More Genshin Tattoo Artist/piercer Hcs Bc I Can

more genshin tattoo artist/piercer hcs bc i can <3 | part 1 | n.a : let's assume you're getting a piercing on your lips okay | warning : slight mention of blood in scara's part

piercer!scaramouche who barely utters a word, simply gesturing for you to sit and wait for him to get his material ready, not missing the way your eyes traced the pattern of his tattoo, from his neck to his chest - where it was hidden from his clothes.

piercer!scaramouche who catches your eyes running over his lips, how you blink and look away in embarrassment when he notices the way you were eyeing the snake bites piercings adorning his lips.

piercer!scaramouche who doesn't even try to hide his smugness, smirking down at your while his gloved hand turned your head towards him, it'll hurt a little falling past his mouth before he got to work.

piercer!scaramouche who keeps his indigo eyes focused on your mouth, thumb smoothing over your bottom lip before he worked fastly, the process nearly painless.

piercer!scaramouche who quietly looks your way to make sure you're not hurting too much while he cleans his materials quickly, pressing another clean tissue against the small beads of blood forming on your lips, an almost inaudible you did really good murmured under his breath while he offered you a rare smile of his, chuckling lowly when you turned away shyly from the close proximity between your faces.

tattoo artist!albedo who greets you curtly, i polite smile resting on his lip while he led you to a seat, noticing the way you let your eyes wander around his tattooed forearm and the star at the base of his throat.

tattoo artist!albedo who has a few piercings as well - two on each ear and one on his lips - and playfully smirked at you when he caught you staring at him while his ringed fingers weaved through his pretty curls, tying them in a low ponytail.

tattoo artist!albedo who asks you a few questions while he works, listening intently to your answers and pushing you to tell more about yourself, humming and giving a few replies to your small rants.

tattoo artist!albedo whose hands are gentle, whose words are sweet, making sure the needle doesn't hurt too much and pausing whenever you need to, small, nearly inaudible praise and encouragements falling past his mouth.

tattoo artist!albedo who mumbles something about being over in a few minutes, watching in amusement how you flustered from how close he was to you, raising his brows teasingly at you when you couldn't help but stare at his pretty face and from him removing his gloves slowly, gentle voice telling you that youve been really good, pretty and chuckling a little when you choked on your next words, patting your head in apology.

reblogs are highly appreciated! this is not proofread, sorry if i made any mistakes

𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐄 | 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈.

akaashi wakes up to fingers tangled in his hair, threading through the dark locks in a gentle pattern. he realizes he’s laying on a lap, and he’s confused for a moment—the last time he checked, he was seated comfortably on the couch, doing work on his laptop as you sat beside him and watched your show on the television.

“are you awake, keiji?” he blinks up at you, eyes adjusting to meet your face.

“when did i fall asleep?” rolling your eyes—though you don’t look even the slightest bit mad—you cup his cheek, rubbing over the small red marks his glasses have left on his nose with your thumb.

“i think the third episode. well, that’s when your head fell on my shoulder, anyway. maybe you should fix your sleep schedule,” you chastise.

his face turns to bury itself into your stomach, and the way your palm glides up and down his spine almost makes him slip back into unconsciousness. it’s nice, he thinks, being taken care of. akaashi’s used to doing the caring, but the roles reversing is more comforting than he’d anticipated—and he’ll be the first to admit he’s a bit spoiled when it comes to you.

“‘m a hard worker,” he mumbles. “don’t hate me cause you can’t be me.” he smiles when you shove his shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

“i hate you cause you ruin my sleep schedule too,” you huff.

“and why’s that?”

“because i wait for you, keiji,” you whine. “i’m losing my sleep over a boy. literally.”

akaashi looks up amused, and his eyes look pretty even when they’re sleep laced and squinted, dulled by the dim lighting of your tiny, shared living room. and perhaps one day, he thinks, he’ll get to lay on your lap in a home that’s much larger—one you’ve both made yourselves, hand in hand. he grabs your hand in his. the tiny living room will do for now if he’s got you in his grasp.

“well, what’s stopping you? go to sleep,” he murmurs. your eyes roll as you watch him close his, and if you could stare at him like this forever, you think you would, sleep be damned.

“not on the couch. i already have dark circles for you, i’m not adding back pain into the mix.”

