Inbox me a “♡” (no peeking!) and I will randomly generate a number between 1 and 20 and write you a drabble. Mixture of unadulterated tooth-rotting fluff, potentially nfsw and “flangst” (fluffy angst) prompts!
Everything was running like clockwork at Grindhouse Tattoo and Skate shop, they opened at noon and close at nine. Days were long but not unbearable as the owners of the shop did what they loved, tattooing and musically. The shop was known for having the finest artists in the state of New York and often had celebrities coming in to get the best ink, but no one really caught the male’s eyes. Sure, he dated a few women here and there, became friends with a few people he looked up to and drew inspiration from, but no one really captivated him.. At least, not until today.He was behind the desk just having gotten done with a client and finishing cleaning his work station — the receptionist was sick, so those who currently didn’t have any piercings or tattoos to do were there and this time was the self proclaimed zombie. Taking a call and filling in an appointment slot, dark eyes glanced up at who had came into the shop. Two girls, both looking as if they could be sisters and both in dresses. One had dark red hair, the other black and both of them were white as snow. Eyes stayed longer on the raven haired girl than he would have liked, his usual friendly greeting being caught in his throat. She’s gorgeous.. My God, she’s gorgeous. Swallowing hard, a smile tugged on Quentin’s lips. “Welcome to Grindhouse, what can I help you with today? Do you have an appointment?” His brow quirked as he awaited for the women to answer, eyes not leaving the raven haired girl.The instant he saw her, his heart had felt like he was home again and it was something that could not be explained for the life of him. Even before he had looked up, the air in the room had changed and a strange sense of familiarity came to him. Quentin was never a man to believe in love at first sight, believing it to be things of fairy tales but this woman was making him into a believer. The male didn’t even know her name and already he felt compelled to call her his Koroleva, to sweep her off of her feet and spoil her in love and gifts — such a thing was not normal. She was the reason why poets could write, she was the source of every inspiration and his hand itched to write about her; to write about the undead angel that had walked into the shop and into his life. Well.. Maybe not quite his life just yet, but right now he didn’t want the girl to leave. He needed to know about her everything — her likes, dislikes.. Birthday. Yet it felt like he already knew all of these things, that somewhere it was buried deep in his mind and in all of the other men his soul has been.At this very moment he fell in love with a girl and he didn’t even know her name.