I got my Wings today! This is our base to start, before thickening some lines and adding more background depth that will mesh with the anti-possession symbol (fading from purples to reds, bringing out more color variations). A star for Bucky may make an appearance, and I am also looking for various symbols and ideas to work around the upper wrist area. I would say it’s coming along nicely. My Wings, while obviously being a large part Captain America, are also my ode to the Commandos. The white star was taken from Cap’s breast plate. ^^
Summary: Home is inked across her skin in deep indigo and silver white and Hinata thinks maybe that’s the point. That she brings home with her wherever she may walk, and that family is found anywhere, especially amongst riotous cascades of flowers that come sailing in from a shift in the wind. Pairing: NaruHina Prompt: Tattoo/flower shop au Chapter: 1 AN: A very happy (and belated) birthday fic to @annalovesfiction! (So sorry for being so late!) I give you this monstrously long first chapter to my first dedicated multi-chapter fic! I’m still terrified of this but, well, I just wrote 10k worth of words so maybe I’ll be ok. Apologies for any mistakes- I’m bad enough with just short drabbles, so this was a bit overwhelming to keep going through. Hope you enjoy! (Fanfiction.net) (AO3)
When Hinata got her first tattoo, she never expected that she would keep coming back until the entirety of her back, the slopes of her shoulders, and the landscape of her collarbones would be covered as well. She had never even planned to get even one tattoo.
She was sixteen and in mourning when she walked in.
A boy sketching idly behind the front counter looked up at the sound of the door opening and her attention was immediately drawn to the two red fangs curving down over his cheeks. He was a rough composition of messy brown hair and layered torn t-shirts revealing intricate tattoo sleeves covering his arms. Black eyes reflecting the little light in the dimly lit room followed her halt in the middle of the doorway, a feral beast waiting in the dark. She wondered who was more surprised by the other here.
“You here for a tattoo?” he finally asked when it was apparent she wasn’t going to speak.
She wasn’t even supposed to be here at all, but she nodded instead, not trusting her voice. Her grip loosened on the doorknob before taking a step, then two into the darkness.
The room was warm, and she found the dark was not nearly as foreboding as she feared.
Tattoos have several different meanings. People have many different reasons that they might decide to get a tattoo, turning their body into their own colorful canvas. Tattoos have always been a way to express your personality or keep something close to you. I consider tattoos to be high art because they are personal, and take a special kind of artist to perfect. It’s a way to have something permanently with you all the time. Based on the criteria above, I consider tattoos high art.
For the longest time tattoos were considered a destruction on your body ,and they also went against many people’s moral beliefs. Having a tattoo could even cost you your job. However, times are changing. According to Dr.Reef Karim,a leader and pioneer in the field of addiction medicine, mental health and relationship therapy at UCLA, he says in his article to the Huffington Post, “ They’re more accepted than ever. You could even call them “trendy.” In the nightlife scene, tattoo artists are rapidly becoming a popular career choice. Sooner or later, we’re going to see a leather-clad, tattoo-sleeved, multi-pierced guy named Rocko at our kid’s career fair standing next to the “Be a DJ” booth. Although tattoos have been around for more than 5,000 years (Egyptians used tattoos to differentiate peasants from slaves and social branding has been around a long time), ink art has really exploded in the last 25 years” (Tattoo Psychology). Dr.Reef is saying that over the past 25 years,tattoos have become a more acceptable part of life. Another reason why tattoos should be considered high art is because of the artist behind them. The art of tattooing is a process that takes years to master and even then, tattoo artists can only become a master in certain parts of the tattooing process. Tattoos can take up to a couple months to finally complete,meaning that the artist has to have a certain kind of determination and artistic ability to work on a long term project that does not just stop once the person walks out of the door. Scott Campbell is a tattoo artist that shows all of this. Scott is a tattoo artist that started small and worked to become one of the best artists in the country, now owning and operating his own tattoo parlor with a major client list. Scott is only one tattoo artist that has perfected this form of art.
Some may not agree that tattoos should be considered a form of high art, however with the idea of tattoos being personal and the type of artistry it takes to perfect them, tattoos are considered to be high art.
