#tattoo artist!reader

[marvellous1917]

Icarus

(Part 1)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x tattoo artist!reader

Summary: you come home from work, only to find a mob boss in your house looking for your roommate.

Warnings: mentions of a gun, mentions of arms and drug trafficking, murder, kidnapping, torture, swearing, tattoos, gambling, think that’s it

A/n: I’m a simple girl. Mob!Bucky makes my brain go whurrrrrr. This is pure self service because I have this tattoo lol. Been along time guys what’s up?

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“Late night?” The deep voice came from the dark.

“Holy-” fear spiked through your heart from the unfamiliar sound, your arms dropping the bags and your back crashing into the closed front door, “-who.. who are you?” You asked the unfamiliar voice. Turning slightly you see the long haired, leather covered man sat in the dining room. His left arm rested on the table, the prosthetic shining, the light from the street lamp outside shining through the window. His face was half shrouded in darkness, the other half showed his eyes, a little confused but also amused.

“You’re not Caleb.” He replied, sitting back in the chair, tilting his head to the side and moving something that looked suspiciously pistol shaped off of the table and into the inside pocket of his jacket, you reached up and flipped on the light.

“N-no no, I’m not. I’m his roommate.” You said, finally registering who you were talking to. The now fully visible metal arm was a pretty big giveaway, if nothing else. ‘There is a mob boss sat in my kitchen, what the fuck’.

“What do you want with Caleb? Does he owe you something?” The thought was out of your mouth before you could stop it. “Oh god no sorry forget I asked. Sorry... sir? I don’t-”

“I’m assuming from that reaction you know who I am,” He said, smirk on his face as he stood and moved closer, your back pressing flatter against the wall beside the door with every step he took.

“Of..of course I do, everyone in New York knows who you are..Sir” You replied.

“Hmm, I’m gonna take that as a compliment doll,”

“It is! Sorry! Congrats on all the… mafia shit.” Did I just say ‘mafia shit’ to a gangster.

The silence is awkward, his face blank and all you can think is ‘Oh my god I’m gonna die.’ His face twists into a …smile.. you think, y’know its hard to tell, fear has your vision all fuzzy.

He then starts to..laugh. He’s laughing? He’s actually laughing.

“Is this something you do before you kill people? You laugh, give them a false sense of security then shoot them?” You ramble quietly, confused at what’s happening.

He moved his left hand to rest on his stomach, the metal catching the light, shining right in you eye and it fully registered that, holy shit, James fucking Barnes, The Winter goddamn Soldier is in my house. This man is literally wanted by every law enforcement agent in the country, he’s in control of one of the most ruthless organisations in the world, they traffic arms and drugs and gun down anyone that gets in the way. Apparently, at least that’s what the news said. The stories about him though, way more upsetting.

The rumor was that after he left the special forces, he was captured by an organisation that wanted him to work for them. When he tried to escape the first time, they took his arm, and he was stuck working for them for a decade. The story goes that after he finally escaped, he tracked down everyone that was a part of it and killed them all, by himself. Alone. Just him. On his own. Then he took over their supply and demand and built his empire from the ground up.

“Oh god.. ‘congrats on all the mafia shit’, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while…” he pushed out while chuckling. “I’m gonna get that shit tattooed, I swear,” he said.

“I could do that for you,” it was out of your mouth before you could stop it. ‘Oh my god, shut up Y/N’ you thought to yourself.

“What?” He asked, eyes flitting over to yours, his piercing stare causing all sorts of feeling to rise inside your chest; fear, confusion, attraction. Attraction? What? Damn him and his pretty face. He’s a killer Y/N, remember that?

“Nothing, sorry” you answered, looking down at your feet.

“No what did you say Y/n?” He asked again, his voice more stern than before. If you weren’t so scared, you would have questioned how he knew your name.

“I said that I could give you that tattoo, sorry, just slipped out” you replied, unsure what his response would be to your completely unnecessary comment.

“Stop apologising would’ya doll, there’s no need.” He said, sort of sweetly, a small comforting smile on his face, the pet name causing all sorts of lovely feelings inside.

“Sor.. yes Sir,” you corrected yourself.

“And stop calling me Sir darlin, only my employees call me that,” he said, “well my employees and some others..” he said with a dirty smirk, causing your eyebrows to raise sky high.

“Sorry Sir,” you said quickly, not even thinking. “…shit.”

“Seriously doll, you don’t need to be so scared of me,” he stated, his right hand reaching out and landing on your shoulder, your muscles tensing for a second then relaxing when you saw the look in his eye, he was telling the truth

“Ok.. then can I ask why you are here?” You ask, some fear creeping it’s way into your voice despite his reassurance. He kept his face carefully still and he looked you up and down, the feeling of being examined was strong, like he was trying to decide if you were worthy of knowing his business.

“You got it right earlier, your roommate owes me something, and I came to get it from him,” he removes his hand from your arm as he spoke after a tense silence. He was being purposely vague, trying to gage your reaction, to see if you were really clueless or you were playing with him.

“It’s money right, I mean it has to be, what else could he owe you. I told him to stop freaking borrowing money I swear I tried to stop him, but he never listened to me..l”

“You’re rambling darlin, you realise that?” He cuts you off with a smirk on his face.

“I’ve been told I do that when I’m nervous. I don’t know how much Caleb owes you and I don’t know what the situation is but.. if you.. I mean..”

“What doll? What are you trying to say. I won’t be mad, I swear,” Barnes responds, one side of his lips tugging upwards at your mumbling.

“Could you give him some more time?”

He was not expecting that. ‘Brave little thing’ he thought.

“I mean I don’t know how long he’s owed you for but he’s getting back on track I swear, he’s getting better, he is, in-fact he’s at a gamblers anonymous meeting right now, and he has a job interview tomorrow so he can pay rent and pay back people he owes money to.” You rush out, trying to help your friend, “Of course he never told me that he owes money to a mobster but that besides the point” you add quieter, more to yourself than anything but Barnes still heard it. He chuckled and ran his flesh hand through his hair, pushing back the long strands out of his face.

“He does owe money to a mobster, quite a lot in fact so I’m gonna have to say no to that request darlin, I’ve given him long enough.” He responds, his tone dripping with authority, the Brooklyn drawl on the pet name he threw out made your heart beat faster.

“Please. Please just think about it Sir.. uh Mr Barnes.. Sir. Caleb’s had a rough go of it lately, he lost his father not too long ago and he’s been a mess ever since, if you could just give..”

“I already said no once doll, I don’t like repeating myself.” His tone was final, and even though his words were not that intense, the threat in his voice hung in the air like poison gas before slamming into your chest, the fear that had previously been quelled came racing back, sitting on your shoulders like a lead coat.

The silence stayed for longer this time, you eyes firmly fixed to the floor to a sound even the possibility of upsetting the man that had broken into your home.

“So you’re a tattoo artist huh? He asked, his low voice calming you some. Huh he’s trying to make me less afraid of him, what kind of ruthless criminal is he?

“Yes..um I am,” you answer, incredibly aware of the position you were in, better to go along with whatever he did.

“You got a flash book?” He questioned, genuinely interested.

“Uh yeah I do.” You reply awkwardly, not sure where this new line of conversation was coming from.

“Can I see it?”

“…sure,” the word came out as a question.

He nodded at you, and you took it as a sign that you were good to move. Turning slowly and moving away from the wall to your bag on the floor, you reach down and grab your flash sketchbook and hand it to him.

“Are all of these available?” He asked, flipping through the pages, taking in each design.

Seeing him like this, calmly looking through the sketchbook makes it very easy to forget who he was, a ruthless calculating Mob Boss, wanted for almost every crime under the sun.

“The ones with the X’s over them have been done before but could be repeated if someone really wanted it,” you answered, slightly more confident in yourself as you were talking about something you loved.

“This is Latin, right, what does it mean?” He asked, moving to stand next to you pointing to a design in the book, an alien inside a bottle of wine.

“‘In Vino Veritas’, it means ‘In wine, there is truth’” you say, “ I though it was funny, y’know.. ‘the truth is out there’..aliens..” you trailed off, not sure how to explain that design

He let out an quiet amused sound, his shoulder brushing yours, sending a trail of chills down your spine.

“This one is beautiful,” he said, pointing to a different design on the next page.

“Thank you, it’s Icarus, I have it tattooed on me, it was hard as hell doing it on my own leg,” you say, proud of the design you created.

“Icarus, what’s his story? I can’t quite remember, ” he asks.

“It’s a Greek myth y’know, Icarus and his father were held captive by King Minos in a tower, his father created wax wings so they could fly away from their captors. The father warned Icarus from flying too high or too low, but he ignored his fathers warnings and flew too close to the sun and his wings melted. It’s a moral story to warn against the dangers of complacency and hubris, but to me it’s just a tragedy.” You say, turning to face him, making eye contact with the man. He listened intently to the story, his face unreadable but you thought you saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe he related to the myth, a man that was once held captive, now with everything in his hands, in danger of losing it all if he flew too close to the sun himself.

“A tragedy huh? I don’t think there’s anything tragic about it. He was warned not to do something dangerous and he went and did it anyway, it’s his own damn fault,” he stated, something slightly argumentative in his tone.

He looked straight at you while speaking and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was looking into your soul, like his statement was some kind of test.

“I agree with the idea that he got what he deserved, but I meant it as a tragedy for his father. Creating something so pure for you and your child to escape from captivity, only for your child to ignore your warnings and pay the ultimate price for it. His father probably spent the rest of his life regretting escaping his prison because that was the action that ultimately lead to his sons death. It’s heartbreaking if you see it from a different perspective,” you say back, not really expecting him to engage you in a philosophical debate.

“Hmm.. that’s an interesting way to see it, I’m not really one for looking at different perspectives, mine suits me just fine,” he answered, the fact that this man was dangerous came screaming back to you with the look on his face, blank like he was devout of all emotion at that moment. You got the feeling he wasn’t speaking metaphorically anymore.

The tension was palpable, you not knowing what to say next and him deciding he was done talking for the time being. He placed the book down on a side table, and turned back to you. “Y’know what, I want it.” He said, confusing flooding your brain.

“Want what?” You ask calmly, not wanting to push your luck with the man.

“That tattoo, the Icarus one, I want it.” He answers, leaning back against the side of the table he was sat at earlier. His crossed his arms, which should have been intimidating, but for some reason the only thought floating through your head was Damn his arms are bigger than my head. Gimmie.

“You want the Icarus?” You ask, somewhat stupidly and he had just said that.

“Yes I do,” he answered simply, “Are you free tomorrow?” He asks, smile on his face.

“Umm not really, I have a few appointments tomo..”

“Move them, hell cancel them. Block out a spot long enough for me to get this tattoo.” He states, cutting of your sentence.

“I can’t do that, it’s too short notice and I could loose..”

“I’ll pay what ever you lose for cancelling the appointments. I’m getting this done, tomorrow.” He cuts you off again, a finality in his tone that warns you it would be pointless and probably rather stupid to argue.

“Uh..ok” you respond, shaking your head a little, still trying to figure out what just happened.

“Great.” He clapped his hands together and the sound made you jump. Barnes either didn’t notice it or just didn’t care. “Give me your phone.”

“Huh? Why do you want my phone?” You question.

Barnes just rolled his eyes, walked forward until he was stood right infront of you, toe to toe, staring down at you with a semi amused look on his face.

“How am I supposed to find out where your shop is if you don’t text me the location?” He said sarcastically.

Literally a million different ways, google it for starters, get one of your goons to find it, stalk me and follow me there.. c’mon man think. Obviously you kept these thoughts to yourself but Barnes smirked as if he could hear them anyway. Pulling out your phone and handing it to him you ask, “What time do you want to come in for?”

“Around 1-ish doll, that ok?” He asked, knowing that it is, as he’s already told you to move/cancel your other appointments.

“That’s fine by me Bar..Mr Barnes” you answer, slipping up, almost forgetting the level of respect you should probably show to the gangster in your home.

He calls his phone from yours, adding the new number to contacts in both phones, “there, now you can let me know the address of your shop.”

“I’ll sent it to you tomorrow.. unless you want me to send it now?” You asked he hands your phone back , uncertain of what he wanted

“Tomorrows fine” he answers, walking backwards towards the front door, “I’ll see ya in the afternoon doll,” he says while opening the door and mostly leaving until he pauses completely, slowly turning back towards you.

This is it, he’s been messing with me this whole time and now he’s going to shoot me.

“Tell Caleb he has 6 weeks to get my money back to me or I’ll be paying him another visit, ok doll.” He says, no question in his voice. He waits until you answer with a “Yes, Mr Barnes,” and disappears into the hallway outside your apartment.

It takes about 5 minutes for the shock to fully wear off, and it causes you to stagger over to the couch, fall backwards onto it an ask into the empty room, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

As soon as the question was out of your mouth , your phone buzzed in your hand.

James:

Don’t ever call me Mr Barnes again Y/n.

It makes me feel ancient.

I hate that.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky #bucky barnes #mob!bucky fic #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #tattoo artist!reader

[willsimpforanyone]

hey !! i absolutely adore your account. your writing is just amazing!!! i was wondering if you could do more leo valdez smuts!?

ahhhh thank you so much i'm glad you like my writing!!

this will have obligatory spanish pet names in it because i am cringe and proud k thanks also it's a flower shop/tattoo shop au because that's the best trope i don't make the rules

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There was a tap on my shop door.

"Knock knock, chica, where you at?"

I rolled my eyes but grinned. "In the back," I yelled back. "Gimme a sec."

The door opened and closed, the little bell dinging, and I stripped off my black gloves. "Okay, all done! How'd you like it?"

Nico nodded approvingly at his new tarot card tattoo - Death, of course. "Looks awesome, how much do I owe you?"

"£180, because you're my favourite." I winked at him as I led him out the room.

He shook his head. "You know that's not the right price." Nico took out an envelope of cash and slid it across the counter. "£200, plus tip, don't even think about it."

He caught me before I could protest, and made to leave. "Hey Valdez."

From the sofa, Leo grinned up at him. "Hey dude, whatcha get?"

Nico pulled up his shirt sleeve to show off his new tattoo. Leo nodded approvingly. "Looks sick, Will's gonna love it." Nico coloured slightly but gave a small smile, nodded and left.

I leaned forward on the counter. "So, Valdez, what brings you to my dark corner of the world?"

He brandished the small collection of blooms he held. "Thought I'd bring it a little bit of colour." Beelining to where I had a wilting bunch of flowers in a vase, Leo swapped them out. I leant on my hand and smiled- he was right, the studio could use a little colour now and then.

"Is today the day I get to ink you?" I tapped my fingers on the wooden surface, fingers buzzing slightly from the tattoo gun.

Leo grinned. "Oh, you wish you could make your mark on this." He gestured down to himself, and I allowed myself to rake my eyes over him. His loose grey shirt was faintly patterned with roses, and his jeans clung to his legs appealingly.

"You have no idea, honey." I winked at him and got the pleasure of seeing his tan skin tinge with red.

He coughed lightly. "I don't think I'd suit tattoos, anyway." He shrugged. "Probably not, anyway."

I slipped out from behind the counter to face him. "Oh, I don't know, I wouldn't say that." I considered him carefully, as an art piece rather than a person. "Tattoos are for everyone, as long as they get something they love."

Leo shifted slightly and I reached out for his arm. He let me take it. "See, I'd do a flowering vine-" I ran my fingers down his left forearm. "-along here, delicate but thick enough not to get lost in your skin."

"Oh yeah?"

I nodded, reaching up to his shoulder. "Perhaps your favourite flower, or a flower of significance, resting on your shoulder." Carefully, carefully coming to rest a finger on his chest. "A little something here, anything you'd like, just for you."

Leo had frozen, deep brown eyes fixed on my face. I took a step back, not missing where Leo swayed towards me just slightly.

"Of course, it's up to you." Just for the hell of it, I decided to push my luck. "I have a few other ideas of how I could mark you, should you be interested."

I heard him let out a shaky breath and push dark curls behind his ears. Silently, I prayed that I didn't push it too far and scare him off. The crush I'd been harbouring for the past two months squeezed my heart.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, god I hope I'm not wrong, but we're very much not talking about tattoos anymore, are we?"

I turned round to see Leo with his hands clenched by his side and his lip being worried between his teeth. Slowly, I shook my head.

"No, not tattoos. Or rather, the kind that would fade in a couple days and are made with my mouth against your neck."

"Oh thank fuck." Leo relaxed and reached out, pulling me close and pressing his lips to mine.

Instantly my arms were wrapped around his neck and I was grinning like an idiot. For a brief moment I wondered if I had any more clients today but a quick glance at the clock told me it was past 6pm, closing time. Regretfully I pulled away from Leo and he pouted.

"What's wrong?"

I disentangled myself from his arms, racing to the door to lock it and turn the 'open' sign to 'closed' before returning to pull Leo's face down to mine. "Absolutely nothing, hermoso, nothing at all."

Leo let out a throaty groan and looped his fingers in my belt loops to pull me closer. "Woman, you are driving me insane." He kissed me hard, hips pressing againt mine and I felt heat flame in my stomach, looping and curling.

"Hey-" In between kisses, I tried to talk. "-I live-" Kiss. "-literally right upstairs-" Kiss. "-if you want to-" Kiss. "-take this further."

Leo pulled back this time, massive grin on his flushed face, already looking a mess. "Oh hell yeah, lead the way."

It took only moments to take his hand and lead him through my studio, up the stairs and into the flat I owned above my shop. I shut the door behind us and pinned Leo to it, fingers twisting and gently tugging at his hair. He whined and slipped his hands under my shirt, smoothing them along my stomach. "Do I get to see your tattoos?" He panted, eyes dark with want.

"Maybe, if you ask nicely." I winked at him. "But I believe I was going to give you a few."

"As many as you want, mi amor, whatever you want." Oh, this was going to be fun.

I pulled him away from the door and practically dragged him to my bedroom. I pointed to the pillows. "Sit."

He did it without question and I got a thrill of satisfaction. I crawled over to him, throwing a thigh over his lap and settling into his lap. Serious time for a moment. "If you want to stop at any point, let me know, okay?"

Leo nodded. "Same goes for you."

Cute. I pressed my lips to his gently, softly, a small thank you for being receptive. I shifted myself forward a little, until my hips were almost against his. My lips ghosted over his lips one last time before I swept along his jawline. I felt his hands hovering over my waist, my hips, my thighs, before I took his wrists and settled him on the tops of my thighs. "I'm not fragile, baby."

"Oh, I'm sure you're not, but if we keep going like this, I might be."

I rested my hands on his chest. "I'll try not to break you." Leaning in closer, I kissed just below his ear. "At least, not this time."

He whimpered, fingers digging into my flesh beneath my jeans.

I dragged my mouth along the planes of his neck, skin warm and heartbeat pounding beneath it. Finding his pulse point, I gave it a gentle suck, feeling Leo inhale sharply. "Good?"

He let out a shuddery breath. "Very good."

That was all the encouragement I needed. I nipped hard up and down his neck, leaving a trail of blossoming red in my wake. I bit purple roses and violets, tattooing the little moans and gasps from him into his skin. His collarbone was decorated with faint teeth marks, each one marked with the memory of a twist of his hips.

I pulled back briefly to tug at his button-down and he nodded emphatically, practically ripping it off so I could continue to kiss and bite and suck at his overheated skin.

"Hey," he breathed, tapping my thigh. "I made a questioning noise, still buried in his neck. "Hey, if you don't stop we're gonna have a problem that can only be solved with doing laundry and I don't think you have jeans my size."

"So what? I think that's sexy as fuck." I continued to work on the large brand I was sucking into his skin.

"My point still stands." He ran his hand up my back and into my hair, gently tugging to pull me away. I let a moan slip before I could catch it and Leo raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up," I poked at a hickey and he hissed. "You look like you got too enthusiastic with watercolour paints."

He rolled his eyes and before I could register the action, he flipped us round so he was hovering above me, elbows supporting him. "You've had your fun, reducing me to a whimpery mess, now it's my turn."

I bit my lip at the look in his eyes, suddenly feeling that I was wearing far too many clothes.

