based on a post from tumblr by daddiesofsouleater. the awful title is all me, though.
inked
She gets the tattoo on a Saturday evening when he is gone on a solo mission and only after panicking and going over the pros and cons of the tattoo several times in her head. Tsubaki is outside the parlor when she actually decides to get it done, and it is a place Soul had unknowingly recommended, so she trusts that her friend, who has three distinctive tattoos himself, would not lead her astray.
Tsubaki knows that it is not the biggest decision she will ever make, but it is the first time in years she has made a decision this big that Black Star wasn't privy to—and if things progressed as they do now, he might never find out, she remarks, annoyed—so it is important that she does this for the right reasons.
She has the spot picked out already—over her heart, the same place her old uniform had it—and according to the few articles she's read, it'll hurt, but not nearly as bad as she expected it might. And besides, Tsubaki has been through far worse than getting a tattoo.
The star will rest over her heart, a subtle nudge at her feelings for him, but it is more to show loyalty, to show that his clan is not dead and gone, that she is his family, first and foremost, and anything else after that. Weapon, lover, friend, sister; whatever he needed. It was reassurance to him and to her, and so when the man—Brock—asks if she's really sure about this, Tsubaki gives him a firm nod.
He gets his tattoo on a Thursday, two days before Christmas, and one day before he is supposed to come home from training with Angela.
(Or, really, it had been like babysitting. He'd taken Angela to some witch-y training thing because he's a good goddamn guy and because he didn't like the idea of Kidd sending some Shibusen brat.)
Angela's friend, who he has been assured by a thousand times, gives him a pointed look when he shifts again, and beside him, Angela lets out a low sigh. "Can you just tell her what you want? You're making things difficult by being annoying."
He shoots Angela his most venomous glare, because wow, where was his moral support? And it's not like he's…embarrassed per say about the tattoo, it's just that it's personal and it's serious and even though he's pretty sure she wouldn't mind—would find it flattering, even—he doesn't know how else she will react. Will Tsubaki think this is his way of hitting on her? Or his way of…of claiming her? He hopes she doesn't think that—knows she won't, because she's his weapon and his soul—but the thought of doing something so…so intimate, it makes his palms sweat and his heart beat a little faster, and if that makes him a pansy, well. Nobody has to know.
He's doing this because he cares about her and respects her and, more than that, he loves her. And that is something he is absolutely sure of.
Black Star lies back on the chair, eyeing the witches above him warily. "Angela, the picture is in my coat pocket, grab it."
She grumbles under her breath but grabs it eagerly, tugging the picture out of the inside pocket and running her eyes over it. Her eyes soften when she realizes what it is and what it stands for, and she hands it to her friend without a word, taking Black Star's hand in hers.
He squeezes a few times during the inking—only because he hates needles, not because it hurts—and when it's done, Black Star can't pull his eyes away from his chest, and the blooming camellia flower resting between his shoulder blades.
Tsubaki first spots his tattoo when he's delirious from pain and medication; when she's cleaning the deep gouge on his back and ripping away his shirt.
She doesn't notice it at first, mostly because it's red and there is so much red, but when she does notice, it takes her a very long time to catch her breath afterward.
He's going on about how he could have taken that kishin without getting injured, but thought she needed the practice patching him back up and it's not like she could get hurt because he was shit at the patching up job, right, so he doesn't notice her pause, or the way her fingers drift across the black ink of the camellia flower between his shoulder blades, tracing the design and wondering how and when and most of all why.
But now isn't a good time, not when he's bleeding out on the floor of a hotel in Moscow and is delirious and maybe a bit high (the pill bottle didn't say how much to give him, so she'd guesstimated, and figures he took some extra when they didn't kick in right away), so Tsubaki files the questions away for later and finishes tending his wound.
"Ts'baks," Black Star mutters, turning and looking at her over his shoulder, giving her a loopy, crooked grin that has her heart tightening in her chest. "You are…da best…"
"I know," she smiles slowly, patting his cheek and pulling him down to lie against the pillows, making sure to keep the heat on high in the room, because she doesn't want to cover the wound. "Get some rest, now."
"'Kay."
The first time he really notices her tattoo, he's looking at her flawless tits while she struggles in their bedroom to get out of a shirt.
"I knew—ow—that I shouldn't have worn it when, dammit, it was so hard to get on, but Maka—insisted—" She yelps when he touches the tattoo, and he wonders briefly if she's yelping because he's seen her tattoo, or because his hands are cold, or because she thought he was in the other room, giving her privacy (and she so should have known) but all of her yelping and Black Stars! are currently not resonating with him because she has his crest tattooed over her heart and this is his first time ever seeing it, which is both good on her part and really bad on his part, for more than one reason.
Tsubaki manages finally to free herself from the confined of her shirt, and although they are nearly the same height—he has grown just an inch more maybe than her—she meets his gaze evenly, looking worried and nervous.
He's still touching the tattoo, he realizes belatedly, tracing the edge of the simple star, but he can't bring himself to stop or to think about common courtesy, because she has him on her body, and it's kind of amazing; more than kind of.
"When?" He asks, clearing his throat when the words come out thick and choked. "When did you do this?"
"Last year," she murmurs back, keeping her eyes trained on her, light blush dusting her cheeks that would be cute on a girl like Maka but on a girl like Tsubaki it has his guts all fluttering and his pants tightening and she is so, so beautiful and the best partner ever. "While you were in Wales with Maka and the others."
"The meister thing, right?"
She nods, drawing her lip between her teeth and chewing it slightly, before asking, "When did you get yours?"
His ears feel hot all of a sudden, under the warmth of his hat, and he pulls it off with his free hand, scrubbing through the mess of his hair. She'd seen that, huh? He figured she must have, more than once at least, but she'd never said anything so…
"With Angela, in Moscow."
Tsubaki's face is flushed now, and it might be because his finger is tracing one of the bottom points of the star, hitting her nipple, or maybe she's flattered. "Why?" She asks, stepping a bit closer to her. He wonders what he should say to her—because you're my partner, because you've seen my soul, because you're here and you stayed, because I love you—but instead he settles for pulling her to him and kissing her, putting as much as he can into the press of their lips and hoping it's enough.
She freezes against him for a few long, tense moments, but then she is kissing him, opening up beneath him and tugging off his scarf, pulling at the zipper of his coat and—goddammit, he thinks to himself as he struggles with the tie she'd made him wear, why does Kidd insist on formal Christmas gatherings?—but she manages to get him nearly as naked as she is easily enough, and Black Star assumes she's picked up what he's put down.
Besides, she's been inside him thousands of times before—she knows.