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karamfilmare · 3 years ago

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Love in Ink: Engraved Forever

Tattoo Artist!Oikawa x Fem!Reader

Description: Tattoo artist Tooru Oikawa didn’t know what to expect when a new client entered the tattoo shop that one day, but he definitely didn’t expect you to be a recurring part of his life.

Content Warning: 18+, Minors DNI, hangover, suggestive themes, but not much else. Although, you'll probably want me to add another warning by the end of the chapter

Word Count: 12.5k (god, I'm really sorry for this)

A/N: Second chapter! I'm so excited for what you guys might think. I did create a Spotify playlist for both Oikawa and the Aoba Johsai tattoo shop, so if you want to check that out, let me know! <3 As always, taglist is open <3

Ch. 1 << Chapter 2 >> Ch. 3

Bzzzzzzt Bzzzzzzt...Bzzzzzzt Bzzzzzzzt...Bzzzzzzt--

Without opening your eyes, you fumbled for the phone, your hand carelessly tapping and flopping around, to turn off the sound that was ruining your morning. As your consciousness settled in, you winced from the pain behind your eyes, your arm reflexively going to your abdominal area, as you realized you were feeling miserable from the night before. You heard the phone buzz, and you groaned as you realized someone was calling you.

“Mmm hello…”

“Damn, you sound like shit. I knew I shouldn’t have left.”

You sighed, as your head received a pang of pain. “Namie...can you come here, please?” You pleaded weakly, your voice barely audible

“On my way. I’ll get a few things, don’t move.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. You know how to get in here, right?”

Namie confirmed, saying she’d be there in less than an hour, and you took that to mean you could get more rest. You started to feel yourself slip into a floating nothingness, the door clicked open and footsteps could be heard entering the living room, as well as a rustling of paper bags.

“I feel really sorry, I shouldn’t have left you.” Your friend entered your bedroom, with a bottle of water and some pain relievers. “You didn’t have to come and save me.”

“It’s fine, really.” You swallowed down the capsules with the water, an immediate relief spreading to your throat. “I told Miya to do whatever he wanted to get you out, because I didn’t plan on staying long.”

“How much did you drink? What happened after?” Her eyes were filled with concern as you recounted the story back to her everything, from your plan with Atsumu, to Oikawa shooing off Terushima (brushing over the small interaction between you two), how you decided to drink a crap ton to go home, how Oikawa took you to your apartment, and your consultation--

“Shit.”

“What?”

“I need to make milkbread and other things to bring in, fuckfuckfuckfuc-”

Namie, immediately taken aback by your sudden jump, recovered to try to pacify your string of curses. “Hey, hey, it’s ok, I can try to help you-”

“No no no no no, I’ve got it, I just need to wake up and start making dough, prep...ugh, not enough time to do that...what if I just...no,” you started trailing off, occasionally voicing out ideas in slightly incoherent phrases, leaving Namie staring after you with pursed lips.

You walked off to your bathroom to get ready, checking the time to see it was still morning. Your watch showed 9:12 am, and you breathed a sigh of relief to know that you didn’t sleep in today and have at least some time to make something to bring. If there was anything you couldn’t stand to do, it was to come in empty-handed, especially after a kindness was done to you. You couldn’t just show up after inconveniencing someone.

You moved along your bathroom routine in a bit of a hurry, trying to get to kitchen prep as soon as possible. However, with your hurry, you seemed to be struggling to keep together--you dropped the toothpaste into the sink, you knocked over the cup that held your toothbrush, you almost tripped over the bathroom mat, and you spilled water on your T-shirt. Eventually, with a sigh, you walked out the bathroom towards the kitchen, rubbing your eyes.

Namie was standing over the counter, setting up the ingredients and everything up to be used. As she heard you come in, she smiled and stood up straight, waving you over.

“Hey, I thought I’d help you prep with the milkbread ingredients, just so you can get started faster. I’m glad you had some starter ready, it makes things easier. And I do have a suggestion that you could make really quickly for the shop.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, but your face expressed gratitude to her. “Thanks so much. I’ll take that suggestion, actually.”

Oikawa sat back to analyze the piece he was nearly finished with, musing over the design and colors before showing the client.

“All that’s needed is the whites, but it’s looking good so far.”

“Naaah, come on man,” Osamu muttered. “Does the fox have to have white?”

Oikawa let out a short laugh, nodding his head. “Yeah, it does, it needs that dimension. It’d be like not adding...uhh, furikake to ongiri.”

A scoff could be heard from the chef. “Using food to get ta me, huh? Fine, but this’ll hurt like a bitch.”

“I know, I know, but don’t worry, I’ll be quick. Remember, if you need a break, let me know.” Oikawa prepares the white ink, noting the time. 3:47 p.m. and still not a sign of you. Not a call, text, nothing. He shook his head, trying to push you out of his head. You would arrive when you could, or you would let him know of your status. He had a client to focus on.

“So, did (y/n) get home okay?”

Oikawa was slightly startled, breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that he didn’t begin to press the white into the skin yet. “Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering.” The younger man grumbled slightly. Oikawa turned on the machine and started adding the white, taking note of Osamu’s clenched knuckles on the bed.

“So, were you and (y/n)...a thing ever? I think I remembered something--”

“Pfft, oh no, just good friends. Kind of like a guardian at some points, I threatened off anyone who I thought was bad news for her. She’s the type to give the benefit of the doubt, ya know?” He dipped his head into his arms, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’ just...just feeling guilty I couldn’t keep her away from her ex.”

Oikawa paused for a moment, before turning his attention back to finishing the tattoo. “That bad?”

“He’s...well, I’ll let her tell you, but...he’s a spoiled rich kid who doesn’t shit from gold.” As soon as the machine turns off, he turns his head around to check on the artist. “We’re done?”

“Yup, let me clean and cover it up. You know the drill for aftercare right?”

“Yeah, at least a damp towel and some water for the person, and clean ‘em off, right? Tell them how much you appreciate them.”

Oikawa laughed before ruffling the chef’s hair. “I meant the tattoo, but I’m glad you know the drill, otherwise.” As soon as he was done wrapping the clean tattoo, he stood up to clean off his station, waiting for the dark haired twin to get up and look at himself in the mirror.

“Looks great as always.” Miya slipped a hand into his pocket to pull out his wallet, pulling out a few bills and handing them over to the tattoo artist, presenting the tip. “Don’t ya even think about tryin’ ta hurt my pride and handing me back anythin’. I’ll sock ya face.”

Letting out a resigned sigh, Oikawa reluctantly took the bills, seeing the tip was much larger than he would ever really ask for. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“‘Cause I enjoy your work. And think of it as a bribe, to keep you in check when it comes to (y/n). She’s been through some shit, she’s here for a fresh start.”

Oikawa redirected his attention to the other man’s serious expression. “What makes you think I’ll do anything to fuck it up?”

“Because I’ve noticed some tension, and yer the first one to get the warning. Congrats.” Osamu placed the cap back on his head and nodded his head, walking towards the door and waving his hand. Once he exited the shop, Oikawa looked down at the cash in his hand, a bit stunned.

He began to make his way in the back, where the offices were, entering through the door of his space. He stuffed the money into his wallet, stowing it away in the mini locker, before almost aimlessly walking to the center. He leaned on the desk, looking down, wondering what impression he gave. Sure, he had a lot of female fans, had a few flings, but he never thought he treated anyone poorly. His older sister had made sure he had the proper education when it came to the opposite sex, and he still sought her advice for things like this. Sure, he didn’t really have the most public relationship with his current girlfriend, but he nevertheless tried to give her as much as he could.

