” you whine, grinding yourself harder against him.

Suddenly, Mingyu smiles, brightly and happy, before his lips press into yours, his tongue mapping your mouth. The boy lifts you up and it gives you an opportunity to kiss his neck in return, biting red marks into his tanned skin. Then, ever so carefully, Mingyu places you on the soft surface of the bed, kissing you passionately, but slower, trying to find out what you like the most.

“Can I take your clothes off, please?” he whispers in your mouth and you moan, your hands gripping into his biceps.

“Good manners are back,” you coo. “Go ahead.”

Mingyu helps you to sit up, undoing the upper buttons of your summer dress, kissing the skin it exposes, and finally pulling it over your head.

“Don’t forget to take the rest off too,” you breathe, and his lips stretch into a smile. His arms twist behind your back and then he is sliding the fabric down your arms and tossing it away.

“Do you want me to touch you, princess?” Mingyu murmurs, the tip of his nose traces the side of your neck as his fingers are ghosting over the wetness of your panties.

“Like you don’t know the answer already,” you hiss and he chuckles, his hands move to palm your breasts. You bite your lower lip when he rolls your nipple between his fingers before slowly circling it, a blush slowly creeps down your neck. His mouth finally covers your nipple as his warm palms are parting your thighs, his fingers firmly pressed against the skin. Without being told, you rise your hips to help him remove your soaked panties.

Mingyu sits back on his haunches and marvel at your spread thighs and the pretty wet curves, and your legs separate to make room for him beyond your control.

“You’re so pretty,” he admires, his eyes – glassy with desire and adoration – don’t leave your face. His palm slides up from your hip over your stomach and further still, gently cupping your breast.

“Gyu,” you plea, but before you can even think about the words, Mingyu tosses his shirt somewhere behind his back, already yanked his slightly ruined with your wetness pants and the underwear to the floor.

Then, he is putting his fore and middle fingers into his mouth, coating them in saliva before slowly bringing them to your pussy, the pads of his fingers ghosting over your slit. You moan and he takes it as an invitation, drawing a circle around the hood of your clit. Craving for more, you shamelessly grind your hips into his palm, your fingers grasping at the sheets.

“Baby, I want to taste you so bad,” Mingyu purrs, thrusting his fingers into your pussy down to the knuckles. You moan at the sensation of his fingertips dragging against your pulsing walls, and he increases the pace of his digits inside of you. “You smell so good.”

His words only sending you near delirious. But his tongue feels even better.

Mingyu runs the flat of his tongue up to your clit, humming happily at the moan escaped through your red and swollen lips, your fingers tangled in his hair. His grip on your thighs is firm, screaming lust in big neon letters. He sucks on your clit, focusing his hot mouth on the swollen bundle of nerves, as he is pulling and pushing his fingers through your entrance.

The boy groans deeply, nuzzling his pretty face deeper into your core. The delightful pleasure clings to your stomach, swells at you abdomen. Your eyes screw shut and your chest heaves, the back arching off the bed with a high-pitched cry. Mingyu is leaning over your, adjusting his body on his elbows supporting him either side of your body. His breath is tickling the skin of your neck and you giggle, your hand lazily draws some patterns onto his back. The boy silently observes your features while you reach down to his cock, lubricating it with his pre-cum. Mingyu groans, but you swallow the sound with your mouth, your tongue catching on flesh of his mouth that tastes like you. He is desperately grinding against your stomach, the tip of his dick leaving a wet trail over your skin.

“I love you,” he says against your lips and, slowly and carefully, positions the reddened head to your entrance. You wrap your legs around him, heels pressing into the ample swells of his ass as Mingyu buries himself deep inside you. He presses his teeth on your collarbone as he hitting your sweet spot with every single one of his delicious thrusts.

Mingyu is here – his arms caging your face, his mouth never leaves yours, and his chest is pressed tight against yours – Mingyu is here and you love each other.

He rolls his hips against you, sinking his cock into your heat, his fingers toying with your sensitive clit. Suddenly, he speeds up, pulling an extremely loud moan from you. Feeling you clench around him, Mingyu groans and lowers himself to suck on your nipple, muffling the sounds he makes against your skin.

“Let it go,” he pants out and you oblige, a gasp tumbles from your lips as your fingers curling in his hair. Your walls spasm around his cock, enveloping it with your release. He thrusts in you, his cock twitching inside of you before he lets out a drawn moan. He stills in you as his cock milking your pussy, panting loudly. He opens his dark eyes and his face softens for you as he places a gentle kiss on the side of your jaw.

“We weren’t meant for each other,” you whisper, your hand playing with his damp locks. “But I love you more than anything.”

“We are meant for each other,” Mingyu is persistent. “Since our first meeting.”

“Okay,” you give in.

“I win,” his smile is radiant in the night, and his eyes hold the whole universe in them.

You never thought of you as a rule breaker. No one did.

With each day Mingyu helps you realize you shape the universe you live in.

And you ask him to make your nose look smaller at the portrait of you he have been painting for two weeks already.

207 notes · View notes

fandom-imagines · 4 years

Text

Thank you

Fandom: Death Note

Pairing: L X Reader

Warnings: Emotional and physical abuse.

Words: 3k

A/N: I’m in a death note phase again. I wrote this instead of doing my essay oops.

Being the girlfriend of a worldwide, secret detective was hard.

Relationships were hard enough as it is but having to make sure both the partners names were kept hidden made it even harder. Then there’s the constant travelling that takes place along with many other things.

Basically, the relationship between L Lawliet and Y/N Y/S/N was a complicated one. Don’t get me wrong, they were both madly in love with the other, but that didn’t make it any less hard.

“Y/N!” A high-pitched voice sounded from behind the aforementioned couple.

That’s Misa, Y/N’s best friend and often co-worker. The two met at a photoshoot where they became fast friends, the pair being able to work together due to their celebrity status.

“Hi, Misa.” A soft smile crawled onto the Y/H/C-haired girls’ lips.

She usually loved seeing Misa, but today all she wanted was to go back to her house and chill, maybe with Lawliet, maybe not. Who knows? Not her.