“if you loved me, you would stay with me here,” he murmurs.

and the gentle weaving of his locks between your fingers continues as you whisper “i do, i love you, keiji.”

and he knows it’s true because you settle yourself to get comfortable, eyes closing as you slowly drift off to sleep with him on the small, creaky, old couch. he promises to himself he’ll offer you a bigger one someday, enough for the two of you and maybe more. it’s what you deserve for sticking with him.

for bub, calista, and sayu — my fav keiji stans

thinking about heartbreak with my favorite boys: ft. haitani ran, sanzu haruchiyo, haitani rindou

ran, who never thought he would experience heartbreak because he refused to let anyone get through the steep walls he had thrown up around his heart. until you, at least, though he hadn’t realized it until he found himself grinning like a fool at his phone every time you messaged, until he found himself being disappointed every time he got a notification that wasn’t a text from you. and it terrified him. it terrified him so much that he started pushing you away, missing dates to go out clubbing with rindou and haruchiyo, staying late at work instead of meeting you at your apartment, replying to your texts hours later, if at all. he couldn’t come to terms with the fact that you had managed to slip through all of his defenses and it had him dizzy and reeling as he tried to figure out what to do. but it took too long, and when he distanced himself from you without explanation, you didn’t wait. by the time he managed to accept it, you had long moved on, leaving him behind. and he was going to reach out again, to apologize at the very least—he really, really was—but when he saw you out at a cafe smiling and laughing with another man, for once in his life, haitani ran’s confidence shattered and he found himself walking back the way he had came, jaw clenched tight and fingers trembling from where they were stuffed in his pockets. and it was crazy, really, how even months after he lost you, he found himself wandering to all of the places he used to take you in his free time, all of the places that you loved—the very same places that he avoided so actively when he still had you.

haruchiyo, who never knew what it was like to love someone so completely, and be loved so completely, before he met you. who knew he wasn’t good for you, but was too selfish to let go. haruchiyo, who loved you maybe a bit too much and didn’t realize he was suffocating you until you were backing away, telling him that the two of you needed some time apart, and even though he disagreed, the thought of spending any time away from you leaving a sour taste in his mouth, he nodded his head because he was scared that if he didn’t, he’d lose you forever. and he waited, he waited every single day for you to message him again but you didn’t. the end of the break never came and he found himself spending his nights scrolling through all of your texts with him trying to figure out where the fuck he had gone so wrong.

and rindou, who had never genuinely been loved for himself until he met you. who was used to being in his brother’s shadow, the second choice, all of his life. who hadn’t even realized how low his sense of self worth had dropped because even he had fallen for the arrogant facade he had thrown up to hide himself from public eye—who hadn’t realized it, that is, until one of your first nights together when you batted his hands away when he tried lay you back, instead laying him back and running your lips along every inch of his skin, telling him how much you love him, why you loved him and he found himself throwing his arm over his face to hide the tears that were rapidly building in his eyes. your separation had been gradual, an impending doom that he could sense coming from a mile away but it didn’t prepare himself for the actual confrontation. he didn’t bother begging or pleading, he knew you well enough to know that once you made a decision, you would stick with it. and he missed you, god he missed you every fucking day, staring at pictures that he couldn’t bring himself to delete, and every night he went to sleep praying that he woke up to a message from you, figuring out that it was all just some sick nightmare his mind made up. but every morning he woke up and his heart felt heavy when there were no new notifications. and it hurt, he was sure that nothing hurt more than losing the person you thought you’d be spending the rest of your life with but at the very least, he could thank you for helping him realize his self worth

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐔

a/n: i've been so obsessed with royal!au lately so enjoy this! you're a herbalist in this who lives at the palace. (yes this is inspired from snow white with the red hair ehe)

DILUC: the eldest son of the king. he's a dreamboat no doubt; princesses from all over the kingdoms line up to be courted by him but alas, he rejects them all. his father warns him that he must marry soon to strengthen political alliances but little does the king know diluc's heart belongs to you, the royal court herbalist who has somehow managed to capture the young prince's heart.

KAEYA: the second brother to the throne. while he may be adopted and not true royal blood, the kingdom respects him the same. whether it be for his charming nature or the townsfolk fear of the royals, he rules alongside his brother with no protest. he often fakes injuries just to come see you at the clinic, claiming that he truly was hurt and might even have to stay overnight so you can monitor his health.

ALBEDO: the chief herbalist of the royal court. he's the one who appointed you to join the court in the first place. he truly saw lots of the natural potential you carried and admired your love for plants and medicine. he often asks you to accompany him to the greenhouse for assistance when really he just wants to spend more time with you.