Hi there! So @aceteatic asked for this au almost a month ago, and rather than continuing to put off posting it, I reached a point where I’m comfortable posting what I have so far. I probably won’t get back to this until after Christmas season, but I will come back to it!
Baz works at a flower shop. Simon and Penelope are tattoo artists. Baz is a complete goner for Simon the first time he sees the boy. (It’s actually kind of sad.)
They’re probably all ooc I’m so sorry. Also, I’m bad at summaries.
Baz looks up at the sign above his mother’s flower shop - Natasha’s Bouquets - before unlocking the door and opening for the day. She’s been gone for three years now and he still calls it her shop. As long as her name is up there, it will be hers.
Truthfully, being a florist isn’t his life’s passion, but being in the shop is the closest he can get to being with his mother. He feels her in here; her name on the front sign, the red paint splatter on the floor from when he was ten and dropped a paint can, the bouquets that come out just right, their names on the doorjamb in the back room.
He hears the bell above the front door ring.
“Can I help you?” he asks, looking up from the bouquet he is currently finishing.
The boy who walks in is slightly shorter than Baz, wearing a black baseball cap turned around backwards, a tight black t-shirt, and denim skinny jeans. Baz takes in the boy’s blue eyes and the splatter of moles on the boy’s right cheek and neck. He tries not to stare, but it’s hard. The boy’s lips start moving, but Baz doesn’t hear anything right away. He blinks hard, hoping to regain control of his hearing.
“-friend’s birthday. Her favorite color is purple if that helps,” the boy finishes.
Friend? Friend as in normal friend? Or girlfriend? Or boyfriend? People don’t buy flowers for regular friends, do they? Baz should know this. He’s the one that owns a flower shop.
Baz gathers himself and responds, “Any detail helps. I’ll see what I can put together. When do you need it by?” Who is this friend? Why do I care? I don’t even know your name.
The boy’s face scrunches up and Baz tries - and fails - to not find it adorable.
“That’s the thing,” the boy says. “Her birthday is today, so I was hoping to get it by the end of the day.”
Normally Baz would be annoyed that a customer needed an order on such short notice. He likes to take time with his work. Make sure each bouquet is perfect - something his mother would be proud of. But, he finds himself having a hard time being angry at the boy in front of him. Baz has a weakness for attractive boys. And this one, well, Baz is concerned at how smitten he is with this boy considering they only met a minute ago and he still doesn’t know the boy’s name.
“I’ll see what I can do. Come back at closing and I’ll have it ready for you,” Baz says. He considers asking what exactly the boy is looking for. He doesn’t know how much information was given during the time he went temporarily deaf and doesn’t want to embarrass himself, but he also does need to know what he’s going to spend the rest of his day putting together. “What exactly am I making for you…” Baz says, leaving room at the end of the statement for the other boy to finish, hopefully with a name.
“Something I can use as a centerpiece on a table,” the boy says with a shy smile.
“And what name should I put on the order?” Baz asks. He feels ridiculous still not knowing the boy’s name.
“I’m Baz,” he replies before the boy thanks him and leaves.
Later, when Snow comes to pick up the centerpiece Baz spent most of his day making look perfect, they exchange a quick greeting, Baz passess off the finished product, Snow pays, and with a quick thank you is out the door.
Can I have a Randy Orton one shot please where CM Punk or someone is coming onto me backstage and I dont like it. Randy sees this and protects me and takes me back to his locker room. Thank you hun x :)
I know I made a post sometime last year saying that I wouldn’t post requested fanfic until I had them all
ready to go, but I thought that I should at least post this one in a
way to say sorry for taking so long on writing your requests. I’m still
working on some of the old ones; hell, I’ll still work on them even if
the people that asked for them got someone else to write their story.
But I hope you enjoy this one and know that you can still ask for a
request, just also know that it’ll take some time for me to post it. Also, I may have made Punk sound like a real creep in this.
“Come on, Y/N,” CM Punk said to me, “one date with me is all I’m asking
for. And then maybe after the date, you and I can go to my tour bus so
we can…you know,” he finished with a wiggle of his eyebrows. The short
Superstar then tried to stroke my cheek, but I slapped his hand away
before it could even reach my face.