“Hi, Ryuzaki.” Misa greeted her best friends’ boyfriend, albeit unknowingly, before grasping her small hand around Y/N’s arm. “Bye, Ryuzaki!” Were her final words as she dragged Y/N away, unaware that she was desperately mouthing “sorry” towards her boyfriend.

“Light won’t even take me on a date, Y/N/N!” Misa whined, still talking about her ‘boyfriend’, “Isn’t that so unfair?”

“Very.” Y/N mumbled, turning the page on her magazine which lay in front of her.

She was currently lying across Misa’s bed, the pink sheets creasing beneath her. The girl’s legs were crossed in the air, the entire weight of her body being placed solely on her stomach. The magazine she was reading was something she had bought on the way back to Misa’s, hoping to share opinions on outfits or gossip about latest celebrities, something that the pair had done since they met.

“Are you even listening, Y/N/N?” The blonde continued to whine upon realizing that her friend was no longer listening to her boy drama.

“Sorry, just deep in thought.” Y/N’s words weren’t necessarily a lie, she was deep in thought just not about something she wished to share.

Misa didn’t know about Lawliet and Y/N’s relationship, nobody did. That was how they liked it. No one could intervene, no drama or anything of the sort. Just the two of them, happy, together.

Oh how she longed to be with him right now. The two of them together, even if they were just sitting in HQ together whilst working on the Kira case that they had been working on for months now. That was how they had met: the Kira case.

Y/N knew of his involvement, her father worked as a detective, similar to Lights. That was how she joined the investigation despite being a student. Both her father and close friend, Light, recommended her.

However, that friendship was slowly fading as she found out more and more evidence that made her suspect Light of being Kira. She’s smart, very smart, that’s why she got along with both geniuses. She fit in well with the two. But the more she investigated the case, the more she realized that Light could possibly be behind the mass murders that were causing terror across the world, especially Japan.

“Ooh! What about? Is it a boy?” Misa was now sat up on the ground, arms wrapped tightly around the yellow pillow that she was previously sitting on. Her loose blonde locks fell down her back as well as over the pillow. She looked absolutely beautiful.

How did Light not love her back?

“Shut up.” The other girl huffed, tossing a pillow from Misa’s bed into the face of the owner, giggling as Misa fell backwards onto the soft carpet before bursting into a fit of giggles herself.

“You have to tell me!” The words left Misa’s lips between giggles as she recomposed herself.

“No!”

“Yes~”

The two argued back and forth for around five minutes before giving up, and bursting into a giggle fit once again, something that was common between the pair.

“So, you like someone?” Misa wiggled her eyebrows in amusement at the fact that her best friend was finally interested in someone other than fictional characters. “Tell me everything.”

Without revealing who it was, Y/N began to tell her about her ‘crush’, despite said crush actually being her boyfriend of a few months now. Ensuring that no significant details were released which could identify the man, she told her everything. Blushing was something new to her, but neither Misa nor Y/N complained. It was a refreshing change for them both.

“Wow,” The model let out a breath she wasn’t aware that she was holding once Y/N had poured her heart out, slightly at least. “I never knew you were capable of such feelings, Y/N/N!”

“Stop teasing me~” Y/N’s hands covered her blushing face, words becoming muffled behind the skin. “This is embarrassing enough as it is,” a groan left her lips as she continued her sentence. “Besides, I doubt he even likes me back.” The final words were mumbled, self-doubt settling in as she realized that her boyfriend might not actually love her.

Logically, Y/N knew that L wouldn’t use her, or at least she hopes, and that he genuinely did value her and her opinion. He enjoyed her company and didn’t find her annoying. He really did love her, despite not having admitted it.

“Sure he does! You’re great, Y/N/N.” Misa grinned at her best friend, unknowingly providing her with a source of comfort.

“Thanks, Misa.” A sigh left the other girls lips, a sinking feeling of doubt looming over her. “I should probably get home, it’s getting late. Goodnight, Misa.”

“Goodnight, Y/N!”

Instead of heading home Y/N decided to take a late-night stroll.

The dark sky was littered with bright stars, a nice change from the usual plain nights sky in Japan. It gave an almost comforting feel to the stroller, reminding her of her childhood when she would stay up late to stare up at the midnight sky with a genuine belief that it was the world watching over her, much like the moon which was ‘following’ her everywhere she went to make sure she was safe.

It was childish, yes, but she was a child so what do you expect?

The Y/H/C-haired girl observed her breath as she exhaled. It was cold which wasn’t a huge surprise considering that it was nearing December now; winter time. Despite being extremely cold, she decided that it wasn’t time to head home just yet. Her mind wasn’t entirely clear and it wasn’t exactly in her best interest to go home with an overthinking mind, so he continued her walk.

The sound of her shoes hitting the ground was one of the only things she could hear other than the occasional passing car or truck. The streetlights lit up her view, being the only thing that did so and Y/N internally thanked whoever put them up considering she wouldn’t be able to use the torch on her phone as it had died long ago. The odd passing-by car provided her with some light also, although it wasn’t much.

It wasn’t until around 1am when she finally decided she should head home.

The house was deadly silent as she entered, but the lights were still alight, leaving the daughter of the local baker and detective confused.

“Mum?” The girls voice was slightly quiet in case she was asleep whilst still being loud enough for anyone seated downstairs to hear.

“Where have you been?!” Her mothers voice was incredibly loud, making Y/N cringe and wince. “I’ve been worried sick! How could you make your mom worry like this?”

Ah, there comes the guilt tripping. Y/N’s thoughts were awfully loud, and she cursed herself internally.

“Sorry, mom.” A frown had made its way onto her lips as she apologized.

Sure, she probably should have warned her that she was going for a walk, but there was no need to guilt trip her.

“You should be. Now go to your room!”

She simply ran upstairs.

The bags under Y/Ns’ eyes almost matched Ryuzaki’s the following day.

She hadn’t gotten any sleep that night as she replayed every bad moment with her mother sine childhood and believe me, there was a lot of them.

Her mother hadn’t been the best parent to say the least. She was never physically abusive, but the mental scars from her words and actions had taken a toll on her daughter throughout the years.

“Are you okay?” Lights words were full of concern upon noticing the girls tired composure. The way she stood further proved that she was exhausted considering how she was slumped over. Hands shaking also, Light was genuinely concerned, despite his status as Kira, something he knew that she suspected. “You look terrible, no offence.”