A knock was heard at the door, and he saw Airi standing at the door. With boba tea in hand, she walked in with her analytical expression that she reserved for research and interesting topics of debate.

“Hey, what’s got you looking morose?” She passed the boba tea in his hand, crossing her arms and shifting her weight onto one leg. “Did the White Witch say something?”

Oikawa brought his hand to his face, rubbing his brow with his fingers, sighing in resignation. Airi made no moves to hide her disdain for Makiko, Oikawa’s on-and-off girlfriend, in front of him.

Makiko was...challenging at times, but she wasn’t always like that. At first, she was very flirty and playful, super fun to be around, not too bad in bed either. He didn’t see much of a relationship with her at first, but her persistence was convincing.

Did things somewhat change as soon as they started getting stable? He supposed he noticed a slight shift in her energy, going from being distant to being overly possessive at the mere mention of another woman. He introduced her to his friends, but things went sideways after a few of her comments, especially to Haruka and Airi. When he had asked her later on, she told him with teary eyes that she felt bad, because she didn’t have too many female friends, and that she’d do better.

“No, it wasn’t Makiko, and please, don’t call her that, it’s not like you,” he muttered, turning his face to look straight ahead, avoiding her stare.

“Yeah, it’s not like me, which is why I mean it. But whatever, what is it?”

“Just…” Oikawa hesitated. “Do I really look like I would intentionally hurt anyone?”

“You’re a tattoo artist.”

“Wow, thanks, future Dr. Smartass, for the info, that’s very helpful.”

“What do you mean? Hurt someone’s feelings, cause trauma, what?”

“I don’t know, all of the above?” He sighed, taking a sip from the drink. “It’s just...something Miya said when he was here.”

“Blondie or Broody?”

“Osamu.”

“Broody, ok. Well, he doesn’t seem like someone to threaten someone without reason. What did he--”

“Yo, boss, she’s back.”

Their attention turned to Makki, hanging around the door with a clear plastic cup and spoon in hand. He nodded his head toward the main area, before turning around and leaving the two of them in the office.

“Oh? Who’s back?” Airi looked to where Oikawa stood, but he was already at the door. “Hey, wait a minute!”

But Oikawa didn’t stop, looking around the corner to see you, holding a paper bag in hand, a light sweet smell slowly diffusing around the shop. His eyes moved to his three friends huddled around a tray, before returning his attention to you. A smile graced your face as you saw how the guys seemed to rave about whatever it was in the tray, still not having noticed him.

“Oh, you made it.”

Your head turned to the direction of his voice, your face falling into a rather neutral expression, eyes slightly downturned. So you still had your guard around him.

“Yeah, I did. Sorry I came in late. But, uhm…” you paused, taking a few steps towards him, holding the paper bag out. “This is thanks for the other night.”

Oikawa blinked before taking the bag, the bottom seemingly warm to the touch. “Should I wait to open it, or…”

“You can open it now, I don’t mind.”

The corner of his lips turned up, before he unrolled the top, getting a waft of the aroma. “You didn’t…”

You shrugged your shoulders, a small grin forming on your lips. He resumed opening the bag and saw the loaf of milkbread, the light smell making its way up to his nose.

“Just know that you cannot live on milkbread alone.”

He let out a laugh, closing and rolling the bag at the top again. “Yeah, yeah, wanna come to my office so we can have our little consult?”

“Ooohh, you’re Namie’s friend, (y/n), right?” Airi appeared right next to you both. “Oh my gosh, you’re so pretty. Did you make all that?” When you nodded your head in response, she went on. “Oh my gosh, you’re something else, aren’t you? Wait…” She squinted her eyes at you before gasping. “You’re the (f/n) (l/n)?! Namie never told us she was friends with a celebrity.”

Did everyone know who you were but him?

“Calling me a celebrity is a bit far-fetched. I’m just a chef with a school and a channel to give out tips and reviews.”

Knowing the probable reason of why Airi was trying to bring attention to you, Oikawa cleared his throat to save you and himself, which did the job of catching your attention, reminding you of the purpose of the visit. Airi rolled her eyes, but pushed you towards him, saying she hoped to see you soon.

Oikawa led you to his office, gesturing the couch to you before taking his seat at his desk. He observed your little mannerisms as you sat down while taking note of your surroundings. You sat at the edge of the cushions, alert, as if you were prepared for an interview. He almost laughed at the sight, slightly bothered that you were still so closed off.

“You can relax here, this is totally casual. I’m not gonna hurt you here.” Propping his elbow on the desk, he places his chin on the palm, drawing his attention to you. “So let’s start over. You want to cover up a tattoo with a better one. Where at?”

“My outer thigh,” you stated plainly, your fingers automatically drifting to your left thigh, gently playing with the hem of your shorts. “Um, do you need to see it?”

“Uh, yeah, if you don’t mind. Do you need anything to cover, or…”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it.” You stood up, turning around and lifting the hem of the shorts. What was revealed was a faded set of words, with a name in bigger letters -- “Kousuke Soryu” and some sloppy vine going through it. Oikawa’s eye twitched at the penmanship and design, cursing the “artist” (if he could even call them that, they didn’t deserve the title) for the absolute butchering of the craft. He stood up and approached you, bending down to examine it up close.

“Tch, what a waste of ink.”

“I’m sorry.”

He glanced up, the apologetic expression on your face left him perplexed. “Is this what you wanted?” When you shook your head, he continued. “Then it’s not your fault. Though I’m confused as to how someone could think to tattoo someone who didn’t want a tattoo.”

“It was a crazy night. I was drunk, my friend group thought it’d be funny to get tattoos.” The grimace marred your features as the recall of the night flashed memories across your mind. Mistakes had been made, at least that night. “So they took us to some shop, and I happened to get someone who also was tipsy.”

“And who’s this? Your boyfriend? Did you want a--”

“Ex.” Your tone came in sharp, almost startling him. “He’s my ex. It...wasn’t a good breakup.”

He nodded, looking back at the tattoo, where a bitterness seeped in. He took note of the space taken up. Right above the name, he saw a “Property of’ which made him roll his eyes. “And a tattooer decided to do this while you were drunk?”

“Yeah, why?”

He pursed his lips in growing annoyance. “There’re so many things wrong with that. It can affect the healing process, you can bleed easier...anybody in the industry would know that. And to do it drunk themselves?” He clicked his tongue once more, before standing up. “Sorry. Got worked up a bit, and I’m sorry for the experience you had... So, did you have any idea in mind?”

You shook your head. “I just want something that I can cover this thing up. Something to symbolize the start of a new life. I definitely feel that this will be good for me.”

“You’re that sure?” He dipped his head a bit, meeting your eyes.

“I have to be.”

That hit him deep. He remembered when he was seriously pursuing his career, he had very few people in his corner. There were times he would falter, but he reminded himself of the work he had to do, the work he did, his pride. If it weren’t for his sister, his close friends, and his determination, he probably would have given up and gone to some job he could never be happy with.

“Look where your worthless pride is leading you to, Tooru. Are you proud of yourself?”

“I have to be.”

“Umm. I’m sorry, are you ok? Did I upset you?”

Your voice dragged him out of his memories, the room taking form again around him. “Oh no, don’t worry. It’s my bad, I got lost in thought. You just reminded me of something. So, a new start. Do you have any constraints, anything I need to worry about?”

You shook your head. “No, like I said the first time, you have free reign, as long as it’s within reason. I trust you when it comes to this.” A half-smile formed on your lips, and Oikawa felt that maybe--just maybe--something had opened up between your two sides. While he could not fathom why, he hoped that this tentative connection would remain.

