I have been WAITING to write this for a long time

the tattoo parlor/flower shop AU is so them

(human AU)

-💙-🤎-🎨-💙-🤎-

If there was one thing Ink hated most in life, it would be waiting. Waiting for the train, waiting for a cab, waiting for his laptop to open up, waiting for his video games to download, waiting for paint to dry, and waiting for work to be over all drove him crazy.

Patience was a virtue he had not been bestowed with, and he took everyone down with him. He didn't hate work (he adored his job, actually) but when business was slow, as it sometimes was, he found himself slowly losing his mind. His boss, a wonderful guy by the name of Gin, was pretty lenient with phones and other devices.

As long as a worker was engaged when helping a customer, he really didn't care. Ink, however, had his own, personal policy that was imposed by no one but himself. When at work, his phone stays in his bag.

Not a bad rule, just one that ended up with him trying to balance pencils on his nose when there were no customers.

It was one of the rare times that Ink was by himself in the shop. Gin always tried to have at least two people in the store at any given time, just in case things got a little chaotic.

The coworker who was supposed to be with him right now was currently at the hospital with his sister who just gave birth. Ink had gotten the text message during his train ride to the city, the poor guy was frantic and, frankly, a mess. Ink responded with a single thumbs up emoji (because, truly, he was the master of making conversation).

Working alone wasn't bad, Ink didn't give a shit either way, just boring. There was no one to talk to, the only sounds that were present was some quiet, smooth jazz coming from the store speakers and the sound of cars driving past on the street.

He had already gone around and did everything he was supposed to. He checked the bouquets for early signs of decay, checked on all of the potted plants and made sure they were all watered to the correct level, he made sure the succulents were alive and well, and did the midday sweeping.

It was routine at that point; in the two years he had been working there, he had never forgotten to do anything. Which was astounding, considering his track record. It kept his mind busy and got his hands dirty. The sensory stimulus from watering plants, touching leaves and petals and thorns, and coming into the smell of blooming flowers was incredible.

Ink nearly fell off the stool he was spinning around on, dropping his pencil to the floor. There was something he forgot to do today! It wasn't part of the job, just something he did. Ink never played favorites with things. He loved all styles of clothes, loved all artistic mediums, he could never pick a favorite form. He had his preferences, sure. He was a painter at heart, but he wouldn't say that it was his favorite.

Not when digital art, charcoal, and sculpting were all just as exquisite. However, when it came to flowers, he would choose one specific type every time.

In the back of the shop was a small greenhouse that was employees only. It stored plants and flowers that weren't ready to be put into the shop, or any plants that the workers wanted for themselves. Ink had only one plant in his section, a medium sized pot with a single flower growing out of it.

"Hello you!" Ink cooed, raising his pitch, as if he was talking to a child, or a dog. He scooped up the pot, and spun around with it in his arms before plopping himself down onto the counter where it just was. "You look beautiful today."

The flower in the pot was known as the "monkey orchid", a beautiful flower that looked like a monkey. It was rather small, the entire thing fitting in the palm of his hand.

Most commonly, it had a light coloring, being a light off-white and light red (or brown. Ink thought it changed from flower to flower, petal to petal). It freaked the majority of people out, and he loved it.

If he had to go with a different flower, the 'naked man orchid' was a close second.

"I'm going to get a new tattoo today," He told the flower, caressing its petals. "I'm not getting you tattooed on me yet. Sorry. Don't feel too jealous. I plan on designing one for you soon.

"It's gonna gooo..." Ink hummed, hopping off of the counter and setting the pot back down in its proper spot. He twisted around, pointing at his right shoulder blade, showing it to the flower. "Right there! Perfect place, eh?"

Ink grinned as he faced the flower again, "I'll show it to you once it's finished."

"Hello?"

Before he could fully understand what was happening, Ink's body had lurched to his left, sending him outside the greenhouse and into the main area of the store. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he made eye-contact with a petite, middle-aged woman, who seemed more than surprised to see him.

"Hey! How can I help you today, miss?"

