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chaoscauser13 · 9 days ago

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Cooking some art for this fic soon hehehehe

CHAOS INK

Part 1

PAIRING — tattooartist!sonic x fem!reader x piercer!shadow

WARNINGS — T • 16+ • Tattoos & Piercings • Fluff • Banter • Subtle Rivalry • Party Setup • Lowkey attraction • (the next parts will be 18+)

PROMPT — After heartbreak, you walk into Chaos Ink for a bold tattoo and daring piercings. Sonic’s charm leaves you flustered, Shadow’s quiet intensity lingers, and with Rouge pulling the strings, you soon realize this glow-up might change far more than just your look.

WORD COUNT — ~3.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE — A few days ago I came up with this AU, inspired by my love for tattoos and piercings—it just clicked perfectly with these two. A friend helped me shape the beginning, so you can thank her for the spark. 🤭 @mjailene15

@cherryfcola 🔗 this one is for you, babe 😘

🔗

The sharp buzz of tattoo guns and the faint hum of rock music spilled into the street before you even pushed the door open. Neon light glowed against the glass—CHAOS INK, bold and jagged, framed by flickering rings. The kind of place you used to walk past with a wistful glance, always thinking you weren’t the type to belong.

But today was different.

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped inside. The shop was alive with color—walls lined with framed tattoo flash, glass cases glimmering with jewelry under bright light, the air tinged with disinfectant and ink. Somewhere deeper in the back, a tattoo machine whirred, the sound steady, almost hypnotic.

Behind the front desk lounged a familiar figure. Rouge propped her chin in her hand, a glossy smirk spreading as soon as she saw you.

“About time,” she said, her voice smooth, teasing. “Was starting to think you’d chicken out.”

You gave her a look, nerves prickling under your skin. “I didn’t chicken out. I just…” You glanced around, taking in the polished chaos of the shop. “…needed a second.”

Rouge arched a brow knowingly. She, of all people, knew why you were here. After weeks of crying on her couch, nursing heartbreak and bitter anger over an ex who had treated you like a mannequin—someone to dress up neat, plain, and acceptable—she’d finally dragged the truth out of you.

You wanted change.

You wanted to look like you, not like someone else’s idea of acceptable.

Rouge had wasted no time, sneaking your name into the shop’s overbooked schedule. Normally, Chaos Ink had a months-long waitlist, but she had her ways.

“Relax,” she said, tapping her nails against the desk. “You’re in good hands. Sonic’s the best with custom ink, and Shadow—well, he’s the only one I’d trust with a needle anywhere near my chest.”

Your stomach flipped. Tattoo on your lower back, piercings on your nipples. Just thinking it made your heart race. Bold, daring—everything your ex would’ve hated. Which made it perfect.

Rouge stood, rounding the desk to sling an arm around your shoulders, steering you deeper inside. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me introduce you to the boys. Time to start your glow-up.

Rouge led you past the front desk, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The hum of a tattoo machine grew louder until you rounded the corner and spotted him.

Sonic sat perched on a rolling stool, his gloved hand steady as he finished a line of ink across a client’s shoulder. Even from a distance, your eyes caught on the colorful swirls covering both of his arms. His sleeves were works of art in themselves—rings glowing gold across checkered pathways, Chaos Emeralds gleaming like jewels, and wrapping around his right arm in a bold curve was the unmistakable Green Hill loop, stretching upward as though his skin carried its whole world. Tucked playfully between the colors was even a tiny chili dog, bright red and mustard yellow, like a secret joke.

He glanced up when Rouge cleared her throat. His emerald eyes caught yours, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. A grin tugged at his lips—easy, boyish, and far too charming.

“Yo,” he said, voice bright. “This her?”

“Mmhm,” Rouge purred. “Be nice.”

Sonic chuckled, swiveling his stool so he faced you fully. The grin didn’t fade—it only sharpened, like he’d just found something interesting.

“Guess I’m lucky today. Not every client gets the Rouge VIP treatment,” he teased, wiping down his station with quick, practiced motions. His eyes flicked back to you, lingering a little longer than they needed to. “So, what’re we working on?”

Your mouth went dry, but you managed, “Lower back tattoo.”

“Bold,” he said, sounding impressed. His gaze swept over you—not crude, but curious, appreciative. “I like it.”