“Well, if you’re sure, then we can work on the design right now? I don’t have any clients booked currently.”

“Sure, if it’s convenient for you.”

“Oh my gosh, new girl, can she hang out with us later?”

The sudden voice startled the both of you, and the attention was drawn to the door to see a different girl at the door, one with quite a few piercings on her ears. She looked slightly disheveled, and a black shirt with orange lettering saying ‘Karasuno Haven’ across the front. She had a grin on her face, as she gripped on the doorway and leaned away.

“Haruka, she’s a client…”

“Airi mentioned something about Namie’s friend. I also heard a few things and found out you’re good friends with Osamu? Oh, and you’re a cook? And I’ve also heard--”

“Hey, Haruka, let’s ease up on the questions for the client. Maybe afterwards you can have a chat with her if she has time, cool?”

“Oh, well, please make time for me, ‘kay? I’ll go show Airi the new puppy we just got in, so you go in and do your job with your painting needles or whatever, okay boss?” Her exit was just as chaotic as her entrance, reminding you of a whirlwind of...energy--not damaging, but certainly enough to leave you wondering about what had happened.

“Hey, I’m not your boss-- oh whatever, I can’t ever get through to her.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Oikawa lightly shook his head, and moved over to the desk and put on some black gloves before returning back to you.

“Well, let’s get started, shall we?”

“She seems nice.”

Airi looked over to see her best friend nearly skipping away from the offices. She looked to Mattsun, whose attention was drawn to his phone, and dragged her fiance and best friend over to the other two artists, before huddling into a corner.

“Bunny, what’s this, we don’t play rugby.”

“Shush, don’t be a smartass now. Now listen,” Airi continued, eyeing everyone with the typical ‘older sister glare’ she had instilled throughout her life. “So, Namie spoke highly of (y/n), and I’m already getting a really good vibe from her. She seems way better than…’She who shall not be named’.”

“Oh, come on,” Iwaizumi grumbled, shaking his head. “You’re not still on this, are you?”

Both Haruka and Airi glared at him, saying ‘yes’ in a definitive tone. Iwa rolled his eyes, his lips pursed. “Listen, I don’t like her any more than you do, but we can’t just meddle.”

“He’ll thank us later.”

“That’s not the point.” Leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms, he directed a glare to everyone in the room, nostrils slightly flared. “Listen, we can’t get involved in a relationship, not unless Oikawa asked us to.” He turned his attention to Haruka, who shifted in her position and started rubbing at her hands. “You. You remember how much it sucked when we kept trying to intervene with you and Kageyama. That was a whole load of heartbreak that wasn’t necessary.” His gaze shifted to Airi, where her hands moved to her hips, eyes narrowed. “And you. You should know better. You’re engaged, for fuck’s sake. Can you imagine someone trying to get in between you and Matsukawa? You’d hate it.” The receiver of his chastisement lowered her gaze to the floor, and everyone else seemed to fall silent.

“Oikawa has made his bed. If I thought that pulling him out of the relationship would solve everything, or replacing Makiko with someone else would do the trick, then I would be fine with it. But it’s not.” He shook his head, looking away towards the treasured photo wall, his eyes tracing over the smiles of clients and artists alike, friends and family, important figures. “I know you’ve been scheming and trying to plot stuff, because she’s done us all dirty in some way. But it’s no use if Oikawa can’t do it himself.”

Everyone seemed to avoid looking at each other, the energy immediately dissipating among them. Iwaizumi was the closest to a leader after Oikawa, and if he asserted himself in a situation, there was no fighting back. At least, not at the moment.

“Ok, preliminary sketch looks pretty good.” Oikawa’s voice gradually increased in volume as footsteps seemed to approach from the hallway. To everyone’s surprise, Oikawa’s face had a genuine smile, small as it may be, as he was looking at you, who also seemed rather pleased and invested in the conversation. “I’ll work on it a bit more, I’ll be sure to impress you with the final product.”

“I’ve seen some of your work, I’ve no doubt about it.” The little half-smile on your face seemed to relax the atmosphere, and there was a noticeable shift among everyone. “Oh, hello. I hope you enjoyed the desserts! Namie told me you guys like this kind of stuff.” Your posture seemed to straighten up as everyone murmured their approvals, your attention turning to Oikawa. “And you--please let me know how the loaf is and if anything isn’t right. I can make adjustments, I didn’t have my usual flour.”

Seeing you gather your stuff to leave, Haruka sidestepped in front of you, grabbing your attention. Whether she noted your expression of surprise or not, there was no indication in her face, as her face seemed to almost crackle with a jovial energy.

“Hey, Airi and I wanted to introduce ourselves. We hang around here a lot, and we try to be friendly with everyone. But a friend of the baking queen is someone we definitely want to get to know. Oh, and--”

“Hey, Haruka, please…” the quieter girl spoke up, her hand going to tenderly touch her friend’s arm. “Hold your horses. I know you’re excited to adopt another bean, but slow down.” She turned to you, holding out her hand in front of her. “Name’s Airi, Haruka’s best friend and translator from battery bunny to normal human.”

“Oh, it’s fine, no worries,” you shook your head, waving your hands in front of you in reassurance. “I’m still new to the area, so meeting people is kind of nice.”

“I’m sure it is, but I can tell you might need to rest up a bit. Anyone trying to deal with ‘the Great King’ earns my sympathy,” she giggled out, earning her a shocked response from the said artist.

“You know what, I’m a delightful person.” His lips twisted slightly, his eyebrows angled down in a feigned expression of hurt. “So much can be said for you. You’re always prying and trying to fix up people.”

“Because I’m always right.”

The tall, curly haired man with a not-insignificant amount of piercings rolled his eyes, his lips curled up in a smirk, before reaching his hand out to land on the Airi’s head. “Alright, future PhD, why don’t you settle down and not fight my boss at work? I’d like for you to be around for our wedding.”

You noticed the glint on his finger, then let your eyes trail down to the woman’s hands, noting the ring on her finger. “You’re engaged? Congrats, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah, it took them long enough,” Haruka spoke up with the biggest grin, lightly punching the other girl. “They’ve been together foreeeeeever, you don’t get it. I thought Mattsun would never ask, and I was gonna have to make the ring myself and propose. Oh, yeah, I have a jewelry business, besides working at the pet shelter. See?”

She pointed at her shirt, her face beaming from a contagious smile you could not help but allow to grow on your face. You stood there listening, taking in the energy, while trying to observe the shop, examining every inch of the actually clean interior. Quite a few certificates and awards could be seen hanging on the walls, safety measures were visible, designs and art pieces filling the wall, before your eyes rested on a wall covered in pictures under a glass display. Pictures of supposed clients, friends, kids, elderly, all at different spots.

“Oh, you’ve noticed the photowall! Yeah, the guys may look big and scary, but they’re such secret softies at heart, they cherish every memory, ya know?” Haruka drew your attention back, her face also turned to the wall.

“Quit telling everyone our secrets. We’ve got a reputation,” Makki cut in, before stuffing his face with more of the dessert you brought. “Oh my gosh, if you keep bringing in treats like this when you visit, we might have to work out harder to keep in shape.”

“You like it that much? Well, I’ll try to bring in something for you guys, since you’re working so hard.”

“You’re coming back? That’s great! Do you have a date scheduled for when you need to come back?” Iwaizumi inquired, seemingly a bit more relaxed in his posture.

You nodded, and told them you would be back next week. “Thanks, you all, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Looking forward to pain? Yikes,” Haruka shook her head. “It’s too much.”