“I’m fine.” Her words were quiet, almost silent, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to give a completely response but she figured those words would suffice and he would hopefully leave her alone.

Whilst concerned, Light knew not to push things when someone didn’t want to talk, so he didn’t push it further, favouring to ask if she was going to the HQ later which she was.

“Ryuzaki isn’t in today,” Lights words caught her attention, finally pulling her from her trance, “he’s working on the investigation.”

“Oh,” while her response was short, the criminal still cheered internally, glad that he had stopped her worrying, even if it was for a split second.

For the entire day she was completely ‘out of it’, unable to concentrate or even form a coherent sentence and she mentally kicked herself at her so-called failure. However she was slightly grateful that there was no exam today, knowing she would have most definitely failed. She probably wouldn’t have been able to write more than three words.

Y/N’s walk to HQ was lonely as she desperately craved some human contact.

She really needed a hug.

As though in a trance, the girl scanned herself into HQ and headed towards the main room where she knew everyone would be.

“Hi, Y/N,” Matsuda’s cheerful greeting caught Ryuzaki’s attention. Well, more like the name of the person he was greeting.

Nobody could have known however, unaware of the short-lived glance he had spared towards her. This short glance told him a lot: she hadn’t slept, she was deep in thought and she felt… crap.

This worried the detective immensely. He really did care for the girl; a lot more than he would admit. Not that he didn’t want to, he just didn’t know how she would react and didn’t want to risk facing rejection.

It would hurt.

“Hi.” The response she gave Matsuda was blunt, emotionless which L wasn’t happy to hear.

She never used that tone. She was usually cheerful. It must be bad.

“You guys can go for a break. You’ve been here most of today and it’s not nearing 5pm.” L’s words matched his girlfriends tone as usual, uncaring about the relief his words had just provided the others on the case. “Except you.” His gaze was now fixated on his love, making her internally curse at herself for being so obvious about her low mood.

The raven-haired detective waited for everyone to leave, stare unmoving as he observed Y/N’s every move and she walked towards the chair opposite him.

“What is it?” Y/N’s gaze was cast towards the ground, not wanting L to see her like this. “I’m sorry.” Her words were quick, worried that he was going to say something that would simply upset her more. “I-I didn’t mean too.”

L’s cold hand gently grasped her chin, lifting her face so that they could look at each other and he cringed slightly as he saw the tear threatening to fall from her eyes.

Okay, he is now really worried.

“What’s wrong?” His words were quiet but still laced with genuine concern, along with his eyes. “You can tell me.”

“It’s nothing, really.” The words stumbled from her lips, only worrying him more. “C-can I just go today? Please.”

L simply nodded, watching as she dashed from the HQ and out of his sight.

“Why do you keep disappearing?” Y/N’s mothers voice was the first thing she heard as she walked through the door.

“Please, leave me alone.” Y/N begged, simply wishing to be alone.

She made an attempt to dash upstairs, only to be stopped by her mothers tight grip around her wrist as she spun her around to face her. A hash slap hit the younger girls face with such a force that they both knew would leave a mark the following day.

“Y-Y/N…” Upon realisation of what she had just done, her tight grip around her daughters wrist loosened, hand dropping to her side.

“Never talk to me again.” YN’s words were quiet yet laced with venom before she finally dashed up to her room, one goal in mind:

Leave.

Her movements were quick as she packed her bag, tears leaking from her eyes in both pain and sadness,

Within minutes her bag was packed, tossed over her shoulder before she ran downstairs.

“Please don’t leave.” Her mother’s plead fell on deaf ears, the only response coming from the closing of the door as she watched her daughter leave, neither of them knowing if she would ever return.

It was cold. Very cold and Y/N cursed herself for not bringing a jacket, being in a skirt and t-shirt which was the same outfit she had worn to school today.

Shivering, she began her long walk towards HQ, something she knew would take a long time.

“What happened to you?” Detective Yagami’s voice was filled with panic upon seeing the tear stains on her cheeks as well as the bright red bruising hand-mark.

Lawliet payed no attention to his remark, simply assuming that Matsuda had had a clumsy accident yet again.

“Please, can I just sit down?” Was what captured his attention, the soft and exhausted voice being one he recognised immediately.

“O-of course.” Soichiro’s words were rushed as he signalled towards the seat he had previously occupied which Y/N gratefully took.

L spun on his chair to look at the girl, breath hitching as he took in her appearance.

He caught her gaze and she had looked up after hearing the spinning of the chair and she thanked whatever gods there were that it was simply the three of them.

“Detective Yagami would you mind if we have a moment?” L’s stare was unmoving as Yagami nodded, leaving the room.

“R-Ryu…” Her voice sounded broken, eyes filled with pain and he soon noticed the bag on the ground, quickly coming to the conclusion that something had happened at home, presumably with her mother, and she had ran away.

L quickly climbed onto his feet, opening his arms which Y/N gladly ran into, breaking down into sobs. His hand placed itself on her hair, burying itself into her hair as her face buried into his chest. L was uncaring as her tears soaked through his white tee; he only cared that she was okay. They stood like that for a long time, L providing comfort she didn’t know she needed.

“Come on,” L broke the silence as his girlfriend calmed down, her breath evening out, “lets get you to a room.” He offered her a hand as she pulled away, one she took with extreme gratitude, appreciating that it must have been hard for him to give her any affection.

Their hands never parted as they climbed the stairs of the HQ, heading towards Y/N’s new room. Ryuzaki had thrown her bag over his shoulder, the heavy weight of the bag not affecting him one bit.

The room was empty, and it was clear nobody was staying there.

The noise of the bag dropping to the ground was loud, startling Y/N whilst Lawliet remained unaffected, having been the one that had caused the noise; not that it would have scared him anyway.

Y/N was led towards the made bed by the detective, sitting herself down as he wordlessly instructed before taking a seat beside her.

“I’m sorry for being such a bother.” She apologised, making L shake his head in disagreement.