Waiting for any indication that he should stop, Leo dragged my shirt over my head as best he could, leaving me in a bra and my jeans. He caught his breath as he saw my tattoos. I was covered in them, an art gallery of my favourite things done by some of my favourite people. Reverently, he traced a finger over the lines and I shivered, goosebumps mottling my skin.

"Holy shit, you're gorgeous."

I gave a breathy laugh. "What, only just noticed?"

Leo shook his head, deadly serious. "No, you're always gorgeous, this is just... a new part of the gorgeous that I've never seen before."

My cheeks felt hot and I wriggled under him at the compliments. "You gonna do something about it, or?"

His eyes flicked up to mine. "What, you don't think I'd fuck you into next week if I had the chance?"

I didn't have a chance to formulate a retort. He deftly undid the fastening on my jeans and dipped his hand into them. I arched my back at the contact and Leo swore. "God, you're soaked, hermosa, glad to see I'm not the only one on the edge."

My hand made weak contact with his arm and he laughed. "Very much not a bad thing, very much a 'sexy as fuck' thing."

"Just fuckin' touch me, Valdez."

"As you wish."

He slipped a finger inside my pussy, and my eyes rolled back. Marking him up may have affected me more than I let on. "M-more, Leo, I need more."

Obediently, he added another finger, and another, curling all three so deliciously inside me. My hands were clutching at his shoulders, at the pillows, the bedspread, I was sure I looked a mess but Leo looked at me like I'd hung the stars in the damn sky.

"So fucking pretty, so beautiful, I'm gonna take you out on a proper date tomorrow, I swear." He muttered promises and affections and it was all I could do to not come right there, impaled on his fingers and whining desperately.

When his hand pulled away I nearly sobbed before he was kissing my face, murmuring reassurances. "I know, I know, but I gotta get your jeans and panties off, okay? You want me to fuck you, right?"

That gave me a little clarity, and I allowed him to tug off the rough demin both from me and from him. I threw myself to the side, rummaging around in my bedside table before triumphantly producing a foil packet.

Leo accepted the gift and I got to see him slip on the condom and bite his lip to not come from the contact.

"Leo." He looked up at me, curls a mess, lips slightly swollen.

"Fuck me into next week."

He pounced on me, hands grasping at my hips to pull me flush against him. The pads of his fingers tightened and I allowed myself a moment to imagine the bruises they would leave after this.

He guided his cock in between my thighs, pausing right at the entrance. "You all good?"

I smiled. "So very good."

He pushed into me with one swift motion and I cried out, feeling so full and so good. Leo pounded into me, looking as desperate as I felt. He buried his face into my neck. "Okay, super lame but I am not gonna last long."

"Super not lame." My voice sounded wrecked. "Super fucking hot that I got you that worked up. You are super welcome to come whenever you want."

I felt him smile against my skin. "You first."

His hand reached down in a feat of strength with how hard he was thrusting into me, and he began pushing circles into my clit. My head tilted back and Leo pressed sharp kisses into the exposed flesh.

The sensations were too much and would never ever be enough and I tilted my hips just right so he was hitting just right inside me and the thin line keeping me tethered snapped.

My nails dug into his shoulders and I came hard, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure and excitement and with just enough clarity I felt Leo's hips stutter as my pussy clamped down on his dick as I came. His swearing was muffled into my skin but he pushed into me as much as he could, coming with almost a shout.

There was a moment of quiet, the two of us remembering how to breathe and enjoying the feeling of being connected. It was with simultaneous groans that Leo pulled out of me, flopping to my side and pressing absent kisses to my shoulder.

"Well," he breathed. "How do my new tattoos looks?"

I ran my fingers over my masterpiece. "I'd say they look pretty good, if I do say so myself."

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yes i did get carried away lol hope you enjoyed and thank you for requesting!

#leo valdez #leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez imagine #leo imagine #leo valdez smut #leo valdez x reader smut #florist!leo #tattoo artist!reader #tattoo shop au #flower shop au

[gemini-sensei]

What if Hawk were to fall for a cutesy tattoo artist?

Her specialty falls in with cute cartoony tattoos, nostalgic stuff like Care Bears and Strawberry Shortcake, Hello Kitty, candy and flowers. Soft colors with pinks and purples and bright blues. She wears cute dresses and necklaces, pretty bracelets and socks. Everything she is and does is cutesy and sweet.

I imagine he either met her at a shop or a tattoo convention. All her bright colors and designs catch his eye and then her smile. He wants to see all her designs even though he maybe wouldn't wear any of them. He likes the artistry and wants to hear her talk about all her designs. I can just see her gushing over it and him just looking at her with pure admiration.

He'd start going to the parlor she works ar just to watch her work. Even if she's just drawing something up for a client, he likes to watch her process. He likes to see how she puts ideas together and what she thinks works or doesn't work. The whole process is mesmerizing to him, but so much more so because of her now.

I just think Hawk having a crush on a cutesy tattooist is so sweet. I love it.

#tattoo artist!reader #cutesy!reader #eli moskowitz headcanons #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #eli moskowitz #eli moskowitz x chubby reader #hawk moskowitz x chubby reader #eli hawk moskowitz #hawk moskowitz x reader #hawk moskowitz #cobra kai #cobra kai headcanons #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai x chubby reader #cobra kai x plus size reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #gemini sensei

[fxntxsix]

TCB (Austin Butler x Tattoo Artist!Reader)

Picture credits - @alina.illu (Instagram)

Aight a couple of things - I just gotta say it ain't a coincidence that the week I started posting on Tumblr is the same week I got my visa which I had been waiting 3 fucking months for so y'all really be my lucky charms. Secondly, because of the visa thing updates may be a little slow but I'm going to try my best because at this point I just feel attached to everyone here. And lastly, I'm almost at a 100 followers omg wHATTTTTTT (may do something special for my bebes when I hit 100). Now, enjoyyyyy.

Super duper special mention to @presleysnotes on this one <3

Feedback is appreciated but please be gentle lmao. Other than that let me know if I’ve made any grammatical errors or any of that. And my requests are always open!

Warnings: SMUTTY SMUT NUT!!! a tattoo needle, mentions of Rami Malek, swearing, i have not proofread this (i think that's it let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count: 2115

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He had been wracking his brains for like 3 weeks now, trying to figure out the best way to commemorate his time on the set of ‘Elvis’ but no matter what he did it just didn’t special enough. Yes, he had kept a few exclusive Elvis tapes with him and a copy of the script with his annotations and notes but he needed something more memorable...permenant. This had, after all, been the role that changed his life and he wanted to do something outrageous for it.

So, he decided to brainstorm with his friend, Rami Malek, over coffee, “Hey man, after Bohemian Rhapsody did you do anything or keep anything to remember your time on set?”

“Yeah I did actually,” Rami let out a laugh, “I had taken a set of the fake Freddie teeth from set and I had them set in gold.”

Austin let out a proper belly laugh, “Okay see that’s perfect, I feel like I need to do something ridiculous like that for ‘Elvis’. But, I don’t have teeth.”

Rami hummed for a second, deep in thought, “You know, I’ve heard of a lot of actors getting tattoos these days as reminders of their roles. And we have more than enough fancy make up products to hide those tattoos when we’re working, so it’s not like getting a tattoo will put your ability of booking more jobs in jeopardy or anything.”

“Rami, you absolute fucking genius,” Austin had already set a reminder to book an appointment for a tattoo tomorrow.

---

Austin had spent the rest of yesterday looking for a reliable tattoo parlour and thinking of what he wanted. It didn’t take him too long to decide on the tattoo and he was lucky enough to find a tattoo parlour 15 minutes away from him. 

He was instantly drawn to this parlour because when he looked at the pictures online carefully, he realised that the whole thing was set up like an old 50s diner. It was almost like it was meant to be. He had called them up and made the appointment then and there.

He pushed the parlour door open and it made a little “ding!” sound to indicate that a customer had arrived. Austin could only get an appointment in the last slot of the day so the whole place was empty, except for the beautiful girl standing behind the welcoming counter. That girl was you.

You looked up and said, “Hi! You must be Austin?” He nodded, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Y/N and I’m going to be your tattoo artist today.”

You placed a form and pen on the counter, “If you could just fill this in and then we can head on to the back and get started.”

You seemed to notice that he was already looking a little nervous so you asked him if this was his first tattoo and he responded with a little chuckle, “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little, but don’t worry, I’ll be sure to take good care of you.” You had no idea where the confidence came from but gave him a wink anyway.

Once he was done with the form, you told him to follow you to the back rooms. He sat down on one of the chairs but not lying all the way back yet.

“So what are we doing today?”

Austin pulled out his phone and showed you a picture of the famous TCB logo, “I wanted to get this on my neck like just under the ear.”

“Well damn, I wouldn’t have pegged you for an Elvis fan.”

The movie wasn’t out yet and the promotions hadn’t started so Austin wasn’t surprised that you didn’t make any sort of direct connection between him and Elvis. “Yeah, he means a lot to me.”

“Alright just lie back and I’ll be back in a minute with the stencil.” You walked out of the room and Austin couldn’t help but notice how great your ass looked in the dark denim jeans.

When you returned, you had a few things in your arms. A chocolate bar and water bottle went on the small table next to him, “Have you eaten well today? Don’t want you passing out on me.” He let you know that he had eaten. 

Then, you put on your latex gloves and took an anti-septic wipe in one hand and the stencil in the other. His upper body was fairly upright and his legs were stretched out on the chair. You put a gloved finger under his chin and gently tilted his head up and he swore he felt shivers run down his spine at the contact.

You wiped his neck with the anti-septic and he let out a surprised hiss at the cold. Steadily pressing the stencil down to make sure that the print was as even as possible. 

“Why don’t you take a look at it in the mirror before I start with the needle.” 

He walked over to the full length mirror on the other side of the room and immediately fell in love with how just the stencil looked, “Goddamn, that looks good.” You let out a giggle and now he couldn’t tell if he was in awe of the to-be tattoo or in awe of you.

He returned to his original position on the chair when you suddenly stood up from the stool. He gave you a confused look because it seemed like you were going to lean over him. And that’s exactly what you did, “Sorry, I just need to adjust this.” 

You put your right hand behind the top half of the chair to find the lever and the other hand went across his body and rested right next to his face. He stared up at you and realised that, given the position, he would just have to move a few inches to reach your lips. But before the thought could marinate, he felt the chair lurch just a little and he was lying flatter now but not completely horizontal.

You settled onto the stool again and took the needle in your hand, dipping it in ink and turning it on, “Alright I’m going to start now. If you want me to stop just tell me, try not to move and let me know if it hurts too much and we can talk through it. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

You had bent down so that you were close to his ear and he held his breath, only letting it go when the needle made contact with the sensitive skin of his neck. He had let out a grunt and a small twitch at the sensation. You immediately pulled the needle back and whispered without moving, “You need to breathe, baby. Otherwise this isn’t going to work.” His breath hitched again but for a different reason this time. 

Due to the proximity, Austin felt the air around him fill up with your scent and it was driving all the blood in his body between his legs. Your sexy, breathy voice certainly didn’t help.

“Right, ‘m sorry,” he muttered quietly.

You started the needle again but this time you decided to put a hand on the base of his neck, right where it met his chest, to make sure he didn’t move too much. You could feel his chest heaving with heavy breaths and for whatever reason you had a gut feeling it wasn’t just the pain eliciting that reaction. Your eyes shifted to him for a second and the sight before you almost made you drop the tool in your hands.

He had his eyes closed, his long lashes looked like they may have been tickling his cheeks, his jaw was clenched so tight that you could see the bone popping, a couple of his blonde curls had fallen on his forehead. Is this what he looked like when he cam- No Y/N! Pull yourself together dammit, you’re a professional! So you physically shook your head and got back to the tattoo.

One you finished tracing the whole thing you put the needle down and admired your work. You have to say, despite the ‘distractions’, you were doing fabulously. Instead of removing the hand, you just very lightly scratched your nails against his hard chest, “Hey, open your eyes.”

He revealed his dazzling blues to you and sighed out, “Hi.”

You giggled, “Hi baby, we’re done with the outline.” A sudden urge to test your previous theory of why he was breathing so hard came over you, so you leaned over to his ear again, “You did so good for me.”

You felt a light shudder pass through him and you could tell that his grip on the chair had tightened. You smirked to yourself. Theory confirmed. You stood up and extended a hand to him, “Wanna see it before we continue?” You noticed that his eyes were darker now than a second ago but he took your hand and lifted himself up. 

You didn’t realise that you hadn’t given him a lot of space so when he stood up your chests were touching. Both of you were so close that you were practically breathing the same air for a couple of seconds. Professionalism Y/N! You chided yourself and snapped out of the moment but didn’t move. “Oh um the mirror is there,” you said pointing behind you.

Without breaking eye contact he said, “I know.” 

Your eyes shifted to his lips as he took his bottom lip between his teeth. You couldn’t even tell who had moved first but the next thing you felt were your hands in his perfect curls and his were on your ass as you guys quite literally, sucked face. It was a messy, rough kiss. All teeth and tongue. He had turned both of you around and pushed your back against the tattoo chair. His lips trailed down to your neck and clavicle.

While he sucked hickies onto you, you felt paralyzed. All you could do was let out the sounds of pleasure he seemed to be pulling out of you with ease. His hands reached your jeans and he popped the button, looking up at you for permission. You frantically nodded and he hooked his fingers to pull your jeans and panties down at the same time.

Before your brain could even catch up, he was on his knees. Your hands shot to the top of his head as he flattened his tongue against your whole pussy, “Fuck, you taste like nectar, so fucking sweet.”

Now, he was leaving little fast paced kitten licks all over. Just trying to taste as much of your juice as he could. Soon enough, he found your clit and flicked it up and down a few times with the tip of his tongue and then he had it in his mouth, sucking hard. You were screaming for him.

His pace never let up as he vigorously shook his head from left to right, “Oh God- I’m gon-gonna come, please, God.”

“Am I your God, sweet girl?”

“Yes, yes please don’t stop!”

You looked down at him and saw a cocky smirk on his lips, which were covered in your juices. His hand came up and he maintained eye contact with you as he plunged two fingers in you roughly. You threw your head back and let out a pornographic moan. He got up from his position on the floor to face you. He continued to finger fuck you as his other hand came up to wrap around your jaw and bring your face to him.

“You gonna be a sweet girl and come for me? You like when I do this, don’t you? C’mon babygirl, finish for me. I know you can, my perfect girl.”

Your body shook so violently that you had to steady yourself against his shoulders to make sure that you didn’t slip off the chair. He rode your high out on his fingers. When you were done, he pulled them out and licked his fingers clean, not wanting even a single drop to go to waste. You felt absolutely spent.

He cupped both your cheeks and gave you a proper kiss. Then, he stepped away for a second, grabbing the chocolate and water from the table and handing the bottle to you while he unwrapped the chocolate.

“Drink up and eat some of this. We can finish the tattoo and then maybe I’ll take you out for a movie and some dinner. How does that sound, baby?”

You were still breathing hard but managed to say, “Sounds perfect.”

Yep, he was definitely your favourite customer so far.

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@adoresbutlers @butler-on-beale-street @eu-whoria  @emmymaehereeeeee @dreamersparacosm @she-is-juniper @austinbutlerr @sassy-ahsoka-tano @mamaspresley @enchantinglyjade @stargiirl27 @neverasfarawayasitmayseemxo @dawnmay @unadulteratedkingdomzombie @honeypieknox @foreverdolly @dre6ming  @presleysnotes @elli3m4yy @pennyroyalcreep @queen-multi-fandoms @butlerslut @austin-butler-library @xo-2high2cry @asshlyyyy @fantuhsise @shrekstheloml @lindszeppelin @2lekk @raefoxiegirl @flwrs4aust @angelicalprncss @chrisevansgirl

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #austin #butler #elvis presley #austin butler fans #austin butler smut #austin!elvis #elvis presley smut #austin smut #smutty smut nut #smut #austin fans #x reader #tattoo #tattoo artist #tattoo artist!reader #tcb #rami malek

[theold-ultraviolence]

Hey bestie I have some thoughts for your consideration:

So Eddie with hand tattoos. One hand has a planchette (still obsessed with that art I saw a few times) and the other hand having more spider themed tattoos. Possibly a web with a black widow in it… and the web goes down his fingers or he has separate finger tattoos…

BESTIE when I read this last night, a whole new scenario emerged and I went to bed thinking about them and now it’s a whole thing lmao. I hope you don’t mind I took this and ran with it. I need a name for this AU immediately. THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS IN, ahhhh, I hope you'll like it!

Eddie Munson x Tattoo Artist!reader (female reader)

I started thinking about Eddie having a crush on a tattoo artist.

After graduating and saving up his earnings from dealing as well as working at Thatcher Thire, he’s been taking frequent trips to Indianapolis to this really nice tattoo parlor – a definite upgrade from getting tattooed single needle style at the trailer park - where he’s already well known and loved by all of the artists there. 

One day, in comes this new apprentice who Eddie’s never seen before. 

She has that kind of beauty that’s intimidating at first, silent but stunning, fully attentive to the directions of the artist that’s her teacher (and who happens to be Eddie’s artist). 

She’s by his side whenever Eddie’s getting tattooed so she can learn. 

And while Eddie’s normally all zen-like already when he gets inked, when she’s around, he can’t help but feel a little nervous because her gaze is so intense and mesmerizing.

Eyes as big as the moon and glued to his skin, following her master’s needle grazing along the smooth expanse of Eddie’s thighs, or arms, or chest. 

When she’s not by her master’s side, she’s often in her own corner sketching, practicing with needles on different surfaces, or even tending to the front of the shop. 

Eddie gets the courage to talk to her when he comes in and she’s at the front and she always greets him so sweetly, he’s smitten more and more every time. 

Eventually he gets a little braver and goes to her corner when he’s waiting for his artist to set up.

All her drawings look like her, if that makes sense. It’s such a signature style. 

Fine, intricate lines make up designs that are as dark yet elegant, as she is; there are spiderwebs, planchettes, potion bottles and all sorts of flowers, jewelry, etc. 

He freaking loves the planchette one and makes a whole show out of it, with twinkling eyes and the biggest grin, going “that one is so metal, babe! You think I could get that one!?” 

She’s stunned, she hasn’t tattooed anyone just yet. “A-are you sure, Eddie? You’d be my first.” 

“Hey! If it’s cool by you and if your master gives you the OK. I’m down!” 

He should be nervous but surprisingly, truthfully, he’s not. He trusts her. So when everyone agrees to let her tattoo him, they set up a sation for her, and she gets to work – with her master’s supervision of course. 

Eddie’s heart is thumping so loud inside his heart he’s sure she could hear it, and he hopes she won’t mistake it for nervousness or uncertainty of her skills. 

He’s just swooning, melting, screaming inside because the way she grabs his hand to clean up the skin, and how she holds on to it as she works, is so tender it makes his heart burst – not to mention how delicately she cleans up the design once she’s through. 

He's fucking in love, right then and there. He just knows.

And she’s a fucking natural, the design came out amazing, he never doubted that it would. 

And because he’s feeling bold, riding up the high from having been inked by her, he asks her out then.

She’s taken aback for a little bit, maybe she thinks that Eddie wanting to get tattooed by her was all a big plot to get her to agree to go on a date with him, but she knows in her heart that that’s not the kind of guy that Eddie is. 

And from there, an enduring relationship blossoms! 

She doesn’t tattoo him all the time, but he has little designs here and there that she's done, and she’s also helped Eddie design a lot of his D&D characters for campaigns, and does the designs for Corroded Coffin’s merch. 

Fast forward, they’ve been together for almost 10 years and when they take the next step and get married, rings are cool and all but Eddie feels like such a metal relationship like theirs deserves something just as badass and long-lasting. Something that won't get rusty, that can slip or easily get lost. 

No, he wants a tattoo to represent his love. So he asks for her to tattoo a black widow at the very center of a spiderweb on the top of his hand, with a thread that goes down and wraps around his ring finger. 

Now both of his hands have something done by her, that symbolize her, too.