“Aren’t you Mattsun’s pin cushion for practice?”

“It’s different! It’s quick and easy!”

Some bickering ensued, to which you sat back and admired the warmth of the group. It was obvious in their words, their laughter, their behavior around each other that they cared for each other. Something inside of you made you look almost wistfully at the group, a slight pang of yearning nestled in your heart.

“They’re something for sure.”

Turning your head to the man beside you, Oikawa’s face took on a similar wistful expression, his eyes, twinged with melancholy, seemed focused on his friends, silently observing from the side. Even to you, a relative stranger, it appeared to be a sight that was out of place.

“I think they’re really fun. You’re lucky to have that support.”

Oikawa’s head tilted towards you, his brown eyes muted with an emotion you could not discern. A moment of silence once again settled between you two, the voices of the others becoming more muffled as time seemed to shift.

The doorbell rang as someone else entered, a delivery person carrying a package, which disrupted the moment, and everyone kicked into a different gear, leaving you in the midst of a different scene. Iwaizumi and Makki carried boxes over to where Oikawa directed, while Matsukawa placed a kiss on Airi’s head, who ushered Haruka to the common room.

“Well, thank you, everyone, I’ll get out of your hair and let you all take care of what you have to do.” Waving your hand, you turned to head out to the door.

“Wait!” A voice stopped you in your tracks, and you saw Airi jogging over to you. “Stop by whenever you’d like. Here’s my number, I know how hard it can be to make some friends in a new area.” She handed you a little note with a scrawled number and name on it. “Just text me. I won’t bombard you, I’m sure you need to get used to everything, but don’t be afraid to reach out, ok?”

Your eyes’ view switched from the paper to the young woman before you, to the group once more, catching Oikawa’s eyes for a brief second before he turned away. Returning back to Airi, you nodded, thanking her before leaving the shop.

----------------(insert divider)-------------------

A week had passed, and it was time for your appointment. You made sure to do the pre-appointment care: you prepped your skin every day to be smooth and clear, chose a high-waisted bodysuit with a flowing sarang--at the recommendation of tattoo sites and FAQs--and whipped up some bonus snacks for the group. You had read up on proper etiquette, read forums, trying to figure out what the best behavior was, and someone mentioned snacks and a healthy tip were nice. So, naturally, for a culinary artist, you just could not pass up on the opportunity.

You entered the shop about half an hour before you were scheduled, looking around the place to see a fairly busy shop with Iwaizumi and Hanamaki working on clients, and Mattsun talking to a client. The bell summoned the remaining member, Oikawa, who appeared before you rather quickly.

“Glad you could make it, and you’re early, too!” Oikawa flashed a smile, before placing his hands on his hips, his face falling into his resting smirk. “What a good client you are. And you chose great clothing for the session today. You sure this is your first professional tattoo session?”

“Don’t flirt with the clients for bigger tips, pretty boy.” Iwa’s voice followed, which elicited a snicker from the other two.

Hanamaki poked his head around the corner and his eyes widened. “Yooo, I can see why you’re flirting though, she looks great in that outfit.”

“Hey! I wasn’t flirting, I was expressing my gratitude! How many clients do you guys have that still show up late?” He shook his head, snorting in derision, before returning his attention to you. “More clients should take your lead. Anyway, come on to my office, I’ll show you the final design. I’m sure you’re gonna like it.”

Following him into the room, you passed by the slight bustle, trying to take in the scene of the shop fulfilling its purpose for a few brief moments until you found yourself in the quiet space.

“Alright, now that’s over with, let me show you the finished product. You can tell me what you like, anything you don’t like, you know. Critique me like judges would on those cooking shows.”

You tilted your head to the side, quirking an eyebrow up. “Really?”

“Ok, ok, I’ll admit, that might’ve been cheesy.”

“Yeah, it really was.” Looking at the tablet in his hand, you stepped forward to see the screen, only to be stunned by what was before you.

On the digital canvas was a lotus with petals made of flames, with warm corals, vibrant pinks, and delicate reds. Wisps of white appeared to flutter around the flower, and as you trailed your line of sight up, you saw a gorgeous phoenix shooting out of the lotus, its coat of feathers a glorious white base, with a mix of blues, purples, pinks, and the tips of the feathers were tongues of orange fire. There was a mesmerizing beauty and grace about the bird, and the details were jaw-dropping. Apparently, quite literally.

“Careful there, I don’t want you drooling over my floor,” the artist chuckled, which snapped you out of the trance. “I’m glad you really like it, though, it boosts my pride a bit.”

“Do you really need that?” You joked along back, rolling your eyes, before returning your gaze upon the design. “But it’s gorgeous. I’m...I’m quite speechless, if I’m honest. I don’t think there’s anything I could add that could possibly improve on this.”

And you meant it. You knew of his portfolio from a cursory glance at his media posts, but you were still surprised at how this man was able to manifest an art piece like this. The sketch you saw at first was impressive, but this blew out any idea you had of the final product you ever had.

“Well, if you’re satisfied, let me put on my gloves and get to tracing and placement. Sound good?”

---------------- (divider break) -----------------

After setting up the station in one of the private rooms, Oikawa took a moment to look down at the colors, silently praying that he would match the detail for the piece. You were sitting behind him on the lounge chair, awaiting his directions, and he tried to swallow down the nerves.

What’s going on? This isn’t like him, he’s not been this nervous since his early days. There was some reason as to why he felt he would break into a cold sweat. Was it the design? It was a bit more complicated in terms of some of the linework, and the colors would be a challenge, but it was not necessarily that. Was it his feelings at the tattoo he was covering up? But why? He did not know who you were, you were just a stranger who was getting something to cover an ex’s name, to leave him in the past. But it was quite the foul tattoo, the sloppiness and tackiness of it was bothering him. But it could not just be that either. Was it the placement?

Oh, the damn placement.

He made the piece fairly large, trying to make sure the design matched in a way that it would cover that stain that seemed so offensive to him. And when you both decided on the placement, the tattoo somehow seemed much higher than he thought it would be. The top was landing right at your hip, which meant you had to expose your hip and upper thigh, and that, oddly, was messing with his head.

Tooru, you’re not twelve, get a hold of yourself. You’ve worked on countless people, very attractive models. You’ve seen every part of the human body, what’s this frenzy over a thigh--

“Uhm, is everything alright?”

Your voice interrupted his thoughts, startling him from his spiral. “Uh, yeah, sorry, just got lost in thought.”

“You sure you can do the tattoo?”

Those words snapped him out of it, his pride not wanting to take a blow. “Of course I can, just you wait.” He finished up his prep and turned to you, taking a deep breath and switching into his professional attitude. “As we discussed earlier, you’re aware that with the placement of the tattoo, clothing might have to be shifted around. If there is anything you need for you to be comfortable, please let me know, I’m happy to oblige.”

He directed you to sit on the chair and get comfortable, to which you leaned back on the chair and adjusted the clothing to give him better access. “Is there any position you need me to rest in, or…”

“I’ll let you know if I’d like to move your position, but you’d most likely be turned around.” His voice was matter-of-fact, and you were reminded of his reputation of being one of the best. “Now, let me remind you that tattooing comes with me touching your skin and body, but I assure you that I’m never going to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, ok?” At your nod, he continued. “Now, remember, while there is an expected level of pain with tattoos, if you’re ever in too much pain that you need a break, just tell me. Actually, please let me know if there is anything you need a break for, I’m happy to accommodate.”

“Sure, thanks,” was your response, and you were mentally rolling your eyes at how dry you acted. “I appreciate you letting me know about all this.”

