𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 of bluelock oneshots because we are starving for more. ー I DO NOT own these stories, there are credits before each story. Fanfics inside this book are BOYS LOVE or SHIPS not xreader.
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【!! SOME...
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Sae wipes down his room's chair, his hands cramping from a long day. He's been booked up to his ass in tattoo appointments and Shidou didn't even bother to warn him that he scheduled so many for him until Sae walked in for his shift and was greeted with 'hey you have six sessions today, good luck' and was promptly sent to work like a cattle dog.
He'd always wanted to amount some fame, but not like this. He likes the insane amount of money of course, he likes having his own shop, but the celebrities and rich assholes could scathe his nerves worse than anything on a bad day. They'll post his work, pay him handsomely for his craft, but they never ask for things that matter. He can't even remember the last time he got to design something that made him feel proud, like it was truly introspective of his customer and not superficially etched onto their skin because of his name.
He misses walk-ins a lot, when people would enter the shop and ask for him when he hardly had any bookings at the time and he was practicing on himself. He also hasn't gotten to do any piercings in a year since he hired Shidou, who, speak of the devil, sticks his forked tongue out at him as Sae glares when he walks by.
"You look gloomy for someone who's booked up to two years from now," Shidou laughs, and Sae can almost see the horns poking from his head and the swish of his demon tail, "who would think being famous and rich as a dog would make a man sad."
"It's not that," he groans, scrubbing his eyes, "I just miss doing designs that are beautiful how I like them, not just what people expect me to do."
Shidou shrugs, confused but not all that interested in his woes. Who can blame him, Sae's designs appear just as beautiful and perfect as they became renowned for, but only he knows when his art has his soul behind it- and that's becoming less and less with each passing day.
The shop is empty because it's closing in maybe ten minutes and he doesn't have any more appointments for the day, and he scrolls through his files to see who he has to make a design for next when the bell at the front door chimes.
He looks up, and his throat feels full of cotton and he swallows thickly to force it down so he can greet the person as they hesitantly walk towards the counter.
He fails, because the bluest eyes he's ever had the chance to meet stare right at him and his mouth goes dry and he can't seem to move.
The man is about two inches shorter than him, Sae can tell because he's standing stock still like a robot when the beautiful stranger stops a foot away from the counter and speaks, "do you guys take walk-in sessions?"
