#tattoo Artist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vxsellie · 1 month ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ PIERCINGLY PERFECT !

pairing : tattoo artist!ellie williams x fem!reader

synopsis : pretty self explanatory

a/n : this might be shitty i'm so tired, but i started thinking about ellie as a tattoo artist and i can't get it out of my head

wc : 3.5k

for the past few years, you've been absolutely dying to get a tramp stamp done.

not only did you pick out an intricate design with meaning, but you also are very aware of how sexy they look. you've wanted to get one for so long that it was bound to happen at some point. apparently, that point is today — a random friday night at about one in the morning. frankly, you're lucky the shop was even open so late.

a bell dings loudly as you push the door open. you made sure to wear low rise pants and a cropped shirt so you wouldn't be put in the awkward situation of having to strip in front of the artist.

"hello there, ma'am." the man behind the desk welcomes you.

he doesn't even look up at you as he continues to fumble with something behind the register. the heels of your shoes click against the tiled floor as you approach him. he has ink all up his arms and neck, coating his skin in art. you love it.

"do you guys take walk-ins?" you ask as you allow your eyes to scan the interior of the building. the walls are a deep red, the floors checkered tile. the countertop is black, covered in stickers.

"mm," he hums, still not looking up, "sometimes. but usually not this late."

you frown, "do you think you could make an exception?"

"i dunno." he shrugs.

you groan, frustrated. you wanted this tattoo done today, otherwise you'd have to wait another few weeks until your schedule is empty enough to fit in an appointment.

you continue to examine the shop, your eyes tracing all the posters and vinyls tacked into the walls. to the left of the counter, there's a doorway. beads hang from the top of it, draping down to sway across the hard floor. nosily, you peek inside. you can make out the outline of a few laid back chairs and shelves on wheels.

the man finally looks up, noticing your staring. he rolls his eyes. "the reason we don't take people so late is because none of the artists want to give you a fuckin' tattoo past midnight."

"then why are you even open?" you point out, turning away from the door to scowl at him.

"listen." he snaps. "you're probably just some drunk ass collage student wanting to get your boyfriend's name tattooed across your tits. now get back to your dorm before curfew or i'll kick you out."

"i date women, asshole." you tell him, leaning forward on the sticky counter. "i'm not drunk and i'm not in college either, so stop making these whack ass assumptions about me and give me my fucking tattoo."

he narrows his eyes at you, his brow furrowed in rising anger. when he opens his mouth, you expect more argument. you expect him to either curse you out or kick you out, nothing less. but instead, he turns his head slightly, never taking his eyes off you, and calls a name over his shoulder.

"williams!" he calls out, his voice carrying through the building and past the thinly beaded doorway.

"what?" a female voice responds from the back. her tone is laced with annoyance, as though the man has already managed to piss her off.

"you willin' to take another?" he asks.

you hear her groan before the sound of her footsteps can be heard marching toward the front of the shop. thick boots thud against the floor, growing nearer. you hold your ground, not sure if this is some sort of trick to get you out of here. then you hear the beads rustle and look over to see a woman emerge from the doorway.

she's wearing baggy brow cargo pants, a thin black tank top, and chunky black combat boots. her hair is brown, cut short above her shoulders as it's held back in a tiny half-up bun. her pale green eyes bore into you as she crosses her arms over her chest, analyzing you.

you feel queasy. you can tell she's trying to decide whether or not you're worth it. you try your hardest to appear worthy of her time, but you're unsure of what that looks like.

"what do you want?" she asks you, her eyes trailing up and down your body as she rounds the counter. "something small and easy, or a big sleeve?"

"neither." you respond. "i wanted a tramp stamp."

she raises a brow at this, her interest seeming to instantly pique. she continues to stare, taking in your appearance. after a long moment, she gazes over at her coworker and shrugs. "yeah. i could take one more."

"make it quick." he scoffs, typing something into the computer. "not only has she been a complete bitch, but i wanna close asap. my dog needs fed."