Something warm fluttered in your chest. The way he said it, the way his eyes held yours, it didn’t feel like he was just talking about the tattoo.

Rouge smirked beside you, clearly catching the spark, and patted your shoulder. “I’ll let you two talk details. Shadow’s tied up right now anyway.”

As she slipped out, Sonic leaned forward on his stool, resting his forearms on his knees. His grin softened into something more genuine.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your first piece feels worth it,” he said. And the quiet confidence in his voice made you believe him.

Sonic rolled his stool closer, reaching for a sketchpad stacked with old designs and loose sheets. He flipped through a few, scribbling quick strokes with practiced ease.

“You said lower back, right? Got anything specific in mind? Or just something that feels… you?”

You hesitated, chewing your lip. “I just want it to mean change. Something permanent. Something that’s mine.”

Sonic’s pen slowed. His grin softened, though it never lost that playful edge. “Yeah… I get that.” His eyes flicked up to yours, warm but sharp, like he saw more than you said. “You’ve been holding back, huh?”

Your chest tightened. “…Something like that.”

He didn’t push. Instead, he finished the sketch and turned the paper toward you. Whatever it was, it clicked instantly. It felt right, like he’d plucked the thought out of your head.

“That’s it,” you breathed.

“Knew it,” he said with a smirk, tapping the page. “Good thing I’m not just a pretty face.”

You laughed, nerves easing just a little.

“Alright, stand up for me.” Sonic snapped his gloves on, his voice casual, but there was something in his tone that made your pulse pick up anyway.

You did as told, turning so he could press the stencil into place. The paper was cool against your skin, but his gloved hand was warm where it steadied you—fingers brushing the curve of your waist a moment longer than they needed to.

“Perfect,” he murmured, leaning back to admire his work. His eyes, though, lingered on you instead.

“Do you say that to all your clients?” you asked, heart racing.

“Only when it’s true.” He winked, stepping back toward his machine. The buzz filled the room, steady and loud, but it didn’t drown out the way your stomach twisted when he added, quieter, “Ready?”

And you were. Maybe more ready than you’d ever been.

The hum of the tattoo machine filled the room, a steady buzz that made your stomach twist with nerves and anticipation. Sonic wheeled closer, his stool creaking slightly as he leaned in.

“Alright, lean forward for me a little,” he said, tone casual but careful. “I’ll keep checking in, so don’t be shy if you need a break.”

You nodded, folding your arms against the padded bench in front of you. The paper crinkled beneath your chest as you settled, shirt tugged just high enough to bare your lower back.

The first touch of his gloved hand against your skin made you jump. Sonic chuckled softly, not unkindly.

“Relax. I haven’t even started yet.”

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered into the padding.

“Hey, I get it. First ink’s a big deal,” he said, voice bright with reassurance. “But trust me—you’re tougher than you think.”

Then came the first sting. The needle kissed your skin, sharp and sudden, but steady. You gasped, biting down on your lip. Sonic’s hand pressed gently to your hip, anchoring you, his voice breaking through the buzz.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Not so bad, right?”

“It stings,” you admitted.

“Of course it does. That’s how you know it’s real.” His words carried a playful lilt, but there was something underneath too, something deeper that made your chest tighten.

He kept talking, his voice filling the space—stories about clients, little jokes to make you laugh, distracting you when the needle lingered on sensitive spots. But every so often, you caught the weight of his gaze when he lifted it from your skin. His eyes lingered, warm and intent, as though he wasn’t just marking your body—he was learning it.

“You’re handling this like a pro,” he said after a while, leaning back just slightly. “Most people squirm like crazy their first time.”

“Maybe I’m just stubborn.”

Sonic grinned, his eyes crinkling. “Yeah. I like that.”

Your breath hitched. He looked at you a moment longer than he should have, then cleared his throat and dipped his head back down, the machine buzzing back to life.

Minutes blurred together—sting, pressure, his steadying hand, the sound of his voice easing you through it. By the time he shut the machine off, the world felt quieter, softer, like the air itself had shifted.

“All done,” he said, his grin returning as he sat back. “Wanna see?”

You pushed yourself upright, tugging your shirt down carefully. Your heart was still racing—not just from the pain, but from the heat in his gaze as he handed you a mirror.

You caught your reflection, the fresh ink vivid against your skin.

“Wow,” you whispered.

