After Hours [H.S.]

Poison Ivy

We wanted to use this book to explore different styles of writing so we tried a third pov for the first time. Please let us know what you think!

Buzzing.

She had become so immune to that noise, it was comforting to her now. She almost didn't even hear it anymore, it had just become a part of her everyday life. Being at her apartment and not hearing that sound was so unsettling to her, she hated it, which is why she ended up moving above the shop a few months ago, so she would never have to go without it.

Inked had been her sanctuary for a while now, her place of comfort and peace, happiness and tranquility, all of that sappy shit you would use to describe your home. Inked was her home.

She loved her job, and she was damn good at it too. People from all over the world traveled to Inked in hopes of being lucky enough to be tatted by her, she was well known in the tattoo industry. Her steady, gentle hand had the perfect touch, and if you added her creative mind into the mix, she was unstoppable. She created the most beautiful art that people longed to see.

She was also very easy on the eyes, fiery red hair and pale skin to complement, which was covered completely in ink, barely a spot of raw flesh could be seen on her. She was a beautiful sight to anyone lucky enough to lay their eyes upon her, never mind the fact that she donned a pair of crystal blue eyes.

She was always overbooked but she didn't mind, this was her home after all and she would gladly stay in the shop all day and night if she could. She could spend hours upon countless hours drafting up drawings for potential customers, it was her favourite thing to do. Something about having your own work permanently inked onto someone else set her ablaze, she loved the ego boost it gave her, knowing that her work was just that good.

Only rarely was she given the chance to have some time to herself, but when she was, she spent that time filling her mind with stories about other people's lives through fictional characters and plots. Other times, she would relax in her shop, with faint music playing in the background and the quiet humming of the needles, basking in what was her comfortable silence of people walking outside the shop or cars passing by.

This was one of those days, and as she lay back in the tattoo table, smoking a barely lit cigarette, blowing out smoke into the air, she can't help but to be excited by her next client.

His name is Harry Styles, a name and personality that has lingered on her mind for what seems like forever. She remembers the first time she tattooed him, the confidence that he exuded, walking in with a sheer black shirt and sunglasses on his face. She had a thing for his hair too, the way it flowed down to his shoulders, it looked so soft. She was just aching to run her fingers through it.

Through his shirt she could see all the tattoos littered over his skin. The massive butterfly which sat right in the middle of his stomach immediately caught her eye and quickly became her favourite. She couldn't help but to wonder who had been lucky enough to give him that, and be a tad upset that it wasn't her.

Only then, he came in to get one of his old tattoos covered, stating that he wasn't from the area but was just passing by. So the surprise that she felt when he specifically called her shop to book an appointment for today wasn't missed, because that would mean she would get the chance to see him again.

Nervous is a light way to describe how she feels, she more so would describe it as a swarm of butterflies trying to escape her stomach but she can't deny the excitement that also lingers, especially since he was so interesting the last time they interacted.

His appointment was for 4 o'clock, and right now it was just reaching 3:45pm, giving her just a short time frame of 15 minutes before coming face to face with what seems like a shadow of herself refusing to leave even after the sun sets down.