“You could never be a bother, Y/N. Not to me.” His words were less monotone than usual, less devoid of feeling. There was a genuine tone coming from him. “Matsuda’s a bother, not you.” He spoke which made the shorter girl chuckle, something she felt she hadn’t done in ages, despite it having only been a day, #

“Thanks, Ryu. For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure.” His arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her closely towards him until her warmth was felt by him. “I-“ He paused as he began to speak, extremely aware of what he was about to say.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked, confused at his sudden silence.

“I love you.” His words were quiet, almost unheard had it not been for the fact that the room was deadly silent.

The pair fell into an awkward silence for a moment before L got up to leave, apologising as he did so.

“Wait,” Y/N’s hand wrapped around his own, “I love you too.”

A small smile made its way onto both of their lips, L walking back over to the girl until he was stood directly in front of her. She watched closely as he bent down, unsure of what he was about to do. The second his lips touched her forehead a huge blush flowed across her cheeks.

“R-Ryu…?” Her embarrassed voice sounded, the only response she earned from him being a small smile before he gave her a pat on the head, turning to leave.

“Thank you.” She called, making him stop in the doorway.

“Anytime, Y/N/N.” The use of the nickname only made her blush harder.

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nugnthopkns · 4 years

Text

i’ll wait and i’ll listen

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of deafness/hearing loss, cursing, i think that’s it

recommended listening: new song | maggie rogers & del water gap

a/n: hi! first and foremost, i want to say that this is based off my own personal experiences with a deaf father, and it is in no way a reflection of how other people or families with hearing issues operate. this is just how we live and how my dad goes about life. with that out of the way, enjoy some soft nolan content i threw together in 45 minutes. pretty sure i made this gender neutral, but please point out any mistakes!

There’s no legitimate reason for you to be so apprehensive about Nolan meeting your parents.

He’s a great person who is all you could ever ask for in a partner. The two of you get along like peas in a pod, and honestly most of the time your relationship feels like two friends hanging out. Of course there’s a bit more romance involved – but being with Nolan is so easy you barely have to think about it.

Your parents aren’t the issue either. They’re both incredibly supportive of your relationship, and anything else you do. If it weren’t for them, you never would have left home – they’re the ones who packed the car and drove you all the way to Philadelphia. You never would have met Nolan if they hadn’t practically forced you out of the house and into the world.

Truthfully, both parties would probably get along great. Your mother is kind and welcoming, and your father has interests similar to Nolan’s. Your younger siblings adore him – they came to visit one weekend and you took them to an afternoon game at Wells Fargo Centre, and afterwards the four of you went out for burgers. Since then they talk to him regularly, and have been begging for you to return home with Nolan. You can tell your parents are getting antsy too – after all, you’ve been with Nolan for nearly two years.

Yes, Nolan has a busy schedule that doesn’t allow for much travel, but there have been plenty of opportunities over the years for everyone to get together. You’re the one who always comes up with a reason for him not to meet your parents. One time you were ‘sick’, another you were too busy with work to make the trip home. It isn’t that you’re worried they won’t approve or that Nolan will resent them. You’re apprehensive about bringing Nolan around because you’re worried there will be a communication barrier.

Your dad is deaf, and Nolan doesn’t exactly enunciate his words well. His voice is also exceptionally deep, which doesn’t help much. It isn’t a secret, your father’s hearing issues, and you’ve spoken to Nolan about them numerous times. Most of the time it’s you fretting about it getting worse and he listens intently while you sob into his chest. Since the hearing loss came from years of working around loud machines, it was gradual, which was frustrating for him. You were in high school when he got hearing aides, but eventually they lost their desired effect. Now your dad relies on reading lips and other non-aural markers like hand gestures to fill in the gaps.

“Babe, I have to meet them at some point,” Nolan says through a mouthful of pasta. “Especially since I plan on sticking around.”

Your mom had called earlier in the afternoon to ask when you were coming home next. The upcoming weekend is free in your schedule, and when you told her she insisted you bring Nolan. He’s out for the season with the migraine related issues so you couldn’t exactly lie and say he was going to be out of town. Instead, you fed her some bullshit excuse and said you’d check to see if he could move some stuff around.

“I know,” you sigh. “I just don’t want you or my dad getting frustrated if talking doesn’t go smoothly.”

Nolan pushes his chair back from the table and walks to stand behind you. He rubs your shoulders soothingly and leans down to whisper in your ear. “There are a million and ten other ways I can communicate with him Sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

Deep down, you know he’s right. There’s no reason the two of them can’t communicate, even if they can’t do it verbally. After discussing it more and ironing out all your doubts, you call your mom back to let her know both you and Nolan will be coming. A small weight lifts from your chest, knowing that you’ll get the first meeting over with, but dread slowly creeps in. There are so many ways it could go wrong.

☼☼☼☼

You and Nolan stand on the doorstep of your childhood home hand in hand. As if he can sense how nervous you are, Nolan squeezes gently, reminding you of his unwavering presence.

“Whatever happens isn’t going to change the fact that I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

To steady yourself from the negative thought swirling in your brain you lean closer to Nolan. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and uses his free hand to knock on the door. Less than two seconds your sister is bounding towards the door and flinging it open.

“Mom! Y/N and Nolan are here!”

She steps to the side and lets the pair of you in. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on the rack behind the door – Nolan copies. As soon as you’re inside the entryway your mother is wrapping you in a massive hug.

“I’m so glad you’re home darling,” she says, arms tight around you. “Was the drive okay?”

You go to answer her question but her attention is turned to your very tall boyfriend who is standing beside you like a deer caught in the headlights.

“You must be Nolan. It’s so nice we could finally meet. Y/N has told me a lot about you.”

Nolan clears his throat before speaking, his deep voice echoing slightly off the ceiling. “All good things I hope,” he laughs, looking to you for reassurance.

Nodding your head, you join in his laughter. You travel farther into the house, giving your brother a fistbump when you pass him in the hall. When you moved out your parents converted your room into a sophisticated guest bedroom, so there aren’t any embarrassing posters from your teenage years on the walls for Nolan to make fun of. You quickly unpack your suitcase, wanting to get back downstairs and spend time with your family. It’s been a while since you’ve been home, and you missed them more than you thought.

“Is your dad here?” Nolan asks, hanging the couple of sweaters you guys brought up in the closet.

You glance at the clock on the wall, you shake your head. “He’ll be home from work just before dinner.”

