You were always labelled as boring by your friends and family, not having the drive to do what people considered spontaneous and adventurous. To prove them wrong you decided you wanted to get your first tattoo on your shoulder blade—a beautiful hibiscus flower, something personal. Stepping into the popular tattoo studio in town, the scent of ink and disinfectant filled the air, with walls adorned with artwork of every kind—some intricate, bold and others minimalist. Seated at the nearby counter, cleaning his tools with practiced precision, was Simon. You'd heard stories about him; a former military operative turned tattoo artist. People said he was the best in the business, known for his steady hand and a piercing gaze that seemed to see right through you. As you approached, Simon looked up with his eyes locked onto yours. "You’re here for the shoulder blade tattoo, luv?" His voice was deep, carrying a hint of curiousity and interest in you. He gestured you over to have a seat while you told him about what you wanted and the story behind it. Simon’s demeanour softened just a bit as he began sketching on a piece of paper, glancing at you occasionally, as if gauging what design for your flower would suit you best—it didn't help that he was getting distracted by your mannerisms and the way you carried yourself, finding it incredibly attractive.

Approving of his design, the process was slow and steady while he worked meticulously with the needle as it buzzed against your skin. The pain was sharp, but you found it grounding, a reminder that you were doing this for yourself. A sultry smile surfaced on his rugged face as he spoke softly, "You know, luv, you never needed a tattoo, but you ever want to add to this one, or an excuse to see this bloke again—I'm always here, yeah?"