"Were you...talking to someone?" Her voice was soft and airy.

"Nope!" Ink chirped, grinning. "I was talking to a plant. Helps 'em grow. Not sure if there's actual science behind it or not, but I feel like it works."

"Ah, I see." She fidgeted nervously with the small purse in her hands. Ink approached her, leaning against the front counter as he waited. "I...need a bouquet."

People were often nervous when talking to him. Ink couldn't say why. If he had to guess, he would say that it was probably due to tattoos and-or his height, or even that he was a little, visibly, strange. He tried to avoid towering over the small woman, although it wasn't easy.

"I can do that for you easy!" Ink smiled, trying to come off as friendly. He couldn't tell if it was working. "What exactly are you looking for? A gift, something to warm up the house, orrrr...?"

"I have a colleague who is sick. I thought that a gift of flowers would be, ahem, nice."

Ink wasn't sure if he was reading this stranger incorrectly, but he swore he heard some venom in her words.

"Well that's an easy find! Everyone likes flowers." He hummed, waving and bobbing through the store like a snake, not bumping into anything as he scanned the ceiling of bouquets.

"We've got some small ones, if that's what you're looking for, pink's always a nice color, as well as red and yellow. We could do a custom one if you want something special, but any of these pre-made ones would look just as- huh?"

The woman had followed him, and had put her hand up to stop him from talking. "You misunderstand. My colleague is...well, pardon my language, he is a cunt, and I don't particularly care for him."

"Oh?" Ink struggled to control himself. "What're you...?"

"This might sound a bit asinine, but I was wondering if you knew anything about flowers that would represent my distaste for him without being too obvious?"

"You came at the perfect time!" He said, immediately beginning to go over to a bouquet in particular. "I think I know exactly what you're looking for."

With careful precision, Ink stood on his toes to reach the ceiling and grabbed a bouquet. He handed it off to the women, putting his hands on his hips. "Those right there are yellow carnations. Carnations in general aren't the happiest of flowers, but they are pretty.

"The yellow ones in particular represent disappointment, rejection, and just general distaste for a person. Plus, it's yellow, and people usually think that yellow is a happy color, so it'll also liven up the room."

"Thank you, young man. " She spoke as she took the flowers, following Ink to the counter. She held them close to her chest, as if she was carrying with her an infant child.

As Ink was warming up the register (the damn thing had to have been older than he was), he could feel the woman's gaze on his arms. "...Do you go to the tattoo parlor across the street?"

"Oh, ah, yeah." Ink chuckled, glancing down at his arms before taking the card from her. "I've got a guy there who does my ink. He's a real sweetheart, and a great artist too."

Ink ran a finger along his right arm, pushing and pulling on the skin, "I've experimented with many artists, not all tattoos are the same, y'know? But this entire sleeve was done by him."

"It's gorgeous." She said, handing him her credit card. His entire right arm was, nearly, covered with flowers. They were all black and white, of course, all of his tattoos were (he wasn't one for color), but he intended to change that today.

There was a spot on his forearm where his newest tattoo was going to go, and he was over the moon to finally have it done. "Do they all mean something?"

"Yup. They all represent people in my life." He twisted around, pulling his sleeve up to his shoulder. He pointed at a large sunflower located on the back of his upper arm. "This one represents a good friend of mine. Much like sunflowers, he's one resilient motherfucker! And he's, y'know, the light of my life."

Ink laughed as he finished, pulling his sleeve back down to his elbow. He was kidding, slightly. He appreciated Dream's company and charming personality more than he did with other people, but, if he had to choose an actual light of his life, unfortunately, that title didn't belong to Dream. No matter how much he embodied the sun.

"That's so sweet." The lady said, slipping her credit card back into her small purse. "Well, I hope you have a good day, young man."

"You too!" Ink chirped as he waved goodbye to the woman, who left not a few minutes before his coworker came in to change shifts. Before even a word was spoken, Ink had tossed his company-issued apron onto the head of his coworker and threw his bag over his shoulder, leaving without a moment's notice.

"Ah- H-Hey! Ink! Your shift isn't...bastard."

