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insomniamamma · 4 months ago

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Needles & Pins: Tattoo Artist! Ezra x F!reader w/Cee

A/n: written for @secretelephanttattoo's Secret Springs challenge! Thank you, Mayor El, for planting this seed. I am currently mulling over a tattoo much like the one described here.

Warnings: Angst. Talk about failed marriage. Reader is an empty nester. Reader has grown children. Mentions of self harm scars. Blood. I have tattoos but it's been decades and I've done a bit of research to figure out the current state of it. Any inaccuracies are on me. And yes, Pedro's red devil Met Gala look was my inspiration for tattoo artist! Ez.

A bit of flirting. It is Ezra after all. But mostly gentle fluff.

A chain of bells on the door jingles as you push your way through, briefly glare-blind from the sudden dimness, green afterimages from the sizzling sidewalks, air-conditioned cold hits hard, and you stand, blinking and foolish as the girl behind the counter sizes you up, wild mullet of bleach-blonde hair, face set and disproving, black lacquered nails and ears spangled with golden studs and bars. “I’m sorry— I’m a bit early, I can come back—“ And she smiles, big and open and wide-- “Oh, heck! You’re the tardigrade lady! Ez did a bunch of sketches. Lemme go grab him-“ and she rattles her way through the beaded curtain behind the register and disappears “Ezra! Your three o’clock is here—“ A co-worker had recommended Needles & Pins when you’d admired her ink, a half-sleeve magpie with a skeleton key in its beak and constellations drawn behind it like an old map. It’s in Secret Springs. That’s kind of a haul. Yeah, but Ezra’s one of the best in the business. You’ve got plenty of PTO piled up. You’re just gonna lose it if you don’t use it. You could get out of here for a bit. Yeah, maybe. And Moira gives you a pitying look. You both know the chances of you using any of that PTO are slim. This last year and change has been a rollercoaster ride, your youngest graduating summa cum laude and fucking off halfway across the country, some job at an aerospace start up that you can’t even begin to understand, but she seems happy, and the vice-gripped, duct taped, cobbled together thing that your marriage had become finally shat out. I love you, he’d said, but not the way you need me to. And on that humid night, watching heat-lightning flicker through the clouds, you say nothing, just nod, because he’s not wrong, the two of you have been holding on for a long time, for the kids, for appearances, and it’s like unclenching a fist. Kept it civil, he let you keep the house rather than selling it and splitting the difference, moved back home with his brothers and his dad, still talk about once a week, mostly about Lilly and the boys. Married so young that you never learned to be alone. So you throw yourself into your job, because if there’s one thing you know how to do it’s press your shoulder to the wheel and shove.You and Moira laugh together, but when you get home you start researching Needles and Pins and Secret Springs, tiny state park with campsites and trails, bracketed with BNB’s and small shops, strange gerrymandered artifact, small strip of beach that hasn’t been subsumed by hotel chains and timeshares. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on vacation, the last time you’ve done anything for you and no one else, and you’ve e-mailed Needles and Pins almost without thinking. Why not? Why the fuck not?

Appointments only. No walk ins. High end. Serious inquiries only. And part of you balked, new to this possibility, had your ears pierced at Claire’s when you were twelve or so, and you’d felt stupid when you sent the e-mail off with some images attached. Sorry to bother you. What a lovely idea. Water bears and fireweed together speak of resilience. The awakening of something new after a time of trial. There are species of pine that require the heat of wildfire to dry out their cones enough to spread their seeds. I would gladly meet with you to discuss this further. And that’s how you ended up here, in this air-conditioned cave, narrow space full of framed flash art and old maps and framed photos of Ezra and the girl behind the counter, C? Sea? You didn’t quite register her name, flustered by the cool dark in contrast to the blazing heat outside. “No need to yell, Birdie, I’m comin-“ Ezra rattles through the curtain. Broad is the first thing you notice, loud is the second. He is a confusion of color, heavily inked arms and a Hawaiian shirt bedecked with flamingos in sunglasses, spangled ears and a gold ring through his lip, bright shock of blonde hair amid his unruly curls. Smiling bright and wide, “Hi there,” he says, purred southern drawl, and offers his hand, “I’m Ezra.” “I figured,” you say and take his hand, warm fingers around yours and then he folds his other hand over yours, and you see that his right hand is an elaborate prosthetic, his whole arm up to his shoulder, gold on black, a fearsome dragon framed in blooming orchids. You barely have time to register this and Ezra is ushering you through the curtain. “I am guessing by your demeanor that this is your first tattoo,” and you smile, but can’t quite meet his eyes, his hand finds yours again and squeezes gently. “I’ve got several sketches based on our initial discussion, but i want you to know up front, if the art is not to your liking or if you change your mind about this entire venture I’ll not judge you for it. “But the deposit—“ “A formality. Tends to keep people who aren’t sure of themselves away. I will never ink someone who isn’t fully committed, if you decide this isn’t for you i will refund you. No harm no foul. No pressure, clear?” “Yeah. We’re clear.” Ezra smiles, dimples sinking into his scruffy cheeks, eyes crinkling into crescents. “Excellent,” he says, “Let me show you what me and Cee came up with.”