And he’s extra fond of the way those designs look on his hands whenever he grabs her naked waist and hips and thighs – when he cups her breasts when they’re making love, or how the design stretches when he’s got a hand around her neck if they’re going at it a little rougher. 

But he’s a sap for the sight of their joint hands, at all times.

When he’s driving, if he’s cooking, or if they’re cuddled up watching a movie, he just loves to see their hands entwined.

She probably also has a design on her hand to symbolize him – maybe a bat, or a guitar pick or a puppet master like the one Eddie already has along his forearm. 

He has a polaroid of their hands clasped together, with the date when they got married. 

In the future, if they eventually have kids, he asks his wife to add a little baby spider to each of the threads in the web on his hand. 

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #tattoo artist!reader #female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcanons #headcanons #stranger things #joseph quinn #my writing #eddie munson hcs #reader insert

[sarahsmi13s]

Picture Perfect Tattoos

(not my gif)

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x tattoo artist!reader

characters: bradley bradshaw, the dagger squad, mickey ‘fanboy’ garica, jake ‘hangman’ seresin, goose and carole bradshaw (mentioned)

warnings: fem!reader, language, canon character deaths (carole and goose), reader’s mother was a marine, parental death, memorial tattoos, if i missed any i apologize

word count: only ~8.5k (i thought it was higher than that but i still apologize)

quick summary: bradley had always wanted something to memoralize his father, but he could never come up with anything he liked. until he meets you, a local artist that can relate to him on a level not many people can.

*********

Rooster had always thought of getting a tattoo in remembrance of his father. But he just didn’t know what to get.

He had gotten one for his mom when she had passed. The one for her was easy, her handwriting. “You got this! Love, Mom” was tattooed on his wrist. It was a copy of a sticky note she had put in his baseball bag for an away game she couldn’t make it to. He pitched his best game that night and has held onto the note ever since.

But for Goose? He wouldn’t know where to start. He could get so many things. He just didn’t know what would really show him who his dad was.

Rooster had always felt like if he wanted a tattoo, he needed to have it planned out and ready. He hated feeling unprepared.

“Why don’t you just get a goose tattooed on you?” Hangman suggested casually as he sipped his beer. Everyone else at the table looked at him with wide eyes before looking at Rooster. “You know, he’d actually find that really funny.” The other pilots relaxed, they weren’t sure what grounds the two were on considering the last time Hangman had the balls to talk about Rooster’s father nearly got them both kicked off the mission.

Rooster shook his head, and rubbed his nose as he sat up, “But seriously, I want something that really represents who he was. Or at least who he was to me.” He brandished his wrist to the group, “Like this. My mom wrote me a note and stuck it in my baseball bag. I pitched my best game that night, so I kept it with me. I still have it. But paper only lasts so long, I wanted it in the sky with me but I was too afraid I’d lose it if anything happened.” The group nodded, small smiles on their faces.

Bradley had always been a private person. Sure he was outgoing and could bring life to a party if he needed to, but he didn’t get close to people. So him sharing that little detail about his life showed them that he was letting down his walls.

Fanboy spoke up, “Why don’t you just get a consultation?” He said it like it was the most obvious option. Phoenix nodded, “Yeah, that’s actually a really good idea!” Rooster’s brow furrowed, “A consultation?” Fanboy nodded and sat up a little more, “Yeah, I mean, you know what a consultation is, right?” “Of course I know what a consultation is, Garcia. But they do those for tattoos?” 

The WSO laughed, “Yes! I actually went to one the other day and the artist was really cool, she nerded out with me over some things and it went really well. She had a few designs drawn up the next day and I go back to her on Saturday. I could give you her card if you want?” He was already reaching for his wallet, but Rooster held out a hand. “Give me a day or two to think about it and I’ll get back to you.” Fanboy nodded and got up to pull Fritz, Bob, and Omaha into a game of pool.

Everyone got up and went off to do their own thing, leaving Rooster to sit and observe.

He lifted his bottle to his mouth, finding it empty. He pushed himself up and walked to the bar to get himself another.

When he gets to the bar, the bell rings. He smiles and claps his hands, scanning the crowd for the poor soul that broke a rule. He spotted someone laughing with their phone in the air, bingo.

“What can I get you, Rooster?” Penny asked, leaning against the bar. “Just my usual, please.” She patted the bar, and was off to get his drink. Rooster turned and leaned against the bar, just watching the crowd but avoiding looking at his fellow pilots so he didn’t have to bring them a round.

His eyes landed on the back widows, watching the families on the beaches packing up as the sun began to set behind the water. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a girl on a table out back.

There was nothing really special about her appearance, she wore a university sweater and sweatpants with her hair pulled back out of her face in a messy bun. But compared to the girls on the inside of the bar, she stood out. And Bradley was entranced.

“Here you go, Lieutenant.”

Penny’s voice pulled him back. He smiled at her, “Thanks Pen.” She smiled and turned to walk away, but he spoke again. “Hey, who’s that girl outside?” Penny followed Bradley’s finger and spotted her. She smiled fondly, “She comes in all the time. Sometimes she’s here with friends, sometimes by herself.” Rooster nodded, “Does she always sit outside when she’s here by herself?” Penny shook her head, “Not always.” He nodded and looked back out at the girl.

Even now, Penny could tell Bradley wanted to talk to her. He was obviously hesitant, not knowing the perfect way or moment to approach her. Same ole Rooster.

She smiled, “Hey, I’m a little swamped here with these drinks and she ordered cheese fries, I’d hate for them to get cold. Would you take them to her for me?” Rooster turned his head to her, “Uh, yeah, yeah sure. What’s she drinkin’?” Penny chuckled, “Water mostly. She had an Angry Orchard when she got here.” Rooster nodded and watched Penny walk to the kitchen to grab the food.

When she brought it back, she added a glass of water and a bottle of cider. Bradley nodded and headed to the back door.

Penny smirked and turned to Mav, who arched a brow at the look on her face. “What’s that look for?” She just shook her head and moved on.

********

You had been sitting outside the Hard Deck for a little bit now. Just watching the waves and the sunset, trying to find inspiration.

“Oh my gosh, brain, why can’t you just work?” You groaned, dropping your pencil onto the picnic table.

“Don’t be so hard on her, she’s doing her best.”

You gasped, startled by the new voice. “I’m sorry,” he laughed, sitting the tray he had down. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Laughing as well, you shook your head, “No, it’s okay. Just-” You sighed, not really knowing what to say.

You laughed again and got off the table, sitting in the actual seat. You looked down at the tray and saw the cheese fries. “Oh, yeah, Penny sent me out here with those. Some poor soul left their phone on the bar, she got swarmed.” Smiling, you looked up at him, taking in his appearance.

He was a pilot, that much you could tell by the tags over his black t-shirt. You’d seen him around the bar before. He’d caught your eye the moment he came in, but you had been too nervous to talk to him.

“Thank you…” Your arched brow prompted him to fill in the blank. “Rooster.” You nodded, smiling. Of course, you already knew his name, well his call sign at least. But you thought it weird to just say it, he didn’t know you.

He smiled, “You’re welcome…” He copied your previous action. “Y/N.” He repeated your name and you're certain it gave you heart eyes. “Mind if I join you?” You gestured to the space across you, “Not at all.” Rooster sat down and surveyed your set-up.

“So, you totally don’t have answer and can just tell me to fuck off,” Rooster started, taking a sip of his beer. “But, why are you outside? Alone?” You shrugged and took a gulp of the cider he brought you, “I needed a change of scenery. Artist block thrives when you look at the same four walls.” “So you picked a bar?” You smiled, glancing inside to see groups of friends laughing or engaged in friendly competition. “Not just any bar,” you said, turning back to Rooster. “I picked The Hard Deck.”

The way you said the bar’s name with such pride and fondness had Rooster’s heart beating out of his chest.

You grabbed a fry, carefully moving it so you didn’t get any cheese anywhere before shoving it in your mouth. After swallowing it, you spoke again, “The atmosphere here is just phenomenal. It’s warm and inviting, the owner works here and she does a damn good job of keeping people in line.” You looked back out to the shore, the waves frothing seafoam onto the sand.

Rooster’s breath caught in his chest at the sight before him. The golden hour sun was hitting your face beautifully, it made your hair shine and caught the different shades of (h/c) in it.

He snapped out of his trance when you moved to face him again.

“And the view is just gorgeous,” you looked at him when you said that, trying your best to be subtle but obvious at the same time. Hoping that he would question whether you meant him or the beach. He seemed caught off guard but played it off, smirking behind the rim of his bottle, “I’ll definitely agree with you on that one.” You giggled and grabbed another fry before turning to your sketchbook, typing something on your laptop.

Rooster cleared his throat and pointed to your sketchbook. “You working on something specific?” You shook your head, smirking a little bit as you looked up at him before going back to your paper. “Not at the moment, no. Just trying to get the juices flowing.” You pointed to the fries, “Feel free to take some.”

Bradley watched you work, his eyes taking in everything on your face from the way your nose twitched and your tongue pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. He saw your brow furrow before you sighed and sat back.

You groaned and ran a hand down your face. “Everything okay?” You rubbed your eyes before turning back to him, “Yeah.” He hummed, “How long have you been staring at that screen?” “A few hours? Maybe.” Rooster reached over and slowly shut your laptop, obviously giving you the opportunity to stop him.

“How about you take a break? At least from the screen.” You smiled, “Probably should take a break from all of it.” You closed your sketchbook and placed it on your laptop, facing Rooster to give him your full attention. “And getting to know someone new might be a good source of inspiration.”

He smiled and from there you both talked about yourselves. Taking turns asking questions and getting to know each other.

******

Before you knew it the bar’s crowd was thinning and you hadn’t stopped smiling.

“Rooster!” You both looked towards the door, seeing a tall blond. The blond smirked and leaned against the door, “Oh, was I interrupting something?” As you went to shake your head, Rooster nodded and spoke up, “Yes, Hangman, yes you were. We were having a very engaging conversation.” He pushed himself off the frame, plucking the toothpick from his mouth, “I’d say. You’ve been out here for hours.”

Your brows shot up as Rooster turned to you. Both of you glanced at your respective watches. “Holy shit, we have been talking for hours.” You smiled at him, “Hours well spent, I’d say.” Rooster smiled at you, “Agreed.”

Hangman looked between you two, smirking to himself. “Well, I’m glad you got the foreplay out of the way. But Penny wants to close up, so go pay your tabs and then you can go at it. I’m going home.” He patted the wood and went in.

You laughed to yourself and packed your things into your bag. Rooster frowned with worry, “Hey, don’t mind him, he’s just-” “Being Hangman?” You asked with an arched brow, humor in your voice. He chuckled in relief that you weren’t upset. “Yeah.” You nodded, “I’m sure my friend would have said the same thing.”

It was silent as you shouldered your bag and you both walked in.

He opened his mouth, but you spoke first. “Look, Rooster, I really did have a good time talking to you. But I don’t just want to be a hookup, I don’t think you want that either. Or at least I hope that’s the case.” He nodded, “Well you’re right. I don’t want this to just be a hookup. I really enjoyed talking to you.” You smiled, “Good.”

Penny walked over to where you both were at the bar. She had a playful glint in her eye, “I was wondering where you disappeared off to. Here to pay your tab?” “Yes ma’am,” Rooster said, pulling out his card. “Put Y/N’s on mine too.” Penny nodded and smiled, “I’ll get right on that.”

You shook your head, “You didn’t have to do that. Pen-” You lifted your hand to grab her attention, but Rooster pulled it down. “I know I didn’t have to. I wanted to.” You pointed a finger, grinning, “I’m paying next time. Non negotiable Lieutenant.” He hummed, “We’ll see.”

A plastic tap on the bar pulled you and Rooster from each other. “There you go, Rooster. Y/N, when will I get the pleasure of seeing you again?” “It wouldn’t be as special if I told you, would it?” She laughed and you sneakily grabbed your receipt. “I guess not. Y’all have a good night.”

Bradley nodded at her before gently cradling your arm to lead you outside.

“Which one’s yours?” You pointed to the black 67 impala. “Holy shit, you’re serious?” You nodded, smiling, “Oh yeah. But I only drive her occasionally. My dad got her for me.” You unlocked it and slid your bag across the seat, before closing it and leaning on the car. “I’ve got a Tacoma at home I drive most of the time. It’s easier to find parts for that.” Bradley scoffed, “Tell me about it.” You giggled and glanced around the parking lot. “Which one’s yours?” He pointed to his Bronco. You nodded in appreciation, “I guess I’m not the only one with good taste around here. 75?” He nodded, smiling fondly, “Yeah, it was my dad’s.”

You nodded and turned to open your door, but Rooster beat you to it. “Thank you, Roo.” “Of course.” You reached over to your bag, turning your back to Bradley, and grabbed a pen, some cash and the receipt from before. You wrote down your number on the receipt and folded it over the money to conceal it. You put it in his shirt pocket, “Here’s my number. Text me when you get home, okay?” He chuckled, “I thought I was supposed to tell you that?” “We text each other, Roo. It's a mutual concern.” He nodded and smiled, “Right. Have a good night, Y/N.” You started your car as he closed the door. “You too Rooster.”

He watched to make sure you made it onto the road safely before going to his vehicle.

Bradley climbed and pulled the folded up paper you put in his pocket. It felt thicker than he thought it should have been. He read the note on the receipt. ‘I had a great night. Text me when you get home. Keep the change ;)’ His brows furrowed in confusion and he unfolded the paper, finding the cash in it. He laughed and shook head, sliding both back into his shirt pocket and heading home.

*******

Rooster texted you when he got home and called when he got your text that you made it home. Over the next two days you talked and texted when you had the chance. And he had invited you out for drinks on Saturday. But you had to decline because you had work.

And Bradley was a little mopey because of it. “Hey, what’s got you so down man?” Phoenix asked at lunch. “He’s upset ‘cause his girlfriend can’t come to drinks tomorrow,” Hangman said with his mouth full. Phoenix arched a brow at her friend, “Girlfriend?” Rooster shook his head, pointing his fork at Hangman, “She’s not my girlfriend.” “Not yet.” “I’ve known her for two days!” Coyote sat up, “Wait, is it that girl you were talking to the other night?” He nodded, “Yeah. And she’s really cool, I kinda want to see what you guys thought of her before I actually took her out. But she’s got to work and might not be able to come out tomorrow.”

Fanboy straightened up, “Oh, yeah, I might be late tomorrow. I’ve got an appointment with my tattoo artist.” “That’s right, you told us about that the other day.” “Speaking of,” Hangman turned to Rooster. “Have you given any thought to Fanboy’s offer?” Rooster tilted his head, trying to remember. “The consultation with my artist?” “Right! Right, uh, yeah. What the hell, you know. Worth a shot.” Fanboy fist pumped. “Actually, I’m gonna call her right now. And I’ll get you all set up for tomorrow after me. Sound good?” Rooster nodded, “Perfect.”

Mickey pulled out his phone and called the tattoo shop.

*******

You sat under a LED light, the sleeves of your flannel rolled up to your elbows.

“You’re doing so good, keep it up, I’m almost done with your linework.” You praised your client as they sat still as you tattooed their ribs down to their hip. The phone rang but you didn’t get up to answer it, letting the front desk handle it.

“Y/N, it’s for you!” “I’ll be there in a minute!” You filled out the last line of the butterfly.

Turning off your machine, gently patted their leg. “I’ve got the black outlines done, I’m gonna take that call and you can do whatever you need. Go to the bathroom, smoke, get some food, what have you.” They nodded and gently adjusted their shirt, “My partner’s bringing pizza.”

“Ooooh, hope he brought enough to share!” Your coworker and friend, Finn, said as he tattooed his client. “Hush, Finn-” “Actually, he is. I had them get one of everything.” Your jaw dropped, “You’re kidding? Really? You guys spoil us!”

“Y/N, the phone?” You pulled off your gloves, “Right!” You picked it up, “Thank you for calling Island Ink. This is Y/N.” “Hey, it’s Mickey!” You smiled, “Hey, Mick! What’s up?” “I just wanted to know if you had any open slots after me tomorrow?” You pouted as you tried to remember. “I’m pretty sure, but just let me check real quick.” You jogged over to your desk.

You pulled your planner out of the wall basket and opened it on your desk. You hummed as you found the date, “Yes, I’ve got a slot open after you. Why? Do you need to move it back?” “No, no. I’ve actually got a friend that is looking to get a tattoo. He’s not really sure what he wants, has to have a plan and all that.”

You stood up and grabbed a pencil, “Well, if it has significance, they’re best to be thought out and planned.” “Exactly, so do you think you could get him in after me tomorrow?” You smiled, “Of course, what’s his name?” “Bradley Bradshaw.” You hummed, nodding as you penciled him in, “Okay, Mr. Bradshaw is set for tomorrow.” “You’re the best!” “Tell your friends.” “Thank you.” “Of course, fly safe Mick.”

He hung up first and you gave the phone back to the front desk. Before you called your client back over you cleaned up your station.

*******

Mickey slipped his phone into his pocket, smiling victoriously. “You’re in! Just come in tomorrow with me. We’re just going to pick which one I want and then go over the price and time frame. So it shouldn’t take long.” Rooster nodded, “Thanks man.”

*******

Rooster followed Fanboy to the tattoo shop the next day.

When they pulled he noticed that there was only a blue Tacoma in the parking lot. “Where is everyone?” He questioned when they got out. “Oh, yeah, she’s the only one here on Saturdays. Does it for military workers so they don’t have to rush around to leave work.” “Oh, that’s cool.”

They walked in and the floor was empty. The bell on the door chimed to let whoever was there know someone came in.

“I’ll be out there in just a second!”

That made Rooster pause. He knew that voice. He had heard that voice on the phone for the past three days.

Only to cement his suspicions, you walked out from a back room, most likely an office, with papers in your hands.

You wore something casual, wanting to be comfortable but stylish at the same time. Just a simple pair of leggings and the sleeves of a worn out, bleach stained shirt were cut off and a plaid shirt was tied around your waist.

Rooster stopped walking completely and took you in. You had ink up and down one arm in a sleeve and little tattoos on the other one. Through the hole in the shirt, he could see tattoos on your ribs, and he was sure if you were wearing shorts, you would have tattoos littering your legs.

You looked up and made immediate eye contact with Bradley. You gasped quietly and nearly dropped the papers in your hands. “Rooster, hi!”

Fanboy looked between the two of you, connecting the dots. “Wait, Rooster, is Y/N the girl you’ve been talking about the past couple days?” Rooster blinked, getting himself out of the daydream he was in to look at Mickey, “Yeah.” He looked back at you, “You didn’t tell me you were a tattoo artist.” You shrugged sheepishly and pushed your hair behind your ear, “It never really came up. Much like your name, I assume you're Bradley.”

You had never heard his name, only his call sign, around the Hard Deck. And it hadn’t come up over the past few days.

He just smiled, “Yes ma’am.” Fanboy waved his hands in the air, “Wait, how did you not tell her your name?” He shrugged, “Never came up.” You cleared your throat, “Mickey, let’s get started. Bradley, you are more than welcome to look around, get a drink from the fridge or pull up a chair at my desk.” He nodded and started to look around, seeing portfolios on the coffee table and some pieces on the walls.

A few minutes in and Bradley was sitting next to Mickey at your desk and was flipping through one of your books, listening as you went over pricing and time frame for each tattoo option.

“Hey Bradshaw?” Mickey nudged Rooster’s knee. He hummed and looked up. “Which one is more ‘Fanboy’?” Rooster sat up to get a better look at the photos. “Well, they both scream ‘Fanboy’.” “Okay, but if you had to pick one.” “Garcia, this is going on you, get what you would be happy with.” Mickey groaned, “But I’d be happy with either one of these! I’m way too indecisive for this.”

“Well,” you started, gaining both men’s attention. “Both of these would take the same amount of time to do. I could maybe combine the two. Like I could….” Any words you said after that were lost on Bradley as he watched you get so into your work.

He was brought back by Mickey. “So, we’re talking same price and same time frame to get the best of both worlds?” You nodded, “Yeah, it may take a little longer to get started. But I could work on it tonight and send it to you and see what you think?” You neatly put the rest of the ideas in a desk drawer. “Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mickey held his hand out for a handshake but you slapped it away and gave him a hug, “Of course.”

