a/n: 2.1k of tattoo artist!Shawn. enjoy

You took a deep breath, calming your nerves as you eyed the dingy building. It wasn't the best pocket of town and it definitely wasn't the best decision you'd ever made in your life, but it was decided—you were getting another ear piercing.

"Ready?" your best friend, Shelby, asked. You'd done this a few times, yes, but it was always a good idea to have someone with you under circumstances like these.

"Yeah," you nodded, trying to convince her just as much as you were yourself, "I need this, right? It's time for change, all that?" you babbled, talking with your hands as the two of you crossed the street, your Blundstones clunking on the asphalt as Shelby's high-heeled boots without a doubt looked and sounded better.

"You don't have to do this," she shook her head in disapproval, not too keen on your coping mechanisms. Not all of us could just fly to Paris for the weekend, Shelby.

"Yes, I do. I need to even them out anyw-" you began, stopping dead in your tracks at the sight of the brunette behind the counter. His features were strong and chiseled as he scrolled on the mounted tablet, the light from the screen illuminating his face. It's a good face, you thought to yourself.

But your thoughts were interrupted—no, de-fucking-railed--as Shelby smacked into your backside, clearly not noticing that you'd stopped and she kept going. Of course, pretty boy was looking right at you.

No turning back now. You silently cursed your bestie as the two of you sauntered over to the desk, exchanging a knowing glance. There was no denying it—he was fucking gorgeous.

Once you were standing in front of him, you could really take notice of the rest of him. He was gigantic, to start. Muscular and buff, filling out his thin white t-shirt perfectly. He fit the setting, too. Each arm was covered in ink, too much art adorning his skin to fathom in the short time you had. Your eyes raked up his body, finally settling on the face that initially took your breath away. Only this time, it was smiling right back at you.

"Can I help you?" he asked—and not in the rude way that people usually said it—a warm, kind version that had you ready to jump him on the spot. Your stomach twirled as you took notice of the thin silver hoop in his right nostril, a matching one in his left earlobe.

Shelby looked around the tattoo shop as you gently rested your forearm on the desk—Sweetcheeks taking obvious notice—and tousled your hair a bit. "I'm actually here to get a cartilage piercing, if that's okay."

"Of course that's okay," he chuckled, ejecting a wooden drawer with a clipboard in it. He handed it to you with a pen, "Just fill this out. M'ready when you are."

You gulped, wondering if you should fill it out over in the seating area or right there at the desk. Does it make a fucking difference? Jesus, you're acting like you've never done this before.

You opted for the latter, gripping the pen in your left hand as you started printing out your name, birthday, phone number, emergency contact information, all that. It was just a waiver, spewing terrifying garbage along the lines of liability issues in the case that you pass out or throw up or drop dead or explode because the guy piercing your ear was so fucking hot.

"That's intense," Shelby spoke over your shoulder, startling you to the point of gasping. Maybe this isn't the best idea.

"And so it should be," most-gorgeous-man-you'd-ever-seen-in-your-life piped up, "this is very serious business," he was very obviously joking. His raised eyebrow and wide grin revealing his perfect fucking teeth made that clear, and you let out a nervous giggle. This was going to be a long twenty minutes.

You nodded at him, handing over the clipboard and pulling out your debit card.

You paid and took a deep breath, watching as he stood from his desk. Holy fuck, giant much? He must have been nine feet tall. Okay, maybe just over six. But damn.

"M'gonna wait out here," Shelby winked in your direction, leaning over to gently smack your bum as receptionist-tattoo-man-piercer led to way to a little room at the back of the shop. You blushed, mouthing a "thank you" in her direction as you trailed after him like an expectant puppy.

You watched the way his muscles shifted beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, and then the tightness of the black denim clad to his gigantic legs, and then his pointy boots. Large pointy boots. You were swooning. This was bad.

"Sure you can handle it?" he turned his head and spoke teasingly, stopping to let you into the room first. You slowed down, turning to face him in passing.

Without a word, you tucked your hair behind your right ear, revealing six earrings. Three in your lobe, two in your cartilage, and one in your tragus. He nodded with a grin.

"Ah, a veteran," the man quipped as you sat on the leather cot-like reclining chair. He stood at a table with drawers, rapidly opening and closing them in search of the right surgical steel bar for the job. "Alright, you know the drill. Where'd you say you wanted it?" he asked, parking himself right in front of you with a purple marker in-hand. You'd be kidding yourself if you weren't thinking about taking him right here on this bench.

"Oh, um," you stuttered, caught off guard by his expectant gaze. He looked rough, but his eyes were gentle. You wondered what his life was like outside the studio. "Left, just above this one," you stated, pulling your hair to one side to show him what you meant.

"Oh, it's different," he wondered out loud, confusing you.

"What?"

"Oh, I just meant from the other one," he muttered, pointing to your right ear. "They're not in the same places. I like that."

"O-oh," you suppressed a grin, "thanks."