The two of you head downstairs to chill with your siblings, but not without sharing a few kisses that make your spine tingle. At your brother’s insistence the four of you head to the basement to partake in an air hockey tournament. Though Nolan can hold his own in the NHL, he’s rather miserable at this iteration of the game. Your sister eliminates him in under five minutes, and after a hard fought battle you defeat your brother.

Nolan tries to coach you before the gold medal game but you laugh him off. “Nol, you were terrible. I think I can hold my own.”

He breathes out harshly through his nose, but you know he isn’t upset with your teasing. “Fine,” he mumbles, “See if you can win without my all-star advice.”

Your sister manages to win in a shootout. It was a close game, and you challenge her to a rematch after dinner. She accepts, insisting you’ll lose again. Nolan bets he can race her around the property, so you move outside. Your mom lets you know dinner will be ready soon, and you throw her a thumbs up.

Though your sister is a fast runner, she’s got nothing on Nolan’s six foot frame. He passes her with ease, cheekily throwing her the finger as he rushes by. You’re the finish line and instead of stopping when he reaches you, Nolan throws you over his shoulder and continues running through the yard.

Your laugh rings out as you kick your feet. “Put me down!” you shriek. When he makes no attempt to prove he listened to your cries, you try again. “Nol, come on, put me down. If you fall it’ll be really bad.”

Knowing you’re right, Nolan stops moving and gingerly places you on the ground. His hands move to cup your face and he plants a warm kiss on your lips. You refuse to let it get too far, but you lean into him slightly and sigh when he pulls away.

In the distance you hear your mom calling for dinner. “Kids, it’s time to eat,” she says. “Your father just got home.”

Your heart beat rises exponentially, and your steps drag slightly as you get closer to the door. Nolan notices, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he flashes you a smile that’s reserved just for you and makes your heart melt.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure I don’t mumble.”

In the dining room, you guide Nolan to sit beside your dad. You figure it’s the spot where he has the best chance of hearing your boyfriend, and no one seems to protest. They give each other a polite nod while the rest of you rush to place everything on the table and serve the food.

Once everyone is sitting, Nolan takes the initiative to introduce himself. “It’s nice to meet you Sir,” he says a bit slower than his normal speaking voice, making sure to clearly enunciate his words.

There’s no response from your father, and you suck in a breath. You watched him focus on Nolan’s lips while he spoke, but you fear he still couldn’t quite understand what your boyfriend said. It takes a few more beats for him to process what was spoken, but then your dad is cracking a smile and holding his hand out for Nolan to shake.

“Glad Y/N isn’t hiding you from us anymore. I thought the first time I’d meet you was at the engagement party.” His voice is a few decibels louder than everyone else’s, due to not being able to hear himself, but Nolan doesn’t seem to mind.

They slip into an easy conversation about work and hunting, asking each other a million questions. There’s barely room for any one else to contribute but the rest of you don’t mind – it’s been a long time since your dad has been able to go this long without asking someone for assistance. Of course there’s a few bumps in the road – Nolan not speaking clearly or looking elsewhere while telling a story, but that was to be expected. You step in when needed, repeating phrases and recreating scenes with hand actions. Overall, the meal goes swimmingly, and the two men leave the table eagerly to swap stories.

You spend the time catching up with your mother, and she gushes over how Nolan is handling everything. “He’s doing so well,” she exclaims. “He’s so patient with your dad, waiting to make he understood what was said before continuing, and he doesn’t have an issue repeating himself a few times. You really lucked out Y/N.”

“I know,” you say honestly. “He’s simply the best.”

It’s a few hours later that Nolan finds his way back to you. You arch your brow, wondering what he got up to, and he explains that your dad took him for a walk in the forest to show him the deer he’d been tracking the past couple of weeks. It’s heartwarming that they get along so well, and you feel a little silly for fretting over what would happen.

☼☼☼☼

“Your dad is nice,” Nolan shrugs as you crawl into bed beside him. “I could hardly tell he was deaf most of the time.”

You tuck yourself into his side and hum. “He does a great job of not letting it define him,” you agree. “But thank you for being so patient with him.”

A small peck is placed to your shoulder blade and you sigh at the contact of Nolan’s lips on your skin. “He did grumble about how my voice is too deep,” he laughs. “Said he could barely hear me. Once I knew that I made sure to speak clearly and let him read my lips.”

You’re speechless. None of your friends or past romantic partners had made that much of an effort to treat your dad like he was a person. They got short with him for needing them to slow down or repeat themselves, and often would refuse to see him again. It’s part of the reason you were so hesitant to introduce Nolan – you wanted to protect him from another person who might treat him differently because he can’t hear.

“I really fucking love you,” you whisper into the darkness.

You can practically hear the grin in Nolan’s voice as he speaks. “I really fucking love you too.”

The rest of your stay will go just fine, you think as you drift to sleep. There was nothing to worry about, and you can’t wait to watch a friendship blossom between your dad and boyfriend.

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#this is kinda shit but i've been toying with this idea for a while #it's done now and my brain can move on #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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woodrokiro · 3 years

Text

Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse.

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place.

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte.

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work.

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations.

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation.

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know.

She knows.

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break.

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light.

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs.

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters.

“A table for one, miss?”

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back.

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.”

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu.

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl.

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to.

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche.

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?”

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?”

“Any recommendations?”

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response.

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.”

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own.

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned.

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs.

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.”

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits.

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?”

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?”

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner.

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order.

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to.

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away.

Bartenders are absolutely off limits.

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her.

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

#bleach #ichiruki #irmonth2021 #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #may or may not be multi chapter if I'm being reeeal #but this was fun so maybe

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hexensalbei · 3 years

Text

when i’m at home

“... And she just came by the station and brought us coffee!”, Eddie grimaces, trying not to grit his teeth.

“Isn't it a nice gesture?”, Adriana asks; there's hint of amusement in her voice and she's not even trying to hide it. It's late evening; her kids are already in bed and so is Christopher which allows her to talk with her brother for a while. It's kinda their tradition—every few days they call each other—mostly via Skype—to catch up and check if everything's alright. She really enjoys it; the Diaz siblings has always been pretty close no matter how far away they have lived.

