Tattoo artist!reader, anyone??
Ghost coming into your shop to get something, anything to cover up his arms after they had healed properly.
"Ah, you're my full sleeve, right?" You eye him up, big and strong, with scars that you know not to ask about. Still, you have him sit down so you can check if the scars are good to ink over. No keloids, but a few hypertrophic, should be easy.
It really is, technically speaking. Ghost doesn't care what the tattoo really looks like, just so long as it's generic enough to blend in with the rest of the soldiers and hides the scars well.
"Okay, that's enough for now." You're about a third of the way through, five hours in, and you can tell the scars are hurting with how his hand subtly twitches every ten minutes. "I'll get you set for the break, give me a moment."
Ghost sits up like he wants to drag you back, he just wants this over with. "I can handle it."
Of course, you've dealt with people like him before. Self-destructive and not nearly mentally healthy enough to take care of themselves, it comes with the territory of specializing in scars. So you turn from your station and give him a fine-tuned look "I said we're done. I'm hungry, you need a break, I'll have food delivered. This isn't a request."
Soap would have laughed at the way ghost complied so easily, sitting his ass back down. He's silently grateful for you stopping, taking a moment to settle his beating heart. He's in a well lit studio, there's no straps on the chair, no one wants to hurt him.
The sub you ordered is delicious. Crispy lettuce and tomatoes with three different meats and melty cheese. It's probably the best food ghost has had in months.
"Okay, back to it, big guy?" You go through your routine, and when you finally hold the gun over his arms, ghost doesn't have the urge to flinch away. Stomach full, safe in the private studio, he nods. "Good lad. C'mon, you're gonna look so cool."
Or smth idk.