“Enough, Punk,” I said to
him through gritted teeth. “You’ve been trying to get in my pants for
two weeks now!” Which was true: I couldn’t sit down for two seconds
without Punk flirting with me and coming up with some kind of sexual
“Why don’t you give up already,” I continued, “you know I’m never going to give in. Ever. So stop trying, Phil!”
“Ooh, hearing you yell my name like that just turns me on so much,”
Punk disgustingly moaned. Then he quickly wrapped an around my waist and
moved in for a kiss. Luckily, before his lips could touch mine, Randy
Orton yanked Punk away from me by the collar of his shirt.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Punk,” Orton asked the multi-tattooed Superstar with a glare in his eyes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Randy,” Phil tried to lie to Orton, but it didn’t work out for him.
“Cut the crap, man,” Randy nearly shouted as he continued to hold on to
CM Punk’s shirt. “I have seen you hit on Y/N countless times! She hates
it and you know it!”
“So back off already!! If
you don’t, then I swear that I’ll go back to punting people’s heads and
yours will first one I’ll kick.”
That scared Punk
straight. So he agreed to stay away from me and Randy finally let him
go, almost throwing him to the floor.
“Thanks for the help,
Randy,” I said as I watched Phil scurry away. I couldn’t help but to
laugh at him when he almost fell over.
“No problem, Y/N,” Randy replied, laughing with me. “I just couldn’t stand to see him act that way towards you.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you just have to get used to things, ya know?”
“But to that?!?A lady such as yourself should be treated better than that.”
I smirked at Orton and gave him a seductive stare. I didn’t like Punk
that much, but Randy I was infatuated with. “Oh really?”
“Really,” he replied, smirking back at me.
“So tell me, Orton, how would you treat a lady such as myself?”
The Viper moved closer and had a look in his eyes -a look that was
telling me that he was ready to ‘strike’. “Y/N,” he groaned, “I think
that I’d much rather show you than tell you.”
the way,” I replied, knowing what he meant. He wrapped his index finger
around my tiny pinky finger and led me to his locker room.
Once we got inside, Randy quickly closed and locked the door and started
to passionately kiss me. I kissed him back while slowly running my
fingers through his short hair. He wrapped one of his arms around my
waist and went on to massage my breasts with his other hand. I moaned
when Randy did that, and he smiled through the kiss.
“I love the sound of that,” he said with a devilish grin. “And I wouldn’t mind hearing it for the rest of the night.”
“You have to earn those moans, Randy,” I replied, returning the grin.
As a response to what I had just said to him, Randy led me to his couch
and laid me down on it. He then threw my shirt off and proceeded to
kiss down my torso. I wanted to run my fingers through my Randy’s hair
again, but he grabbed my wrists and held my arms above my head, making
“Don’t worry, honey,” Randy said after he heard
my whine, “you’ll be able to touch me soon.” He winked at me, so I took
that as a promise.
Randy continued to kiss me all over my
body; going lower and lower with each kiss, he would soon come to my
belly button. When he got there, Orton gave me another devilish grin and
slowly pulled my wrestling shorts off.
“I see someone doesn’t like to wear underwear when they wrestler,” The Viper said in shock and amusement.
I blushed -no one knew about that. “It’s more comfortable this way.” I blushed.
“Hey, I don’t mind. Besides, it’s much more easier for me to do this.”
“Do wha- ah, ah. Oh my god, that feels so great,” I moaned after Randy
put his head between my legs and started to lick my clit. He went slow
at first -I guess he wanted to tease me- but once I moaned his name,
Randy licked faster and soon even went on to fully eating me out. “Ah,
fuck! Fuck,” I practically screamed. It was probably even loud enough
for other Superstars and Divas and anyone else to hear from outside the
Randy finally let my wrists free so he could
hold on to my waist as I arched my back. I took that moment to go back
to touching him. But I wasn’t fully satisfied because Randy was still
wearing his shirt, so I groaned in annoyance. Randy caught on quickly
and sat up so he could take his top off.