“That one.” A tardigrade drawn in the traditional style, brilliantly colored in blues and greens with bold outlines, with two crossed fireweed fronds in watercolor. “This is an approximation-“ says Ezra, “I will replicate the colors as best I can—“ “That one.” You say, “I like the hard and soft together.” “I do as well,” says Ezra, “I must admit that I was hoping you’d choose this design. Strength and softness are not mutually exclusive. I should warn you though. Watercolor tattoos tend to fade a bit faster than the more traditional styles-“ “Sunscreen and plenty of it” you say, and he smiles. “That’s right, and A&D ointment as you heal. There’s plenty of fancy tattoo healing ointments to be found but A&D has always got me through. Why fix what’s not broken? We’ll send you home with some instructions.” He takes the sketch you’ve picked out, “Hey, Cee! Can you finagle the scanner-“ Cee pops her head and arm through the beaded curtain. She grins, devilish and sharp like a crescent moon. “Old man, still can’t figure it out, huh?” Takes the sketch from his hand. “Oi! You are but a humble apprentice,” says Ezra, but he smiles, “An initiate! A novice even!” Cee smiles back. This seems like an exchange that happens at least three times a week, and you feel yourself smiling along with them. “Get her prepped. I’ll do the hard part.” “That girl,” he mutters, “You take a seat right there—“ He gestures towards a set up that looks uncomfortably like a dentist’s chair, ��Cee has my station set up, I just need to glove up and we’ll talk placement.” “Left inner arm,” You frown. You’d said so over e-mail. Can’t help but watch the flex and bend of him as he pulls a shoulder length veterinary glove over his prosthetic, and then gloves his left hand, “It’s a bitch to take apart and sanitize. I can if needs be, but best to avoid all of that. I cannot exactly autoclave this thing. And I find the calving glove less unwieldy than Saran Wrap-“ “Wait a sec, Saran Wrap? Like on a plate of leftovers?” Ezra dimples at you. “Exactly like that. First time Cee witnessed it, she laughed so hard i thought she might drop dead right there on the spot. Next morning there was a case-pack of calving gloves on our front stoop like some sort of-“ “It’s Amazon, Ez, not witchcraft,” says Cee, popping back through the curtain with a sheaf of papers, shoots you a knowing can you believe this guy look, “You’d be lost without me. Just admit it.” Ezra takes the papers from her. “Go on now, don’t you have fanfic to read? What’s that Star Wars thing? Reylo?” Cee’s face scrunches in a cartoonish display of disgust. “Man, I never should’ve told you about AO3.” And with that she’s gone. “Your daughter’s really something.” “She ain’t mine,” says Ezra, leafing through the stack of prints Cee handed him, draws a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket and perches them on his nose, “I don’t have that honor. Her parents kicked her from the nest and she found her way here.” He holds two of the prints in front of his face. “Show me your arm.” And you offer him your left arm, hand turned palm up. He cradles your arm, runs his gloved fingers over the thin skin there, noting the network of silvered scars, like contrails in a hazy sky, because how can he not? Old enough to be flattened and flush with the rest of your skin, no one’s noticed in years, but you know he must and you tense, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn’t, just selects a printed sheet at holds it up to you arm. “This the orientation you want?” “Yeah, I want him standing on my hand. Um, Ezra, the scars-“ “won’t be a problem, darlin, they’re old and soft-“ “I’m not gonna screw up your handiwork,” you say, and he folds your hand in both of his, gentle pressure that grounds you and when you look up at him, his eyes are soft. “I know you won’t,” he says, “You wouldn’t be here otherwise. We can rewrite this part of your story. I trust you.”

Ezra preps your skin, alcohol wipes and mild soap and he shaves your inner arm with a disposable razor, rubs some gooey stuff on you that makes you think of putting on aloe after a burn. Gotta let this dry a beat, he says, we want the stencil to come out nice and clean, rests his hand over yours while the transfer solution dries, got to let it get tacky, he says. Not quite holding your hand but not letting go either. “I should warn you, the bit over your inner wrist will likely be the most painful,” swipes his hand over your skin, testing the resistance against his glove, “Skin’s thin there. Not a whole lot of meat between the skin and all the veins and little fiddly bits.” “Fiddly bits,” you echo, and feel yourself smile, “You mean the bones?” “And tendons,” says Ezra, clips out the stencil. “That looks like carbon paper,” you say, and Ezra grins, “It’s functionally the same, but Cee insists that the thermographic printer makes cleaner stencils than the old methods, so here we are.” He lays the sheet of paper over your arm, rubs at it with a balled up paper towel, “We want the transfer solution to soak into the paper. It’ll leave the stencil behind on your skin. There’s some tricks involving deodorant, but i find this method works the best-“ you can’t help but notice how pretty he is, face pinched in concentration, pout of his lips, those dark eyes focused on the strip of skin between your wrist and elbow like this bit of you is the only thing in the universe. “—hey! you still with me?” “Yeah, sorry. What did you say?” “You got a hotel room for tonight? It’s not by business, but i know you’re not local and getting tattooed blows a surprising amount of adrenaline-“ “I’ve got a room booked,” you say, “Up over Peli’s.” “Hope you brought earplugs,” says Ezra, “That place can get a bit rowdy on a Friday night.” “I’m counting on it,” you say, “It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a bar.” “Hmm,” he rubs at the transfer paper, “Do you feel your skin tightening a bit? We should be just about ready. I’m gonna click the gun on for a beat so you can hear it.” “I’m not scared.” “Didn’t say you were.” says Ezra, “I find this tends to go easier if people know what to expect. This buzz and my endless yap are going to be filling your ears for the next few hours-“ “It’s not bad. The tattoo machine, I mean.” And Ezra grins, slow curve that just hints at a dimple. “My Ma always said my tongue is hung in the middle and wags at both ends. If, at any point in this venture, you need me to shut the fuck up do not be shy in saying so,” his face falls, eyes flick away a little, “There’s one more thing before we peel this stencil and get on to our business. I will need to stretch your skin, to make sure the lines are nice and clean, and for that i must rely on this foolish thing.” Ezra catches you around your wrist with his prosthetic hand and squeezes slightly. “I do not have the sensitivity nor dexterity that i once had,” he says, “I have some haptic feedback, but it’s not the most reliable. If I grip or pinch too hard, you sing out and I will manually adjust the pressure.” So focused on your left inner wrist and the tracery of your skin that he startles, flinches when you reach for him and grip his upper arm, brief squeeze and then gone. “I trust you.” His eyes widen for a second, and flick away from yours. ‘I suppose you do. Else you wouldn’t be here. Let’s get a good look at these lines before we get to fencin’.” Ezra peels the transfer paper up and you feel the pull of it, dark purple lines printed on your inner arm. And that makes it feel real.