You smiled at Bradley, “Let me get him settled and then we can talk about you.” He nodded and took the seat Fanboy was sitting in. You went over to the register and handled that. “Okay, are you staying for this?” He shrugged and checked his watch, “I got time.”

Sitting down at your desk, you grabbed a notebook and flipped it open to the next clean page. You wrote Rooster’s name at the top before looking up at him, “Let’s get started.”

You twirled the pencil in your hand, “Okay, so, have you gotten a tattoo before?” Bradley nudged his nose with his knuckle as he sat up a little more, “Yes, I’ve got one on my wrist. I got it when I was 18. So, it’s been a while.”

Biting your lip, you held out your hand, “May I take a look?” He shrugged and placed his wrist in your palm, “Sure.”

You ran your thumb over the ink. “She had beautiful handwriting…”

Your compliment was breathy, but full of fondness.

Rooster smiled, “Yeah, yeah she did.” He looks from his wrist up to your face, eyes scanning your features.

In this moment, Fanboy felt like a third wheel. Seeing you two look at each other the way you were looking at each other, he thought it better to leave. Also this tattoo was very personal for Rooster; it’s for his dad, someone he had limited memories of and also talked little about.

He told Payback to call him and get him out of there.

When his phone rang both of you looked at him. He answered it quickly, “Hey PB! What’s up?” You watched him nod along to whatever was being said. “Well I’m with Rooster right now.”

Rooster waved his hand, “If you gotta go, go.” He looked at you, smiling, “I think I can handle it from here.” Mickey nodded, “Okay yeah, I’ll be right there.” He hung up, bid farewell and promptly left.

You and Rooster shared a look before laughing. “He is something else,” you said, shaking your head. “Yeah, he sure is.”

You let go of his hand and grabbed your pencil. “So, tell me what you want to get.” “I don’t know, honestly,” Rooster chuckled, looking at his lap a little sheepishly. “I’m sorry, I usually have things like this prepared…” “It’s okay, that’s what these consultations are for. Let’s try a different avenue. Why are you wanting to get another tattoo?”

Bradley clenched his jaw a little, swallowing, “My dad. I want to get a memorial tattoo for him.” You nodded, giving him a small smile in understanding, “Alright, that’s a start.” You wrote that down.

You tapped the paper with your eraser, trying to figure out how to phrase your next question. “What was he like?” You decided on just asking it as gently as possible.

Rooster chuckled a little, sighing at the end, “From what I remember… he was the life of the party, goofy, loud, bold…” You looked up at him, watching his face as he spoke. You could see the pain matched only by admiration.

“How old were you? When he passed…” “4, he was in a training accident.” You rested your arms on the desk. “I’m sorry, that must have been confusing for you. I know it was confusing for me,” you said.

Now, to be clear you didn’t mention that little fact about yourself to make it about you, but simply to show Bradley you could relate and sympathize.

He seemed to realize your goal and gave you a small smile, “Only a little. My mom had always been honest with me about things. But she made sure that I knew how much he loved me, loved us.” You nodded, smiling at him.

Bradley cleared his throat, “Do you have any memorial tattoos? Maybe you could help give me a direction to go?” You nodded, getting up to get closer to him. You sat on his left side and faced him.

Holding out your left arm, you exposed the tattooed dog tags on your bicep with a hand-written quote and signature accompanying it.

Upon closer inspection, Rooster saw that it was signed ‘Mom’.

“Your mom was in the military?” You nodded, smiling a little, “Marine Corp.” “What happened?” You tensed a little and Bradley noticed. “I’m sorry that was-” You shook your head, “It’s okay. She was in a bombing, died on the medevac. I was 5.” “I’m sorry.” You waved it off and sat back down, “It was a long time ago.”

“Tell me about your dad, or at least what stands out the most to you.”

The smile that graced Rooster's face was contagious. “He loved to play the piano. Remember when I said he was the life of the party? That’s why. He’d sing and crack jokes, everyone liked him.” You smiled, “He sounds like a great man, Rooster.” Bradley nodded, “He was.”

You wrote down piano, given that it was something they had in common. “Did he have a favorite song?” Bradley nodded, “Oh yeah, he had a lot of favorites. But-uh…” He trailed off for a second, a bittersweet smile making a short appearance.

“One of the last memories I have is him playing ‘Great Ball of Fire’ on the piano; with me on top of it singing along with him and my mom, my uncle and whoever his fling was at the time.” You both chuckled at the last part. You wrote that down too.

As you wrote little notes down, Bradley noticed a polaroid photo sitting on your desk. He picked it up and looked at it.

It was a photo of you on, what looked like, a dorm bed. You had less tattoos than you do now, but you look more or less the same.

“That was when I was in college, those were the days.” He could hear the fond smile before he looked up and saw it. “You look beautiful.” He watched the blush creep up your cheeks before smirking and looking back at the photo.

His cocky smile turned into a soft smile as he remembered his father. “My dad loved polaroids, he said they capture natural beauty in its purest form, that they memorialized a moment in a way no digital camera ever could. I couldn’t tell you how many polaroids he had of him and Mav up in the sky, or of me when I was barely walking, or of my mom when she was mid laugh.”

Tears had stung your eyes a little as Rooster confided in you.

You wrote down ‘polaroid’ and circled it. This was something you felt needed to be in the tattoo.

Rooster was still looking at the photo when he noticed what you were wearing. “Are you wearing a Hawaiian shirt?” You looked back at the photo, “Oh yeah, I wore it to bed a lot, or when I woke up.”

That put way too many thoughts in Bradley’s head.

He put the photo back, and leaned his arms on your desk. He tried not to be nosy but he couldn’t help but to glance at your notes.

He watched you place your pencil down, “Do you have any photos of him?” Bradley nodded, “Yeah, uh, just a second.” He pushed out of his chair and went to his Bronco.

When he came back he had a photo in his hand.

You gingerly took it when he handed it to you. He chuckled and rubbed his neck, “Unfortunately it’s not a polaroid. But it’s the only one I have on me.” You smiled a little and looked down at the photo.

It was a black and white photo. Nick was posed stoically in front of his plane, and you glanced from him to Bradley. “You look like him,” you said with a smile, gently sliding the photo across the desk.

Rooster chuckled and slid the photo into his shirt pocket, “I get told that a lot. I’m starting to question whether or not it's a compliment.” You smiled, “Oh it’s definitely a compliment.” Bradley arched a brow, “Are you hitting on my dad?”

Your face fell and you pointed an accusatory finger at the pilot across from you, “That was a trap.” He broke out into a laugh and you began to laugh as well.

“Oh!” Rooster reached into his pocket for his phone. You waited patiently as he scrolled through his photos. “Here,” he turned his phone around to show a photo of a photo, it was his parents and him when he was young. You held out your hand for him to place it in your hand. You took in the details, Carole wore a colorful dress, he wore a striped shirt, and Goose wore a Hawaiian shirt covered in hibiscus flowers.

You smiled, head tilting slightly, “You know, you really do look like your dad, but I can see your mom as well.” You gave him his phone back, picking up your pencil to jot something down.

Bradley’s brows raised in surprise, no one had ever told him that- save for his aunts probably. But it wasn’t something he heard often.

“You think?” You nodded, “Oh yeah, your curls and the way your eyes crinkle in the corners when you smile. But that smile is all your dad.” He smiled at you, a full genuine smile. “That one right there,” you smiled back.

Then an idea popped into your head, “What’s your favorite flower?” Bradley looked genuinely baffled by your question, “You plan on getting me flowers, Y/N?” You shrugged, “Maybe. Answer the question.” He chuckled, “Hibiscus, they were actually my dad’s favorite as well. They just help me feel close to him. But the amount of wildflowers I picked up when I was a kid was insane.” You smiled at him and quickly wrote down ‘hibiscus’ in your notes.

You sighed contently, “Okay, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of how to approach this. I’ll try to get some sketches done within the week and get back to you when I have enough.” You both stood. Rooster wiped his hands on his jeans, shaking his wrist to adjust his watch, “You know how to get a hold of me.” You smiled, “I do. Let’s get you settled.”

After he paid for the consultation and you gathered your things, you both walked out.

Rooster stood guard while you locked up the shop. “Hey, thank you for today and taking time to really sit down and talk it out with me.” You turned and smiled up at him, blushing slightly at how close you were to him, “Of course. A tattoo is a big thing, not everyone can just find something and go with it. Especially something as important as this.” Bradley smiled and opened his arms, offering a hug.

You smiled and hugged him, “I’ll talk to you later Bradley.” He rubbed your back and gave you a quick squeeze. “I’ll text you later.” He walked you to your truck and held the door open for you, helping you up into the seat.

As you started your truck, his phone went off.

“It’s Hangman, hold on.” He answered it, putting it on speaker, “Yeah?” “Hey, where are you?” “I just finished my consultation, why?” “Well, Garcia’s already here so I figured you’d be with him.” “Oh he left early.” You both heard the man pause, “So you were left with the artist by yourself?”

Both of you could hear the suggestive tone in his voice.

“Hi, Hangman,” you spoke up, a playful smirk on your face.

“Bradshaw! You didn’t tell me I was on speaker!” Then it clicked, “Wait, was that the girl from the Hard Deck?” “It is, good ears.” “Well, in that case, take your time Rooster. Bye.” Jake quickly hung up.

Both you and Bradley lost it.

When you calmed down, he checked his watch, “Hey, it’s still pretty early, do you want to head to the Hard Deck? Let me properly buy you a drink this time?” You sighed and you watched his face fall. “I’m sorry-” “No, it’s okay.” “It’s not that I don’t want to, because I do. But I need to get Mickey’s tattoo finished and then get started on yours. I really am sorry Bradley.”

He smiled softly and gently pushed hair out of your face, “Hey, don’t sweat it. Maybe we could go to lunch tomorrow?” You smiled, nodding, “Yeah, that sounds nice. Or… you could come over and have a drink at my place? Order pizza or something. I make mean mac and cheese.”

“It’s not Kraft is it? If the powder isn’t mixed in well enough the texture just- blegh,” he said, obviously teasing. “Kraft? What do you take me for? It’s shredded cheese and bowtie noodles. Only the finest for you,” you teased right back, gently punching his shoulder. “I look forward to it.”

He closed your door as you rolled the window down, “I’ll follow you?” You nodded, “Try to keep up.” You winked and he shook his head, chuckling as he patted the door, “I’ll see you there.”

********

After dinner and a few beers, you and Rooster moved to the living room.

You sat up in the corner of the couch, your work iPad in your lap as your stylist bounced between your pinky and thumb. You had both tattoos Mickey picked on the coffee table and side by side on your screen.

Bradley watched fondly as you worked. Watching you intently as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. Watching your blue-light glasses constantly moving from the top of your head to the bridge of your nose. He thought it was cute that you got so focused, seeming to forget he was there as he watched Magnum PI on your TV – the Tom Sellek version, not the reboot.

“Finally, I finished!” You called out throwing your arms up as you dropped your things onto the table. Rooster sat up, “Can I see?” You smiled, passing him your iPad, “Yes!” He smiled and took it, looking over the perfectly merged tattoo for Fanboy. “Holy shit, he’s going to love this,” he complimented as he gave you the device back.

You smiled and sent it to Mickey, relaxing back as soon as it was confirmed to have been saved and sent.

Humming you sat up, your back popping as you stretched. “Snap, crackle, pop over there,” Bradley laughed. “Oh ha ha, you sound like my dad,” you laughed back reaching for your sketchbook to start on Bradley’s.

He rested his hand over yours on the book, “Hey, you just sat there for two hours working on that. Take a breather. You can start on mine later, I don’t mind waiting.” “Are you sure?” He nodded, “I’m sure. Just relax for a minute.”

You nodded and stood up. “I’ll be right back, I need to change.” Rooster nodded and watched you leave.

He sat back on the couch, just watching TV when something caught his eye. On a bookshelf next to your TV looked to be a photo album.

Being nosy, he stood up and went to look through it. As he did he saw a bunch of photos of whom he assumed were your parents. Younger versions of them, and then photos of you when you were a kid. Photos from when your mom came home from deployments when you were barely 3.

When he turned a page, a photo caught his eye.

At first glance, he could have sworn it was you. Everything about it screamed ‘you’. But when he looked closer, more specifically at the date on the photo, he realized that this was your mother.

“I see you found my album.” He jumped at the sound of your voice, turning around, book still open in his hand. You were leaned against the wall, hands in the pockets of your sweat and oversized t-shirt thrown over your top half.

He fumbled around for an apology, “I’m sor- I just saw it- I didn’t-” “Rooster,” you smiled at him, easing his nerves instantly. “It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. If I didn’t want people to see it, I wouldn’t have put it where it was within reach.”

Bradley’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled, glancing back at the album. “You look a lot like her, your mom.” You walked over and looked at the polaroid. You smiled at it, it was the last photo you had of her. “She was gorgeous,” he said, looking at you, watching your eyes as they teared up. You let out a watery laugh, “Yeah, yeah she was.” You sighed a little, “That’s the last photo my dad took of her.”

He noticed your bottom lip begin to tremble and he put the book back. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to him. You welcomed the warmth with ease, gently crying against his chest.

“I miss her a lot. But I’m glad my parents took the time to make sure I had good memories and to capture what they could.” He squeezed you a little bit, showing you that he understood.

He grabbed the book again, “Why don’t you tell me about them?”

********

After talking for hours about memories of your mother, and him throwing in his own about Goose. You asked him to stay and once he agreed you both fell asleep on the couch.

The next day you spent a lot of time together, watching TV, he helped you clean, you got Fanboy set up for his appointment. You had breakfast and lunch together.

You had decided to rearrange your room, and Bradley provided his assistance.

As you cleaned and reorganized you found a polaroid camera your dad had gotten in the 80s.

“Bradley! Holy shit! Look what I found!” You ran up to him and showed him the camera, “This was my dad’s, he gave it to me when I moved.” Bradley carefully took it, but the excitement on his face mirrored your own, “My dad had this exact same one. I ran out of film for it though.”

You smiled and held up the box you had, showing him the unopened packages of polaroid film.

“Holy shit… Are you serious?” You nodded, smiling, “Every time we hang out- we use this camera or one of the other polaroids I have and take photos when we believe we should.” He nodded, “Hell yeah!”

******

It had been about two weeks and you were still struggling on Rooster’s tattoo. Everything you came up with, you weren’t happy with. You’d show Rooster from time to time if he was around- which he usually was. Everytime he said he liked it, but he could tell that you thought something was missing- that it wasn’t perfect.

You lost count of how many ideas you cycled through, all differing in styles. 

Nothing seemed to fit.

Until you were tattooing another client Friday night. 

She was getting a tattoo of Spider-Man holding up a camera, but he was framed by a polaroid style frame. “Oh my gosh….”

Your client looked at you, worried something was wrong with her tattoo. “What’s wrong?” You shook your head, “Nothing, nothing, I’ve just been stuck on this other client’s tattoo and I think I just got the perfect idea.” 

Later that night while you were at the Hard Deck, playing pool with Phoenix when Rooster came up behind you. “Hey, pretty baby,” he kissed your cheek. “Can you not kiss up on Y/N in front of all of us?” Fanboy teased, bringing his drink to his lips. 

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, making him yelp and hiss. His tattoo was still sensitive. “It was a cheek kiss.” 

Rooster laughed and intertwined his hand with yours, “Hey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?” It was mumbled in your ear so only you heard it. You nodded and passed your cue to Yale. 

When you got out to the back deck, Bradley turned to face you. 

“What’s up?” You asked gently, giving his hand a small squeeze. “It’s nothing serious, I promise. I just wanted to ask you in private,” he assured you. You nodded, “Okay.” “Why did you ask me to bring my dad’s tags?” 

You sighed a little, “I was wondering if I could borrow them until tomorrow afternoon? You can totally say no and I’ll understand.” “Can I ask why?” “For your tattoo, a really cool idea struck me at work today, but I physically need the tags to do it,” you explained, making sure to tell him your exact intentions.

“I can go into more detail, but I want it to be a surprise. You’ll get them back tomorrow night,” you held up your pinky. “Marines honor.” His eyes widened slightly at the promise, but he nodded and locked his picky with yours. 

He pulled the tags out of his pocket and placed them around your neck before tucking them into your (his) sweatshirt. He kissed your forehead, “I trust you.”

********

The next morning you were out and about early. You had to run by the flower shop and then go to the Hard Deck before Penny opened.

“Hey, Pen! It’s me!” You shouted as you came in. “Y/N, good morning!” She stepped out from the back, “How are you this morning?” “I’m good, I just need to get one photo. So hopefully it won't be too long.” She waved her hand, “Take your time.”

You nodded and set your stuff up. You placed both the branch of hibiscus flowers and Goose’s tags on the keys.

Stepping back you took a photo with your dad’s polaroid. You let it process before touching your props. “No, that looks weird.” You adjusted and repeated.

You’d do that about 8 times before you finally got the perfect photo.

You knew before the image became clear that this was the one.

*****

Later that night, you and Rooster were at your house.

He was lounging on the couch when you came in, a mischievous grin on your face.

Bradley skeptically chewed his popcorn, “I don’t know how to feel about that look yet.” You padded over to him, “It’s good. I promise.” You held out the tags, “First, like promised, here are your dad’s tags.” He took them and placed them around his neck, “Thank you.” You shook your head, smiling, “No. Thank you.” You pulled the photo out from behind your back. “Look!”

Rooster could feel your excitement as he took the polaroid from you. His eyes scanned it and he fell in love instantly. “It’s a beautiful picture. If it were possible, this is what I would have tattooed on me.”

You smiled and sat down, “Well, it’s a good thing you said that, because that’s your tattoo design. All I need to do is add a few more finishing touches.”

He looked at you, speechless for a moment before finally sputtering out a thank you and kissing your cheek.

“How does tomorrow sound?” He raised a brow, “Isn’t the shop closed on Sundays?” You shrugged, “Normally, but Finn is tattooing his old college buddy tomorrow so I figured that I could bring you in.”

He smiled, getting lost in your eyes as you looked up at him. “Do you do this for all your clients?” You shook your head, smiling brightly up at him, “Just you.” “Well, aren’t I special?” “You are, Bradley.”

If Rooster didn’t pay so much attention to your voice, he never would have caught the adoration in it.

He smiled at you again, placing the photo on your work folder before turning to you. “Thank you, Y/N. It really means a lot to me that you took so much time out of your life to do this.” “Of course I would, this is the first tattoo in a long time that I’ve ever felt personally connected with. I just knew I had to get it right.”

Bradley swallowed before he continued, “I think it's pretty obvious that over the course of the past month-” “I like you too, Bradley. A lot.” He sighed, his hand moving to cup your face, “Can I kiss you?” You nodded, “Please do.”

Smiling, his hand slipped to the back of your head, fingers gently tangling in the locks as his lips molded against yours.

******

The next morning, he was in your chair.

“You’ll only feel a little pinch man, it’s not too bad,” Finn said from his station. “Focus on your client Finn.” You rolled your eyes at your friend. “I would but he’s not as pretty as yours.” You arched a brow at him, “You really make it hard to believe you're straight sometimes.”

You all laughed as you focused back on your boyfriend, “But seriously, it shouldn’t be too bad. Let me know when you need a break okay?” He nodded, “Yes ma’am.” You gave him a warm smile before kissing his lips.

You prepped the area and placed the stencil on his forearm. “We’re gonna be here a while so, seriously Bradshaw. If you need a break, tell me.” He kissed your temple, chuckling, “I got it.”

Then you began and you were right, that tattoo took you nearly all day.

“It’s a good thing I added numbing cream before we started,” you laughed, as you cleaned it.

Bradley looked down at it, smiling at the blue of the hibiscus flower stood out against the brown on the piano. “It’s fucking gorgeous.” You smiled, holding up the original photo, “Want to do a comparison?” He nodded and you sat the photo on his arm underneath it. “Holy shit… if my skin wasn’t sore and puffy, I’d almost think it was the same photo.”