THOMA: one of the princes personal advisor. he's always accompanying the princes and king with whatever it may be they need. although he may or may not sneak into your private quarters on evenings just to spend some time with you. he even brings you unique flowers he finds just to impress you.

KAZUHA: apart of the royal guard. he has been appointed to keeping the royal sons safe from any possible danger that may lurk in the dark. he often finds himself slacking off to watch a pretty herbalist walk through the gardens. he's always found you stunning, but isn't sure how to approach you just yet. so for now he'll just leave you small notes of anonymous poetry at your desk for you to ponder over.

CHILDE: the undercover spy from the neighboring kingdom. he was sent on a mission to gather as much intel as he could about the military and political affairs. he didn't meet you until he one day he was training too hard and ended up spraining his ankle. he was forced to spend time with you since you were attending to his injuries for the next several days. but he slowly found himself hopelessly falling for you. maybe he could take you away from this horrid place.

what about rich boy gojo and your first fight 😭

𝐎𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 | 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔.

“baby, i didn’t mean to—”

“save it satoru,” you spit, gathering your things to leave gojo’s house. he frowns, shuffling out of bed and throwing on a shirt while you head for his door.

“hey, you didn’t have breakfast yet! it’s not good to leave on an empty stomach—” he calls, only to pause as the door slams in his face. groaning, he quickly makes his way to chase after you—which would be a lot easier if he didn’t have so many hallways to weave through.

“go have breakfast with your little date,” you say sourly, and he runs a hand through his hair with a sigh before jogging up to you. and just as you open the front door, it slams shut as he spins you around, frantic blue eyes searching yours as you refuse to meet his gaze.

gojo satoru is hot news. you know it, he knows it, the whole campus knows it.

evidently, so do the other snobby rich families his gets along with—and he’s always been used to being sought after, he’s never really given it a second thought when someone shyly asks him to accompany them for an event. he simply shrugs, mumbles out a bored “why not,” and lets himself get dragged around for a night as envious eyes watch his every move. he’s always figured it’s better than going alone (and better than getting teased by suguru for not having any game.)

but that was before you.

now he has you, and he’s become increasingly aware of just how unhappy you are with all the wandering eyes on your boyfriend, and he’s become increasingly aware of just how unhappy everyone else seems that he’s sought after you—someone who seems mundane to everyone else but gojo.

but you’re anything but mundane in gojo’s eyes. you’re fiery and thrilling and you keep him on his toes. you manage to find a way to humble him at every corner he turns, and under all the witty remarks and snarky comebacks, you’re gentle and sweet and you love him because he’s satoru—not because he’s one of the infamous gojo’s.

“i didn’t realize it was that big of a deal,” he sighs, rubbing his temple as if he has the right to be stressed. gojo’s mother keeps an impressive collection of potted plants by his large windowsills, exotic and expensive-looking flowers that sit in just as expensive-looking pots.

you think it’d be a real shame if you smashed them over his skull for his lack of self-awareness.

“of course, you wouldn’t,” you snarl, crossing your arms and glaring at him. he winces, looking over his shoulder to see the maids pausing and glancing at the two of you as you have your…disagreement, and he rubs his neck and lets out a deep exhale.

“can we go somewhere a little more private?”

“how about i go somewhere away from you, and you go get ready for your little event with your little date who i’m sure is just as excited as you are,” you say instantly, and inwardly, he groans at how you’re just as insistent on being difficult as the first day he met you.

“she’s not my date. well, it’s not romantic, at least. and she asked me way before you and i got together,” he defends, “maybe if you weren’t so stubborn before, i could’ve asked you to join me,” he grumbles.

and this is a dangerous game. gojo knows better than anyone else that you’re not one to mess around with when you’re angry, and more than anything, he’s sure you’re sick and tired of the whispers and stares and rumors that come with walking around with his arm around your waist.

but sometimes, he wishes you’d stop holding his background against him—it’s not as though he chose to be born into a wealthy family and a lonely home and a tiring reputation. he chooses to be yours with no hesitations, and he wishes you’d choose to be his without seeing it as a weighted risk.

“so now it’s my fault? how would you react if the campus asshole was chasing after you to make you one of his little crossed off names—”

“you know it wasn’t like that,” he cuts you off, furrowing his brows and frowning at you. his voice raises slightly, and suddenly, you both forget you’re out in the open for anyone in his home to witness.