You’re going to walk out of here with something like a story in your skin forever. “The fireweed—“ “I know. The stencil lines are just there to keep me from going too loosey-goosey,” says Ezra, “That being said, how would you feel about some slight splatters? So the stems do not rise so harshly from the water bear’s back, perhaps a bit darker than the color of the fireweed. Something to really make this little fella pop.” “Dark. Like a dark purple fading up into the pinks.” “Yeah? What do you think?” “I like it,” you say, and you feel yourself grin wide, and Ezra’s smile mirrors your own, “This is gonna be so fucking cool.” “It will,” he says, those dark eyes bracketed in delighted crinkles, “I’ve got you, darlin. We’re gonna make some magic.”

It doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and you tell Ezra so, and he smiles, bent over your arm. “Everyone’s pain threshold is a bit different,” he says, “You are squirming very little for your first ink.”’ “I was in labor with my oldest for twenty three hours. This doesn’t even register.” “The linework is usually worse in terms of sharp pain,” he says, “The color and shading tend to be more persistently annoying. Like a shirt collar rubbing on a sunburn.” He has a light on a swing arm like a dentist uses, framing him in a bright halo as he hunches over your arm, catches his curls in bright filaments, the scruff of his cheeks, slope of his neck, breadth of his shoulders. Sharper pain as he touches the crease between wrist and hand, bracelets of fortune, you think they’re called, draw your breath in a sharp hiss, little hooked curves of the tardigrade’s claws. “Breathe, sugar, you’re doing just fine. Worst part’s nearly done.” His eyes flick up to catch yours, warm soft and magnified by his glasses. “And I really must know. what’s your favorite dinosaur?” “Deinonychus,” you answer unthinking, “Dromeosaurs are pretty cool in general, but Deinonychus is my favorite.” And you smile. Knowing exactly what he’s doing and thankful for it. “The raptors in Jurassic Park were actually Deinonychuses. Modeled on them at least. Actual velociraptors are turkey-sized.” Ezra smiles up at you, perfect plump lower lip bisected by a gold ring, damn he’s pretty, and nothing hurts at all. “Huh,” he says, “And here I was thinkin you were a T-rex girl. S’pose that’s what i get for making assumptions.” “Well you know what they say about assuming—“ “Indeed I do. My mother was very fond of whipping out that particular turn of phrase.” He stretches your skin so he can get the tardigrade’s odd little mouthparts just so. “What’s your favorite?” “Favorite what?” The curved, segmented back takes shape. “Dinosaur. You can’t just ask someone that question and not answer it yourself.” Ezra stills for a beat, and then the needle starts up again, line sloping down to meet up with a hook-plated foot. “Ankylosaurus.” he says. “Really?” “Sure. Mother Nature took a cow, a snapping turtle and a panzer tank and stuck em in a blender and then tied a cinderblock to the end of it’s tail. What’s not to love? Hmmm,” he swabs at the beaded blood and oozing ink, “Hard part’s done. How about a little breather?” Ezra stands and stretches like a lazy cat, rolls his neck side to side, heads for the refrigerator, tucked in the corner and plastered in stickers, punk bands or microbreweries, you can’t really tell. “Stretch your legs,” he says, “This next phase will take some time.” You swing your legs over the side of the chair, stand up and then plop back down. “You okay, darlin?” “Stood up too fast.” “Apple or orange?” “Huh? Orange,” You feel your face going hot, “I followed your instructions—“ Ezra hands you a cold, sweating bottle of orange juice. “I know you did,” he says, “When you get tattooed, you are signing up for an injury. One that happens over the course of several hours, but an injury all the same. Everyone reacts a little different. Your sugar just dropped is all. You drink that juice and you’ll be right as rain in no time at all.” “I thought I’d be okay-“ “And you are,” says Ezra, “I’ve had three hundred pound bikers slither out of the chair at the first sight of blood. It happens sometimes. I’ve gotten woozy a time or two myself.”

He shoves up his shirtsleeve and shows you a dog in a space helmet, “That’s Laika,” you say. “Patron Saint of one way trips,” says Ezra, “You can see a bit of wobble in the curve of her helmet. It was far from my first ink and it still hurt like a sonofabitch. You didn’t do a thing wrong, okay?” He rests his hand on your shoulder briefly, warm weight of it grounds you, and he hunkers down so his eyes meet yours, no judgement there, just concern, and without thinking, you mirror him, rest a hand on his vibrantly inked bicep, Laika brave and doomed amid a swirl of watercolored nebulae, his skin warm beneath your palm and you feel the breath rush out of you, didn’t know how hard you were clenching your jaw, didn’t know you tight your chest was. “Thank you.” And for a beat those lovely, dark eyes hold yours, before they slide away, cheek curved up in a half-smile. “You are most welcome. Shall we proceed?”