“Of course. It’s my job. I don’t want to do anything you don’t feel safe with. And if a situation really calls for it, I know some emergency first aid. Trust me, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen it all.”

“You’re only pretty sure? Should I be relieved by that sentence?”

“Listen...I’ve been in tattoo shops since I could apprentice. It’s been quite a few years since then, and I’ve seen just about everything there is to see in a parlor. You’ll be in safe hands.”

“Well, I’m most certainly relieved now. I didn’t know three years was a lot of experience.”

“Haha, very funny. Not my fault I look so pretty and young.”

“So, how long have you been an artist?”

The pain on your thigh was less than you had expected, rather it felt like some needle dragging along the skin. Working in kitchens had given you worse injuries and pain, but this felt more annoying than anything. So to get your mind off of it, you thought about striking up a conversation. The artist’s brown eyes glanced up, as if to acknowledge you, before turning up the corners of his mouth and focusing on the lines he was drawing.

“What, you don’t believe I’m only nineteen? You’re just messing with my feelings now.” He chuckled, but the brown irises were locked onto your thigh. “I’m just playing, I’ve been in tattoo shops since I was almost sixteen. Started as an apprentice and was one for two years. Then worked in a shop for a few years until I was...twenty-two? That was right about the time we all put down money for this shop and started our business. Lots of work and sleepless nights, but we got it going. And here we are--a few twentysomething entrepreneurs. Almost a decade, I guess.”

“Hmm.” Musing over the summation of his career, you started to open up a bit inside. He was not just a pretty face with a snobby attitude. “That’s...that’s really something.”

“What about you? What got you into being a little internet chef?”

“Well,” you started off, reminiscing over your life. How much did you want to say? “My story isn’t all that different from yours. At fourteen, I started working in a popular restaurant back in my home city. I wasn’t working as a cook or anything, just the custodial girl, but I learned by jumping into the fire, basically. As time went on, they let me do more things, and I assisted in actually cooking at some point. Then, I got accepted to Park Culinary Institute--where I met Osamu--and then afterwards…” you trailed off, the events after graduation a blur to you. “I worked in a restaurant for a bit, and somehow my videos that I made in school were starting to gain some attention. I continued to make them, but I was a sous chef as well, so life was fairly hectic. Working in a restaurant that my ex’s parents helped fund was...fine, but when things went south… I moved here. And now I’m hoping to start an actual school here.”

“Oh? You want to help couples have a date setting and make a mess?”

“Is that what they’re doing? I thought it was middle-aged moms and dads trying to keep themselves from divorce.”

“Nah, that’s the family vacation they take with the kids to some expensive resort.”

You brought a hand to your mouth, trying to smother the giggles that were about to erupt. You did not want to mess up the work he would do. “I hope you have very steady hands.”

“I haven’t had any complaints from anyone about my hands.” With a slight turn of his head, his smirk made its reappearance, the mischievous glint in his eyes--why did the color remind you of a rich liquor--combined with his half-smile reminded you of how pretty he was. “From stingy assholes and upset partners? Sure, I've got those complaints.”

Scoffing, you turned your head. I can definitely see why.

“What was that?”

Shit.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Alrighty then.” The buzzing filled the room, the constant scratching dulled. “So, mind if I ask the story behind the tattoo? Or the name?”

“I guess. Might as well give you a solid reason about what you're working on.” Resting back gently, you stared up at the ceiling, wondering where to start. “I guess...it all kind of started in school. I had interned during the summer at a very well-known restaurant in the area, and it was competitive to get in. The owners were a very wealthy family with many other restaurants under their belt. Several of them were Michelin-star restaurants, and I happened to get a position in one such restaurant.”

“Seems like you were a jewel of the program, huh?”

“I don’t know about that, but Osamu always told me how I was the person to beat. Being a culinary science major and culinary arts/food business double minor, I guess that set some people off.”

“Oh that would probably piss me off, too, not gonna lie.” His laugh was light, his bangs lightly swished as he shook his head. “I mean, geniuses kinda piss me off. Although I would’ve done the same thing, too, just to compete.”

“I don’t recommend it. I only kept with it because I love almost everything about the industry.” Sighing, you continued on, recalling the summer before your last year. “Being the youngest person on the team, I definitely had a tough time at first, but I eventually gained their respect. And the attention of the owners’ son.”

“Uh oh. Is this the downfall?”

“No, not quite. He had a bit of a reputation, but shortly after I joined, he seemed to clean up a bit. He even came by the restaurant I was at more often, and started learning the names of the staff. He’d drop gifts off for me. Small things, like flowers or some chocolate, stuff like that. I didn’t heed it much, since I was there to work.”

Oikawa made hums of acknowledgment, looking up occasionally to assure he was paying attention. In fact, probably a little too much attention, since there were times he would pause for a while, especially at the mention of the ‘son’. “Sounds like he’s got some experience in trying to charm the ladies, huh?”

“So you would know what his intentions were? Let me guess...from experience.”

That cut him to the quick. “I mean, kind of. Guys want to impress someone they like. Granted, it’s usually how they can look better in front of other guys, but…” he paused, trying to think back on any of his previous experiences. “Granted, I was usually the one pursued.”

“Oh wow, so the pretty boy has fans.”

“Watch it, I’m the one with the stabbing needle and the ability to make this look good,” he mockingly threatened. “Be nice.”

“You’re right, my bad. Anyway…”

You recounted how after the rotation at the internship, things seemed normal until the owner’s son decided to introduce himself to you. Eisuke. He seemed to have quite a bit of free time on his hands, coming over to see you and let you know about the opportunity to come back at the restaurant for another rotation; then to say his parents were rather pleased with your work; then if you would like to attend an event at a restaurant opening with him and get to network.

“He seemed eager to help me out, and always gave me opportunities and showered attention onto me. And he did win me over eventually. He could’ve had anybody, but he landed on me.” How perfect he seemed at the time--the reformed spoiled rich brat who seemed to fall for the hard-working regular girl? That seemed like a fairy tale come true. “But, just as he swept me off my feet--”

“The facade began to crack?” Oikawa stopped and looked up with an expression--one of knowledge and firsthand experience. “Sorry, I just had a feeling about where it was going. You know, him being an ex and all.”

“No no, you’re right,” you reassured him. “I mean… it was kind of gradual. The first few months were definitely great. About a year in, things changed. He’d flake on dates more and more, he lost interest in my achievements… I had a feeling something was off. Yes, he still took me to dinners with his parents; yes, I was the date he took to events. I was the girlfriend… but it was all about me trying to keep up his impression of me.”

The little berating comments Eisuke used to tell you trickled back into your head.

Do you only ever work?

Come on, give me something.

Oh, so nothing new? Why do you bother telling me?

I can’t go out with you when you’re like this. Don’t you remember who I am?

I did so much for you, the least you can do is make me look good.

“Hey. Need some tissues.”

Your attention was drawn to the man in the room. “Oh, sorry…” Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “I don’t cry, if I had fallen weak to my emotions, then I wouldn’t have gotten far in the industry.”

“You know it’s ok to cry.” His lips parted, as if to say something, but then closed once more. He turned around to switch out colors before continuing. Silence settled between you two for a bit, and you feared you had said too much. The nerves must have been prevalent on your face, because Oikawa looked back at you. “You said something earlier...about how your ex could have had anyone he wanted, but chose you… why do you say that?”

“I--” you tried to protest, but the words caught in your throat. “I just--”

If you think that anyone really wants you for anything but your face and body, you’re deluding yourself! Eisuke’s drunken words flashed through your mind. Pushing it away was proving more and more difficult, but it was not the first time you thought about the past.