He looked up at you again, “Thank you, so much Honey. I love it.” There were subtle tears in his eyes, but you didn’t mention them opting to just kiss him instead.

Chuckling in surprise, he quickly reciprocated before standing up slowly.

You went to your desk to grab the fresh, clean roll of cling wrap and cut off a piece to wrap around his arm. “I’ll make sure you take proper care of that,” you said, going back to your desk.

That’s when you noticed it.

Finn had managed to find your old polaroid on your desk and snapped a beautiful moment of you and Bradley as you tattooed him.

You were tattooing him and he had obviously said something that made you laugh. Your head was thrown back and Bradley had this look of pure adoration on his face as he looked at you. “You look like your mom there,” he pointed out over your shoulder. You glanced back at him and then the photo, “And you look like your dad.”

You would take that photo home and put it in the album you had right in between a photo of your parents and a photo of his parents.

********

thank you guys for making it to the end!

i have plenty more ‘x readers’ in the drafts so if you want more let me know

and my asks are open, feel free to request what you would like to see next

feedback is greatly appreciated!

tags <3: @roosterscockpit​​ 

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #x reader #tattoos #tattoo artist!reader #top gun imagine

[wyvin666]

Tattoo Trouble

Eddie Munson X reader (they/them)

Request: Can you write one where Eddie has a crush on his tattoo artist and gets tattoos in the most painful spots to impress them, but this time he smoked before he got it and is getting a tattoo on his neck, and instantly regrets everything

a/n: defo not my best work but as a tattoo enthusiast this req goes hard. I might make a part two at some point but i just needed to finish something so my executive disfunction stops being a bitch

2.9k words

Eddie had a bit of a problem. When he had initially started getting tattoos at the only shop in Hawkins it was no big deal.  The artist was this older dude named Chris who was sweet if a bit gruff, the problem was his apprentice. About a year and a half ago Chris had taken on an apprentice and immediately Eddie was smitten. He had been a test canvas for them multiple times and now that they were fully trained he almost exclusively worked with them. 

For all his bravado Eddie was never very good at flirting when he actually cared.  He had started getting tattoos in more and more painful spots in an attempt to impress them, it was a solid step one he had reasoned, never mind that it had been almost a year and while he had become friends with the young tattoo artist he was no closer to making a move. Currently he was getting ready for yet another tattoo appointment.  For being as broke, it was kinda impressive he kept pulling together the money for new ink.  He was supposed to be getting a spiderweb tattooed across the front of his throat.  He and y/n had been hanging out about a month ago when he had said he was thinking of getting a neck piece. They had immediately began talking excitedly about this spiderweb design they had been toying with and how could he not get it. 

Eddie scrunched up his face in the mirror as he tried to fix his hair.  He thought back to his last appointment, when he’d gotten his chest piece done.  The way they had leaned over his chest as they worked on the final white highlights. He remembered swearing but remaining still as they had gone over a spot on his collar bone, the smile that had curled on they’re face as they told him he was being so good for them, if he didn’t have a praise kink before he certainly had one now.  His eyes flicked over to his nightstand where his joint case sat. surely it wouldn’t hurt to smoke a little, in fact maybe it would help him get the confidence to flirt, he had the time before his appointment. Grabbing the case and making sure his lighter was in his pocket he headed over to a little clearing in the woods behind the trailer park for a quick sesh.  

By the time he had biked over to the tattoo parlor he was definitely nicely high, he wasn’t absolutely zooted or anything but he definitely had a bit of warm fuzziness in his head and his eyes felt just a little heavy. Walking in he made small talk with Chris as he filled out his paperwork and then headed back to y/n’s room.  He had always liked the way Neurotic Needles was laid out so that each of the 3 artists and the piercer had their own little rooms, even with the windows in the wall it gave just a bit of privacy that was always nice.  

“Eds!!!” y/n stopped cleaning and ran over to give him a hug, “Sorry i’m running a bit behind today have a seat in the corner chair, you know the one, and I’ll be ready in just a sec! How’ve you been?” Eddie flopped into the chair by the boor and watched as y/n finished spraying everything down with alcohol and began cling wrapping the tattoo chair. 

“Good, good. I finished the campaign last week with hellfire and everyones pretty excited for the next arch but we decided to take a week off, some of the kids are going to visit a friend in california and I figured it would be best to do a session zero when everyone was here”  Y/n looked up from filling the squirt bottle of green soap

“I thought you were gonna keep the same party”

“We are but uh, we had a few casualties so quite a few of them are rolling up new characters.”

“Lolth too strong for them?”

“Nah I balanced the encounter right, I wanted to get some new PCs, things were getting a bit stale” that made them laugh as they pulled off their gloves, he felt like he was flying.

“Cold”

“Ice” he smiled.

“Alright!” They pulled on a new set of gloves and motioned him over. “Let's get you stenciled!” They shot some green soap onto a paper towel and disinfected the area. “Ok… you look nicely shaved so I wont go over that again… thanks for making my job easier!” they winked.

“But of course, only the best for you.” he watched them stifle a smile as they rolled over to their bench to grab the stencil and balm. Scooping out a small amount of stencil solution with a tongue depressor they smoothed it over the area.

“Now tilt your head back… Perfect! Now keep still for me.”

“You got it.” a moment of silence as they held the stencil over his neck adjusting ever so slightly and then the lightest touch on his throat followed by a soft smoothing and the crinkle of paper.  He felt them gently tap around the stencil making sure it was flush and then slowly peeled away the paper. 

“Ok,” they held up a mirror, “whaddaya think?” Eddie admired the indigo web in the mirror for a second, it was perfectly centered and had a tiny strand going down in the middle with a spider dangling on the end.

“Another perfect design”

“Shut up”

“I mean it, save some talent for the rest of us, damm.” Y/n was definitely flustered, the weed was definitely a good idea. Normally, them being flustered would make him flustered and he would freeze up but now all he could think was how nice they looked, he would say just about anything to keep the flushed look on their face. “Seriously! Talented, gorgeous, and sweet? You've got it all sweetheart.”

“Flattery won't knock your price Munson.” he couldn't help the dopey grin that spread on his face.

“Just tellin you the truth.”

“Ok pretty boy you ready to start.” he nodded and watched as they adjusted the power on their machine until it was the speed they wanted. “Let me know if you need a break at any point or if you wanna finish another day.”

“I’ll be fine, you know I sit well.”

“Yeah yeah yeah tell me again after we start.” 

As soon as the needles touched his skin he knew he had fucked up. Tattoos always hurt, a slight burning sensation and an ache bit with his heightened senses it felt like a hot poker was being shoved into his throat. He tried desperately to keep his composure but couldn't hold back a whimper or pain. Y/n, focused on pulling the line, didn't look up but he almost wished they had because maybe they would have stopped. It felt like years as they traced the line down the center or his throat and onto his chest and as soon as they pulled back the machine from his skin he was trying desperately to breath before they went back in. As they outlined the spider on his clavicle every line felt like it was burning into his actual bones. He was desperately trying to blink back tears when they finally pulled the machine away again, wiping off the area they had just gone over, not dry thank goodness.  The third time y/n went in he couldn’t help but let out a very choked fuck and they looked up and immediately looked concerned.

“Edds are you ok?” he tried his best to smile reassuringly but it must not have been convincing because y/n looked even more concerned. “I’ve been tattooing you for over a year now and I've never seen you react like this, what's up?” Eddie considered lying but between being stoned, being in pain, and being in the presence of the person he had a massive crush on made that seem like maybe not the best course of action. 

“I may have maybe smoked a joint before coming and maybe it upped my pain perception and I might be regretting all of my choices right now.” y/n sighed and pulled off their gloves.

“You beautiful idiot.”  They grabbed more green soap and began cleaning up the single line and spider outline he’d managed to stomach. “Lucky you, you were my only client today so we're gonna clean up, go get some lunch, and talk schedules and I'll finish you up later.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I'm not dealing with your squirmy high ass while I try to pull a bunch of straight lines on incredibly malleable skin.” He would have been more hurt if there wasn’t such a smile behind those words.  It also probably helped that all his stoned brain could think about was how pretty y/n’s hair was falling and that he was about to get lunch with them. Which is like almost a date. If you squint. And ignore that they went to get lunch together all the time. 

“Thanks y/n you're a god.” They walked over with a freshly cut piece of saniderm, tilted his head up and coveted the fresh ink.

“Oh I know, you absolutely owe me a joint though I’m not hanging out with you high while I'm sober, not this time anyway.” 

“Fair enough.”

“I rented Clue yesterday so we could just order dinner and watch that?” They motioned him out of the chair so they could pull off the cling film.

“Shit, I forgot that family video got that in.”

“I had Robin call me when they got it, perks of having friends that work there.” They crumpled up the ball of cling film and tossed it into the trash with the ink cap and machine grip and cover. “And my parents are out of town so we can smoke at my place. You have your j case on you?”

“Always.”

“Right then go wait outside and I’ll tell Chris I’m leaving.” They tossed Eddie their keys. “I assume you biked over?” He nodden. “You can go put your bike in my car then.”

As Eddie headed over to the car he had to restrain himself from jumping like an idiot. It's not like he had never been to y/n’s house before, in fact stoned movie nights were a staple of their friendship but as he was now realizing he had perhaps smoked more than he meant to and was definitely more intoxicated than he had intended on being but hey, more time with y/n was always a win. A few moments later y/n flopped in the car next to him.

“Keys?” he motioned to the cup holder. “Alright munson buckle up.” he rolled his eyes but obliged. “So… do we order pizza or do we stop at the diner and pick up burgers?”

“I’d vote pizza. If we get burgers the fries’ll be cold by the time we eat them and I'd rather die than eat cold fries.”

“Fair point, dramatic but fair, pizza it is then.”

“Yay!” 

Pulling up to y/n house Eddie hoped out of the car and ran around to open the door.

“And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Not as long as i'm around.”

“Oh fair sir Munson, thank you for saving me from the trouble of opening my door, my poor weak hands could never have done it without you!” 

“Shut up, I’m just trying to be nice.” y/n laughed as they walked ahead and opened the door.  

“Ok Munson lets go.”  Eddie couldn’t help but practically skip into the house.  This was gonna be a good night and who knows, maybe he’d even confess, only time would tell.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #x reader #tattoo artist!reader #kinda shit but oh well

[doctormacchiato]

Drawn to the Surface - Part 1

Inspired by @six-feet-sleep​‘s art of tattooed Silco that you can see here. Don’t try to tell me that man isn’t completely tatted up under those fancy shirts and vests. 

So many thanks to @of-the-argonath​ for supporting this. Means more than you can imagine. 

AO3

Young(ish!) Silco x Tattoo Artist!Reader SFW Next Part

__

You’ve finally finished wiping down your station and have just picked up your sketchbook, lead in hand, when you hear the bell ring out above the door to your little studio.

“We’re closed!” You call out absentmindedly as you shade in the scales of a new snake design you’ve been working on for a client. It’s several moments later when you realize that you haven’t heard the bell again. Your intruder isn’t leaving.

With an annoyed huff, you get up, sketchbook still in hand, still shading, and round the corner to emerge into the front lobby, inwardly cursing yourself for forgetting to lock the front door. That would have to be fixed.

“I said we’re closed! And I don’t take walk-ins.”

“Even for an old friend?”

Your heart skips a beat at the sly tenor of the voice, which had just enough grit that it couldn’t be described as smooth. Your shading pauses, caught in your surprise.

You’d heard so many different stories: ones that incriminate, ones that condemn. You’d told yourself they were wrong. The man you knew would have never—

But he had missed his last appointment, and every one after that. Then came the rumors, ones you wished were true and others you knew couldn’t be, and you had had no idea what to believe. He wasn’t supposed to have disappeared. That hadn’t been the plan.

Now? It’s been years. The shock and dismay have since faded into memories. What you were left with is anger, sadness, and more hurt than you were willing to admit.

Finally, you look up. Your sketchbook and lead fall from your grasp. You ignore them.

His head is cast downward when you see him, leaning against the front desk. He is exactly how you remember. Tall and lean, with a secret strength you know he possesses despite his unassuming frame.

Wiry, you had once called him.

But he’s changed too. The sides of his previous, unassuming shaggy cut have been razored short. The rest on top has been pulled back neatly with a tie, with just a few errant strands that have escaped over his forehead. You force down a memory of carding your hands through those same strands once upon a time.

Yet, you know this is not the same man that ha spent hours in your chair in the back, as you discussed everything and nothing to make the time pass. You remember each design, traced and shaded, etched permanently into his pale skin. You wonder if they’ve faded.

“Silco?” You finally say, almost like it was an accusation.

He looks up and your heart catches in your throat. He sees your expression and his gaze hardens. You don’t look away, despite the desperate need to do so.

It’s not every day you match a stare that can only be compared to molten lava as it pours out from the beneath the broken earth. Yet, despite the heat in his gaze, you are left ice cold.

You try to focus towards his right; towards the eye with the shade you remember. It’s a shade you had once drunkenly told him could have resembled the Pilt if it wasn’t so polluted or the sky if it wasn’t filled with ash and smoke. He’d laughed and you’d relished the sound, the warmth.

“It... it’s been a long time,” you manage to croak out.

He nods sharply, slowly straightening himself up, as he’s staring at you, through you. The dark scar reaches up towards his temple, carving deep valleys in his skin, all the way up towards his hairline, where the strands are tinged with grey.

“A lot has happened,” he says.

You want to ask him a million questions. Where has he been? What has he been doing? What really happened that night? But what you really want to ask him now, is how he simply could have abandoned you. 

But instead you say nothing, finally breaking his gaze to find your sketchbook on the floor. You bend over to retrieve it. Your graphite must have rolled somewhere. You can’t find it.

He watches you, but doesn’t offer to help, keeping the front desk between you both. When you finally right yourself, you hope that maybe your tongue can find the words for all of the nuanced emotions that you are feeling. You want to scream. You want to cry. 

You gather your thoughts, until you are satisfied that you will be able to string together a coherent sentence.

“What the fuck, Silco?” It comes out angrier than you had intended.

He snorts.

“Now, that’s the girl I remember.” The corner of his mouth turns up slightly, but it’s not quite a smile. Still, it feel’s like you’re falling. And you’re not quite sure how you are going to catch yourself. You know it won’t be a soft landing.

You shake your head. He’s as infuriating as you remember.

“You can’t be here. You’re supposed to be...” you falter, unsure.

“Dead?”

“That was certainly one of the options.”

“I can assure you I am not quite so easy to kill.” Silco says, his hand reaching up towards his neck before it wavers halfway and is instead shoved into his pocket.

It’s the first time you notice his attire. The material of his unbuttoned burgundy shirt may have been expensive at one point, but the edges are frayed with use and the sleeves have been sewn in several spots. Over it, he wears a patched vest that may have been black at some point, but has since faded to brown. Several golden buckles adorn it. One is broken.

He wasn’t easy to kill, perhaps, but he’s seen his fair share of hardships. That sense of sadness floods over you again.

You sigh, shaking your head. “Silco, what are you doing here?”

He stares you up and down again, as if dissecting you. You notice his eyes linger at the fresh ink across your shoulder, arching towards your neck.

He’s more intimidating than you remember, the eye certainly helps with that. But, you refuse to look sheepish in front of this man. You cross your arms as you wait for your answer, coyly raising your eyebrow at him.

“Well?”

Only his right eye narrows before he turns away, stalking out through the front door.

“Follow me,” he throws over his shoulder, and then he’s gone.

You’re surprised when you don’t take a moment to consider, instead scrambling for your keys to lock the shop behind you. You jog after him to catch up.

“Silco! Damn it, wait!”

He stops. “It’d be wise to stop shouting that name through the Lanes.”

“And it would be wise for you to actually explain what’s going on here,” you huff as you catch up to him. You refrain from reaching up to grab at his sleeve.

“Soon,” he utters.

And then, you’re following him Out of the Lanes, through back alleys and over rooftops, you’re desperately trying to keep up. It’s almost exhilarating to do this again, like you’d never even missed a day.

You can’t help admire him as he swings across a bannister and balances gracefully on the edge of a narrow stone wall. He holds his hand out for you. Without giving yourself a chance to chicken out, you jump. Your balance isn’t nearly as practiced as his, however, and you stumble, your arms swinging wildly as you slip.

But then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you forward until you’re stable.

You can feel the heat rise up the back of your neck and you snatch your hand away before he can feel it spread to your palm.

“Thanks,” you mutter, looking anywhere that isn’t him.

With a nod and a slight smirk, he’s off again, before you can even catch your breath.

“Jackass,” you swear under your breath.

You don’t question him further as you leave the Lanes. You realize you’re nearing the old cannery down by the docks. You eye the shattered windows and crumbling brick of its facade. Fitting, you muse.

Finally, you’ve reached solid ground. Soon after entering the Cannery, you reach a darkened staircase that leads underground. You hesitate, realizing where this man is taking you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Silco says with a roll of his eyes, as if reading your mind. He inclines his head towards the stairs. “Come on.”

“Thanks for the reassurance,” you scoff, as you follow him down the stairs, careful not to touch the odd purple vines that snake around the bannister.

You don’t know what you’d been expecting. Maybe a damp, cramped basement? Perhaps. What you hadn’t expected was a wide expanse of a room that you can only describe as a lair. The ceilings soar and the walls and staircase are fitted with sharp, curving metal adornments.

You find tables cluttered with several vials and other laboratory equipment. Tall, glowing vessels are filled with motionless creatures you don’t know how to describe. You cringe, not caring to find out.

The air is slightly sweet, not the moldy, musty smell you would have predicted.

Silco waves and you follow his line of sight to a gaunt man with safety goggles crouched over one of the desks. The man nods back before returning to his work.

“Don’t mind him.”

You nod sharply, before turning back to Silco, who is stalking towards the edge of the room.

Your reply catches on your lips, however, when you notice movement behind what you had originally pinned as a wall. It’s not a wall, however, but glass, a window to what must be the River Pilt behind it.

Before you even realize what you are doing, you’ve stepped right up to the window, pressing your palm against the glass. Your eyes widen as your jaw grows slack.

You never knew anything could even grow that huge.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Only Silco’s low timber would be enough to break the trance you’ve found yourself in, staring out into the depths. You tear your gaze away to find his own boring into you.

“I...” You stutter. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. No one knows they’re there? How... how are they so big?”

Silco chuckles softly at that, which surprises you.

“I suppose they’re not the only creatures cursed by Piltover’s runoff.”

You quickly glance to his scarred eye, before catching yourself, biting at your bottom lip as you turn back to glass. In the distance, you see several long limbs, tentacles, dancing through the water. You swallow hard.

“I mean, thanks for the view,” You start, “But you can only imagine what I’m feeling with all of,” you wave your arm in arc over your head. “this.”

You mindlessly take a step towards Silco, who is now staring down at you past his nose. “A mysterious man, who was either dead or who I’m supposed to wish should be, showing up on my proverbial doorstep, a nighttime stroll over rooftops, giant monsters in an underground lair—”

You’re rambling, you realize, and so you take a deep breath. You take another step towards him, though you’ve crossed your arms again.

“I just... I’m still waiting on some answers here.”

Silco is motionless for several moments. His mouth opens and closes several times, and for once, you think he is uncharacteristically at a loss for words. He’s nervous, you realize. Somehow, that notion emboldens you slightly. You’re on more level playing ground.

“How... No matter what you did, what Vander did, whatever happened between you that day...”

You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before Silco’s eye narrows and he shies away, turning sharply as he stalks to the center of the room, his back towards you. His shoulders are set back a little too far, his posture a bit too tight, hands clenched in fists.

He runs his hand over his hair to smooth back a piece that had fallen from the tie.

You wait in silence, to finally get the answers you’ve waited years for.

“The thing is...” He falters.

You only barely restrain yourself from throwing your hands around his bare neck and strangling him.

“I was hoping I could... commission some work from you.” It’s said softly, shyly almost.

That doesn’t stop the scoff that wells up in your throat before you’re able to stifle it. You stare him up and down, dissecting the state of his clothes, suddenly realizing that you have the power here. It’s refreshing.