“oh yeah? what as it like then?” you challenge.

“if i have to spell it out for you, then you don’t know as much about me as you think you do,” he grunts, glaring at you as anger slowly starts to wedge its way into his bones.

and you don’t know him—not fully, at least, and he’s starting to wonder if you’ll ever understand him enough to get to know him.

“i know you were just trying to get me into your bed. and now you’ve got what you wanted and you’re already making your way to your next victim—”

“i told you she asked me to go with her ages ago. i can’t just cancel now, it’ll look bad on my family—”

“it’s always about how you’ll look with you, isn’t it?”

“don’t act like you understand—”

“god, you’re just like everyone else, satoru—”

“i’m nothing like them,” he slams his hand on the door, voice booming into the room and echoing over the large walls. his voice is loud, but there’s a quiet whisper of hurt underneath his tone. everything stills, both of your eyes widen, and you can faintly hear one of his maids drop a glass in shock, glass shattering on the floor into little pieces.

it’s quiet for a moment, just you staring into his eyes, and him staring into yours, and then he’s off—and after your first argument ever, gojo satoru hurriedly makes his way back to his room, leaving you to stand by his door alone and let yourself out.

—

it’s a while before you speak to him again. a few days of angrily waiting for texts, of tearfully wondering if you were too harsh, of lonely morning showers where you don’t get to pretend to be annoyed as he sneaks in to join you, and of wondering if everything’s really ended as quickly as it starts.

it’s not until you get a call from his mother (and you can’t help but roll your eyes that he lets her take care of things for him as always) that you decide to visit him for a long-overdue talk.

“satoru, open up,” you say dryly, pounding on the large door with a sigh. “we can’t avoid this forever. quit being immature.”

it’s silent. there’s not a muffled grunt, not a single whine of protest, not even a stubborn hmph. it’s eerily quiet, and as much as you hate to admit it, it makes your heart squeeze just a little with concern.

“satoru, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away. you’re a big boy now, act like one,” you say sternly.

“satoru is not here. he’s dead,” comes a muffled voice, and even if you want to slam his head into a wall, you can’t fight the small smile that tugs at your lips at his antics.

“oh really?” you raise a brow.

“yes. it was really tragic. he’s missed by many.”

“well, how come i wasn’t invited to the funeral? i would’ve brought balloons,” you humor him.

“well, that’s exactly why,” he grumbles. rolling your eyes, you snort, shaking your head before letting your forehead press against the cool wood that separates you.

“satoru, your mother says you haven’t left your room. at all. it’s been fours days. i’m pretty sure you had a quiz yesterday, and it also means you skipped that event—you know how your father gets when you skip events. let me in so we can talk,” you say seriously, and once more, it’s silent for a moment before you finally hear shuffling.

“door’s open,” is all he says. you walk into the familiar space, stopping to roll your eyes at the small candy wrappers he’s likely replacing for meals littering his side table before taking a good, long look at him.

and, well…he looks awful. far worse than you—and that’s saying something for someone who wears designer brand outfits to the same eight am class you show to in sweats. you sigh, staring into his eyes (and trying to ignore the dark circles) before speaking up.

“you look awful,” you say bluntly. gojo purses his lips.

“being dead does that you,” he shoots back, “show a little compassion.” and this is gojo satoru, the one you’ve learned hides emotions with silly jokes and petulant tantrums—the ones that hide his true feelings—the vulnerable kind—because he just never quite thought they mattered that much.

no one’s ever stopped to listen, and he’s never stopped to ask them to.

“i just found out i can speak to the dead,” you snort, “cut me some slack too.”

you sit beside him, stare at your hands while he stares at the ceiling. you don’t know where to begin, and he doesn’t know where this will end, and it’s really just a mess—but then he grabs your hand, a soft pout on his lips as he brings it into his grasp and plays with your fingers.

“why are you here?” he asks. it’s not accusing, just curious.

“your mom asked me to talk to you.”

“oh,” is all he says. he waits a moment before adding, “is that…is that it?”

you sigh, watching as he traces over the ridges of your palm and deepens his pout some before letting out a soft chuckle. “i guess i had to see my dead boyfriend too since he didn’t invite me to his funeral.”

“what if he’s turned into a ghost by now?”

“nothing will really change. he haunted me alive too, anyway,” you shrug, and he huffs, rolling his eyes and sending you a soft scowl.

“always so mean for no reason,” gojo mutters.