“Because from my vantage point, you seem to be quite the success story, and it wasn’t like you had everything handed to you. Hard work doesn’t lie.”

“Yeah, but--”

“And if you don’t recognize your worth, you’ll end up in the same cycle. And you deserve better.” He let out, not even looking at you. “You have dreams and ambitions that no one should stop you from achieving.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” You posited the question to deflect from yourself, partially curious about where the ‘sage wisdom’ your makeshift therapist derived from. “Because you're talking quite a bit."

"Tch," was all he let out. In Oikawa's mind, he thought of his stepfather.

"If you want to waste your talents and abilities on something like that, be my guest. But not on my coin, and not while using my resources."

"What do you think you're doing?" Oikawa's mother, the one who always supported him on the side, quietly, stood between him and his stepfather. "You aren't going to--"

"I don't want to house failures. Your sister already made her mistakes, but at least she made a career." The older man's lips were pulled tight across his face, his eyes ignoring the woman before him.

At the mention of his sister, Oikawa let his feelings loose. "Don't you dare talk about her that way. She's more of an accomplished woman than you'll ever be as an old, spiteful man."

"Tooru, don't--"

"Whatever, I'm done."

Years of strife followed, and Oikawa could only throw himself in work and practice. He could not turn to his mom like he used to, he did not want to bother his sister any more than she could handle, and he refused to dump everything on his friends, even if Iwaizumi would tell him he could.

"I suppose. But I can say that I’m doing pretty well for myself. I mean, I’m a good-looking, renowned tattoo artist with a successful business.”

“Oh, and you’re very humble about it, too.”

"Hey, watch it.”

Iwaizumi walked over to Oikawa’s office, near closing time, and leaned against the frame.

“So...how’d it go?”

Oikawa looked up from some papers. “Oh, it went well. Since it’s a big piece, and it’s her first time, I said I’ll break it up into multiple sessions, just to let it heal.”

“So she’s gonna come back.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Iwa retorted, before looking down. “Have you heard from Makiko?”

The expression that formed on Oikawa’s face was subtle. No one would have noticed a shift in the energy, and if Iwaizumi observed his best friend’s actions and compared to the recent times--he had an inkling that Oikawa did not realize the change.

“Oh, she’s...well, I don’t know, she hasn’t texted me today...or yesterday, but it’s whatever. She’s probably busy with a shoot.”

“Are you two on ‘break’?” Iwa emphasized the word with air quotes, lacing it with the slight edge of annoyance. This occurred a bit more often now, whether she was going away for trips, or when they fought just before trips--well, more like Makiko would lose it, make some bullshit excuse, and storm off on her shoot, leaving Oikawa shut down from the interaction. Then, to confuse him further, she would come back, teary-eyed, saying something about how she missed him, it was hard without him, etc. Iwaizumi had seen his friend eventually become numb to it, but why he didn’t set things straight, even Iwaizumi didn’t know.

“Yeah, well, she wanted to see what this one city was about.” Brown eyes looked down in resignation, his shoulders shrugging. “I mean, I told her we didn’t have to go through a break, since she was only temporarily going there for now, but she insisted.”

“Tch.” Shaking his head, Iwaizumi moved across the room to settle down on the couch, leaning his head back on the cushions. “What does this girl have?”

“What?” Oikawa looked up, his eyebrows knitted together in a perplexed fashion.

"Listen, I'm not gonna be as outspoken as the rest, but you know how we feel about Makiko. She treats you like shit." Iwaizumi narrowed his hazel eyes, remembering a few choice encounters. "So I'm wondering, what are you seeing?"

Oikawa's throat started aching from the sudden dryness that took over. He looked down, tapping his stylus on the desk, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Well, she's not...I mean, she's helped me out...some," he began, musing over his words, trying to recall Makiko's actions before and since they had been dating. "And she enjoys being around me."

"Yeah, I enjoy being around you, that doesn't mean I'm fucking you and letting you mess with my head."

"Aww, Iwaaa, you do have feelings for me," the brown-haired artist teased. "But seriously, she's not just someone I fuck and she doesn't mess--"

"Heeyyoo." The pale rose-toned brown hair came into the view. Hanamaki chuckled, leaning on Iwaizumi's shoulder. "Listen, I hate to cut you two lovebirds short, but Issei wants to know if you've got time to look over some supplies?"

"Already?" Oikawa stood up from his desk, his legs carrying him to the piercer's office.

"Is he still being stubborn?" Hanamaki inquired, his face showing no surprise.

"Yeah. You know how he is. And there's nothing even I can do," Iwaizumi responded, his tone just barely hiding the twinge of guilt and helplessness. "I just hope he wakes up before getting his heart fucked over."

The other guy sighed, the mirth leaving his body. "Yeah. Let's hope.”

You returned to the tattoo shop for your next session to finish up the tattoo. While hesitant at first, you found yourself falling back into conversation with Oikawa, feeling a sense of trust slowly being established between you two.

"Aaaand done! Don't get up quite yet, let me finish it up so you can look in the mirror." Oikawa's voice seemed genuinely pleased with the result, which rustled the butterflies within.

After he placed the seal over the tattoo, he stepped back, allowing you a space to get up. You stepped down, looking in the mirror, admiring the finished product on your skin.

Of course, since it was fresh, the skin was angered and slightly reddened, the plasma slowly leaking into the plastic, but it didn't take away the impressive colors appearing on your skin. The licks of flames that formed the petals around the lotus were bright, standing out against the slightly shaded background. Framing your outer thigh in a flattering way, you admired yourself in the mirror. Not a trace of the blotted, sloppy ink job in sight--the past was finally gone from sight.

"Oh my… It's gorgeous," you breathed out, turning and posing in the mirror, pleased with the result. "I can't wait until it heals, I'm so excited." Turning to the artist, you beamed a genuine grin, trying to not bounce in place like a little kid. "It's beautiful... I feel--"

"Different?"

Oikawa blurted out. He had caught himself staring at you as you viewed yourself in the mirror. There was something about how giddy you looked about something he made for you… it sparked something within him, something he had not felt in a while.

"Yes, exactly!" You still had not noticed how his eyes lingered. "I feel…new. Like my life can start here."

Oikawa's heart stuttered after he heard your words--how long had it been since he heard a tattoo changing the outlook of a client? He had many clients come through the doors with tattoos, and some had some really meaningful tattoos that were significant. Some were just for aesthetics, some to cover marks and scars. But somewhere along the line, it was routine--continued practice and research, tattooing clients, business…the pure joy and fun he experienced in tattooing had been buried somewhere, until now.

"Well, let's show it off then," he suggested. "I want to brag to everyone in the shop how my ideas are absolutely wonderful."

You snorted in derision, rolling your eyes, before laughing softly. "Fine, fine. I hope it looks as good to the others as it does to me."

"You look amazing." The words tumbled out of his lips, his eyes opening wide in response. "Like, uh, yes the tattoo looks amazing, you're rocking it well."

"Oh," was all you managed, his hasty cover up leaving you slightly perplexed.

After walking in the shop to show off, the others had hyped you up, telling you how amazing it looked, that Oikawa had outdone himself this time, and that they were envious, etc. The praise levied on you further fueled the excitement you felt about this new addition to you.

After Oikawa provided you with the aftercare instructions, you left the shop, the bright smile still on your face.

"Someone's happy," Matsukawa spoke up. "Nice job by the way, it was a really nice design."

"Thanks," he replied, his lips forming a small smile on their own.