The color inking goes much as he described, more annoying than painful, like a constant pressing of fingernails against your skin, different gun with more needles packed together, ink laid in, blood wiped away, back and forth over the same bits of skin, needles dipped and rinsed, tiny plastic cups of color that make you think of a child’s paint set, and the two of you settle into easy conversation, a flow back and forth like a gentle tide, mostly Ezra explaining all the hidden delights of Secret Springs, you simply must get breakfast at Cisco’s, it don’t look like much but they’ve got the best biscuits and gravy i’ve ever tasted, and Cee swears by their Hangover Helper, it’s like a layer dip of grease. Hash browns and corned beef hash and scrambled eggs with sausage gravy and cheese sprinkled over it. I keep tellin Frankie he should rename it the Heart Attack Platter, but he won’t hear it— Ezra’s voice and the buzz of the tattoo gun and the rhythm of him pressing into your skin and wiping away the blood and excess ink set you drifting, content to listen to him ramble, like the patter of falling rain. “So what got you here?” asks Ezra. “Moira. I saw her ink and asked—“ “No, darlin, what got you here?” And you find it hard to speak, to put into words, did everything right, married and had kids and a house and a good job and a husband who loved you until he didn’t, did everything right and still ended up with an empty house and no one to come home to except the cat. Lilly and Liam and Joey off on their own and settled and they all call you on Sunday like clockwork, as if you are an obligation and not someone who held them when they were small, talked them through the fears of monsters in the closet, talked them through the humiliation of first love, you know they love you, they tell you every time, at the end of every visit, hug you so tight and tell you they love you. Love you too, but you still come home to a dark house and an empty bed, you honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve been touched or kissed or held. Been so long since you did things for you without thinking of him and the kids that it feels wrong, shameful. “I wanted to do something just for me, I guess.” You frown. “I’m guessing you are not in the habit,” he says, “Of doing things just for the joy of it.” You laugh, a bright and brittle sound that pulls itself from your throat, even as your eyes burn, his eyes flick up from the brilliant pinks and oranges and purples, and you turn your head away. “I’ve prodded a raw nerve, I’m sorry. Cee rightly says I have no filter-“ “It’s okay. It’s just…you do everything right and you still end up all alone, you know? Lil and the boys are all doing fine. They call me every Sunday, and I know I should be happy, and I am happy. Happy for them-“ “But not for yourself,” says Ezra. And you think of how the intimacy slowly bled out of your marriage, held on so tight for so long, thought you could muscle through it like you do everything else in your life, but love wasn’t enough, determination wasn’t enough, gritted teeth and stubbornness weren’t enough. “No. Not for myself.” You frown. You haven’t put it in words before, too busy keeping it together, trying to gut through it like you do everything, keep your head down and push through, “You think your life is one thing and then it just isn’t anymore— this probably seems silly to you.” “Not at all. I often think of cicadas,” he says, and returns his attention to the fireweed blossoms. “Cicadas?” “Yes. They live the majority of their lives under the ground, feasting on roots content with living in the dark and then something calls them up above. They split themselves open, crawl out of their old skins and take flight.” “You’re saying I’m in the process of crawling out of my own skin,” you say. “I’m saying that your future doesn’t have to look like your past,” says Ezra.

“The past is another country,” you say, and you can’t remember where you’ve heard the phrase. “Just so,” says Ezra, “Just so. We’re redrawing the map right here. And it is a joy to redraw it with you.” “Are you—are you flirting with me?” Ezra scrunches his face in mock disdain, “I would never ever flirt with a client. That would be deeply unethical and Cee would undoubtedly yell at me. However, once I finish inking this last frond and we slather you in ointment and wrap you up you will no longer be my client-“ “And then?” He smiles at you, all dark eyes and dimples. “Well then we are just two folks enjoying the moonlight and wetting our toes in the surf. If you’d walk with me a spell. If you can further tolerate my rambling,” “I think I’d like to get my feet wet.”

#secretsprings #secret springs #tattoo artist!ezra x f!reader #tattoo artist!ezra x mature reader #ezra prospect x f!reader

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causenessus · 4 months ago

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I RAN OUT OF TAG SPACE BC I YELLED TOO MUCH THIS IS SO GOOD EVERYONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ IT IT'S AMAZING

the ravens eye diner- hajime iwazumi

masterlist

table for four

hajime was 2 days into his master plan of never seeing you again. it was going…rough. his mind had already adjusted to his new routine of running to the little diner and getting a cup of coffee. but he would be fine, he barely knew you. only knowing things like your name, and snippets of your personality he learned from stories you told as you refilled his coffee cup, or jokes you’d tell about the other customers.

but he wanted to know everything about you. your go-to coffee order, how many freckles you have, what your favorite color is, even your last name would be nice. he shakes these thoughts from his head.

he has no right to even wonder, because he was just a customer who happened to sit in your section. you probably haven’t even thought of him since he left. but why can’t he stop thinking about you?

“why have your runs been taking so long lately?”

hajimes head snaps up to see his roommate, toru oikawa. fuck he’s been caught.

“what are you talking about?” he asks, trying to cover.

“well, usually you’re back by 7:15 at the latest, and i use your door slamming as an alarm. but lately you haven’t been getting back until like 7:40.” toru rattles off, leaning against the doorframe.

“just been taking a longer route.” hajime dismisses him. ”doesn’t sound like you iwa…” toru sounds extremely suspicious.

hajime rolls his eyes.

“is that all you wanted from me?” he asks, turning back to his paper.

“no, i was wondering if you wanted to get lunch with mattsun, makki, and i.”

hajime thinks for a moment. he is hungry. but does he really want to sit through his friends nagging? he decides it’ll be worth it.

“fine.” he stands up, stretching his legs. makki and mattsun already sit in the shared living room.

“where should we go?” mattsun asks, scrolling through restaurants on his phone. makki sits next to him doing the same thing.

“theres a diner just a few blocks away, it looks pretty good.” makki muses.

“oh i would kill for a stack of pancakes right now.” toru groans.

hajime freezes. he hopes there is a different diner a few blocks away that he just never noticed.

“sounds good, what’s it called?” mattsun asks.

“um…” makki scrolls to the name. “the ravens eye diner.” well shit.

“oh, i’ve heard of them, their food is apparently really good.” mattsun says.

“okay, let’s go!” toru cheers.

hajime wants to die. at this point he knows there is no way that he can convince them all of a different restaurant, especially with torus heart dead set on pancakes. it’s okay, theres like a 25% chance that you are working, maybe less.

so, the party of 4 treks out into the great outdoors, and take the brief walk to the ravens eye diner. he’s greeted by the oh so familiar sound of the whir from the coffee machine, and the familiar face of the blonde hostess. hajime hides himself behind the other three men. sure he’s acting a bit childish, but he feels a bit embarrassed.

“hello! how many today?” she asks.

“table for four please!” toru says, smiling at the girl. she picks up the familiar menus, and as she looks up, hajime makes accidental eye contact with her. her eyes widen. that can’t be a good sign, he thinks.

she leads the group to the same table hajime sat at 4 days in a row last week. the table in the corner by the window. he takes the seat closest to the window, and everyone files in around him. the quartet goes quiet for a bit as they scan over the drink menu. hajime already knows what he’s getting, and he knows whats coming. the server.

much to his dismay, he is greeted by a smiling face. your smiling face.

“oh hi hajime! been a while!” you greet. he feels the confused stares of his friends on him.

“hi y/n, uh just a-”

“black coffee?”

“yeah, thanks.” he looks down at the table, ignoring their gazes.

