The Saturdays Drabbles

forever inked

ғʀᴏʟʟɪᴇ

ғᴀɴғɪᴄ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: Frankie and Mollie have been a proper couple for a year, and to celebrate, Mollie thought it was time to join the “tatted up” club.

   “Frankster.” Mollie’s soft, sing-song voice drifted through to the kitchen, where the said girl was hunched over with face shoved in the refrigerator in search of something to satiate her veracious appetite. But at the calling, Frankie straightened, spoon struck from her mouth, deciding to stick to the jar of Nutella in hand. Whenever Mollie called, she answered.

   “Yes, love?” Frankie chirped, skipping into the living room. The blonde was seated on their couch, feet propped upon the coffee table with laptop occupying her hands in her lap. She had a concentrated expression to her features, and she appeared to be studying whatever was pulled up on the screen. When there was no response, Frankie rounded to table and plopped herself down on the same cushion, resting her head against Mollie’s shoulder as she dug a bit more Nutella out with her spoon.

   “What is this?” Frankie questioned, brows furrowing as she looked at the stencils of music notes. Switching to another tab, Mollie scrolled through more pictures of what looked to be the outlines of snow-capped mountains, all about the size of her palm. “Are you looking for tattoos?”

   “Tomorrow is our one year,” Mollie explained evenly, still watching her activity. But at her words, she tilted her head down a little to rest on Frankie’s. “I thought I ought to get a tattoo, something I’d like.”

   “Why?” Frankie asked, sitting up straight to properly look at her girlfriend. “You’ve always been scared of tattoos. Why do you want one?”

   “You have a couple yourself,” Mollie said, shrugging a shoulder. On another tab was snowflakes. “And you love yours.”

   A smirk fell easily, “You want to get one because of me? Have I inspired you?”

   “You could say that.” Finally looking away, she leaned across the distance to plant a simple kiss to the brunette’s lips. “Besides, you look damn sexy with them.”

   “But there’s something sexy about you not having one,” Frankie said, conflicted. While the idea was rather sweet, Mollie wanting a tattoo because she admired Frankie for hers, it was true when she said she liked having Mollie without a trace of ink. Being able to roll over in the morning and run her hand over unmarred expanses of creamy skin was marvelous. The idea that one morning, she was going to turn to Mollie and find a place of her flesh with ink scarring her for the rest of her life in some form or fashion was… disappointing.

   “You said that about my not having a navel piercing,” Mollie retorted with a pout. “And while I appreciate having you deter me from that, I actually want this tattoo. I want to share something with you.”

   “You already share something with me,” Frankie emphasized. Leaning forward, lips brushing without really kissing, she whispered, “You share my heart.”

   There was a beat, as though they would kiss or Mollie would murmur back about discarding her whole ridiculous idea, but suddenly, the blonde was pulling away with a wry smile. “Nice try, Frankie Sandford. You couldn’t help ‘sharing your heart’ with me, even if you tried. I am having this tattoo. Either you can help me or not.”

   With a groan, Frankie stuck the rest of her spoonful of chocolate in her mouth, flinging herself to her feet. “Fine,” she said around her mouthful. “I won’t help because I don’t condone it.”

   “Will you come with me when I have it done tomorrow?” Mollie asked, nonplussed about her girlfriend’s hissy fit. Her eyes were once again fixated on her computer screen, searching once more.