Sonic leaned back in his chair, smug and satisfied. “Told ya I’d make it worth it.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you looked away. The silence hummed with something unspoken, heavier than words.

Then Rouge’s voice drifted from the hall, sing-song and smug.

“Alright, lover boy, stop hogging her. Shadow’s up next.”

Rouge’s teasing voice faded as she ushered you down another hallway. The buzz of tattoo machines gave way to a quieter hum—muffled music pulsing low through the walls, steady and dark.

She stopped at a door marked Piercings and gave you a little wink. “Don’t be nervous. He looks scary, but Shadow’s a pro.”

You swallowed, nerves flaring again as she knocked once before pushing the door open.

The room inside was stark, cleaner than you expected, with gleaming metal trays and a padded chair in the center. The air smelled faintly of disinfectant and something cooler, sharper.

And then there was him.

Shadow stood by the counter, snapping a pair of black gloves into place. His gaze lifted at the sound of the door, crimson eyes locking on yours with a weight that made you freeze in place. The first thing you noticed were his piercings—twin rings glinting on his lower lip, catching the light as his mouth tilted in the faintest hint of acknowledgment. His ears were lined with silver studs and cartilage rings, one chain linking them with quiet menace.

He didn’t smile. But somehow, he didn’t need to.

Rouge patted your shoulder. “She’s here for the, uh—special appointment.”

Shadow’s eyes flicked from Rouge to you, unreadable, before he nodded once. “I’ll handle it.” His voice was low, smooth, carrying an authority that made the air feel heavier.

Rouge’s smirk widened. “Good luck,” she whispered in your ear before slipping out and shutting the door behind her.

Silence settled.

Shadow turned back to the tray, picking up a sterile needle with careful precision. “So,” he said without looking up, “you’re the one Rouge squeezed in.”

“Y-Yeah,” you managed, your throat dry.

His eyes lifted again, catching yours with unsettling steadiness. “Nipple piercings.” It wasn’t a question—it was a statement, spoken with the calm certainty of someone who’d done this a hundred times.

The words sent a nervous shiver through you. Still, you nodded.

Shadow’s gaze lingered a moment longer, like he was measuring you, before he set the needle down and moved to the chair. “Sit. We’ll go over the procedure.”

You obeyed, heart pounding. The chair felt cold beneath you, your skin prickling with anticipation.

He stepped closer, looming without trying, the faint glint of his snake bites catching your eye again. When he spoke, it was quiet but firm.

“You’re going to feel a sharp sting. It’s quick, but intense. Breathe evenly, and keep your hands still.” His eyes dropped briefly, then returned to yours. “I’ll tell you when to inhale. And when to exhale.”

There was no teasing, no sugarcoating—just a calm, controlled presence that somehow made you trust him.

And yet, the heat crawling under your skin had nothing to do with trust.

Shadow adjusted the chair, the mechanical hiss filling the quiet room. His movements were precise, deliberate—no wasted motion, no hesitation.

“Take off your shirt,” he instructed, voice low, even. Not a command, not unkind—but absolute.

Your breath caught, but you obeyed, folding the fabric carefully over your lap as the cool air kissed your bare skin. Shadow’s gaze never wandered crudely; his eyes were sharp, assessing, but professional. Somehow, that only made your pulse race faster.

He wheeled his stool closer, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves. “I’ll mark the placement first.”

The marker’s tip was cold against you, his gloved hand steady as it cupped your side for balance. His touch was careful but firm, the heat of it lingering far longer than the marker itself. He leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as he checked the symmetry.

“Good,” he murmured, more to himself than you.

You swallowed hard. “You sound… confident.”

His crimson eyes flicked up, piercing into yours. “I am.”

The words settled deep in your chest, grounding and unsettling all at once.

He picked up the clamp next, the sterile metal clicking faintly. “You’ll feel pressure before the needle. Remember—inhale when I tell you. Exhale when I pierce.”

You nodded, nerves spiking.

Shadow leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that same calm rhythm. “Ready?”

“…Yes.”

His hand was warm where it steadied your ribcage, the cold clamp closing around your skin. “Inhale.”

You drew a sharp breath.

“Exhale.”

The sting was sudden, hot, but over almost before it began. A rush of adrenaline burned through you, making your whole body tense—until Shadow’s hand pressed a little firmer against your side, grounding you.