“and for the rest of you?”

hajime doesn’t listen as the other three rattle off their drink orders. he’s too focused on the fact his head might explode because of how red he is.

he listens to the click of your shoes as you leave the table, and he knows he’s about to get attacked.

“how come you never mentioned you’ve been here before???” toru jumps in immediately.

“or that you knew the cute waitress!” mattsun adds, tagging on.

hajime just sits with his blushing face in his hands while his friends bombard him with questions. thankfully, they can’t pester him for long before you are back with a tray propped up on your arm, handing off their drinks. you set down hajimes hot coffee carefully in front of him, just like you’ve done the last 3 times.

“i’ll give you a few more minutes with the menu.” you say, waltzing off with your tray.

hajime wishes you would stay at the table forever. so he’d be protected from his friends nagging. what other reason would there be?

“ooo our little hajime has a crush! this must be why your runs take so long! i knew you were suspicious!” toru has won. this may end up being the worst meal of his life. toru has starting poking him in the sides, and hajime defends himself by slapping the back of his head.

“i do not have a crush! i just… come here for coffee some mornings.”

“oh so it’s just random when you come?” makki asks, skeptical tone evident on his voice.

“yes!”

“lie. nothing you do is random. you totally have a crush.” mattsun catches him. he hates how they are 100% correct.

“keep your voice down. please.” hajime pleads.

“he’s not denying it. wow, in our many years of friendship i have never seen you this flustered!” toru jokes.

hajime quickly finds his head in his hands again.

the next few minutes are filled with relentless teasing for hajime, and you freaking out in the back.

“your lover boy is back!” alisa cheers after hearing the news from hitoka.

“he is not my lover boy!” you defend yourself, grabbing your notepad and rushing right back out of the kitchen to take their orders.

funny how on opposite sides of the restaurant the same conversation is happening.

you arrive back at the corner table to see an extremely red faced hajime. maybe you want him to be your lover boy.

“alright, ready to order?” you ask, as the group turns to you.

“i’ll do toast and sunny side up eggs.” from the guy across hajime.

“waffle please!” from the one next to him. you turn to hajime next.

”um…i’ll just stick with the coffee for now.” he sounds unconfident in his answer. ”you sure?” you ask, looking up from your notepad. he nods, face still red as ever.

“hm, and for you?” you ask, turning to the final guy, you recognize him as one of the university volleyball players, but you can’t quite recall his name.

“i’ll do the stack of pancakes please,” he starts. “and also….your phone number for my dear friend hajime here!” he finishes his sentence with the most gleeful voice, it actually makes you laugh a bit.

“alright then.” you say, before turning on your heel and leaving. as you walk away you can hear hajime scolding him.

after you drop off their food and refill hajimes coffee, they request 4 separate checks, so you head to split the check in the back.

but, at the bottom of a certain check, you scribble down a quick note.

𖦹₊⊹fun facts⊹₊𖦹

-you started looking forward to your shifts when iwazumi was showing up but then he stopped so you went right back to being late

-hitoka was very scared by the group of 4 giant men

-alisa is a gossip machine, she knows everything about everyone in this restaurant

-toru loves to wingman

a/n: HE GOT THE NUMBER oikawa best wingman ever even if he wasn't asked to be.

taglist:

@wyrcan @nbcvs @froyaoya @mylahrins @wizardhore

@chloiyoomi @causenessus @bubooo @lvtilzs @nishayuro

@diorzs @19calicos

#MEEEEE EWHEN I FIGGLE #GGIGLE #NOT FIGGLE #SORRY #i'M SQUEALING RN #the most guttural sounds ever my cats abhors me #AAHAHEJWISIDIKDKWKWKWW #OMGGGGGG #dude the little checks are SO CUTE DO YOU DRAW THEM??? IT'S ADORABLE EVERYTHING THE LITTLE TABLE SETUP #“that one volleyball guy” LMAOOOO #OKGKW #this was adorable #PERFECT #QMAZING #YOU'RE AMAZING #THIS IS ALL I WANT TO READ FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE #also i forgot to say this but HITOKA IS MEEEE #i used to work as a hostess and actually i'm working at that job AGAIN 😭 for some ez money #but i quit bc i HATED feeling responsible for servers getting bad tables #and i'm also scared of big scary men #me too bae #I'D WORK AT THIS DINER THOUGH OMGGGGGGGGGGG #PLS #LET ME WORK HERE #SOMEONE START THE RAVEN DINER WITH ME PLS WE CAN SPLIT THE COST #where's my osamu #we can get married and start a restaurant #I'M SCREAMING THIS IS SO GOOD #ness' favorites <3 #ness' pantry staples <3

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year ago

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Respectfully requesting an Aegon fic ♡

A couple weeks ago we were having a conversation about chubby Aegon and I threw this idea at you -

I'd love to read a story where reader is short and super slender, and people have told her that it's unattractive for a lady, that she needs to get thicker to be able to bear children for the king. And when chubby King Aegon sees her for the first time he's like "she's too sweet and precious, I want her as my queen".

Would you be willing to write something like that? Love you ♡

Existence of a Woman.

PAIRING: Chubby!King!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,156.

WARNINGS: bullying, mentions of low self-esteem, misogyny, fatphobic comments/references, body contrast/size kink if you squint.

A/N - EZ I love our little convos, seriously you have no idea how happy you make me 🤍 this was an absolute pleasure to write xoxox hope you love it! and same to nonnie, I’ve just meshed the two incredible ideas together!!!

It was sheer anguish, having constantly been surrounded by the disheartening commentary regarding your own body. A body you were born and had grown into with much appreciation everyday for your vital health. A body that had no lesser value than the bodies of other ladies and women alike, and yet, yours was frowned upon relentlessly.

You may not have naturally had the adequate width of child bearing hips, nor the lustrous curves in all the right regions. Your breasts may not have been voluptuous enough, that your mother often worried if you would even be able to produce the Mother’s milk to provide for your own babe.

To make matters even more frustrating, you were in constant comparison and competition with your elder sisters. Their bodies, their curves, their bosom, in contrary to your own, had been approved since their maidenhood had struck. Praised by your own mother, your sisters were ignorant to the constant scrutiny you had endured for so long.