Ink had been called worse things, and he only laughed as his coworker cursed him out. There wasn't a crosswalk anywhere near either the flower shop or the tattoo parlor, and he didn't feel like walking down the block to get to the proper crosswalk.

If he got hit by a car jaywalking, then so be it. Someone would have to be purposefully going for his ass though, since the two stores were in a relatively low-traffic area, and the speed limit wasn't even above thirty.

Unlike the flower shop, the tattoo parlor had a few bells that jingled whenever the door was opened or shut. He'd have to consider bringing it up in the next job social that was hosted.

Much like his own store, it wasn't busy. He leaned against the front counter, his fingers drumming on it as he waited, rather impatiently, for someone to come. He glanced around the store, taking in the interior of it. There was always something new to look at. From floor to ceiling, there were posters, art pieces, and other decorations.

The front desk was covered in years of different stickers, all created by the employees. The place was spotless though, as it had to be. Framed by the front door were the certificates given to the parlor, signifying that it was up to code or something. Ink wasn't sure on the specifics and he didn't care enough to know either.

The sheer amount of stuff covering every surface was overwhelming. The different patterns, art styles, and colors made the space seem smaller than it was, even borderline claustrophobic.

Ink adored it though. He stepped away from the counter and wandered into the small lobby area, his eyes drawn to one piece in particular. He hummed, his fingers tracing the bottom of the frame.

"It's one of his." A voice spoke from behind him. Ink didn't turn around. He didn't have to, he knew who it was just by the voice alone.

"It's gorgeous."

Killer came up beside him, hands shoved in his jeans pockets. "This is the first piece of his that I've seen up on the wall. He's got a real pretty style, not sure why he doesn't show it off more."

The piece was made with watercolor, the movement and color of the light paint made the wispy pencil marks jump off of the page.

There were barely any fine details, just shapes moving and colors twisting that created the shape of a person. Their hair was long and curled around themself, and their skin had black swirls and spirals dotted across it, like tattoos. Ink touched the glass. It was beautiful.

"I take it you didn't pick up on what he was putting down."

"Heh?"

Ink got an elbow to his ribs. "It's you, asshole. Now c'mon, he's ready for you."

Without saying another word, absolutely speechless, Ink followed Killer deeper into the parlor.

Some of the artists preferred to work in an open space, with music and people to talk with, but there were smaller, secluded rooms for those who preferred to work in a more private space. He didn't need Killer to take him to the room, as there was only one that the artist he was going to actively used as his space.

It was the furthest on the hall, and it was the only room that had multiple windows. The guy liked to work with natural light and Ink couldn't blame him.

"Hellooooo?" Ink said as he knocked on the door with his knuckles, twisting open the knob and walking in. The room was bright and airy, the open windows letting in a cool breeze.

On the other side of the room, sat the artist in question. He was hunched over a desk, meticulously cleaning off his equipment.

When Ink finished speaking, the man turned around in his chair, his deep blue eyes locking onto Ink's. His face lit up as a smile grew on his face. Normally when people saw Ink, they often had the opposite reaction. His grin was welcome though.

"Ink! There you are, come on in."

"How've you been, Blue?"

Blue stayed on his rolling-spinny chair as Ink sat himself down onto the plush chair in the middle of the room, folding his hands over his chest as he relaxed into it.

Blue scooted over, pulling some black, latex gloves, making a point to not let them snap. He shrugged, drumming his fingers on his thighs. "Eh, más o menos. You know how it is." Blue spoke, his spaniard accent slipping into his words. Ink loved it, if he had to be honest.

There were a few times that his own French accent appeared, especially when he was talking fast, but he did miss it, sometimes. He hoped Blue would never try to gain one more American. He was perfect the way he was.

"You're here right on time," Blue raised an eyebrow, "That's a surprise. Did you get out of work early or something?"

"Ahaha, nah. My shift was over anyway." A lie, but Blue didn't need to know that. "Did you get the stencil I sent you?"