And suddenly he was really fucking close and you were ready to explode. You wondered if this happened often and if any other lucky girls had spontaneously combusted in this very room, leaving him to clean up the bloody mess.

You felt his fingers resting on your cheekbone to steady your head as the marker inked a little dot on your ear, his breath tickling your neck and ready to make you fucking lose it. Again, this was bad.

"So," you started as he leaned away, cocking his head to the side to assess the placement. "How long've you been doing this?"

"This for four years, tattooing for five," he mumbled, biting his lip softly as he intensely eyed the shell of your ear. "No, I don't like it," he spoke, reaching for an alcohol wipe to rub the ink off your skin. You giggled, appreciating his dedication to the craft as he drew another dot. "Better. You can go have a look in the mirror."

"I trust you," you chuckled, only to be met with his questioning grin. "I mean, you've been doing this a while. And that took way longer than it should have, so," he huffed out a laugh and you were pretty sure you were actually, physically, quite literally fucking melting. "And I already have so many, what's one more? Even if it's a little fucked up."

He was laughing out loud, now.

"I'll just leave you a bad Yelp review or something," you added, picking at your cuticles out of nervousness.

"Can't leave a juicy review if you don't know my name," he joked, almost as if he was prompting you to ask. You didn't have to. "So if you must know, my name's Shawn."

"How do I know that's not a premeditated pseudonym for when I leave that shitty Yelp review?" you smiled, watching him shake his head as he beamed from the little table, snapping some surgical gloves on his—holy fuck—gigantic hands.

"You're a chatty one," he quipped, clamp in hand, as he turned to face you again. His grin was ear-to-ear, and you hoped not all of his clients had him smiling this widely. Maybe he was going to be the one to combust. "Alright, lay back for me."

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that.

You admired the view once you'd settled on the noisy leather, pulling your long hair to the right side of your head. Shawn—or so he said—stood over you, his sharp jaw clenched and his pink tongue poking out the corner of his perfect fucking mouth. His chocolate eyes were soft, juxtaposed to the rest of him. Huge. Pierced. Covered in tattoos. But somehow, a gigantic teddy bear? You'd kill to find out.

The pinch of the metal clamp tugged you from your thoughts. "Alright, you've got this," he reassured, now having rolled up a chair beside your head-to-toe blushing body. You were pretty sure even your ankles were crimson. "Breathe in for me."

You inhaled as he focused on your ear, a hot pinch flaring on the left side of your head while he pushed the thin needle through your skin.

"M'almost finished, don't move hun," he added. Hun. You weren't complaining. "Stay there," he spoke, standing from his stool to retrieve an earring backing from his chest of supplies. "Almost done," he repeated apologetically as you winced, the pain from attaching the metal ball to the back of the bar burning the side of your head.

"Okay, good?" he asked, resting his arms on his knees as he met your gaze. You nodded. "You can sit up now," he spoke gently, tapping your thigh and immediately looking apologetic. You couldn't help the blush creeping back.

"Looks good," he smiled, grabbing another alcohol wipe to clean up any residual ink from earlier. It hurt, but you were too focused on how close he was to your face to care.

You stood from your spot and made your way over to the mirror, Shawn following curiously. He stood behind you, and without thinking, reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear so you could get a better look.

"Shit, sorry," he said, quickly looking bashful. "You definitely could've done that yourself."

"S'okay," you giggled, admiring his work. The placement was perfect and it complimented your other earrings, a classic "fuck you, dad!" echoing in the back of your brain. Piercings weren't for everyone. "It looks really good."

"Then I guess you're good to go," he gave a tight-lipped grin from his little station, carefully peeling the latex gloves from his hands so his rings didn't come off with them.

"Okay, uh, thank you," you smiled, lingering in the doorway as he opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but quickly shut it, opting to shoot you a wave instead.

So you left.

But it didn't feel right. So you popped your head back in.

His eyes snapped up to yours, a little smile finding his lips again. He was the expectant puppy this time.

"Might have to come back soon to get my nipples done," you stated flatly, turning his cheeks a bright crimson before tapping the door frame and heading on your way, Shelby joining you outside the tattoo parlour.

She started the car, waiting anxiously for you to fucking spill already. But the front door to the shop swung open and you grinned as the tattooed giant came barreling out, frantically looking up and down the street wondering which way you'd gone.

"Over here!" you called, hopping out of the vehicle as his shit-eating grin was visible from the other side of the street. He looked both ways and jogged across the road, his smile failing to falter as you leaned against the car.

"So, uhm, sorry, I didn't really think this through," he giggled, your grin just as wide as his. "Would you, uh, wanna, maybe, do you wanna go on a date with me?" he asked, shoving his huge hands inside his tiny pockets.

You didn't think about it. Didn't need to, really. You stepped forward, closing the space between the two of you as you met his lips, gently cupping his face as you kissed him. He kissed you back softly and sweetly, resting his forehead against yours to take a breath.

"That's a yes?"

"My number's on the waiver," you smiled, stepping away from him and climbing back into Shelby's car, leaving him beaming on the sidewalk.