Bickering words from the ladies of the court, from your very own kin, were ruthless enough for bloodshed.

“You are far too slender my dear, and far too small to bear a child to full term. Eat, my dear. Are you certain you eat?”

“You must look promising for your husband, dearest. Or else he may have no desire nor purpose for you much longer… Women like yourself are often tossed aside, becoming a burden to their families.”

“The Gods have blessed your sisters with such elegance and beauty… Mayhaps, your spurt is somewhat delayed. Continue to do your prayers, and the Gods may be merciful.”

It was the endless scrutiny that made it unbearable to exist. You had tried many times to grow oblivious to such comments, yet counting your long, dull days, the voices grew louder and louder, more prominent as you reached a mature age to marry.

“Just as your sisters are, we plan to have you wed before the Winter. Although, be warned your sisters being older will come to priority first. Mayhaps we might be able to spare one year for you to, uh, ripen.”

Nonetheless, when your family had unexpectedly been bestowed a welcoming invitation to King’s Landing to attend a royal celebratory feast in honour of the name-day of their elder, royal son, Prince Aegon the Second, your family humbly yet more so keenly accepted. In a matter of days, your entourage assembled and necessities readied, you were on your way to the city: although this being your second trip, you could barely string a memory to thought, as you were only just a child the first time around.

Now a young woman of age twenty-and-one, despite your sister's enthusiasm, you shared no high hopes of scoring a marriage with any decent man willing to look your way. Far more keen to sight-see the city in all its glory, and with a memory you could reminisce...

"Your Grace, it was an absolute honour receiving your invitation for tis evening's feast. I do hope our Prince has been enjoying himself-"

As your father lavished King Viserys with excessive compliments and many thanks, you could not help but eye each respective Targaryen sat atop the high table. The Dowager Queen, earnestly holding her sickly husband's hand in support, as she bobbed her head in acceptance to your father's words, further down the line, Princess Heleana oblivious to the crowd before her, too enamoured by some black stone or item in her hand, whilst Prince Aemond sat beside her vividly scanning the entire room, looking beyond the foot of the table where you stood. Prince Daeron's seat, you had assumed, empty, the youngest Prince mayhaps amidst the crowds, seeking entertainment and company. Although, it was Aegon who had ultimately caught your attention...

He was no doubt different to Prince Aemond, much larger and plumpier in size, nonetheless, still handsome [he was after all, a Targaryen]. Unlike his younger, menacing looking brother, whose jawline was distinguishable, face chiselled and figure slim and poised: Aegon's features were disguised with a softness, his jaw hidden beneath a subtle layer of fat, his cheeks reddened and full, it did not help that his mouth was constantly occupied with food and wine, as he gorged and guzzled the delicacies before him. As he sat back momentarily, wiping the food residue of his soft-looking lips, a portly belly that appeared rather tight against the restrictive fabric, bloated mayhaps, as the Prince tried to stifle a burp. An electrifying twitch twinged between your inner thighs, as Prince Aegon tenderly patted his distended gut, almost in a prideful manner.

"Aegon, dearest, show your guests the same regard and thank them for making the long trek," Alicent sternly indulged, as she persistently called for her eldest son. Aegon, although reluctantly, devoured his last bite, before heaving himself up with blatant difficulty, walked towards your centre.

"This is Aya, my eldest beauty and very diligent.. This is Sarra, she's got a rather wonderful melody, and isn't she just a sight for sore eyes? And this is Laila, quick witted, she'll keep you on your toes although a belle of the ball. Might I add, all unwedded! Pray the Gods be good, they grace our daughters with a potential hand..."

"And who are you?" Aegon abruptly interrupted, as your mother halted in her speech: her blatantly pathetic attempt to sell her daughter's hands. And although she did not acknowledge you, this had not been the first incident... You had grown accustomed to being invisible. Her cold words burnt into your mind;

"Standing beside your sisters, you might as well not be there... You must understand, dearest, your time will come. Just not now."

A faint, exacerbated breath escaped your lips, as your mouth hung loosely agape. Uncertain if the young Prince was glaring solely at you.

"Uh- th-this one? My youngest... Your Grace."

"Yes, the one who's existence you so obviously ignored," Aegon firmly proclaimed, earning a low, taunting chuckle from his younger brother [who continued ogling the crowd onwards], even drawing Helaena's attention unto him. However, his mother, Queen Alicent, rolled her eyes in defeat, whispering Aegon's name faintly towards him, almost in encouragement for him to settle.

"Apologies your Grace, our youngest is rather quiet and shy, although-" Your mother began to resist speaking, thickly swallowing her words in silence. Her cheeks instinctively flashed red, in exchange to the puzzling, glaring eyes of the royals, bashful against their hushed judgement.

"Th-This is Y/N, my Prince. Our youngest daughter."

"And is she wed?"

The swiftness of how haste Aegon enquired about your marital status, freakishly made your heart flutter, your rather ravenous stomach churning with uneasiness.

"N-No, your Grace..."

"Good-Good."

Aegon had finished sparing your tongue-tied mother further embarrassment, as she was meekly led by a servant to your table. Although, it seemed Aegon was not yet done with you...

An instinctual gut feeling of a pair of prominent eyes burned against your head, and despite your timidity to decipher who, your curiosity overtook... Mayhaps you overestimated your ability to gain someone's attention.

With intense anticipation and raw shock, your wavering attention was met with Aegon's brutal gaze. As his pudgy finger traced over the blunt edges of his goblet, a sly smirk brewed across his ample face, his focus still fixated directly unto you. And although you had initially struggled to reciprocate the same, unnerving attention, you naturally sought comfort busking in his holistic notice.

A few seconds passed, before an unfamiliar servant called upon you, whispering that you follow his lead into the royal gardens, under direct command of Prince Aegon. You had no apparent need to excuse yourself, as your mother now returned to her usual, collective self, flouncy in talk with other keen mothers, of their aspirations to wed their daughters, whom too were far too immersed in spying and gossiping over which young, unwed lords they would sought, you managed to sneak off subtly.