“It is. It's just... Why was she even at the station? I thought there's nothing between them. Not after that disaster of a date”, Eddie sighs. Seeing Buck chatting and laughing with Taylor Kelly at the end of their shift really put him in a bad mood. He still doesn't trust her especially around his best friend. He just knows that redhead reporter isn't the right person for Buck. Who repeatedly said he wants a serious relationship, not just a meaningless hookup.

And yet, he's still seeing her. It bothers Eddie so much he spilled out about it when Adriana asked what's up. He thought that it might help him calm down but he feels like he's just more angry than he has been earlier.

“Maybe they're just friends.”, Adriana suggests after a few moments of silence between them. She eyes him suspiciously. “Isn't it what Buck said anyway? That they're better off being friends?”

“Then why was she flirting with him for the whole she was there? Why did she bring him his favourite coffee?”. It's very clear that Eddie's annoyed that his sister isn't throwing insults at Buckley's not-so-new female friend.

“You flirt with him all the time and nobody says anything.”

Eddie freezes.

After what it feels like hours, he looks up at his sister. She has that odd, annoying smug on her face like she knows she's absolutely right and he has sudden urge to wipe it off. She just waits patiently for him to catch up what she said.

“I... What now?”

“You flirt with him all the time. And everyone is fine with it.”, she repeats very loud and clear.

“I don't”, Eddie scoffs. Has she gone mad and he hasn't noticed? He doesn't flirt with Buck, they're just best friends. They joke and bicker quite often but that's it. There's only friendly, platonic banter.

“Have you ever considered you might be in love with Buck?”, Adriana asks. Her question is serious even though Eddie sees the mischief in her eyes.

“Don't you think I would've noticed that I'm in love with my best friend?”, he answers with another question.

He really believes in that. He's been in love once in his life and it was Shannon. And he was definitely aware of his feelings. He still remembers first nervous glances, shy smiles and stuttering. He remembers first touches and kisses and how he had felt butterflies in his stomach. He also recalls their arguments, make-up sex and tears when they'd been hurting each other. Even when Shannon had re-appeared in his life, he was fully aware he still loved her. So if he did love Evan, he'd know. He thinks. He's so lost in thoughts, he doesn't hear his sister's rambling.

“Edmundo!”, she practically yells at him to bring back his attention. It seems to be working so she decides to share her honest opinion. “Eddie, we've been talking for almost an hour now, you had a date with Ana—like yesterday—and you didn't say a word about it. We're only talking about Buck. You're so pissed off because you saw him again with the girl he'd hooked up with in the past. And for me it's pretty telling. You're jealous.”

There's a silence on Eddie's side of the screen. In fact, he's utterly speechless. Adriana's words are ringing in his ears like a fucking bell. Jealous. Is is really jealousy what's been eating him since his friend had reconnected with Taylor?

“Look”, his sister bites her lip as if she's not sure if she should go on. Eventually, she does. “I'm not laughing or mocking you. I love you and I want everything what's best for you. I know you've had a rough couple of years dealing with all that shit with our parents, Shannon dying, tsunami and pandemic and yet, I've never seen you happier. You literally light up when you talk about Chris and Buck. You mention him all the time. You've never trusted Shannon the way you trust Buck with Chris and she was his mother. You two practically live together—last time we talked he was tucking Chris in after he spend the whole afternoon cooking dinner and watching movies with you two. It's something I do with my husband, not with my friends even if I love them. I've only seen glimpses of your life and I'm pretty sure you two love each other.”

Eddie listens. He pays attention to every word that coming out from Addie's mouth. It's hard to admit it but she's right. Buck has stopped being only a guest in his house a long time ago. Lately he's here almost all the time—either babysitting Chris while Eddie's on a date with Ana or just hanging out with the two of them because he doesn't feel comfortable in his own apartment. The thing is, Eddie likes having him around. He enjoys lazy mornings that smell like Buck's famous pancakes and coffee made by Hildy (Buck still teases him about it); he's also very fond of all evenings filled with laughter when they accidentally fall asleep on the couch and wake up in the middle of the night tangled up together. Being this close has never been awkward to them. At this point—Eddie realises—it's more awkward when there's an actual space between them. And, of course, he notices how attractive his friend is. He must've been blind not to see it. It's not like he's the only one who knows that Buck's eyes look like the cloudless sky in the middle of the summer when he's happy and get so dark they look like an stormy ocean, right?

He freezes again for a moment.

“Addie, I'm a little too old to have a sexuality crisis, don't you think?”, he asks but Adriana only laughs. He's not even offended by it because it's kinda hilarious. He would've laughed if somebody told him that he's gonna question his sexuality because of something his sister had said. “What if... What about our family? Parents?”

“You mean if you two get together?” Eddie nods. “I don't think you need to worry about it”, Adriana smiles brightly. “Our mom's wondering—and I quote—when will Edmundo bring back to El Paso that charming friend of his?”

“And so are we!”, Sophia chimes in, appearing suddenly behind Adriana.

“Dios Mío, have you been here the whole time?” Eddie groans when he sees both of his sisters grinning. He's royally fucked now. He knows them well and he's sure they won't forget about anything he has said tonight and will tease him mercilessly. There's a reason why Buck instantly hit it off when he met Diaz sisters. Sophia only nods and winks at him before she disappears again.

“Aunt Pepa loves him and don't even get me started with Abuela. Buck's her favourite grandchild, she gave him half of her secret recipes and he's not even officially Diaz yet!”, Adriana exclaims, pretending to be offended. Then, she adds. “And you certainly don't have to worry about Christopher. The kid loves Buck more than anyone. I'm not even sure if you're still his favourite adult.”

Eddie glares at her but there's a smile on his lips. He's not even slightly surprised that his son adores Buck so much. Honestly, Evan Buckley is his favourite adult too.

—☾—

Adriana's words are still stuck in his head days later when he's at home after another long, exhausting shift. Christopher is already here, doing his homework and Buck—Buck is here too. They're in the kitchen, preparing dinner together. Or it's rather Buck cooking and Eddie trying to steal food.

“Hey, quit snacking and cut the vegetables”, Buck orders and Eddie can't help but smile.

“I love you”, he blurts out. He didn't even think about it, it just escaped from his mouth.

