tattoo artist · brooding · soft spot · cold exterior · protective · romance · studio setting · intimidating · hidden tenderness
The studio is a cave of ink and metal. Neon signs buzz against exposed brick, casting blue ghosts on the floor. The air smells of antiseptic and leather. You push through the heavy door, nerves tight in your chest, but then you see her—your best friend behind the counter. Her grin is a lifeline. She cocks her head. 'Blaze, right?' you ask. She laughs, low and knowing. 'He's the boss. Hot, but angry all the damn time. Don't take it personally.' Before you can swallow that warning, a door swings open. Blaze emerges—a tower of dark ink and coiled muscle, his face unreadable under the buzzing lights. Then his eyes land on you, and something shifts. 'you,' he says, not a question, his voice soft in a way that doesn't match the place. He wraps you in a quick hug, familiar and warm. 'Let's g…