“You really wanted to
touch me, didn’t you, Y/N?” The Viper asked with a smirk, but he didn’t
give me a chance to answer as he went back to giving me sweet, sweet
pleasure. “God damn, you’re so wet! And you taste so good too!”
Hearing Orton say those things some how made the great feeling that I
was already having intensify so much that I had to arch my back even
more. I could tell that I was close to reaching my peak, but I didn’t
want to come that way. So I told Randy to stop and watched as he lifted
his head up with a questionable look on his face. But I also couldn’t
stop myself from smiling and feeling even more aroused when I saw
Randy’s chin glistening with my juices.
“What’s wrong, Y/N,” he asked, licking his chin.
“Nothing, I just really want your cock. Inside me. Right now,” I answered with a lick of my licks.
Randy looked happy with that reply; so much so that he stood up and
quickly took off his shorts and underwear, making his hard and very
erect member his his stomach.
“I’ve been wanting to put this inside you ever since you got really wet.”
I bit my bottom lip. “And I’ve been wanting you do it ever since you saved me from Punk. Now fuck me.”
“With pleasure,” Randy replied as he lied on top of me and slowly put
his cock in me. His thrusts were going slowly so he could give me time
to adjust to his size. But Orton soon picked up the pace after I told
him that I had adjusted well enough and that I needed him to fill me up.
So he went deeper inside me, and I had never felt so much pleasure in
my entire life until this night.
Randy continued to thrust in
and out of me, over and over again; the best part was hearing him moan
-music to my ears- and him telling me how great I felt around his cock.
Which, by the way, was really big.
He finally hit my G-spot -so many times, actually- and I soon had no other choice but to come.
“Oh fuck, Randy,” I said as I had my sweet release. Then, like some
kind of weird sexual domino effect, Randy came, moaning my name and
kissing me passionately afterward.
The Viper slowly
pulled himself out of me and layed on the other side of the couch. I sat
up, crawled over to Orton and lied on top of him. He felt so warm and
so gentle as he wrapped one of his arms around me.
“That was incredible,” I sighed into Randy’s chest.
“I know what you mean,” Randy agreed, “that was the best sex I ever had. I can’t wait to do it again.”
I chuckled at what he said. “Neither can I. Also, I want to say thank you, Randy.”
“For helping forget about Punk for a few hours.”
“No problem, Y/N. Now, I think we should start heading to the hotel;
I’m starting to get a little sleepy and would much rather want to bunk
on a bed instead of this couch.”
“Ditto.” So Randy and I put our clothes back on and opened the locker room door. What we saw outside shocked us.
“Phil, what the hell are you doing,” I shouted when I saw CM Punk.
Though he didn’t really need to answer my question; it was obvious what
he was doing: Phil Brooks was masturbating outside of Randy Orton’s
“Oh shit, Y/N! I was…I was doing nothing at
all,” Punk stammered as he quickly put his member back in his shorts. It
might be embarrassing to say it, but I must admit, seeing Punk’s hard
cock made me horny all over again. But neither of the boys needed to
“Bullshit, you creep,” Orton retorted. “You were jerking off and you know it!”
Phil looked down at the floor, too ashamed to look me or Randy in our eyes anymore.
“Yes I was,” he muttered. “But with all of those beautiful noises that Y/N was making, how could I not?”
The look on Randy’s face softened -I guess- a bit and then he smirked
at Phil before wrapping an arm around the smaller Superstar’s shoulder.
“Well Punk, let me tell you about how good Y/N’s juices taste.”
“Please do,” Phil replied with a big grin on his face.
“Please don’t,” I said to Randy while also glaring at him.
“Wait guys, you didn’t let me finish,” Orton replied as he gripped
Phil’s shoulder tighter. “I was saying, Punk, that I would tell you
about how good Y/N’s juices taste, after I punt your tiny ass!” Randy basically tossed CM Punk away like he did earlier that night, and Punk fled right after.
“Fuckin’ disgusting weirdo, man,” Randy sighed as he wrapped an arm
around my waist. Then he looked at me with adoring, but lust-filled
eyes. “So, Y/N, do you want to go to my hotel room and have round two?”
“Randy,” I said, returning the gaze, “it would be my pleasure.”