You strut up to him. He can surely hear your footsteps, but seemingly refuses to turn around to look at you.

“Are you sure you can afford me?”

“Don’t be insulting,” he replies firmly over his shoulder, turning his head just enough to catch a glimpse of the scarred eye.

“So that’s it?” You say, undeterred. You don’t hesitate this time as you wrap your fingers around his arm, pulling, forcing him to look at you. “After all this time, you could have just come into the shop like a normal person, and made an appointment.”

He’s quiet for a moment, staring down at you. You stare back.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, fine,” you concede. “Still, did you really need to drag me halfway across the Undercity to make your point? I’m sure there are plenty of places that we could have found a bit of privacy.”

Instead of answering, Silco shifts his gaze to your hand, which has found itself in a vice grip around his firm bicep. He arches his right brow back towards you. You release his arm as if burned.

“Sorry... I—“

“Don’t be.”

“I uh...” you mutter as you walk over to one of the chairs by the edge of the room, throwing yourself into it. To think you thought you were going to get some sort of answers from this man. You’ve finally found you’re exhausted. Focus on what you’re comfortable with.

“Do you have any—“ you sigh. “What were you thinking of getting done?”

Silco’s follows you over. You don’t appreciate how he now looms above you. He seems to notice, however, and pulls up a chair besides you, straddling it, folding his arms over the back of the chair. 

“Why do you think I brought you here?”

At that, you follow his gaze back to the sea creatures drifting out in the dark waters.

“So... sea creatures? That’s what you want done. Gotta spot in mind?”

Silco nods.

“All of it.”

“You mean?”

“All of it.”

#silco x f!reader #reader insert #tattoos as therapy #Drawn to the Surface #Silco with tattoos #Tattoo Artist!Reader #Post-betrayal #Pre-Act I #Silco #Reader #Fanfic

[dreamlandcreations]

Artist aesthetic

biker!Billy Russo x tattoo artist!Reader

• moodboards masterlist • • moodboard challenge masterlist •

#firefly moodboard challenge #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #moodboard #moodboards #billy russo moodboard #aesthetic #alternate universe #biker!Billy Russo x tattoo artist!Reader #biker!Billy Russo #tattoo artist!Reader #my stuff #my boards

[aakeysmash]

Tattooartist!Sukuna who is so used to being ogled by girls that he’s on the verge of putting his 2 weeks’ notice in. He knows he’s hot, muscular, breathtaking even (like some girl said while sitting on the studio chair and trying to get in his pants), but people piss him off, both men and women. He wishes he could just ink them up and never see them again.

And when he sees you staring at him from across the room he’s sure you’re about to say the same shit every other girl has said in the past three years he worked at the studio. But he’s utterly surprised when, instead, you turn around and close the door behind you.

He waits for you to come back, because you do have a tattoo appointment, but you don’t. That’s why he presses his ear against his door to listen to you trying to reschedule your appointment when there’s another tattoo artist instead.

He gets out and leans on the door, making himself visible, and when the girl at the reception asks you why you want to reschedule you look at him while saying “I just don’t think he’s professional enough to make what I’m looking for.”

And now you’re pissing him off, because he’s good at what he does and he knows it. So he comes closer to you, trying to intimidate you with his height, and slowly challenges you saying how he will get your stencil done for free. If you don’t like it he will personally pay for your tattoo, no matter the price. You accept the challenge, tattoos are super expensive these days, what do you really have to lose?

And that’s how you find yourself in his bedroom getting pounded from the back, your fresh tattoo on your spinal column.

“Thought you said I wasn’t professional enough, mh baby?” He whispers in your ear. “Looks like you enjoyed the tattoo, yeah?”

Between moans you manage to slightly turn around and kiss him on the lips. While you’re still close to his face you smirk.

“Looks like you’re enjoying it more than me.”

You feel his dick jump at your provocative tone, and he picks up his pace while standing back up. He slaps your ass, hard, earning himself a squeal before feeling your pussy cream on his dick.

“Fuck yes I do.”

#sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna jjk #tattoo artist au #sukuna x you

[msgexymunson]

The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson. 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering. 

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me. 

8k words

Masterlist Part 2

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’. 

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’. 

Weird. This does not look like a printers. 

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly. 

Oh. 

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop. 

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors. 

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it. 

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look. 

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’. 

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare. 

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.” 

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?” 

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare. 

“Really? You?” 

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance. 

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?” 

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over. 

“You can let go now princess.” 

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing. 

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume. 

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up. 

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.” 

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac. 

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!” 

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips. 

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?” 

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again. 

“Are you immediate start?” 

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-” 

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.” 

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.” 

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you. 

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it. 

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this. 

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations. 

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.” 

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.” 

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time. 

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad. 

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled. 

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place. 

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that? 

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand. 

Oh I'm not falling for that again. 

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed. 

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.” 

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.” 

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here. 

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms. 

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him. 

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.” 

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away. 

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.” 

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing. 

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie. 

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie. 

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?” 

“Any appointments with Eddie?” 

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?” 

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back. 

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm. 

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?” 

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?” 

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.” 

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement. 

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!” 

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back. 

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!” 

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind. 

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand. 

“Hey, how you getting on?” 

“I'm good, just bored.” 

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?” 

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers. 

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.” 

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe. 

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown. 

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.” 

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.” 

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.” 

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe. 

Right, let's just play nice. 

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing. 

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light. 

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.” 

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you. 

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?” 

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-” 

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo. 

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing. 

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.” 

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step. 

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people. 

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe. 

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots. 

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were. 

“Morning Eddie.” 

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words. 

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him. 

“I'll be nice if you will.” 

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee. 

“I'm sorry Eddie.” 

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs. 

“Are you sorry…?” 

“What for?” 

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away. 

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop. 

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face. 

“Yeah, how do you know?” 

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client. 

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again. 

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move. 

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first. 

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?” 

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?” 

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.” 

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.” 

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.” 

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement. 

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?” 

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.” 

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?” 

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.” 

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process. 

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word. 

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you. 

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson. 

“So, questions. Can I go first?” 

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin. 

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?” 

“23.” 

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.” 

Act younger is more like it. 

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.” 

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling. 

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?” 

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow. 

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.” 

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink. 

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.” 

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask. 

“How did you start working here?” 

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.” 

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look. 

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.” 

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen. 

“What band is that?” 

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt. 

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.” 

“Oh, what do you play?” 

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.” 

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?” 

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away. 

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red. 

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply. 

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.” 

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing. 

“Your turn princess.” 

“I don't want to play anymore.” 

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.” 

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?” 

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.” 

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.” 

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.” 

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused. 

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you. 

“All done.” 

“Huh?” 

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.” 

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip. 

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.” 

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.” 

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second. 

“Eddie what do I owe-” 

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him. 

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line. 

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap. 

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, what is it Miss?” 

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?” 

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him. 

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.” 

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer. 

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear. 

“What you up to, princess?” 

“Fuck!” 

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach. 

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look. 

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass. 

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!” 

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal. 

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.” 

Pouting, you hit him on the arm. 

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-” 

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands. 

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home. 

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you. 

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing. 

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door. 

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it. 

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.” 

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest. 

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away. 

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?” 

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself. 

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?” 

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.” 

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist. 

“For your modesty. Come with me.” 

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried. 

“What's going-” 

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?” 

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods. 

“Not a problem.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth. 

“I'll be right back.” 

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin. 

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar. 

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” 

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.” 

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.” 

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal. 

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.” 

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you. 

“Eddie, we're still working I-” 

“It's one beer. It's alright.” 

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?” 

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug. 

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.” 

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier. 

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.” 

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?” 

“Come on, don't make me say it.” 

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you. 

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.” 

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty. 

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull. 

“And I'm the Easter bunny.” 

Giggling, you take another sip of beer. 

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.” 

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?” 

“I promise.” 

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough. 

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?” 

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar. 

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles. 

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.” 

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes. 

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.” 

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings. 

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.” 

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it. 

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.” 

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.” 

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.” 

“We can keep it professional.” 

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord. 

“Professional? You?” 

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.” 

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words. 

“You're really confident.” 

“You haven't seen what I can do.” 

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.” 

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.” 

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need. 

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?” 

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?” 

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind. 

“Final rule. No kissing.” 

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?” 

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.” 

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out. 

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness. 

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it. 

Those theories are put to bed on day three. 

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?” 

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes. 

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely. 

“Maybe.” 

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. 

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.” 

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands. 

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.” 

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards. 

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision. 

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?” 

“Hey princess.” 

“Come on up.” 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy. 

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles. 

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?” 

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table. 

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.” 

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.” 

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. 

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt. 

“Yeah, you know who they are?” 

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.” 

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.” 

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.” 

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve. 

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own. 

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms. 

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him. 

 “Come on then, sit down.” 

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed. 

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?” 

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?” 

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?” 

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes. 

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him. 

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more. 

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?” 

“Porn, sweetheart.” 

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.” 

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him. 

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-” 

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.” 

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.” 

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?” 

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.” 

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?” 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.” 

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm. 

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop. 

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?” 

“Alright.” You whisper. 

“You comfortable?” 

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.” 

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine. 

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed. 

“Now just chill sweetheart.” 

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck. 

“Fuck, that's really nice.” 

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed. 

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word. 

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe. 

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!” 

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment. 

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.” 

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck. 

“I- I haven't decided yet.” 

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core. 

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him. 

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?” 

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words. 

 “N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.” 

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.” 

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast. 

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point. 

“Really?” 

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back. 

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand. 

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more. 

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass. 

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you. 

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples. 

“Holy hell!” 

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach. 

“Eddie, please.” 

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit. 

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest. 

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?” 

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs. 

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel. 

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more. 

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?” 

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple. 

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess. 

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison. 

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control. 

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-” 

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him. 

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent. 

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair. 

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.” 

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-” 

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up. 

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light. 

“What do you mean sweetheart?” 

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...” 

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.” 

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief. 

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again. 

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.” 

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.” 

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.” 

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting. 

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #tattoo artist eddie munson #tattoo artist!eddie #teach me/show me Eddie #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem reader

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling

(Part 2)

Pairing: mob!Bucky x female!tattoo artist!reader

Summary: It’s gonna be a busy day. Giving a tattoo to a mobster that broke into your home was nothing compared to the fact that you can’t stop thing about how fucking hot he is.

Warnings: lots and lots of swearing, mention of crime (duh), fights, broken bones, tattoo needles, threats, think that’s it.

Part one ⬇️:

A/N: AAHHHH the response to part one was actually insane!!!! I hope this second part is good enough. Love u all <3

———————

Bold is reader’s thoughts.

Italics is Bucky’s thoughts.

The size of the tattoo is in inches.

———————

Walking to the shop, your thoughts were running a mile a minute. Holy fuck, what the fuck, did last night actually happen?, James Barnes is gorgeous and made falling asleep last night really fucking difficult, screw him for making me all hot and bothered. Asshole. But one persistent one came screaming to the front- how the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank?

Unfortunately there was not a lot of time to come up with an answer to that, the shopfront coming into view as you turn the corner. Jigsaw Ink stood proud in the middle of the busy Brooklyn street, the black paint of the walls in stark contrast to the pastel pink of the florists’ to one side and the baby blue of the cafe the other.

The shop was a second home to you, the couch at the front becoming a bed for you sometimes after a night out, or if Caleb was being an ass. Frank was nice enough to let you crash when you needed, trusting you with his business. Frank, and the other two artists at the shop, Billy and Curtis were like family - a weird combination of protective older brothers and best friends who were terribly bad influences on you.

The bell on the door rang when you opened it and there was a yelled “Y/N? That you?” from a deep voice at the back of the room.

“Yeah Frankie, it’s me. I thought Billy was supposed to be here, not you?” You yelled back, moving behind the counter toward your station, dropping your bag and taking off your jacket.

“He was, but he managed to get his ass knocked out last night so he’s taking the day off,” Frank replied laughing, walking out from the back towards you.

“What? Is he ok?” You ask, giving Frank a hug when he got closer.

“Managed to piss somebody off at a bar, not really sure what happened, but he’s fine. Just stupid,” he replied, patting your back as you release him.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love the guy but he is an idiot I swear, you can guarantee it was his fault as well,” you say.

Frank chuckle and nods as a response, “yeah I bet. Hey , you got many appointments today?” He asks.

Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to tell Frank Castle - literally the most protective man on earth - that I had to move all of my appointments to next week because a damn mobster broke into my house and demanded I gave him a tattoo today.

“…uh. No just the one, I had to move the rest,” you answer, praying to whoever was listening that Frank wouldn’t ask any questions.

“Why’s that?”

Fuucckkkk.

“Umm..no reason really..” your mind went completely blank, the only thing running through you head were those goddamn blue eyes.

“Kid, what’s going on?” Franks’ eyes narrowing, seeing straight through your bullshit response.

Ughhh. Change the subject right now. “Y’know you call me kid all the time, you’re not that much older than me Frankie. I mean there’s only-”.

“You’re ramblin’ kid. The fuck is going on?” He says, all sense of humor him from his voice.

Ah, there his is, protective Frankie coming in full force.

“Shit. Ok so here’s what happened-” you tell him the full story, coming home from work to see a dangerous criminal chilling in your apartment, the fear that came with that lovely surprise, Caleb’s debt, the weird philosophical conversation, the tattoo talk. All of it.

Of course, excluding the part where you found yourself extremely attracted to the fucking mobster, his weirdly slightly comforting presence, and the fact that the memory of those blue eyes where all you could see as your hand slipped between your legs before you fell asleep.

To be fair to the man, Frank listened to every word you had to say, not interrupting one. But you could see on his face every single emotion he was feeling, the main one being just straight up confusion.

“Lemme get this straight. The fucking Winter Soldier broke into your house last night and is coming in for a tattoo in..” he checked his watch as he spoke, “..an hour?”

“..yeah.” Hit the nail on the head there Frankie.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his hand over his face in an act of desperation.

“Yep.” You say, patting his arm to try and reassure him.

“Alright, I’m gonna be here the whole time, don’t you worry about that kid. You’re gonna be fine.” He assures you, obviously worried about you.

“I know that Frankie, and if it’s any consolation, he didn’t seem all that bad.” You answer.

“Not that bad?!” He almost shouts, and incredulous look on his face, “Y/N he’s a fucking gangster. He’s fucking danger-“

“FRANK!” You yell, the only way to cut off his tirade before it starts. “I know that, but last night he didn’t do anything bad,okay, and if he wanted to hurt me, he definitely would have done it by now. I’ll be fine Frank, I’ll just give him the tattoo and that will be it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta set everything up.” You say, moving back to your station, beginning to grab everything you need.

“Holy fuck kid, how are you not freaking the fuck out right now?” He whisper shouts, running one hand up and down his head.

“I’m not sure. I think…I think I trust him not to hurt me. It’s weird, but my gut’s telling me I’ll be fine.” You answer, starting to print some different sized stencils.

“Kid your brain is brok-” Frank starts to say but he’s cut off by his phone ringing. He pulls it from his pocket and says “Shit, it’s my kids’ school, I gotta take it.”

You wave him off, Frank answers the phone with a sigh.

He walks off to the back of the shop, leaving you to finish setting up your station. Frank talks for a minute and wander back towards you.

“My girl got into a fight at school, Maria’s busy at work so I’ve got to go get her,” he says, dragging his hands down his face, in a way only an exasperated father could.

“Oh my god is she ok?” You ask.

“She’s fine, but apparently she broke some little shitheads nose for picking on her friends,”

“Like father, like daughter then,” you respond with a laugh.

“Can the people I care about stop getting themselves in dangerous situations for like five goddamn seconds.” Frank says, throwing a pointed glare your way.

“Frankie, how many times, I’m gonna be fine alright, go get your kid and -I dunno- take her out for ice cream, tell her she did good.” You say, pushing him to the door.

“Only if you’re one hundred percent certain you’ll be fine.” He says, already pulling his jacket from the hook.

“I’m good I swear, now go!”

“Ok ok I’m going, stop pushing me” he says, leaving the shop and letting the door fall closed behind him, the bell ringing as it did.

Only a minute passed before your phone pinged with a text.

James:

Have you already forgotten about me that quickly doll?

Send me the address to the shop

Now… please

Fuck me. Why does just his text give me fucking butterflies. Ugh. How irritating.

You send him the address and his response is cheeky as shit.

James:

See you at 1 doll, you better be wearing something pretty for me.

Little shit.

————

You had the music in the shop bumping, using it to help calm your pounding heart, adrenaline starting to get the best of you. Your favourite song came over the speakers so you turned it up and started to dance a little, knowing that you had at least 10 minutes before Barnes turned up. Unfortunately this action caused you to miss the ringing of the bell on the door.

Holy shit - ink and a show, today is going better than expected already.

Bucky slowly let the door close, trying not to disturb the dancing girl he couldn’t get out of his head. He lent against the wall, just watching and waiting…and staring.

Shaking out your hands to get rid of any nerves, you turn and nearly scream when you see Barnes stood at the door.

“Oh god, sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” you say, subtly looking him up and down and damn he looks good. Ever the powerful mobster, he wore a black suit, his black shirt had no tie and was unbuttoned at the top. His hair was slicked back from his face, opposite to how it was the night before. This was the other side of him, the business man - James Barnes: the face of multiple charities, the man that law enforcement could never seem to put behind bars. Last night you met the threat, the assassin, and you may be one of the first in his history to survive a meeting with the Soldier.

“No problem doll, I was enjoying the show,” he says, pushing off of the wall and stalking towards you.

Oh my god, “oh..ok, well I have everything set up and ready so if you’re ok to start I say let get going,” you respond, turning to the part of the shop where your station was, nerves flooding back, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

“Damn girl, not even any small talk?” He asks, slowly following you to the table.

“Oh sorry, I would have asked how your day has been so far, but I didn’t want you to think I was prying into your business. I wouldn’t want you to think I was being disrespectful ab-”

“Ramblin’ again doll, thought I told you that you don’t need to be afraid of me,” he said softly, sounding genuine. “I know what people say about me, I understand why you would be nervous, but I just ask you to not believe everything you hear, ok doll? I’m not who they say I am.” His tone was gentle, almost tired but still pleading, hoping you believe him.

“So you’re not a mobster?” You ask, voice low and calm.

“Oh no I am,” he responds with a small laugh, “I am, and I do what gangsters do. But I am not the ruthless animal I’m made out to be, doll I’m just not. I do what needs to be done.”

His voice breaks slightly on the pet name. His tone is so sincere and tired. Oh my..he’s telling the truth. It actually affects him to hear that about himself.

“Ok,” you respond, siting on your stool next to your station and the table, looking up at him with no fear in your eyes, trusting his words.

“Ok? That’s your response?” He asks, moving around the table to sit on it directly in-front of you.

“Yeah. What did you want me to do Barnes, not believe you?” You ask, all fear gone from your voice.

“Of course not,” he says, confusion laced in his voice, his eyebrows furrowed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to believe me immediately, shit you were scared of me like a minute ago.”

“I know but I think I trust you? You haven’t done anything to me, y’know other than breaking into my apartment. I trust you when you say you’re not someone I should be afraid of.” You answer truthfully.

“…good.” He says, at a loss of what to say next.

“Good. So, Barnes, are we doing this or what?” You ask.

“Yeah let’s do it doll, and please, call me Bucky.” He responds, shrugging off his jacket, folding it and placing it on the head of the table. You had to make a conscious effort to not stare at the way his arms filled out his shirt, but damn it was hard. He sat silently waiting for you to talk.

“Ok..Bucky.. tell me about what size and what placement you want for this.” You say, “I printed some sizes out because I wasn’t sure what size you wanted, and I can reprint or adjust it based in what you want.”

“Oh you a real professional, huh? Not gonna lie to you doll, that serious voice is kinda getting me goin’” he says, smirk on his face, leaning back on his arms, lifting his hips and moving slightly on the table.

Fuck me, what is this man doing to me? He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s talking again.