“satoru,” you start, and there’s a soft groan before he covers his face with your hand, hiding away from your serious expression, “we can’t avoid this forever.”

“avoid what, exactly?”

“satoru,” you warn.

“fine,” he mutters, letting your hand drop as he sits up. you miss the warmth of his skin under your touch instantly.

“why haven’t you left your room?” you start, staring at him sternly, side-eyeing the candy wrappers he’s carelessly discarded to his side table. “and when was the last time you had a proper meal? candy is not proper.”

“worse than my mom,” he grumbles, crossing his arms with a sigh, “i’m fine. you don’t have to worry about me.”

“i always worry over you,” you murmur softly, tracing over the stitching of his blanket that sits on your lap. he stares at you from the side, ponders your words for a moment before sighing deeply.

“i didn’t…i never wanted to make you feel bad, you know,” he murmurs, “i should’ve canceled going with her to that event. ‘m sorry,” he says quietly.

“‘s okay,” you hum—because, there’s really not much else to say. there’s no point in dragging it out, and it’s not like he ended up going anyway.

but he frowns, furrows his eyebrows and forms a small crease on his forehead at your words.

“that’s it? after all that, you’re just going to—”

“we’re just so different…you and i,” you cut him off, “everything that’s normal for you is crazy to me. and it’s just…it’s not easy.”

“i’m trying my best,” gojo says quietly, “but i don’t care if we’re different. it doesn’t—”

“well, you should. people don’t like seeing me with you, and you acting like you don’t hear what they say isn’t going to make them go away—”

“they’re going to say shit even if i do listen,” he cuts you off, sighing frustratedly before running a hand through his hair, “that’s how it’s always been. that’s how it’s always gonna be. so why listen if i don’t have to? i know i love you, and i’m hoping you love me too—or that’s kind of awkward because you have been saying it this whole time, you know,” he glances at you with a pointed look that makes you shoot him a scowl, “why should it be any more complicated than that?”

falling in love with gojo satoru is not easy—you don’t think it ever will be, but you think perhaps it’s time to stop seeing it as endless what-if’s and if-only’s. because gojo’s never lived one moment wondering about a what-if as long as you’ve been by his side. he’s happy, and in love, and he trusts you. and maybe, if you let yourself trust him too, if you let yourself count on his arms waiting to catch you as you fall for him, maybe the what-if’s and if-only’s won’t matter anymore.

“i’m sorry i don’t always trust you,” you admit softly, “i should stop doubting you so much.”

“yeah, you should,” he agrees, pouting slightly once more. cracking a smile, you lean into his side, poking his chest with your finger.

“don’t you dare ever think about taking someone else to an event that’s not me,” you warn, glancing up at his face as he stares on ahead. you almost think you see a ghost of a smile fight its way to appear across his lips.

“noted,” he nods, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer. “and you should stop treating your poor, sweet, sensitive boyfriend like he’s a sleazy jackass when he’s been nothing but hopelessly in love with—”

“i liked it better when you were a ghost,” you roll your eyes, and he huffs, pulling you down to lay with him as he brings the covers over your bodies. “i don’t think you’re an asshole, by the way. or that you’re like everyone else. you’re very sweet.”

he closes his eyes and hums, lips twitching at the corners. “and…?”

“...and annoying.”

“be nice to the dead,” he whines.

you let out a soft giggle, and he grins widely at the sound, and slowly, the tension shifts to the usual softness that’s always there when you’re with gojo. and maybe, he’s been easy to trust all along—if the gentle hearts he traces into your hip and the soft kisses he scatters over your forehead are any proof.

“and you’re a good guy,” you add with a gentle smile, cupping his face, “and i love you.”

“i love you too,” he grins.

“enough that you’ll come back to life for me?”

“i’ll see what i can do,” he chuckles before pressing his lips to yours, kissing you deeply to make up for four days of lost time.

ty ris for the idea i luv u ur so big brained <33

[ 14:06 ]

You have already seen it coming; from the way his eyes became evasive, to the dull, clipped words which held empty promises, to what was once a warm and comforting embrace turning into a mere, loosened touch — you knew it was all coming.

But it didn’t make it any less painful.

You thought back on the first time you had sat on this particular sofa. Jokes and laughter were being passed around the room, smoke and even more smoke entered your nostrils, pinkies snugly linked and hidden away from his friends, and you vividly remembered how you became flustered when he threw you a playful, knowing look.

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