The crisp, chill of the night air was refreshing, inhaling the floral scent looming over the garden, ridden with a diverse range of captivating, flora species. Slowly striding towards a rose, fearful you would frighten the flower shut, your hand lightly grazing over the soft petal. You had never seen such a vividly red colour, vibrant even in the shadow of the night. Your thoughts silenced, easing into a peace unlike anything you had embraced before.

"There you are-" A disruptive, deep voice loomed from behind.

"I've been meaning to catch you... W-Who are you, my sweet Y/N?"

"Y-You honour me, your Grace. I-I hate to disappoint, although I am just a simple-minded, country girl. The youngest, as my mother insisted, I have come to honour your Grace... That is all there is to me."

Aegon took a stride closer towards you, a chubby hand, meaty fingers tightly adorned in golden bands, rested atop his swollen belly, caressing his pudgy flesh clothed beneath.

"No, no you did not listen to me, sweet thing... I said, tell me who you are."

Inhaling a rather gratifying breath, for what felt like the entirety of the night, you spent in the solace company of Prince Aegon. He devoured your every word intently, as he keenly did the prized hog that was relentlessly prepared for his name-day feast.

Although your truth saddened him deeply, Aegon was rather gentle with you, taking a keen interest in your story.

"You need not listen to what they tell you, dearest Y/N... Your beauty is one blessed and favoured, by the Gods themselves. They surely took their time with you... They do say envy is a green-eyed monster... I know, I am merely a stranger to you now, but I speak only the truth... You will come to know this."

Come to know this... His comforting words echoed through your wondrous mind.

In return, it seemed Aegon too, shared a rather eerily, unfortunate fate to that of yours, with his own family. Although he was the eldest, and the son King Viserys had so desperately prayed for, he was cursed to disappoint since his birth. Often reminded and outweighed by his failures, his larger weight did not help his cause. Born a larger babe than the rest of his siblings, he too, naturally had a ravenous appetite than that of his younger brothers. It somehow brought shame to his family, irreparable, Aegon refused to change.

Now having met you, he selfishly felt comforted... He was not alone in being solely judged by his appearance.

"Do not fret, Y/N. Your existence goes beyond that of child-bearing and sufficing a man. A man ignorant to your kindness and affections, is a stupid man indeed."

Whether it was a buried confidence now seeping through, or by some divine push, you gracefully succumbed to the urge that plagued your mind lustfully, since eyeing Aegon's soft lips closely. Your lips crashed against his, the bittersweet taste of red wine lingered over his mouth, as he too embraced the exchange. It was a solid, passionate kiss, your breaths growing denser, before breaking loosely apart, your noses grazing over each other tenderly, foreheads pressed against one another. Taking your hands in his, his thumb stroking over your soft skin, you felt more at ease than you did at home.

"Rest assured, Y/N. I will marry you, I will save you the torment your own family inflicts upon you. You do not need to suffer in silence any more. You will say yes, and prove them wrong, if that is what you desire... I will love you, all of you. I will make up for all the lost years, all the years you did not need to hear such vile things. I will protect you."

Hot tears swelled your eyes, yet not out of anger, nor frustration or agony. For the first time, you felt intense joy. Nodding in solid agreement, you promised Aegon to be a dutiful, loyal wife in return. One that did not care if his waistline grew or shrunk, one that did not judge a person by scales.

"In return, your Grace, my beloved. I will cherish the life you have granted me, and in return, I will do everything I can to return the favour and more... I love you, Aeg. May this name-day be one that you remember with a warm heart."

"This name-day, Y/N, is one I have dreamt of for all my life. Finally, the Gods have blessed me, gevie ābra [beautiful woman], one I will take great care in. If it is not obvious, I am quite full... Do not be frightened, I will not break you."

"Aeg- That is the least of my worries... In fact, I don't mind this-" You cheekily tease, innocently poking at his round gut, provoking a growling chuckle from your betrothed to be.

"If I'm being honest, I find it quite... Invigorating."

"Is that so?"

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #chubby!King!Aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

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fr0zentear · 5 months ago

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Cut my hair so you know I had to redesign my farmer! She's got some....interesting lore

Edit: @kazesanee left a really nice comment saying that they're interested in her lore so!!! I've left it under the read more header :3

Okay so! Her name is Ez, she's 22 and lived in Zuzu city pretty much all her life. She worked as a mortician (hence the Y shaped tattoo on her chest, it's a little nod to that). After her grandfather passed and left her a letter, she read it. She needed a change of pace desperately. The city was way too busy, and she was constantly reminded of the bad relationships she had there.

Upon reading the letter, her grandfather had left her the deed to his old farm located in Pelican town. She moved there, and quickly settled in.

She has several tattoos all from Zuzu city (as well as a few stick and pokes from manic episodes). She dresses very alternatively and has stretched ears!

Ez loves mining (she loves collecting all sorts of minerals), reading and she loves watching horror movies. After her first meeting with Sebastian, the two grew close.

After about 2 years they married and had a very Addams Family style of wedding. They have a daughter together called Dahlia! Sebastian loves playing with her, he let's her paint his nails. She's very happy with her life in Stardew Valley

#fanart #stardew valley #sdv #sdv fanart #stardew valley fanart #sebastian x farmer #stardew valley farmer #sdv farmer

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nattinatalia · 2 years ago

Text

Jack Harlow x Reader : FLOWERS

A/N : 🫧 @hoodharlow gave me this idea, so I had to write something about it!

Every morning you would wake up to a flower arrangement being delivered to your doorstep. If Jack was home he’d be the one to pick them up himself and place them on your nightstand so you could see them as soon as you woke up.

It began the moment you two started dating, he gave you flowers the first time you two went on your first date and he just continued.

It continued even after you two got engaged, after you got married, after you gave birth to your two children. It just never stopped, he even started including Mia into it, he would buy her a small arrangement every morning as well.

You and the kids were definitely lucky, you lucked out on having a wonderful man like Jack in your lives. It’s not because of the flowers, it’s simply because he’s thoughtful, respectful, loving and understanding.