“Good,” he said quietly. “Stay still. One more.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before he repeated the process. His voice guided you again—inhale, exhale—and the second piercing slid through, sharp and final.

By the time he set the needle down, your chest was heaving, your skin buzzing with heat that had little to do with pain.

Shadow leaned back, tugging off his gloves with a snap. His crimson eyes swept over you—not crudely, but longer than necessary, lingering just a fraction too long before he looked away.

He handed you the mirror, his tone even. “See for yourself.”

You lifted it with trembling hands. The piercings gleamed against your skin, neat, perfectly symmetrical. They were bold. Daring. Exactly what you’d wanted.

“…They’re perfect,” you whispered.

For the first time, Shadow’s composure shifted. The corner of his mouth curved, faint but real, and his snake bites caught the light.

“I know,” he said simply. But his voice was lower than before, softer, almost like he wasn’t talking about the piercings at all.

You looked up quickly, and for a heartbeat his eyes held yours—steady, unreadable, but with a heat under the surface that made your breath catch.

Then he looked away, clearing his throat as he packed his tools. The mask of calm professionalism slipped back into place, though not fast enough to erase what you’d just seen.

Silence hung between you, heavy, until the muffled sound of Rouge’s laughter drifted through the hallway.

Shadow glanced at the door, then back at you. “Come back in a week. I’ll check the healing.”

You nodded, still reeling, but as you slid your shirt back on, you couldn’t shake the way his gaze had felt—measured, steady… and just a little too interested.

The door creaked open, and Rouge peeked her head in with a grin that said she’d been waiting.

“Well, well,” she purred, eyes flicking between you and Shadow. “How’s my girl holding up?”

You tugged your shirt into place quickly, cheeks still warm. “Fine,” you said, maybe too fast. “Better than I thought, actually.”

Rouge’s smirk widened. “Told you he was the best.”

Shadow rolled his gloves off his hands and tossed them neatly in the bin. His expression had already settled back into its calm, unreadable mask. “She did well,” he said simply.

But when your eyes met his, just for a heartbeat, you saw that flicker again—the one he tried so hard to hide.

Rouge caught the look too. Oh, she definitely caught it. Her smirk sharpened into something mischievous. “Mhm. Looks like you made quite the impression, hun.”

You gave her a pointed look, but she only winked.

“Alright, lover girl, I’ll check you out at the front desk,” Rouge said, already turning toward the door. “Unless you feel like hanging around a little longer?”

The suggestion hung in the air, light and teasing—but your pulse skipped anyway.

Shadow moved past you, pulling the tray closer to begin cleaning. “She should rest,” he said, voice even, though the glance he gave you was anything but dismissive. “Piercings heal better without distractions.”

Rouge’s laugh echoed down the hall. “Always the professional.”

You followed her out, but not before glancing back once. Shadow’s eyes caught yours across the room—steady, unreadable, and yet… lingering. Long enough to make your chest tighten.

And when you stepped back into the glow of the lobby, Sonic was there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his tattooed sleeves catching the light. His grin lit up the space instantly, warm and bright—such a stark contrast to the quiet heat you’d just left behind.

Rouge dropped into her chair, smug as ever. “Well? How does it feel to have the most sought-after artists in town all over you in one night?”

You flushed, caught between Sonic’s playful grin and the ghost of Shadow’s steady gaze.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something stir in your chest that wasn’t heartbreak, or loss.

It was possibility.

A week.

That’s how long it had been since you first stepped foot into the shop and let Sonic’s ink and Shadow’s piercings change more than just your skin. A week of sore spots, tender touches, and too many thoughts you couldn’t shake—about both of them. Rouge never let you forget it either, teasing every time she caught you zoning out.

The bell above the door chimed as you slipped into the shop again, a rush of warm ink-and-metal-scented air greeting you.

“Look who’s back.”

Sonic was the first you saw, leaning casually against the counter, tattoos on full display under his rolled sleeves. His grin spread wide when he spotted you, that same easy confidence radiating off him.

“Here for me already?” he asked, pushing off the counter and sauntering closer. “Or is this just a check-up day?”

“Check-up,” you said quickly, though your smile gave you away.

“For Shadow, huh? Figures.” His grin twitched, but his eyes flicked down, mischief glinting. “Still… my work’s on you too. You mind if I take a look? Just wanna make sure the ink’s settling right.”

You hesitated, then turned just enough, tugging your shirt aside to show the tattoo on your lower back. His joking faded the second he saw it.

“…Damn.” The word slipped out low, almost reverent. He crouched slightly, not touching, just letting his eyes drink it in. “Healing real clean. Perfect, actually.”

When he looked up at you again, there was something in his gaze that made your breath catch—like he wasn’t just admiring the tattoo, but you wearing it.

Before you could think of what to say, Rouge’s voice cut sharp from behind the desk.

“Alright, loverboy, you’ve had your fun.” She arched a brow over her smirk. “Shadow’s waiting on her. Piercing check-up, remember?”

Sonic chuckled, standing upright with a hand raised in mock surrender. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t keep the guy waiting.”

But as you followed Rouge’s direction toward the back, you felt his eyes on you still—warm, lingering, almost reluctant.

And all you could think was: now it was Shadow’s turn.

The hum of the shop dimmed as you stepped into the back, the air heavier here. Shadow’s room was smaller, dimmer, lit by a single overhead lamp and the gleam of polished steel instruments laid neatly on a tray. He stood at the counter, gloved hands adjusting something, posture precise, shoulders squared like every movement mattered.

He looked up when you entered.

“You’re on time,” he said simply, voice low and even. But there was something in the way his eyes lingered—like he’d been waiting.

You slid onto the chair at his nod, the cool leather pressing against your back.

Shadow’s gloves snapped lightly as he pulled them on, his focus sharpening. He stepped closer, the scent of clean antiseptic mixing with faint cologne. “I’ll be gentle. If anything feels wrong, you tell me. Understood?”

You nodded, pulse quickening.

His hands worked with calm precision, checking the piercings with practiced care. But even though his touch stayed clinical, you couldn’t ignore the warmth of his presence, the way his gaze flicked up at you every so often, unreadable—but not uninterested.

“They’re healing well,” he murmured after a moment, his voice almost softer now, meant for you alone. “You’ve been taking care of them.”

You smiled faintly. “Guess I listened to your instructions.”

At that, his lips curved into the smallest smirk. The snake bites glinted when he spoke again. “Most don’t. I’m impressed.”

For a second, silence hung—thick, charged. You swore he was studying you longer than necessary, his gloved fingers brushing just a little slower as he finished the check.

“All good,” he finally said, stepping back. But his eyes lingered one heartbeat too long before he turned to discard the gloves. “Come back in another week. I’ll make sure they stay that way.”

Rouge’s teasing rang in your head—you couldn’t stop thinking about them. And now, sitting there with Shadow’s voice low in your ear, his smirk still ghosting your thoughts, you knew she was right.

The moment Shadow finished cleaning his tools and straightening the tray, Rouge popped her head into the room like she’d been waiting outside the door.

“Done, hun?” she asked, smirk dancing across her lips. “All healed up and shiny?”

You nodded, adjusting your shirt, cheeks warming.

Rouge’s grin widened. “Good. Let’s take you to the front desk. I’ve got… news.”

Curious, you followed her down the hall, the hum of the shop returning as you reentered the lobby.

Rouge spun in her chair, crossing one leg over the other, arms draped casually. “Okay, so tomorrow night—there’s a party happening. Pretty exclusive, small crowd, but a lot of people you’d recognize in the scene.” She leaned in closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a juicy secret. “And yes… the boys will be there.”

You blinked, heart skipping. “The boys?”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Sonic and Shadow. Duh. Don’t act like you haven’t been thinking about them all week.”

Your cheeks heated, and Rouge’s smirk widened, wicked and knowing. “Exactly. So… you should come. See and be seen. Maybe have a little fun.”

You hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. “I… I don’t know.”

Rouge leaned back, hands behind her head, smug as ever. “Oh, come on. It’s the perfect chance. A little music, a little dancing… and, if you’re lucky, some attention from both of your favorite artists.” She winked. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Rouge tilted her head, eyes glinting. “So… what do you say?”

You swallowed, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement. For the first time since your breakup, the thought of going out didn’t feel daunting—it felt… thrilling.

“Yes,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll go.”

Rouge clapped her hands together, triumphant. “Perfect. Tomorrow night, then. And trust me, sweetheart… it’s going to be fun.”

To be continued...

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