"Mhm!" Blue chirped, pushing himself away from Ink and back over to his desk. He set down the stencil on a smaller table (which was, also, on wheels) and rolled both himself and it over to him.

The table had freshly cleaned needles and a few sets of ink on it. "It's really pretty. I'm assuming this one will finish up your sleeve?"

"You mean your sleeve, but yeah, it will." He placed his arm on the armrest, palm facing upward. He gestured to the empty space that curved around his forearm, "It'll wrap around there."

"My sleeve?"

"Yeah," Ink grabbed Blue's hand, gently pushing his fingers against the tattoos running up and down his arm. "All of this was you."

With a shake of his head, Blue pulled his hand away, gripping onto the edge of his seat. "I mean, maybe. But all of the stencils were made from your art. All I did was...ink it? I suppose?" He chuckled as he finished speaking, and began to set Ink's skin for the stencil. He cleaned off the section of skin, tenderly holding Ink's forearm as he did so.

Once the skin was prepped, he wet it with water before pressing down the stencil. He was meticulous, wanting to make sure the placement was perfect.

"So," Blue hummed, "What flower is this?"

"This is a forget-me-not. They have a variety of meanings, some more macabre than others. Forget-me-nots are often associated with death, and the remembrance of those who are dead. Hence the name: forget me not." Ink rambled off, goosebumps appearing along his skin as Blue pressed down on the stencil.

"However, it's not all death and gloom. Forget-me-nots also represent love, devotion, faithfulness, et cetera. They're absolutely gorgeous too."

Blue nodded, listening intently. He gently peeled back the stencil, leaving light, gray lines along Ink's skin for him to trace over. "Ah, sorry, one moment, we're just doing an outline today, right?"

"Uhh." Ink paused, his train of thought getting completely derailed. "Yyyyyes? Yes. Probably."

"Okay! I can do that."

Once more, Blue did a quick do-over on the inking needle with an antiseptic wipe, making sure it was clean before beginning.

"Can I continue talking?"

"Go ahead."

The buzzing of the machine didn't bother him, acting as background noise as he spoke. The pain didn't bother him, it was more adjacent to a light poking, if anything. He had gotten so many tattoos, it barely phased him anymore.

Besides, when it came to pain, it was anything on his back that killed him the most. The front of his arm was nothing.

"I've actually been saving this specific part of my sleeve for a forget-me-not piece for a while. You can do a whole bunch of different designs with them because they're so tiny and grow in groups!

"I actually tried out a few designs before landing on this one, but I like this one the best. I think it fits in the space without being completely overwhelmed by everything else. And, y'know, I've been wanting to have a piece that represents you, so, it was perfect. Like destiny, even."

With a swift flick of his fingers, Blue turned off the pen (machine? Needle? Ink wasn't exactly sure on the terminology, maybe he should ask). He set it down, letting it rest on the metal cart's top. His cheeks were slightly warmer as he looked at Ink with some mixture of flattery and surprise.

"Represents me?"

"Yup. Most of these are based on people or places that are special to me. Like, you remember the sunflower piece we did a while back, right? That represents my buddy Dream, have you met him yet? Aah, I'll have to introduce you to him, he's great. Fuckin' hilarious.

"Anyways, I've always kinda associated you with forget-me-nots? At first it was because its blue color reminded me of your eyes and scarf, but now it's more or less because of the meaning of the flower."

"Really...?"

"Yessir. You're loyal, faithful, and you're the love of my life." Ink said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Plus, you always remember birthdays, and, eh, death dates. It's impressive. Which is why the forget-me-not is perfect for you. I've been saving this spot in particular so I can see it whenever I look at my arm.

"...Blue?"

"I think..." Blue spoke softly, his eyes wide and his brown cheeks flushed. "I think that's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

Ink snorted, "That's really sad, Blue." With that, Ink gently connected their lips.

It didn't last long, as Blue pulled away, shoving the bottom of his face into his scarf, "I should continue your tattoo."

"Yes please."

-💙-🤎-🎨-💙-🤎-

I am always taking requests btw <3 I love seeing your ideas for pairings and fics!!

-Fallen

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