Something in him was renewed. As he wiped down the chair and cleaned the supplies up for the next client, his pride seeped in, remembering the look in your eyes. It was enough to breathe life into him again, and an old feeling revealed itself again--fun. It was fun to see how tattoos transformed someone, what it can mean to others. It was something that had been buried beneath the stresses of home, fear of failure, and tempering himself for others.

He hoped you would come back again.

"Boss, she's back again."

"Wha--"

You stumbled in, slightly out of breath, before fumbling through your bag, pulling out a wallet.

"I'm so sorry, I can't believe I was so careless. I totally forgot to give you this for a tip, although, granted, nothing could ever repay you for what this kind of means to me. You don't understand how excited I am, really…"

You continued to speak at a million miles an hour, while he stared at you, stunned. As you held out the money to him, he did not raise his hand to take it, seeing the amount in between your fingers.

“Whoa, I think this is too much, you don’t–”

“You don’t get it. I really appreciate the work for this, ok?” You seemed firm in your stance, your hand unrelenting. “And I know how it feels when you feel overlooked, so…uh, not that anyone really overlooks your works and pieces, I’m sure, but still, it’s the principle.”

As Oikawa still hesitated, you gently grabbed his hand and placed the tip on his palm, before curling his fingers over it. With a nod, you turned to head out of the shop. With the familiar ring of the bell as the door opened, you were gone once again, leaving Oikawa to still feel the warmth of your fingers on his hand.

He must have stood there for too long, because his attention was brought back by Iwaizumi’s hand waving in front of his face.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up.” Iwaizumi’s gruff voice snapped him out of his trance.

“So you admit I’m a beauty, huh? Oww, Iwaaaa!”

With a whack of his arm to Oikawa’s abdominal area, Iwaizumi turned around and returned upfront to the store. The others in the shop started chuckling, while Oikawa huffed and went back to the rooms, cleaning and clearing things out, before going to his office to take a moment to breathe.

What? The serious fuck? Tooru, you are a grown man, not some high school boy who can fall for every kind act someone makes. His thoughts were racing in his mind, frustrated at the fact that he was being so thrown off by you. He pulled out his phone to check for messages from Makiko, frowning at the fact that they were left on delivered. For two days.

He was still unclear on where he was left in the relationship. Was it a brief break? Was it a real break? The last time he had talked to her, she had blown up at him about not spending enough time with her–but here she was, ignoring his messages when he paid attention. And just when he needed to take his mind off of the whirlwind of his thoughts with his girlfriend (or was she right now?), he cannot even reach her.

She’s probably still occupied. These shoots she goes to usually take a while and are busy. It was not like he did not understand how these shots went. He had posed for a few covers for tattoo magazines, competitions, even a couple of modeling gigs, himself. They were not easy. But was it so difficult to read and reply to one message?

“No, you’re letting yourself get worked up. You just gotta trust her. Yeah,” he muttered to himself, reassuring the thoughts in his head. That was another thing he remembered she did not like–him bringing his troubles and worries to her. Whenever he mentioned something to her, she would tell him off, complaining about how he did not trust her, he was projecting his worries onto her, to look after himself. He did not want to bring that up again.

No, especially not now. Not when he was definitely going crazy. He needed to rest. His next appointment was not for another hour and a half, he could nap on the couch. He could text the rest of the guys to let them know he needed some shut-eye.

“Yo, ‘Kawa,” Mattsun appeared at the door, leaning against the frame. “You good, man? Did you eat anything?”

Thinking back to his day so far, Oikawa brought a hand to his stomach, trying to recall what he had eaten. There was the…well, the coffee, and…

“Yeah, you didn’t.” Matsukawa approached Oikawa’s desk, rolling his eyes before tossing something on his desk. “You need to take care of yourself, you’re the king, aren’t you? Must be why you look tired and shit.” He turned to walk away, exiting the room, until he rested one hand on the doorway. “I’ll let the others know to give you about a half hour to rest up. You look like the Unrested Beauty.”

A week passed, and you found yourself walking by Aoba Johsai often, tempted to go in. But for what? And did you really want to keep bothering them? Maybe you will go to someone else, like Iwaizumi. You did not have to go to Oikawa, you got your tattoo from him, you were set. Your tattoo was healing well, thanks to the aftercare pamphlet you were given by the shop, so you did not mind getting another one. Maybe a small one.

One day, you stopped in front of the shop, perhaps for too long of a time. You must have been rooted in place, stuck in thought, until you heard your name.

“Oh, hey, I knew it was you! Hey, f/n!” The bright voice of someone you vaguely recognized drew your attention to the door. “If you keep staring out in space like that, you might get run over by a dog, or a bike, or both! Not that I’m speaking from personal experience.”

“Oh…” you hesitated a moment to recall her name. “Haruka! It’s nice to see you again.”

“Well don’t just stand there, come on in.” She stepped out to grab your hand and pull you in the shop. You began to protest half-heartedly, but the woman dragged you in, nonetheless.

“Oh look, Haruka dragged in a stray,” Hanamaki spoke up. “It’s nice to see you again, you looking to get a new tattoo?”

“Uhm—”

“Can’t she just hang out with us? Unless you want to get mini-stabbed repeatedly.” Haruka’s boisterous laugh followed.

Looking around the shop, you noticed it was fairly empty for some reason, other than Iwaizumi working on someone’s leg (who appeared asleep), Matsukawa shaking the hand of a supposed client, and the quieter girl standing behind the counter, pouring over some papers.

“Uhm, I can come at a different time, you know,” you spoke up, the familiar nerves of feeling unwelcome creeping up again. The cold feeling of mistrust began to build up inside and you stepped back.

“Oh no, don’t worry about a thing, oh my gosh,” the girl from behind the counter (was it Airi? Yes, that’s it) said. “Don’t worry, these guys are pretty used to people hanging around.” She set aside the papers she had been working on to walk over to you. “You fed them, so they like you.”

“Oh…” you simply replied, putting on a smile. “Well, I’m glad you all like me for something, I guess.”

Iwaizumi looked up from the tattoo he was coloring in, a small smile making his face appear much more welcome. “It’s not the only thing. Namie has mentioned a few things about you, and Makki and I think you’re super cool.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate that.” Your shoulders eased at his words, looking from person to person. “So Namie actually talks about me?”

Affirmations swirled around the room. “Oh yeah, she’s told us about you. And Oikawa speaks pretty highly of you, and that’s a high note,” Airi mentioned. “He’s kind of petty, but when he praises someone, he’s honest, so it’s credible.”

“Speaking of the Great King,” Makki interjected, sitting down at the counter, “anyone notice the mood change? He's actually been more excited about his pieces. It’s like he’s back to his old self, ya know?”

“Oh?” Airi turned her head to him. “That’s interesting. And how long has it been, pray tell?” Something in her tone denoted something. It was something you could not quite put your finger on, but you knew something was intentional in her words.

“Definitely not since Makiko’s been around—”

Interrupting the statement, Iwa cleared his throat, before glaring at the two. Whatever they were trying to imply, he seemed set against it. “I’m sorry, don’t mind them. So, wanna show us how your tattoo is looking?” Iwaizumi’s tone seemed a bit warmer towards you, the smile appearing once again. “If you want to, that is.”

Silently patting yourself on the back for wearing a skirt today, you lifted the hem up a bit to show off the finished product. The colors were vibrant against your skin and the design appeared cohesive and detailed. You looked at the tattoo every day and every night in the mirror, and seeing it just brought serotonin to you.

“Well, well, well, it looks amazing on you.” A voice grabbed the attention of the group towards the back, and the creator of said tattoo leaned against the door frame with a smirk on his face. “Of course, it looks amazing on you, I made it.”

The others welcomed him back in as he ambled around the perimeter, before standing just a few feet away from you. “And you did a good job taking care of this. Good for you, I’m proud.”

“Thanks,” was all you could muster out, the praise over the bare minimum slightly flustering you. “I mean, you did a great job with the instructions, so I followed them.”

“I’m glad, but you’d be surprised by the amount of clients who fuck up their tattoos,” he said bluntly, before turning around. He patted Iwaizumi’s back, leaning down to speak to him, before heading back to his office, lifting the phone to his ear. Iwaizumi shook his head at the retreating man, clicking his tongue.

“Not again.”

“Is it her?” Airi remarked. Her eyebrows fell in a bitter line, her mouth pursed tight. Iwaizumi nodded, continuing to finish up the tattoo. “Are they back together or something?”

“They weren’t broken up,” Iwaizumi responded. “More like a break…”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all the same lately.” She turned to you, lightly shaking her head. You thought better than to inquire further, at the moment, so you decided to bookmark the question in your mind for later. “Hey, wanna get some lunch?”

“Lunch? Like, do you want me to make it, or–”

“No, nononono,” Airi interfered, her hands waving vigorously in front of her. “I mean, like, actually get lunch. With me and Haruka.”

You stood there for a moment, hesitant on whether you wanted to believe her or not. Going out to lunch with friends before meant that you were either forced at the last minute to cook a three course meal or brought to lunch and forced to not get anything above a salad, since ‘you can cook like this all the time’ and people did not expect you to even want to participate.

"Lunch? Like, do you want me to make it, or--"

"No, nononono," Airi interfered, her hands waving vigorously in front of her. "I mean, like...get lunch. You know, sit and eat, get to know each other more? I want to know more about the superstar chef."

Getting lunch was not something you were really fond of, not when your previous experiences have served to remind you of how invisible you could be. Even when you did just that--get lunch and chat--no one wanted to speak to you, no one allowed you to get what you want, and no one cared enough about you, only your ex.

"It'll be fun, there's a place we can go together, and it's super relaxing.”

One week later

Whatever you thought you would be doing in the past week, you did not think it would be having a few girls over at your place, getting ready for a club night. Namie encouraged you to go with them, because you “needed to socialize and have fun” with some new people.

“Riiiii, you can’t be serious,” Haruka whined at her friend, drawing your attention away from choosing your outfits. “But we agreed.”

“Yeah, but I’ve just graded a shit ton of assignments, and I just want to relax,” Airi replied, rubbing her face in obvious exhaustion. “But have fun for me, you two.”

“But–”

“Tell you what: you all can come over to my place afterwards, and we can have a night for ourselves. I’ll prepare snacks afterwards and shit like that, ok?”

With a grumble, Haruka agreed, continuing to ready herself, her appearance a stark contrast to her usually wild, unruly daily set. When she turned away and laid her eyes on you, she gasped.

"Oh. My. Lord. You are so freaking hot."

Looking down at the floor, silently appreciating the praise, you slipped on your pair of heels, looking back up at the two of them.

"So, for the girls, is it just us two plus Namie then?"

"Yeah, someone is a traitor and won't get out of her PJs," Haruka clicked her tongue. "Whatever, anyway, we'll be back to bother you, Ri, and then give you all the tea."

After bidding her farewell, you both headed out to the meeting point, where you saw Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Hanamaki (Matsukawa was out for a piercer's convention for the weekend, so you put it together that perhaps Airi was just probably going to enjoy her alone time and wanting to relax from the stresses of wedding planning and school). Namie had texted that she was gonna be at the club already, but head out at the same time as everyone else, so it seemed like the group was all accounted for, more or less.

Walking to the club nearby, everyone fell into a conversation about their day, some topics, and so on, until Oikawa seemed to hang back to walk beside you.

"You look really great, by the way," he stated, the charismatic smirk softened by his smile. "I know the other guys think so, too. And it shows off your tattoo."

Thanking him, the simple compliment somehow meant quite a bit to you. It was just… Nice. Nice was good, it was not over the top, or exaggerated. Safe. Yeah, it should be safe.

“Ok, we need to get a shot out of the way,” Haruka demanded, rallying everyone up to the bar. “Ok, what are we gonna do?”

“Vodka wouldn’t be a bad one to start with,” Namie suggested, though there was some dissension in the group. That led to an argument on what was the best liquor to start with, to which Iwaizumi finally put his foot down and stated that vodka was gonna be the first shot of choice, and that was the end of it.

“Wow, look at you, Iwa, always stepping in to put us all in line,” Oikawa teased, wrapping his arm around his best friend’s shoulders. “Jeez, maybe if you could smile at girls, you might be able catch someone’s eye. Then flash that stern, dominant attitude in bed, and you’ve trapped them.”

“Shove off,” Iwaizumi shrugged him off, before turning to you, shaking his head. “Listen, he’s not so suave all the time, he’s really an idiot.” That elicited both a giggle from you and a remark from Oikawa.

The night continued rather smoothly, what with Haruka dragging you and Namie along to the dance floor, the guys enjoying themselves, and a few close calls with creeps trying to ruin your fun. But after a few hours of strong drinks, loud music, blistering feet, and skin touching, it was time for the guys to head out.

"God, my feet are killing me," you bemoaned to the group, where the other girls agreed. Some of the guys grumbled about drinking too many drinks, Haruka began giggling and latching onto Makki's arm for support.

"Here, I'll help you," the familiar, smooth voice said to you, accompanied by a vibrant arm. "We'll take it slow, and if you need to, I'll carry you."

You turned to look up at the brown eyes, which reflected some of the city lights. Hooking your arm around his, you notice how detailed his sleeves were, careful stars and nebula ingrained in the almost iridescent space. Your fingers lightly traced along the streams of stars on his biceps, your brain only just now coming to grips with how strong and fit he was.

"It's ok if you want to squeeze my arm, I know how amazing my physique must be," he teased, to which you rolled your eyes. You found yourself looking up at him, wanting to remark something, but thoughts seemed to escape you, and no, it absolutely isn't because you forgot everything while looking at his handsome face. How ridiculous would that be. The trance was broken when he began laughing.

"What is it, Prince Charming?"

He continued laughing, his cheeks flushed from alcohol and the heat of the club, his hair hanging just over his eyes--somehow he looked genuine, more real. The mirth in his face made his already attractive face beautiful.

"Oh it's just that you look a little drunk," he began, "and that this isn't the first time I've done this for you."

"Oh shush," you shook your head, noticing how everyone else seemed to match each other's energy. Namie was being assisted by Iwaizumi, both at ease and having the occasional comment, while Makki did his best to keep Haruka stable while not trying to keep her attitude down.

"I'm… I'm glad I got to hang out with you guys, though," you murmured, looking at your feet to make sure you would not stumble.

"I'm glad," he responded. "The group could use someone like you."

"Oh? What do you mean by that?"

Musing in silence, he appeared to think about what it was, until Iwaizumi stopped suddenly in front of the tattoo parlor shop, turning his head to Oikawa.

"Oh my," a new voice spoke, one belonging to a woman. "Seems like you all went and had fun without me. That's pretty mean."

Oikawa seemed to stiffen, his arm pulling away slowly, so as to not unbalance you, before putting on his usual charming smile. You turned to look in the same direction, your eyes landing on a tall, slender woman, standing with her arms crossed. Her dark blonde hair pulled into a "messy" bun with locks framing her face, her dark lips drawn together into exaggerated pout, her stylish appearance all contributing to how physically attractive she was.

"Makiko? What are you doing here?"

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