Like every morning, you woke up to your flowers, but this time they were on the kitchen counter alongside Mia’s little arrangement.

“Mommy, you see our flowers?” Mia breaks you away from your thoughts.

You smile and turn her way, and see she’s sitting down at the table with her father and brother. “Yeah bug, they’re beautiful huh?”

“Yeah, you did good daddy.”

Jack smiles, “Thank you princess.”

You sit down next to him. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You needed sleep, I know you’ve been stressed with little man’s ear infection.” He pecks your lips real quick. “Picked up breakfast though.” He hands you a box. “It’s still warm.”

“Thank you baby.”

“Can I put my flowers in my room? I promise to water them.” Mia asks, with a mouth full of food.

“Manners young lady.” Jack points to her mouth. “Finish your food first.”

“But yes baby, you can have them in your room, I just need to find a non glass vase.” You tell her.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah little man?”

“Why I no get flowers.?”

You and Jack freeze.

“You want flowers cheesy?” Mia asks surprised

He shrugs, “momma and you gets em why no me?”

You and Jack look at each other, having no idea what to say. But Jack gets up right away and walks out the kitchen, leaving you confused.

“Come here baby.” You reach out for EZ, as he sits on your lap. “You want flowers? I’ll buy you lots of flowers right now.”

He shrugs, “Just askin.” His little shoulders lift up and he looks sad. “Is daddy mad cus I want em?”

You shake your head “No baby, of course not.”

Mia sighs, and has her little eyebrow lifted, just like her daddy does when he’s in deep thought. “Boys can get flowers too so daddy can’t be mad.”

“You’re right Mia, boys can have flowers too.” Jack announces as he walks back into the kitchen, his hands behind his back. “You have every right to ask little man, it’s my fault.”

“Is okay.”

“Here you go.” Jack hands him a beautiful tulips arrangement. “We can search up all the different flowers so you can pick your favorite ones, that way I know which ones to get.”

Ezequiel grabs the tulips, looks at them up and down. “That what Mia dids?”

Mia nods “Yupp, daddy took me to a place where there's lots of different flowers. I chose mine.” She smiles proudly. “Asters.”

“And you momma?” Your little boy asks you.

“Well-“ Jack snorts at that, you quickly glare at him. “I have three favorites actually, which drives your daddy crazy sometimes.”

“Only because sometimes I don’t know which ones to get you.”

“All of them, daddy.” Ezequiel tells him.

You smile down at your son and give him a kiss on the top of his head. “My sweet boy.”

“I think I no want flowers.” He hands the tulips to you. “You like these momma?”

“Ye-“

“No she doesn’t but I do.” Mia yells out.

Ezequiel looks between the tulips, to you and to his sister. He takes half and hands them to Mia, and the other half to you. “Here’s yous go.”

“Thank you cheesy.” Mia smiles, smelling them.

“Thank you baby.”

Ezequiel turns his head to look at Jack. “Daddy, I no want em for me.”

Jack kneels down in front of you so he can be face to face with him. “That’s totally fine little man.”

“I want em for sissy and momma.”

“Aww cheesy, you’re the best little brother.” Mia gets up from her seat and goes to hug her brother.

“I goes with yous when you buys em for momma and Mia?”

Jack nods, “Deal.” He stands up and lifts Ezequiel up and has him in his arms. “But we can also think about what you’d want. Maybe legos, hot wheels, or something.”

Ezequiel gasps “Donuts?”

“You want donuts every morning?” Jack chuckles.

“Yes please.”

Jack nods, “Donuts and flowers, you got yourself a deal little man.” They both do their handshake, similar to what Jack and Urbn do.

Ezequiel asks to be let down and he follows Mia into the living room.

“Baby? Are you crying?” You stand up and go up to your husband. “What’s wrong bubs?”

“I suck, why didn’t it cross my mind that my son would feel left out?” He wipes at his tears. “I didn’t include him and now he’s going to grow up hating me.”

“Babe.” You shake your head. “That little boy loves you to pieces. No way he’d hate you.” You push back his curls. “You heard him, you heard what he really wants, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“Am I a bad dad for not including him?”

“JACKMAN.” You snap. “Don’t you ever say that again, don’t you think it either. It was an honest mistake, and he literally solved the problem just as he said that. I don’t want to hear you say that ever again, you’re not a bad dad, our kids are lucky to have you as their father you understand me?”

He nods, “I just feel shitty.”

“I know but-“

“Daddy? Why sad?” Ezequiel and Mia both run to you and Jack.

“He’s just upset, he didn’t mean to leave you out of it” You tell your son.

He smiles. “Daddy, is okays. I wanted em for them.” He points to you and Mia. “Plus I gets donuts now right?”

Jack nods. “Y-yeah.”

Ezequiel shrugs. “Then no sad, we cool.”

“You sure little man?”

“Yupp, but comes. I show you something.” He reached for Jack’s hand. “Stop being sad, I love yous.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Jack takes a hold of his little hand. “I love you too little man, so much.” They both walk out from the kitchen.

“Mommy.” Mia whispers.

“Yeah?”

“We need to get our boys stuff too now.”

You nod. “What do you have in mind?”

Mia hums. “Flowers with hot wheels for cheesy, and for daddy? Ohh, flowers and glasses, so he remembers he needs to wear them.”

You laugh at that. “MIA.”

“What? It’s true, daddy always forgets to wear them.” She shrugs.

Since that morning, you and Mia made a routine just like Jack and Ezequiel had theirs.

Flowers.

Lots and lots of flowers for the four of you throughout the years, and it brings a smile to your face every single time.

• • • • • • • • •

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @arination99 @cmalass @jackharloww @minkookie95 @deannaard @jacksmoviestar @harlowcomehome @fdl305 @httpkoylinnn @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hoodharlow @automaticpeachsong @amethyst09 @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @stefansalvatoresgf @violetdreamsworld @carma-fanficaddict @jasminxts @itsaaliyah2 @itsyagirljaz @harrycanyonmoonn @neon-lights-and-glitter @awhore4moree

#jack harlow #jack harlow x you #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow x oc #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x yn #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfiction

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