It's Buck's turn to freeze.

Eddie looks at him and realises what he said. He's not panicking; he just feels happy, perfectly comfortable. At peace.

“I love you”, he says it again and suddenly he's in Buck's space. He just leans in and kisses him. Buck's definitely surprised but he only needs a moment to catch up what's going on. He responds very eagerly and kisses him back.

Eddie thinks it's a wonderful feeling. Now he knows that sometimes love doesn't hit like a wave, rapidly and intensively. Sometimes it just sneaks up quietly and patiently, like a river, taking piece by piece. He doesn't mind it.

“You're still cutting vegetables”, Buck says when they break apart. His eyes are full of joy and he's grinning—and Eddie wants to see him like this everyday. “And for the record, I love you too, Diaz.”

Eddie sends Adriana you were right hours later when he's already in bed, Buck curled up next to him. She responds almost immediately I know and he just smiles again.

—☾—

Link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30453828

(Title stolen shamelessly from band called The Maine, I highly recommend listen to that song, it fits Buddie so much ✨

#911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #buddie fic #lucy writes #lucy's attempt to write #no beta we die like doug #in this house we stan diaz sisters #adriana and sophia are national treasure #just like christopher #it's shitty #i know i know #buddie drabble

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Lake House Tattoo - One Shot

a/n: so my birthday is in a couple of days, and I think a lot of you know I write about piercings a lot, but don’t have any major ones of my own...or at least I didn’t UNTIL TODAY! Finally got my belly button pierced yall! I wanted my nose done, but it’s not safe to do so yet, so I got the next best thing. Anyways...the guy that took care of me was really nice, and made me want to write a little piercer!Harry fic. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: FLUFF!

Words: 2.3K

Y/N was a simple woman. She worked a 9-5, regular old office job, and she liked it enough. She had a great group of friends, and a relatively normal family. There wasn’t too much to complain about. She was well past her wild college days, but as her twenty-fifth birthday was approaching, she wanted to do something that she felt was a little out there for herself.

A lot of her friends had different types of piercings. She only had her ears pierced. She had two sets in her lobes, and a simple stud in her cartilage. But her friends has some of the cooler ones, some had their noses pierced, and others had their belly buttons done. Bingo. A belly button piercing would be perfect. It was the little bit of defiance she was looking for, but it was also discrete. Maybe for any other person it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but it was something her mother was adamant about not allowing her to have as she was growing up, which was annoying because it seemed like everyone had it.

“Will you please come with me? I’ll need someone to hold my hand…” She asked her best friend, Maggie.

“Of course! But I promise, it won’t hurt that much. Where are you getting it done?”

“Lake House Tattoo, the piercer came really recommended from some friends at work. I wish I could have my nose pierced, but it’s frowned upon.” She sighs. “And another ear piercing isn’t outrageous enough.”

“Plus it’s discrete like you wanted. Are you going to tell your mom?” She giggles.

“Maybe some night if I get drunk enough and work up the courage. I’m about to be twenty-five, I’m an adult, I don’t live at home, she can’t say anything.”

A couple of days before her birthday, Y/N and Maggie drive out to the tattoo shop. It was on the top of a hill on the coast. The piercer, Harry Styles, came recommended by just about everyone she spoke to, so it was worth the almost hour long drive. Plus, it was a beautiful day out so the girls didn’t mind.

They both walk in, and step up to the counter. There were a couple of people sitting behind the desk. One of them had sleeves on both of his arms and those really large gages. His hair was buzzed short and bleached blond. The other man behind the counter had brown hair with soft curls. It was pulled back by a red bandana and a small clip. His left arm had a ton of tattoos, and his right only had a few. He had a small hoop in his left nostril, and that was all Y/N could see for piercings.

“Hello, I have an appointment at two…I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, the belly button, right?” The man with the bandana says. “I’m Harry, you’ll be with me.” He smiles and then squints at Maggie. “Are you getting anything done?”

“Um…no.” She says.

“Alright, you’ll have to out here, I don’t allow more than one person in the room.”

“But she-“

“Sorry, thems the rules.” He says as he stands up to place some papers on the counter. “Need your license and for you to sign some things.”

Y/N swallows and hands him her license and then signs the forms. She slides the papers over to him and he puts them in a folder. He hands her back her license and comes around from the counter.

“I’ll be right out here when you get back.” Maggie gives her a reassuring smile.

“Ready?” Harry asks.

“Yeah.” Y/N says nervously. She knew it wasn’t going to be that bad, but she didn’t do well with needles, and she knew she was going to be a little bit exposed to a stranger so her nerves were shot.

She follows him down the hall to a staircase, and up they go.

“So, a little birthday present to yourself, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s nice, hope I can add the special experience.” He smiles and gestures for her to head into the private room. It was small so she understood now why Maggie couldn’t join.

“Alright, sweetheart.” He says to her softly. He must be able to tell she was nervous. “I’m gonna take really good care of you, okay? I like my customers to be happy.” He goes into a closet and pulls out a container of different piercings. “Pick your favorite.” He pulls on some gloves. “Just make sure to look, not touch.”

Y/N nods and peers into the container.

“I like this one, the darker clear jewel.” She points to it.

“Ah, so the electric pink isn’t your thing?” He jokes and grabs the piercings she wants. She laughs nervously as he sterilizes it. “So…” He looks her up and down. “You’re not going to want to wear anything high waisted for a while, and you can’t go swimming either.”

“Okay.” She looks down at herself, now feeling stupid for wearing a tucked in short sleeve shirt with high waisted shorts. “I’ll be able to wear these low, it’s no problem.”

“It’s a popular trend right now.”

“They’re just flattering.” She laughs nervously again and he smiles. She watches as he puts something on a q-tip and he looks at her.

“Are you wearing a bra with that?”

“Um…yes?” She had to be blushing by now.

“Could you just tuck your shirt up in it?”

“Oh! Sure.”

She pulls her shirt up and does what he says, and then she lowers her shorts a little. He moves to stand in front of her and then he dips down to his knees, swabbing whatever is on the q-tip in and around her belly button. Y/N was sweating. She knew he must do this a million times a day, but it certainly wasn’t every day Y/N had a cute guy get on his knees in front of her.

