Work Text:
It was a slow day in the tattoo parlour. Bilbo only had one appointment booked for the afternoon, and that was hours away yet. People did occasionally come in off the street and ask for a tattoo to be done there and then, that's why he was here so early. He didn't mind, a bit of spontaneity in life was good, but having something permanently inked into your skin? That needs to be thought about. Besides, the actual designing process was Bilbo's favourite part of the whole business.
So he sat at the desk and sketched. The radio played quietly in the background, Ori, his partner in the tattoo industry, was in the back room with a client, the faint buzz of a tattoo gun filled the air. As much as Bilbo loved sketching, he found himself particularly restless today. He looked up and out of the window towards the flower shop on the opposite side of the street.
Thorin was outside with a customer. The florist looked... ugh! He shouldn't be allowed, Bilbo decided. The warm summer air had driven the man to roll up his sleeves, Thorin's forearms were Bilbo's weakness, they were the perfect canvas, just begging to be inked.
Now, he wasn't doing it to be creepy or stalkerish, but recently Bilbo had taken to randomly snapping pictures of Thorin on his phone. There was no denying the fact Bilbo was completely one hundred percent smitten with the broody looking man, but Thorin didn't appear to reciprocate. Sure, he did some things that made Bilbo question whether or not that was the case, despite this, no move had been made by either party.
Outwardly, Bilbo was content to sit back and enjoy the close friendship they shared, inwardly, he pined for the man. He pined hard. And shared his obsession with his dedicated following on Instagram. Of course, he never posted the pictures on his main account, that was strictly for his business, his personal account, however, consisted of Thorin, inspirational quotes, Thorin, stupid selfies and Thorin. It was completely inappropriate, but Bilbo couldn't help himself. Thorin was an absolute... mancake.
Bilbo snorted with laughter as that word floated through his mind. It was perfect. He wondered over to the window of the parlour with his phone and waited for a good photo opportunity. It didn't take long. He snapped Thorin as he ran his hand through his hair, eyes just closed and lips barely parted. His body stretch slightly from the movement and there was small glimpse of what Bilbo imagined to be a very fine stomach indeed.
A few tweaks of the filters and the shot was perfection. Before he sent it, he added the usual tags of #isithotinhere, #lordhelpme, and #sweetjesus. Then added another. His new favourite: #mancake.