His Neon Goddess

>>2<<

((A/N: I have up to chapter 6 published on my Patreon, go check it out! link in bio.))

The Tokyo Streets were bustling with people. Tourists were standing in the way, taking pictures of the larger than life buildings with neon signs. The Miya Twin's tattoo studio was in the heart of Tokyo, far beyond my price range. We were located on the outskirts of Harajuku while they were front and center in the spotlight, at one of the busiest intersections in the entire city. Once I reached my destination I froze, staring up at the architecture. The building was so modern. It was all black and glass and everything just screamed money. It made me want to vomit. I rolled my eyes and without hesitation opened the door to the shop, walking in cutely, my hips sashaying over to the reception desk.

I was greeted by one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen-and not a single body modification to be found on her. She looked like one of those models you see adorning the normies socials. Not my type, but I could definitely see the appeal. I briefly wondered how many people had offered to ink her virgin skin but then I remembered I was here on a mission. She smiled at me politely from her seated position and brushed away some of her dark blue hair.

"Hello. Do you have an appointment?" Her voice was sweet, she seemed like a nice girl. My wrath wasn't aimed at her. I gave a small fake smile and put my hands in my jacket.

"No. I need to speak to your bosses."

"The Twins require appoint-"

"I'm only going to ask nicely once." My voice was sharp, low. She nodded in understanding and stood up. "Let me see if I can get one of them out here."

I nodded my head, afraid my words would be too harsh for her. While I was standing there waiting, I glanced into the back, noticing a very familiar tuft of brunette hair hunched over in his seat, working on a client. I clicked my tongue, trying to ignore my desperate urge to go punch him in the face. The shop itself was impeccable. Very clean, very masculine. It was nothing like a tattoo shop should be. Even I let my guys get their creativity out. The place was packed with equipment. They had eight stations on the lower floor, all separated by a veil of thin glass with curtain options. The upstairs from what I could tell was like a lounge area. I could see a bartop counter poking out from up there, illuminated in soft yellow lighting.

"Can I help you with something?"

A calm voice broke me from my train of thought. I turned and looked at the male the receptionist had brought to me.

He wasn't a twin. His hair was grey and black in the bangs, a fresh undercut showing off the tattoo he had going up his neck into his skull. His eyes were brown and wide, almost innocent if there wasn't something dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

"Nope. Unless you're an owner I'm afraid I don't have time for you, so if you could bring me the right person I'll kindly not take it out on you." I watched as he narrowed his eyes, taking another step forward.

"Who are you? You look familiar." He was trying to place me, but before he could do that a certain box-dye blonde poked his head out from the second floor.

"Well if it ain't Tokyo's number one secret female artist." I glared up into a pair of lazy looking shit grey eyes. He made his way down the stairs, dressed in a tight black athletic shirt and dark jeans. His right arm was covered in a sleeve that focused around a fox.

"Don't dumb me down to what's between my legs, asshole. And don't ever call up to my shop again asking for one of my interns to quit." I held a firm stance even though he was eyeing me up and down, walking around me in a circle. Hope he got a good fucking view. I was fuming.