“I want to get it on my forearm, the inside, and I think that size looks good,” he says, pointing to the 10x8 you printed.

“Ok that sounds good, which arm were you thinking?”

Silence. He stares down at you, an unreadable look on his face. You break eye contact and then freeze.

Shit. Shit. You dumbass. Which arm? Which fucking arm? Are you kidding? I can literally see his metal fucking hand. Oh dear god.

The silence between you goes on for entirely too long. You’re not sure whether you should apologise or wait for him to speak first. You weren’t sure if he would be offended, having a reminder of his injury.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just continues to stare down at you, that blank look on his face. Looking back up at him, you start to apologise but the words get caught in your throat. His eyes. He couldn’t control them the same way he did his face, tons of different emotions flowing through them, none lasting long enough for you to understand before another one took its place.

If only you knew what he was actually thinking. She asked which arm. She knows about my arm, everyone does, but she still asked. She forgot. The arm is all people see, a weapon, an instrument used to inflict nothing but pain. It’s all people see, but she forgot. That’s not what she sees. Maybe…maybe she just sees me.

He’s shuts his racing thoughts down, fully aware of how awkward the silence was becoming. “I’m thinking my right arm might be a little easier for you doll,” he says, an amused look crossing his face, his tongue poking his cheek.

You open your mouth to apologise for your mistake but he holds up his right hand and says, “and please, you don’t have to apologise like I know you’re going to, we’re all good darlin’.”.

He’s gotta stop with the pet names before I melt.

“Ok, uh, are you sure, because I honestly meant no disrespect or anything. I-,” you start, but Bucky cut you off quickly.

“Darlin’, what did I just say?” A stern tone coats his words and goddamn does it send a shiver down your spine. You internally roll your eyes and look away, back to your station, when you feel two warm fingers on your jaw, turning your head back to looks at him. Holy fuck. He places his thumb on the other side of your jaw, forcing you to keep looking at him as he leans in closer. His voice was low when he said, “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, Y/N, what did I just say?”

Jesus fucking wept. Somehow his use of your name made your heart pound, and the fact that his hand was so warm and strong holding onto your face.

“You said we’re all good..” you answer trailing off at the end of your sentence. His eyes don’t move from yours for a second.

“And?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Christ alive.

“I don’t have to apologise..” you say, eyes flicking between his and falling to his lips for a second and then back to his eyes.

“That’s right darlin’,” his eyes dropped to your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his lip. “So stop, okay?” He says, lifting your chin to catch your eye.

“Yes sir.” It’s an automatic response but you can’t help but be a little proud of yourself when he lets out a small throaty growl at the name.

“Careful doll.” He responds, letting go and leaning back, “How about we get started before I do something you regret, hmm?”

Like I could regret you.

You turn back to your station to try and clear your head of all the dirty thoughts running wild. “Ok.. Bucky, if you could roll up your sleeve so I can wipe the area, I’ll place the stencil and you can check if it’s where you want it to be.” You say, not used to the name he said to call him by.

“Mhm,” he hums, releasing the cuff link on his right sleeve, his prosthetic catching the glare of the light above, the plates shining. He places the cuff link in the pocket of his jacket and begins rolling up his sleeve and folds it at his elbow.

You clean the area and place the stencil straight on his arm, and peel it off.

“There’s a mirror on the wall over there, you can check if it’s alright.” You say.

“Okie dokie doll,” he responded the furrowed his brows, like he was confused at why he said that, not very gangster of him.

I like him. He says okie dokie.

“Looks good there darlin’, and as much as I hate to say it, we gotta speed this up a little, I’m expecting a call at some point around 2:30 and I’d prefer you not have to hear it.” He says, coming back to the table, sitting down and swinging his legs up onto it.

You take his arm, putting it on the rest in a position easiest for tattooing while saying “Why’s that? Would you have to kill me if I overheard your call?” You ask, enough humor in your voice for him to know you’re joking.

“Probably, depends how much you hear.” He said, completely deadpan. He looks at you and you have the strangest feeling that he actually wouldn’t hurt you either way.

“Shit ok. Is that position comfortable for you?”

“I’m all good darlin’, let’s go,” he says, adjusting his position on the table slightly. His left arm rests across his stomach as he sits on the table, leaning against the backrest, his ankles crossed.

“Ok I’m gonna do a small line so you know how it feels,” you look at him and he nods. You draw a line about 2 centimetres long then stop, “how’s that?” You ask.

“Ain’t nothin’ doll, keep goin’.” He responds.

“Ok here we go.” You say, getting back to it.

————

You’ve been tattooing for about 40 minutes, and there hasn’t been a word spoken between the both of you. His arm kept flexing whenever you moved away, and he kept clenching his jaw, like he was in pain but was refusing to admit it, even to himself.

“Are you ok? We can stop for five if you want a break? I’ve just finished the outline so I’ve got to change needles anyway.” You ask, disrupting the silence between you, moving the machine away from his arm so you can switch to a higher grouping for the blackwork.

“I’m fine Y/N, how much longer do you think it’ll take?” He asks, moving his head to look at the outline that you had completed.

“Oh it’s hard to say, but probably another 30 at least,” you respond, looking at him while he was admiring the tattoo so far.

God he’s pretty.

“Shit.” He says, rubbing his forehead with his other hand.

“Are you worried about your call?” You ask calmly.

“Not worried about the call itself… just having to do it here may cause some issues.” He responds, lowering his hand to his thigh.

“Because I’m here? I can go to a different room if you want?” You say, placing the machine back on your station, and turning to look at him fully.

“It’s ok doll, to be honest with you, nothing that needs to be said will make any sense to you anyway, and I mean that in the least offensive way possible.” He says, looking at you with apologetic face, tilting his head slightly. “But depending on the news I get, I wouldn’t want my reaction to… scare you.”

“Oh.. well I guess we’ll see when your call comes.” You answer, unsure of how to react to that.

————

The sharp ringing of his phone interrupts the sounds of the machine. You move the machine away from him, turning it off so he could speak freely without noise.

“I really am sorry about this darlin’, but it’s important-”

“Answer it then, it’s fine Bucky.” You cut him off, concerned he was going to miss it if he kept talking.

He gave you another apologetic look, and then turned his back to you to get off the table and answer the call.

You sat in silence as he started to speak.

“Rogers, what did ya find?” His voice changes from how he speaks to you, deeper and more serious.

The person on the other line speaks for a moment before Bucky responds, “we already knew that, didn’t we? What new information did you find?”

Silence.

“Of course he is..,” there is anger in his tone now, “get someone to tell the asshole he can threaten what he likes, I’m not sitting down with him.”

A moment goes by and you think that may have been the end of it, until you see his shoulders tense and-

“FUCK NO!” He shouts, making you jump a little.

“No Rumlow Gets Nothing, I don’t give a shit what he’s doing… Then send the commissioner a goddam gift basket Steve, some portraits of his family would be nice, remind him why he pays us the fucking protection fee.” He seethes at the man down the phone.

This should not be turning me on, shit.

“For fucks sake… Walker is nothing Steve, just some fucking Nazi junkie with a rich daddy, trying to get his hands on my shit…get Nat to bring his ass in, I’ll deal with it Steve… I said I’d deal with it.”

His tone on the last sentence sends a shiver down your spine, what the fuck does ‘deal with it’ mean?

“Ah shit is he ok?” Bucky asks, tone soft now, caring even, “Damn, he’s gonna be out for blood now.. good for him.. give Clint the week off, find the guys and give the pricks to him, let him get out some of his pent up craziness out.”

Oh Clint sounds fun.

“Ok, alright I gotta go now man. Yeah I’m at the shop… nah it’s nothing..yeah ya did… ok fuck off now.. later man.”

He hangs up the phone, takes a death breath and pinches the place between his eyebrows, his other hand going to his hip. He stands like that before he turns back to you, with a small awkward smile. That was cute.

“Sorry about that doll, hope I didn’t upset ya,” he says, walking around the table and looking down at you.

“You didn’t. I gotta ask though, is your friend or whoever ok?” You ask, not bringing up the start of the call where the man in-front of you all but admitted to a multitude of crimes - blackmail, extortion, supplying drugs. He sounded different- genuine when he asked if the man was ok. It was sweet.

“Clint? Yeah no he’s fine, got jumped last night so he’s pissed about it, but he’s ok, worst thing he got were some nasty bruises and a broken finger.” Bucky responds, confusion on his face, wondering why you care.

“How did he break a finger?” you ask, moving backwards as he sits back on the table.

“Oh he didn’t go down without a fight, clocked one of them on his way out,” he says with a small chuckle.

“Ah, good for crazy Clint,” you say with a smile.

Bucky let’s out a sharp quick laugh, “that exactly what I thought doll,” he says, leaning back and putting his arm on the rest, “ready when you are.” He adds.

Ok right back to it. Got it boss.

“Ok, should only be about 10 more minutes.” You say.

“Alright doll.” He answers, leaning his head back on the rest, tilting his head so he could watch you.

Ten minutes later you were finished, putting your machine down for the final time.

“Okie dokie, I’m all done. Have a look in the mirror, see what ya think,” you say, hoping he liked it, not much you could do about it if he didn’t.

He moves over to the mirror, checking out his new ink, twisting his arm around to see it fully. He’s silent for a little while before he says, “fuck doll, you’re a damn artist.”

“Does that mean you like it?” You ask, failing to hide the hope in your voice.

“I love it. Couldn’t have asked for a better one for my first piece.” He says, walking forwards to stand in-front of you, letting you wrap the fresh tattoo, handing him a leaflet on aftercare as you talk.

“You’re shitting me,” you say, “was that seriously your first one?”

“Yeah, why are you so surprised darlin?” He responds, tilting his head.

“I don’t know, just sorta thought you’d have them all over.” You answer.

“All over, huh. You been thinking about me naked doll?” He says with a cheeky grin, talking half a step closer to you.

Shit.

“What, n-no of course not, why would I do that. I mean I’m sure you look good - uh fine.. naked but I don’t-” you cut yourself off before you embarrass yourself anymore.

“No, no ramble on Y/N please, I’m really enjoying watching you try to figure your way out of the grave you’re digging right now,” he says, chucking lightly.

“Shut up Bucky, leave me alone” you responds, looking down at your feet.

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, again, and add pressure until you’re looking up at his eyes, “don’t ever try and tell me what to do, darlin, I don’t tend to respond well to it. I won’t ‘shut up’ and I’ll never ‘leave you alone’… I like ya too much for that.” He says, sounding like a mix between a threat and a compliment.

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, not sure how to respond to his words.

He can tell that you don’t know what to say, so he mercifully breaks the silence. “I love the tattoo doll, it’s looks amazing. You’ve got a talent Y/N.” He drops his hand from your chin as he speaks.

“Thank you, Bucky. It means a lot.” You answer sincerely.

“How much do I owe you sweetheart?” He asks, reaching into his jacket for his wallet.

That’s a new one.

“Uh, say $180?” You respond.

“$180? Damn you gotta charge more than that doll,” he says pulling some bills from his wallet.

He hands you the bills and says “now that’s for today and it should cover next time too, take half for now and half for then.”

You’re stunned by the fact that he’s already planning for next time but your jaw actually drops when you look at the bills.

They were hundreds.

“Woah I think you gave me the wrong bills,” you say, trying to push the bills back in his hands.

“No I didn’t, I know what I gave you. $180 for today, say $200 for next time and the rest is tip.” He answers smoothly, folding your hand back over the bills.

You look down to count and start shaking your head, “I can’t accept this, it’s way too much.”

“Consider it a thank you for dealing with the inconvenience of me having to do business in the middle of the appointment.” He says with a smile.

“Bucky this is 2000 dollars.”

“I know.” He puts up his hand again, stopping you from talking, “I’m not taking it back doll, just have it will ya?” He says, rolling his sleeve back down, doing the cuff back up with the cufflink and placing his jacket back on.

“Oh my god, you’re serious aren’t you?” You ask, unbelievable he wanted you to have over fifteen hundred dollars as tip.

“Yes I am.” He answers, straightening his jacket, “it also may be a small bribe.”

There it is.

“A bribe for what?” You ask, expecting his to ask you to keep quiet about his call.

“I want you to be my artist, anytime I want a tattoo, I want you doing it for me.” He says, smiling down at you with a hint of…something him his eye.

“Really?” You ask in shock, not expecting that from him.

“Yeah, like I said earlier, you got talent. I want more of you on me.” Bucky says smirking at the euphemism he made.

Fuck me running.

“Oh..shit.. yeah ok, that sounds..,” you swallow heavily, “sounds like a plan.” You smile up at him, trying to hide the way his words affected you.

He smiles back, stepping closer and closer until his chest is almost touching yours.

“Yes it’s does. You’re mine now doll,” he says, a dark look in his eye. You swallow hard again and your breath stutters at his words, eyes going straight to the floor. He notices your reaction and smirks, “my artist, I mean.” He continued.

“Although, judging by your little reaction there, I’d bet you be ok with that, wouldn’t you doll?” He says, his tone slightly mocking.

You say nothing.

He hums, then places his right hand on your cheek and tilts your head so you’re looking him in the eye again.

“Would you?” He asks softly.

“Maybe,” you whisper, a cocky smile breaking out on his face.

“Maybe, huh? ‘Mkay, guess I’ll just have to convince you then doll.” He says back, leaning closer, eyes going to your lips before he looks back up, giving you a chance to get out of the situation.

“Guess so.” You respond, some confidence back in your voice.

He hums again, and then he’s kissing you. His kiss is forceful but somehow still gentle, like he’s holding back as much as he can.

Fucking finally you can’t help but think as you move your hand to his wrist, the other one going to his left bicep, the feel of the solid metal under your hand was new, but not unwelcome.

His metal hand moves, wrapping around your back and pulling you against him, deepening the kiss when you gasp.

Reluctantly, you break the kiss when you run out of air. He leans back, the pressure on your back relieving a bit.

“Damn doll, what the fuck are you doing to me?” He asks, biting his bottom lip.

“Something good, hopefully.” You respond cheekily.

He groans, leaning his head back. “Yeah hopefully darlin’. I hate to say it sweetheart but I gotta get going.” He says, releasing his hold on you. He moves towards the door and for a second you think he going to leave without another word, until he turns back and says “I’ll talk to you later doll, keep your phone on or I’ll drop by.” He finished his sentence with a wink, and then he’s gone, the bell on the door ringing behind him.

Fuucckk. Maybe I’ll break my phone so he has to come by. Who knew the fucking Winter Soldier was actually a gorgeous softie under it all.

————

A/N: Ta da! Finally complete!! Love everyone of you that read this, mwah 😘

I can’t tag anyone else on this post so I will tag the rest in a separate post.

Tags:

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @scrynexxtins @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @cashhvi @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @fand0mskullfa1ry @1-800-bxrnes @amiets2 @aliabhatt19 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianstanswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #mob!bucky #mob!au #tattoo artist!reader

[laudthingcat]

Thinking about tattoo artist!sukuna who rarely tattoos newbies since he doesn’t have the patience to deal with their fear, but who decides to make an exception the moment he lays eyes on you.

He approaches you and pretends to be surprised when you tell him that you’ve never got a tattoo before, as if everything about you didn’t already give it away. The arms and chest are clean, and your legs? The only thing covering them is a miniskirt that’s barely covering your ass. 

You look confident but he knows better, easily noticing the small (or not that small) details, from the nervous bite of your lip to the hardened nipples that are piercing through the fishnet crop top you wear. Considering that it is hot enough in the studio, there could be only two reasons for that, but he’s sure he can solve both.

Tattoo artist!sukuna is kind enough to help you decide on a tattoo and even helps you pick where you want to make it, suggesting that the best possible location for it would be your thigh<3

It’s no surprise to him when you stop him the moment you hear the buzz of the tattoo gun and see him getting ready to start. You’re tense and when simply telling you to relax doesn’t work, he comes with a suggestion.

So there you are, on your knees for a man you barely know, taking his whole length inside your mouth, twisting and swirling your tongue around it, completely cock drunk after seeing the size of it. Tattoo artist!sukuna has the kind of dick that makes your jaw hurt. He knows he’s big but seeing you struggle to breathe just boosts his ego past the limits. 

He grabs a hold of your hair and starts thrusting, going at full speed with the only intention of emptying his balls down your throat. Your throat is divine, so thigh, squeezing around his cock and making him moan. Your mascara dripping from all the tears when he keeps your head still, making your eyes roll back the moment he comes deep down your throat. 

“Swallowed it all like a good girl huh?”

Not getting a chance to recover, he starts fucking you against the mirror, the glass fogging from his heavy breathing as you desperately moan into his chest, holding onto his shirt and sobbing in utter bliss knowing that this is the best and fattest dick you’ve ever had.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head for a second time when he lifts one of your legs up and starts thrusting at an even higher speed, filling the room with nasty, wet sounds made by your abused pussy that soon after creams on his cock after swallowing all of his cum in. At the end of it all he grabs your face with one of his hands, giving you the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever gotten in your entire life, a string of saliva connecting your lips once he pulls away.

“You really took it all, like a good little slut”

Finishing the tattoo was an easy job for him after that since your mind was focused on what just happened and not on the slight stings caused by the tattoo gun's needles. 

He offered you a big discount, grinning when you asked if you can come get another tattoo the next week.

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk smut #jjk reader smut #tattoo artist!sukuna #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryoumen smut #sukuna ryoumen x reader #it's.freezing.cold

[frogchiro]

JESUS OKAY I FINALLY GOT IT this has been stewing in my mind for like 2 weeks now and now I finally got it. Also this is specifically dedicated for my dear pookie @sant-riley thank you for the brain worm♡

Tattoo artist!Ghost who is just so huge and burly and intimidating. His tree-trunk like arms are covered in bold, black tattoos, his strong neck too and you could swear that another large intricate one was on his stomach too whenever his black shirt rode up.

And imagine you, a novice to the tattoo world and Ghost was initially kinda surprised that you came into his shop; it was known for big, bold artworks and someone as sweet and soft looking like you didn't really seem like someone who would get one, maybe he could figure something out for you.

So imagine the way Tattoo Artist!Ghost's heart rate spark when you asked him to design a delicate womb tattoo in that shy voice of yours ;; Simon swears he almost felt light headed from the way all his blood rushed towards his dick because in his mind with an added womb tattoo?? And your soft curves, broad hips and full thighs?? You will look like his own personal fertility goddess and Simon became determined to not only be the one to exclusively tattoo you, but also to win this girl over and become his♡

#kin speaks #i threw this together while sitting in a caffee #so i'm sorry if this is shitty and erratic #but jesus i had a spark of something and i had to put this down #tattoo artist!ghost #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley

[cupid-styles]

Oh fuck tattoorry piercing his girl’s nipples would be so hot specially with how much she loves humiliation that entire interaction would be so sexually charged

this took me FOREVER but I hope you enjoy!!!!

part of the tattoorry/plugrry world

word count: 3k

content warnings: piercings (mentions of needles), spicy but no smut

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"Wait, you're being serious?"

Harry huffs out a laugh, sticking his chopsticks in the to-go container of veggie lo mein. "Of course I'm being serious. Why would I lie about that, dovie?"

His response, though not meant to make her feel bad, makes her shrug, a warm blush blooming over the expanse of her cheeks. She stuffs another bite of dumpling in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully to save her from further embarrassment in front of her boyfriend. 

"Don't feel bad," he murmurs, his large palm finding the space between her shoulders, rubbing her sweatshirt-clad skin comfortingly. Her eyes stay glued to the television in front of them, where they're watching the newest episode of Ru-Paul's Drag Race per Y/N's request. (She's never watched it before and Jo, the receptionist at St. Mark's Social, told her she had to. Y/N's been steadily binging it for weeks. Harry pretends like he doesn't love it, but he's secretly just as invested.)

"Dove, look at me," he sighs, placing his food on the coffee table. She does, positioning herself to face him and flittering her eyes up to his face. He looks tired, but they both are. It's been a long week of work and school — however, Y/N was able to get an interview for the bookstore on campus, which ended up causing her a lot of stress and anxiety. It ultimately went well and they said they'd be getting back to her soon. Even if it wasn't the bookstore she wanted to work at, it was still a source of income that would hopefully replenish some of her savings and help her pay rent and bills. 