"don't rush me." the woman snaps at him, rolling her eyes at his audacity.

she goes back around the counter and pushes past the beads and enters the back room. you trail after her, making sure to shoot a harsh glare at the man as you pass him. he seethes with anger at this, knowing he can't do anything.

the back room is exactly as you'd envisioned. the floors and walls are the same, made up of checkered tile and deep red paint. the walls are coated more heavily in decor, though. art and band posters and funky lights nailed into it. there are four of those laid back chairs, small swivel seats beside each one for the artist. and behind it, the supplies are kept on little shelves.

the woman crosses the room, walking over to the station in the back corner. she sits in the swivel seat, rolling it over to the shelves as she dismissively gestures for you to sit on the large black chair.

"i'm ellie willams and i'll be your artist for the next hour or so." she says, the words professional despite her tone sounding uninterested. she grabs a pair of clear gloves, slipping them down over each of her hands.

"uh-huh," you mutter as you sit on the edge of the chair, unable to pay much attention to what she's doing as your eyes roam the decor of the shop. it's awesome.

"which style do you want?" she asks, holding up a few reference photos of her art for you to get an eye of what you'll be given. the work is stunning, her penmanship flawless. she shades beautifully and her details are painfully intricate. you can't help but stare in awe for a moment, allowing you gaze to linger.

you point to one of the pages, "this one. i like the detail."

"perfect," she grins, setting the other photos aside, "that's my personal favorite as well."

she prepares the supplies, gathering all the correct necessities. as she does, the two of you continue to speak. she asks for more detail on what type of tattoo you're looking to get and you explain, showing her pictures and sharing your ideas on what you'd envisioned. she nods along encouragingly, her hardened facade slowly fading as you get to know her better.

as it turns out, she was the one who helped decorate the interior of the shop. she was the first person employed by the old man who owns the place, joel. after being hired a year or two back, he allowed her to do the majority of decor. the two of them painted the walls and laid the tiles themselves. ellie speaks so fondly of him that you’d assumed they were related, though as soon as you addressed she tensed up and bluntly corrected you. sensitive subject, apparently.

she spent her time drawing out your design while you ask her random questions about the shop as well as ellie herself. her hands work diligently as you lean back against the cushion. you tip your head back, gazing up at the ceiling as you blurt out a string of conversation.

you've learned a fair amount of things about ellie — such as boring things like her favorite color, food, movie, etc. and also more creative things like her favorite decoration in the shop or what her favorite tattoo she'd ever done is.

you find ellie to be a rather interesting individual. she wears a hard mask fabricated by her facade of indifference. though, with each question, her mask begins to crack. she huffs out chuckles and quirks small grins before she quickly cover it with a hardened expression. each time she slips up, you fight back a smile.

after about twenty minutes spent of talking and perfecting the sketch, you finally agree on a design. it's absolutely stunning, the floral prints and the swirls all perfectly constructed with careful attention. ellie seems pleased with her work, as well.

"ready?" she asks, spinning around in her chair to face you. she wears two clear gloves on each wrist, tattoo gun in her right hand.

you trace your gaze down her body, taking in her appearance shamelessly. her black ribbed tank is tight on her torso, fitting her muscles perfectly. at her hips, a pair of dark baggy jeans crowd her legs. you find yourself nodding without even fully processing her question, far more focused on the way ellie looks.

she raises a brow at this, knowingly. "okay then."

she scoots her chair forward, small wheels rolling against the floor. she flips the switch and the gun whirs to power. you're instantly snapped back to reality, your eyes darting up to her face. "wait, wait, wait."

"had a feeling you'd say that," she tuts, turning the gun back off. "having second thoughts?"

"of course not." you scoff. "i'm definitely getting this tattoo. i just wanted to know how you'd like me to sit."

she raises a brow, amused. "just—" she pauses, thinking. "okay, i have an idea. turn around and, like, straddle the back of the seat. i'll try to get the best angle to do this."

you do as you're asked, moving to straddle the seat, sitting backward. you arch your spine to give her a better angle of your lower back. you hear shuffling as she tries to figure out the best way to do this. you remain in the same position, patiently waiting as she puzzles this out.

you cross your arms over the back of the chair, leaning your chin on them. "what? have you never done a tramp stamp?" you call over your shoulder with a light chuckle.

"not technically." she responds, honestly.

you tense up. "wait, what? what do you mean not technically?"

"i've tattooed someones entire back before — which includes the lower back. but not only that area. so," she says, "not technically."

you let this information sit as ellie continues to shuffle around behind you. you can feel as she gets into a comfortable position, her sitting in her own swivel chair, pulling it up behind your seat.

her hands are cold as they brush the skin of your back, pushing your waistband lower on your hips. your breath hitches at the action and you tell yourself it's because of how cold her fingers are.

"ready?" she questions with a light chuckle.

you nod, "yep."

the sound of the tattoo gun whirring into motion fills the room. you feel one of ellie's hands hold you by the hip, the other bringing the needles down to your skin. the stinging sensation causes you to tense a bit, but you quickly get over the initial shock.

it's indescribably painful, but you've gotten tattoos before. it can't be that bad. can it?

"you good?" ellie asks from behind you.

"yeah." you respond, your voice pitched higher than you'd meant it to be. you clear your throat. "yeah, i'm good. didn't expect it to hurt so bad, that's all."

she removes the gun from your skin, it continuing to whir in her hand. "we can stop."

"no." you say instantly. "we already started and i really want this tattoo. we are not stopping. just— distract me. talk about something random so my mind can focus on something else."

"okay." she agrees, leaning back down and continuing with her work. you wince, expression contorting. "if it makes you feel any better, i almost passed out when i got my first tattoo. i was sixteen so i wasn't exactly prepared. i hadn't eaten anything beforehand and just showed up, begging for someone to give me a sleeve."

you huff out a laugh at this, struggling to imagine ellie battling with pain. "what'd you get?"

she shifts, holding her right arm out for you to see, halting her tattooing for a moment as she allows you to gaze at the ink. it's a long piece of fern twisting to her forearm, a moth positioned at the top of the plant.

"there's not much sentimentality to it, just thought it looked cool." she admits, retreating her arm back to where it'd been as she continues.

"that's a big size for your first tattoo." you point out. "you never regretted it?"

"nah, not really." she says. "i like it."

you hum, mind wandering as she continues to tattoo your lower back. her left hand remains on your hip as her right one works. your eyes flick around the wall in front of you, taking in the posters and shelving that litters the wall in front of ellie's station. one thing in particular catches your eye.

on the top shelf, a framed photo sits atop the wooden surface. you squint to try and make out what it depicts. your eyes widen when you recognize one of the two people on the picture. ellie and some older man stand side-by-side, a huge grin on her face. she looks younger, but she has her tattoo so you know she's older than sixteen. it was likely a year or two ago, if you were to guess.

you nod your head in its direction, "who's that?"

elie pauses, looking toward the content. "joel."

"your boss?"

"my friend." she corrects, voice coming out a bit harsh but less so than it had before when he came up in conversation.

you want to push for more information, but you know better than to tempt the person tattooing you, so you drop it. instead, you allow your gaze to trail around to search for something else of interest to you. band posters, vinyls, license plates, and maroon paint cover the wall. you quickly grow bored of the decor, turning your mind elsewhere.

"why'd you decide to be a tattooist?" you ask, filling the air with random questions.

"mm," she hums, "when i was younger, i wanted to be an artist. but i was told that it was impossible to make a living off something like that, so i began searching for other lines of work that could incorporate my love for art. and somehow, i landed on this."

you knit your brow, "that's horrible. you could totally make a living off your art. you're really good, y'know."

"thanks, but i don't know how much i believe that." she says with an airy laugh.

"no i mean it." you insist. "your work is super fucking good. plus, your passion for art only adds to how meaningful it is."

she sighs, "yeah but still. i might be good, but that doesn't mean anyone would actually buy my work."

"i would." you tell her.

ellie's hands pause, pulling away for a moment. silence fills the air, thick and heavy in its significance. the lack of response weighs on you, making you wonder if you'd said something wrong. you open your mouth, ready to apologize and take back whatever you'd said that was so wrong. but ellie beats you to it, speaking before you get the chance.

"thank you." she mutters. "that means a lot, actually."

you're shocked by her soft tone so you turn your head to look at her over your shoulder. she's blinking, expression contorted into one of gentility that almost looks foreign on her features. she shakes her head quickly and returns to doing your tattoo, only needing to add a few final touches before it's done.

knowing how close you are to the work being finished, you decide not to ask any more of your pestering questions. you'd been told a lot by various people in your life how obnoxious you can be when trying to befriend or get to know someone. so you stay silent, hating the idea of ellie finding you annoying.

her hands are gentle despite the painful tool in her hands. even if she hadn't told you about her love for art, you're sure you would have figured it out anyway. she treats her work like every piece is the most important one, benevolent in her act of raising it into its full potential. nigh like a child. she's leaned forward, her face close to your lower back as she focuses on the smaller details. your skin crawls with the feel of her warm breath caressing it. goosebumps trail up your spine.

"are you cold?" she asks, likely just having noticed your goosebumps.

"hm? oh, uh, no." you stammer out, instantly embarrassed to have been put on the spot while knowing ellie's mere proximity is the cause. you decide to blurt out an excuse, a lie. "just tickles."

she chuckles, "didn't take you to be the ticklish type."

"really?" you ask, interest now piqued. "what'd you take me as?"

"well judging by how you stormed in here demanding a tattoo and getting into an argument with my coworker, i'd have thought you were more of a badass." she says. "based on first impressions alone, you're rather intimidating. but now that i've got to know you, i know better than to be intimidated by you."

"what? i'm still intimidating!" you exclaim, now offended by her quick dismissal of your priorly deemed badassery.

"mm, no." she laughs. "you have more depth than just being some tough woman. you like to ask questions and learn about the people you meet, you can stand up for yourself while still taking good care of your dignity, you have a good eye for art and know what makes it notable, and you're ticklish."

you frown. "didn't know i was such an open book."

"you're not, really." ellie says, pulling away from your back and whirring the tattoo gone back to idle. she leans back in her chair, raising a brow at you. "i just know how to read you."

you narrow your eyes at her playfully before shifting around to stand from the cushioned chair. the tattooed area already aches with your movement but you ignore it, too excited to see the work to care much. you cross the tiled floor to where a full body mirror is nailed into the wall. you turn around, peering over your shoulder at the new tattoo.

ellie remains at her station, but watches you closely. she leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she watches your every movement.

the tattoo is absolutely stunning. the dark ink forming beautifully intricate swirls and floral designs. you stare at it for a long moment before turning back around to face ellie with a wide smile on your face. "i love it."

she mirrors your grin. "i'm glad."

you walk back over to her station, sitting down on the edge of the chair. your back faces ellie as she adds ointment and a clear adhesive. her fingers are cold, never failing to make your heart stutter in your chest. you ignore it, focusing on something else entirely.

"how much do you think it'll cost?" you ask as she continues to gently rub the ointment into your skin. "a few hundred, right?"

you hear ellie chuckle. "i've got it, don't worry about payment."

you instantly whip your head around to face her, your back twisting slightly. but she continues to work despite this. you stare at her with wide eyes. "you're not making me pay?"

"nah," she waves a hand dismissively. "you're fun to be around. plus, it's so late it'll just add more time to my shift waiting for you to work out everything. not to mention my coworker is ass at counting money. i'll just pay for you, easy peasy."

"you don't have to do that, ellie," you tell her, "i can pay for myself. you don't need to do this for me."

"i know." she says, looking up to meet you eyes with her own pale green ones. naught but sincerity shadows her gaze. "i know i don't have to, but i want to. i insist."

you hold her gaze for a moment longer but quickly realize there's no way you'll win this argument. she's decided. you slump your shoulders in defeat, turning back around to face forward and allow her to finish your wrapping. "fine." you grumble.

"y'know most people would be overjoyed to—"

"on one condition!" you interrupt her, your mind instantly formulating a plan to make it up to her.

"yeah? and what's that?"

"you let me take you to dinner." you declare, peering at her over your shoulder. this time, you're careful not to twist your back. "let me take you out. i pay."

her eyes widen, but you can see the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "fine then. who am i to argue with you?"

you grin victoriously. "next friday. i pick you up."

"it's a date."

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 taglist : @luvsturniolo @zzombiegirl

#vxsellie !#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tattoo artist #tattooist!ellie williams #tramp stamp #the last of us #tlou #au #alternate universe #x reader

255 notes · View notes