“Just cleaning you up, sweetheart.” He must have notice her flinch when the q-tip hit her. “There we go.” He smiles up at her and stands to her feet again.

He sets the bed down so it doesn’t look like a chair anymore for her to lay on.

“Okay, hop on up and lay down for me.”

She nods and does as he says.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited, but I’m really nervous.”

“Nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart. Like I said, I’m gonna take really good care of you.”

Y/N was screaming internally. She wanted to tell him to keep calling her pet names. For whatever reason it was relaxing her. His was voice was also deep and he had a nice British accent, so it was all just very soothing.

“I’m just going to squeeze here for a second to get the area ready.” He pinches down right at the top her belly button.

She flinches involuntarily when he first touches her. Y/N’s stomach was sensitive, it always had been. She takes a deep breath once he’s done. She looks away when she sees him grab the needle.

“Alright, now you’re going to feel the needle.” He says as he presses it through her.

She gasps, biting her bottom lip and pinching her eyes closed. It was over before she knew it, but shit she hated needles.

“Dis great sweetheart, all done. Just need to crew the top of the jewel on and clean it up.” He smiles at her.

“Thanks.” She lets out a breath.

She flinched every time he touched her stomach. He gets the top of the jewel on and cleans the area up. He explains how long it’ll take to heal, and since it was summer it was fine to go in the water, and he touches her lower stomach at about where she could go up to.

“Just don’t be in there along, especially if it’s a lake.”

“Yeah, stagnant water is pretty gross.” She giggles.

“Exactly! No baths either, just as gross. If you’re in the shower it’s okay to get it wet, just don’t let it get beat under the water, yeah?”

“Okay.” She smiles up at him.

“I’m just going to put my hand on your shoulder so I can lift this back up, and I just want you to sit a moment.”

She nods and her eyes flutter closed a moment as his hand reaches her shoulder, and she slowly sits up. She feels the pinch of the jewel as she does so and winces. She can see it in the mirror before her and she smiles.

“Like it so far? You’ll be able to see it closer in a moment.”

“Yeah! Thank you so much.”

“Oh, my pleasure.” He grabs his card and hands it to her. “Okay, now for the aftercare, this is really important.” He goes into the closet and grabs a can of saltwater spray. “You’ll want to get some little paper cups and q-tips, first thing in the morning and before you go to bed you’ll clean it out. Then a few times a day just spritz it with the spray. The less you touch it the better. These heal from the outside in, so it actually takes six months to a year for it to heal altogether, and then you can change the jewel all you want. You’ve got my card, so please, call me anytime if you have questions. The only stupid question you could have is the one you don’t ask.” She giggles at that and he smiles. “Take my hand, I’ll help you hop down.”

She does so and slowly gets off the chair. She blinks a few times, but she’s alright.

“Lightheaded at all? That can happen afterwards.” He gives her hand a squeeze.

“I think I’m okay.”

He nods and lets go of her hand. She steps closer to the mirror so she can inspect her new piercing, and she beams at herself.

“It looks so good, thank you so much. I’m so happy with it. I’ve wanted this for a long time, and it feels great to have it done.”

“I’m so glad you like it. I like when my customers are happy. Come back and see me anytime.”

“I will.”

He leads her back down the stairs with her to ring her up.

“Do you live around here?” He asks as he gets the order together on the computer.

“About an hour away, why?”

“Well, that’s the only aftercare spray I trust and they sell it locally here.” He gets up and grabs a couple of more cans for her. “Take these on the house.” He winks at her. “But promise to come back for more when you run out.”

“I promise.” She smiles and puts them in her bag with the other can. “Thank you.”

“That’s be sixty altogether.” He slides her the receipt. “Gotta fill that out before I run your card, sweetheart.”

She leaves him a twenty dollar tip and gives him his card. He smiles big when he sees the tip and runs the card. She takes it back and puts it in her wallet.

“All set, Y/N?” Maggie asks, coming up to her. “I was just looking around at the shop.” She points towards the room where people could buy piercings and studs.

“Yeah, take a look.” She lifts her shirt slightly so her friend could see.

“It’s so cute! Love the jewel you chose.”

“Thanks.” Y/N looks at Harry. “Well, if I ever need anything else pierced, I’ll certainly be back. This was a great experience.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I also do tattoos if you feel like being especially brave.” He smirks.

“Definitely won’t be coming in for that, but another piercing for sure.”

“Fair enough. Remember, if you have questions, my number’s on the card.”

“Thanks, I’ll definitely reach out if I need to.”

He nods and watches her leave. She hands Maggie her keys, not feeling up to driving.

“Oh god.” She says as she sits down. “Definitely going to take some getting used to.”

“It’s an adjustment for sure. So, was he as short with you upstairs as he was when we first walked in?”

“Not at all! He was super nice, he kept calling me sweetheart. Oh my god, Maggie…”

“What?” She chuckles.

“I got so nervous, before we got started he, like, knelt in front of me to clean me up…”

“Oh, that’s hot.”

“I wasn’t expecting it at all. I know it’s just part of the job so it’s no big deal on his end, but-“

“How often does a guy get on his knees?”

“Exactly! It was…intimate. He made me feel really comfortable. I nearly lost it when he started talking about aftercare.”

“You’ve read one too many erotic novels, Y/N.” She laughs. “He seemed pretty adamant about you calling him, maybe you should find an excuse.”

“He did ask if I lived around here…but that was just to make sure I had plenty of the cleaning spray. He gave me two extra cans for free.”

“You should ask him if you’re cleaning it right, like, explain to him what you’re doing, and then just see where the conversation goes.”

“It’s probably just the shop number…” She looks down at the card and her eyes grow wide. “Oh my god…he wrote in pen and put his cell number on it!” Her and Maggie squeal. “Okay…maybe I’ll call him. He’s really cute.”

“Plus…it’s kind of hot that he works at a tattoo place.”

“Super hot, I don’t know what it is about it. I wouldn’t mind hearing him call me sweetheart again. I wonder how often he does that.”

“Guess you won’t know until you call him.”

“I guess so.” She smiles and bites her bottom lip as she looks out the window. Best start to a birthday ever.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #tattooartist!Harry #piercer!harry

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