"I shouldn't have laughed, I'm sorry I did that," he says softly, "It's just a given to me, because of my work. Nipple piercings aren't otherworldly, like they probably are for you."

She shouldn't be nitpicking, but somehow that hurts just as badly. Sometimes, she feels like a child around Harry. It's as if he's lived a thousand lives in the adult world and she's just recently gotten to have a smidgen of those experiences. 

"It's not otherworldly," she says the word like it's an insult, and Harry has to press his lips into a line so he doesn't laugh, "I just didn't know people got them."

Clearing his throat, he forces himself to put on his professional piercer-and-tattooer face, "Yeah. It's something that anyone can get and I've done a fair amount of them. Semi-painful in the moment with a long healing time. They can look good on the right person, though."

That causes her eyebrows to nearly shoot up to her forehead. 

"What do you mean, the right person?"

"You're just a nosy little thing tonight, aren't you?" Harry fires back with a smirk. She goes to cower with deflated shoulders but he instantly makes a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, grabbing her hands to keep her close, "I just mean, like any piercing, it doesn't always look right on the person. Sometimes people get nose or eyebrow piercings and it's like, oh, that's fine. But sometimes it's as if their anatomy looks complete with the piercing — almost like it's meant to be there, if that makes sense."

It doesn't, but it only continues to pique her curiosity even more. 

"What about me?" 

"What about you?" Harry chuckles, using a hand to smooth her hair down. 

"What piercings would look good on me?"

He smirks at her little game. She plays this sometimes, and he assumes it only comes from a place of true wonder. When they talked about the drugs he's done before, she asked which ones he think she'd like. (None, except maybe for weed, but she has to get her anxiety under control before she tries it.) They went over different styles of tattoos when Y/N was interested in his work, especially when he explained that his are just a hodgepodge of designs, some with meaning, some without. (He said she can get whatever she wants if she decides on something one day, but he's particularly partial to a little "H" on her bum.) And now, she wants to know what piercings would fit her. 

"You can get whatever you'd like, dovie," he replies, "Just as long as I'm the one doing it."

She rolls her eyes and leans her shoulder against the plush of the couch cushion. "Yeah, but you're the professional, Harry! You know what would look best on me."

"Anything would, you're gorgeous."

"That's a cop-out answer and you know it!"

Harry laughs loudly and places his hands atop her shoulders, "Okay, okay. Let me think, dovie. I need to assess my client."

"Oh, you're being a professional now?"

"Shhhh!" he exclaims, and it only makes her laugh harder. He's already gone to that focused place, though, with wandering but fixated eyes and that small crinkle between his eyebrows. She feels bashful beneath his gaze, blinking her eyes as he analyzes her facial features. She's watched him work before, but for some reason, this in particular reminds her of the first time they met, when she sat in on him tattooing Mai. She remembers the way her stomach warmed and her core throbbed at his attuned facial expression, similar to how it is now.

"Okay," he murmurs. Slowly, he reaches up to gently tap at the side of her nose. "I think you'd look very pretty with a small nose piercing."

"Really?"

He nods. "Yes, but you're beautiful with or without, so it doesn't matter. Plus, I can't have my girlfriend looking cooler than me."

She's not surprised at the way he instantly returns to his teasing self, even if it's not exactly the answer she was fishing for. She watches as he leans forward to grab his carton of noodles. With her tongue peeking out to moisten her lips, she attempts to grab his attention again.

"What about...?" she glances down at her chest. Harry looks at her with a quirked eyebrow. Her form is currently swallowed up in a sweatshirt that's a few sizes too large, so she realizes she's not being entirely specific about what she's asking. "Like...?"

"Huh?"

She sighs frustratedly, "My boobs!"

"Oh," Harry's eyes widen, flickering down to her covered breasts, "You wanna know if you'd look good with nipple piercings?"

She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip. She watches at the cogs turn in his brain, his gaze meeting hers a moment later. 

"Need to see 'em." he says decidedly. 

She huffs out a chuckle as he helps her peel her sweatshirt off, leaving her in a comfortable bralette. It's pale pink and sheer, but with Harry's hands splayed across her ribs, he still pulls the fabric down. In an instant, her nipples are stiff and peaked from the cold air, and she's attempting not to feel sheepish underneath his intense eyes as they flicker between her breasts. 

"I don't know why I'm even contemplating it," he says, though it's mainly to himself, "Of course you'd look hot with them. You're you."

He looks up at her with a goofy grin before pressing a kiss between them. She blushes.

"You think so?" she asks as her hand finds the back of his neck. He nods, eyes flickering closed when her fingertips play with the shorter, curly tendrils. 

"Of course."

"Would you do it, then?"

Harry's eyes shoot open. "Wait, what? I thought we were just... talking, I didn't think you were being serious."

Y/N shrugs, "I dunno, I kind of like the idea of it."

"Dovie... you only have your ears pierced," he mumbles, sitting up and reaching to gently touch her ear lobes, "If this is something you'd seriously want, I'd want you to think about it for at least, maybe, a few days, not just 10 minutes."

"I've never done anything impulsive, though," Y/N says through a whine. He understands it, and his face crinkles some at her request. "You've gotten tattoos while you were drunk! O-or given stupid ones to yourself!"

"I know, baby," Harry coos, "But those were stupid decisions and I don't want you to make the same ones. You're so much better than that."

She sighs dejectedly. He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks, then to her nose. 

"I get it, dove, really. And by all means, I'd rather you get an impulsive piercing than a tattoo. But the healing time is really long, and it is painful. I just don't want you to regret it or... or get mad at me, either."

Y/N's heart softens a bit, nodding her head as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "No, I understand." 

"If you still want them in a few weeks or months, I'm more than happy to be the one to do it," he says softly, reaching down to give her hand a small squeeze. She perks up a little at that, and he smiles. "Just give it some more thought, okay?"

. . .

Harry really, truly thought Y/N would never mention the whole nipple piercing thing again.

It turns out, his girl is way more stubborn than he could have ever anticipated, because it's been four weeks since then and she still wants them. 

In fact, she's currently sitting in his little work zone, where he tattoos and pierces other clients. Not his girlfriend.

"Are you sure?" he asks for the thousandth time. In the time since she first brought it up, she's done tons of research, including asking Harry just short of a million questions. He appreciated her enthusiasm towards education, but talking about nipple piercings as soon as he finished up work wasn't always ideal. Still, though, he made sure to entertain anything she had to ask, even catching her looking up different jewelry styles and what it looked like on different people. 

And, as soon as Jo accidentally overheard Y/N talking to him about it, of course she offered to show her own. Harry wanted to bang his head into a wall as he listened to them excitedly chatter in the corner, right after one of his employees bared her entire chest to his girlfriend. It had to be some type of workplace violation, only Harry served as the closest thing to Human Resources at the shop — and, considering they sold weed on the side, he didn't think he had much of a case against Jo.

It just so happened that Y/N got out of classes early on Wednesday and Harry hung around the shop those days, making deals and doing boring business administration things. When she asked if she could come by to get her piercings done, he reluctantly said yes. 

It wasn't that he didn't absolutely love the idea of it — he did, actually, and his mouth nearly watered at the imagery it created in his brain. What he did hate was the thought of causing his girl any kind of pain. He was still in the camp of being fearful that she'd get angry at him if she didn't end up liking it. But her excitement towards it never wavered, and he would never be one to tell her no.

"Yes, I'm sure," Y/N replies, wringing her hands together in her lap. "I'm nervous, though."

"That's normal, dovie. Just try your best to relax, it's only me."

She nods as he shuts the door to give them some privacy. He never does that with clients, but he wants to make sure he's making it as comfortable as a process as possible — and, maybe he's keen on ensuring no one else gets a peek. 

He busies himself with sanitizing his tools, washing his hands, and eventually pulling a pair of latex gloves on. He wishes he could make it a more fun experience for her, but the whole thing is quite medical.

"You already picked your jewelry out, right?" he asks lowly. She nods her head as she watches on. 

"Mhm. I sent you a picture of it last week."

"Right, these simple pink barbels, hm?" 

The piercing jewelry she'd chosen were pretty spot on to Y/N's aesthetic of being uncomplicated and feminine. When he saw what she picked, he immediately told her that it would fit her perfectly. 

"Alright, I'm gonna clean them and then we can get started. Still feeling good?"

She nods again. 

"You gonna tell me if you're gonna pass out again, baby?"

She scowls, remembering back to fainting from her first ear piercing. The sour, twisted frown on her face makes him laugh. 

"That's still so embarrassing." she mumbles. On the newly cleaned workspace, Harry shakes his head, placing the sanitized jewelry and piercing supples down on it. 

"Not embarrassing. Cute, actually," he corrects, peeling his gloves off. "Okay. I'm gonna help position you, is that okay?"

"Do you do that for every client?"

He narrows his eyes at her playfully, "No, you jealous little fiend."

She pulls her sweater off, revealing a pale blue baby tee. He swallows as she lays back on the extended table, taking a deep breath to surely calm her nerves. He gently squeezes her wrist, hovering over her form as she gets comfortable. When she shoots him a small nod, he smiles, flipping her shirt up. 

"Okay, baby," he says, smoothing his hand over her stomach, "I'm sure you read this in your... insane amount of research—"

"Not insane."

He nods curtly, "Right, not insane," he quickly corrects. "Anyway, your nipples have to be hard for this. It helps with the placement."

She issues another silent nod his way but doesn't move to do anything. With a small smile, he gently cups her breast. 

"Do you want me to?" he asks, his tone dropping lowly. She's not quite sure what he's even asking to do, but she still provides an affirmative answer. It's not a second more before he's latched his lips around her nipple, her eyes fluttering back from the sucking sensation. It's messy, the way he alternates between each one so they're swollen with his spit, and her fingers find his long curls, tugging at them gently to press him closer to her chest. 

It feels like he's gone far too quickly, plushy, wet lips pressing a quick kiss to the valley between her breasts as he examines his work. Her mouth parts as she watches him bite his lip. 

"You're good," he pants out, though he takes a moment to adjust the growing bulge in his pants, "Need to... put gloves back on."

They're both a bit lust-driven now, but Harry's quick to meld back into his professional persona after snapping a clean pair of gloves on his hands. Y/N swallows as he analyzes her, feeling squeamish beneath his eyes. Wordlessly, he grabs a marker and places two dots on either of her nipples. 

"That's just for the placement," he explains, grabbing a mirror so she can look at where the jewelry would sit, "What do you think?"

Truthfully, they could have been completely wonky and Y/N wouldn't have noticed, let alone say anything. She trusts Harry implicitly, even if she still feels a bit hazy from the welcomed assault on her stiffened breasts.

"Good." she says with a nod, glancing up at him, "Looks good."

"Alright, baby," he replies. He turns to get the clean piercing needle from his rolling tray. "I'm gonna count down from three. I want you to close your eyes and inhale on three, then exhale on one. We'll take a short break after the first one, and then I'll do the second. Does that sound okay?"

"Mhm," she mumbles, nervously biting her lip. "Just do it, please. 'm gonna lose my nerve."

He chuckles and nods, instructing her to keep her eyes closed as he situates himself over her. 

"Okay. Three— there you go, dovie, big, deep breath— two, one."

She immediately winces from the sharp bite of pain, a noisy gasp falling from her lips. Harry silently cringes to himself — not because the piercing isn't perfect, but because he absolutely hates knowing he's the reason why she's in pain right now. 

"Keep your eyes closed, baby," he murmurs as he fits the jewelry through the first piercing, "Good girl. You're doing so good for me, hm? My strong baby."

She swallows harshly, hands balled into fists at her side. It's painful, that much is true, and she's beyond grateful when he finally finishes screwing the jewelry into place. She lets out a shaky breath and Harry coos, taking one of his gloves off to thumb her tears away. 

"Was that okay, dovie?" he asks worriedly, "We can always save the second for another day."

Y/N quickly shakes her head, "No, no. Just do the other one now, otherwise I'll never have you do it."

Harry repeats the process on the other side. The pain is just as bad, tears continuing to cloud Y/N's vision and roll down her cheeks despite her keeping her eyes squeezed close. He shushes her softly throughout it, his heart tugging. Once he's finished, he's quick to wash his hands, listening to her quiet sniffles. 

"I know baby, I know," he mumbles. He crosses the room as soon as he's done, sitting down next to her and brushing her hair back, "You did so good, you know that? 's all done, dovie, you're done."

She sniffs, batting her wet eyelashes up at him. "'s done?"

"Yeah, sweetheart." he says with a small, crooked smile. "You were so good. Took it like a champ."

"I didn't, I cried the whole time."

He chuckles and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Do you wanna see them?"

She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip as he stands to grab the handheld mirror. He helps her slowly sit up, hinging at the waist. He holds it up to her chest, both pairs of their eyes staring at her swollen breasts. His eyes flitter to her face to gauge her expression, scared that she hates them. 

"Wait," she mutters, cocking her head to the side, "Wait... they're kind of hot."

Relief floods Harry's system and he smirks. "You think so?" 

"Yeah," she nods, sitting up on her knees, "I know they're kinda puffy right now but... I think I like them. A lot."

Harry swallows harshly, dropping the mirror on his chair. Suddenly, he's surging towards her and taking her cheeks between his large palms, smushing their lips together like his life depends on it. It takes her entirely by surprise, and it's hurried and hot and desperate, so much so that she's panting into his mouth and gripping at his black tee-shirt. 

When he finally breaks their kiss, strings of spit still connecting their mouths, he keeps his forehead pressed against hers. Again, he glances down to get another look at her chest. 

"I love you so fucking much," are the only words he can utter out before he's pulling her jeans down to bury his head between her legs. 

#bestie asks #writing #tattoo artist h #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles one direction #one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x oc #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fic rec

[jksoftii]

☆♡ JUNGKOOK FIC RECS ♡☆

this is a list of my favorite jungkook fics! most of these contain smut so no minors allowed. please show your love to all these amazing authors :) !!

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

SERIES

Birds by @missbickerbocker a f s strangers to lovers au (Doctor!Jungkook x TravelBlogger!Reader)

Summary - In Jungkook's world stability is key. He knows what exactly is expected of him as head doctor of Seoul's ER Unit. But when an unfortunate collision lands him at your bedside in his own ER unit, his stable world starts to shift. — the angst, the sexual tension, everything about this is just perfect!! doctor jk 😭🙌🏻

Gradation by @shina913 a f s bestfriend to lovers au fwb slow burn (Bestfriend!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your wedding day your fiancé leaves you at the altar. While reeling from embarrassment and heartbreak, your bestfriend, Jungkook, wants to do everything that he can to help you heal. — i remember coming back to this fic again and again because the entire storyline in itself was so comforting, everyone around oc was so caring and jungkook especially made my heart burst in this one!

Friday nights and takeout by @ahundredtimesover a f s strangers to friends to lovers (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - You meet pop star/idol Jeon Jungkook at the café, you get close, and as Hyejin says, you’re like friends with benefits without the sex. But you’re bad at feelings and so is he — i love love love cute happy endings. there was a lot of scolding eachother but their dynamic itself was just endearing 🤧💖 @ahundredtimesover 's other works are also wonderful! you won't be disappointed checking them out!

Lost Stars by @yoongiofmine a f s strangers to friends to lovers au slow burn (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. — i read this in one sitting because it was so interesting! the twists in this story kept me engaged, i felt like i was in a movie.

Coquet by @shina913 a f s fake dating au strangers to lovers (Escort!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On your brother's wedding, you dread traveling to see your family–whom you have successfully avoided for over a year after moving across the country for work. In an effort to save face, you hire an escort to get them off your back and perhaps even make your ex–who happens to be the best man–a little jealous. — another one by @shina913 because i can't get enough of their writing! the angst, fluff, smut everything was balanced so well. top notch literally. sexy escort jungkook made me get on my knees no joke 🙌🏻🤧

Once You Realize by @kooala a f s friends to lovers idol au (Idol!Jungkook x Idol!Reader)

Summary - Seeing your friend regularly turned out to be difficult because of your colliding schedules, but seeing him again after a couple of months something about the way you thought about Jungkook seemed to have shifted. If only you wouldn’t have started getting close with someone else before you had realized how you felt about your best friend — this indeed is the cutest falling in love story! it's a slowburn but not overwhelming. sjdhjsjs it's just adorable 🥲

ONESHOTS

In which drabble series by @onlyswan a f s established relationship au (Idol!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - this is the cutest collection drabbles of boyfriend jungkook!! i recommend all of the installments, the writing is perfect, it's packed with perfectly illustrated details and vivid emotions and you can feel the love radiate from them 🥹 Art is by far my favorite writer on here 🙌🏻 these are a few of my personal favs from the installments -

in which jungkook comes home drunk but bam can’t speak f wc: 2.6k

— no because drunk jk is a menace and we all know it. this was so chaotic and fluffy it made me want to scream!!!

in which jungkook stumbles with his new pair of eyes f wc: 2.8k

— jungkook with glasses. my weakness. but this was so cute and fluffy! it's his little journey figuring out how to handle his glasses with oc!

in which jungkook is giving up on you but you have so much love left to give a f s wc: 8.3k

— this is actually a angsty one but it shows their ups and downs as a couple and gives more insight into their relationship!

The Boy with Galaxies in his Eyes by @oddinary4bts a f s wc: 52.9k strangers to fwb to lovers au (Idol!Jungkook x TattooArtist!Reader)

Summary - you had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours? — this has a LOT of angst, i won't lie i cried a few times reading this too. the character growth in this was just so phenomenonal. i go back a lot to this and read it again and again just to re-live the story. and ofc the smut is an amazing add on toooo 😭🙌🏻

My babysitters a quarterback by @ohpretty-baby a f wc: 30k enemies to lovers high-school au (Quarterback/Babysitter!Jungkook x Cheerleader!Reader)

Summary - after getting cheated on by the star of the hockey team, park jimin, your life (as expected) goes downhill. what you don’t expect is your parents being skeptical of whether or not you’re a good older sibling for your sister. you also don’t expect them to call jeon jungkook—the person you hate most—to babysit the two of you.

or, alternatively: jungkook babysits you even though the two of you are the same age. — i love this so much oh my goshhhhh this is one of the fics which will make you laugh and cry at the same time. it's fluffy and their dynamic is absolutely adorable. it's sooooo beautifully written!! :))

Spring will come again by @baepsaesbae a f s wc: 10.9k strangers to lovers au (Photographer!Jungkook x Baker!Reader)

Summary - Springtime generally brings new beginnings, but being stuck in a small town all your life means nothing ever changes. Finally, something, or rather, someone, stumbles into your life. Can this shy boy manage to change your life forever? — everything in this just feels so warm and comforting and jk is so sweet and so precious in here. there's angst but a very cute happy ending. the writing was so well done and so well articulated!! <333

Safety Net by @pradaksj (TWO-SHOT) a f s enemies to friends to lovers roommates au (Boxer!Jungkook x Reader)

Summary - On new year’s eve, you and jungkook reflect on each other’s entire year together. — this is one of my favorite fics ever. it's hilarious and emotional at the same time. both are literally the definition of dumb and dumber 😭 @pradaksj did a lovely job at illustrating their relationship progression. boxer jk just has my entire heart 😵‍💫🙌🏻

Be-Ghoul-Ment by @dokyeomin f wc: 10.1k idiots to lovers university au (Blonde!Jungkook × Reader)

Summary - [beguilement (noun): an entertainment that provokes pleased interest and distracts you from worries and vexations] --- You hate haunted houses more than you’ve ever hated anything. You don’t understand the appeal. But this Halloween, you decide you might hate Kim Taehyung even more. — the cutest fic ever! jk and oc both being a nervous wreck in this was so relatable 😭, and I loved the side friendships with Taehyung and Hobi. It was so sweetly crafted and left me feeling happy inside.

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #tattoo artist jungkook #jungkook exes to lovers #jungkook fics #jungkook fic recs #fic rec #bts fic #bts #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts fanfction #bts fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot