Work Text:
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Jimin has made a lot of bad decisions in life. He’d gotten shitfaced drunk before one of his finals, went streaking after a college party, went skinny dipping with Taehyung and ended up with the flu, and accidentally grabbed his professor’s ass after mistaking him for Taehyung. Still, he thinks, nothing can probably beat his current Bad Decision™.
“Tae,” Jimin whispers, practically sobbing into his phone, “I don’t think I can do this ohmygod.”
“My dude, my guy, my bae, my main bitch,” Taehyung trilled happily on the other end, and Jimin can hear something rustling on the other end (was that his popcorn?), “it’s just a tattoo. Calm your tits.”
“Uh, a tattoo is permanent, you little fuck,” Jimin hissed, eyeing the ominous and foreboding tattoo shop standing in front of him (well, to be precise, standing one block away from him. He just couldn’t push himself to move forward, the black exterior and artistic skulls and bones of the shop making him want to shit his pants).
“Dude, come on, you’ve always wanted tats! Ever since I can remember, you’ve always dreamed of getting one,” Taehyung reasoned calmly, the sound of his laptop and an anime episode blaring in the background, “and this isn’t even a just for kicks tattoo. You want a meaningful one, right? To symbolize the end of our college days?”
Jimin chewed on his lower lip, humming thoughtfully as he eyed the tattoo shop. Taehyung wasn’t lying, of course. Jimin had said those things, but now that he was standing close to the place where he can get his skin permanently inked, he was suddenly getting cold feet. You see, the main problem is this: Jimin is afraid of needles. The permanency of the tattoo? Not even a problem. The design? He can think about it. But the pain? Of a thousand tiny fucking needles stabbing into his skin? No™.
He gulped audibly, listening as Taehyung bid him goodbye because “hold on the sailor uniform is starting to talk, I need to watch this”. Grumbling under his breath as his best friend ditched him for a fucking anime show, he slid his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, and took a deep breath. He was a big boy, he can get himself into the tattoo shop, and demand (nicely) for a beautiful tattoo on his body. He shook his head, slapping his cheeks firmly to ground himself.
“I can do this, I can do this,” he muttered to himself as he took one step closer to the tattoo shop.
❀
The door chimes rang softly as he entered, head ducked down a little as he felt the cold air from the air conditioning hit him on the face. The interior of the shop was simple and minimalistic. Red walls, black and white tiled floors, one long black couch on one side, and a simple dark desk on the other which served as a reception area of some sort, and over the couch is a horizontal window overlooking the area where the tattoo tables were. The main reception area is only just a bit bigger than his apartment with Taehyung.
“Oh, good morning, may I help you?”
Jimin turned to look at the desk where a boy around his age sat, eyes wide and unblinking. He’s got a sketchbook and pencil in his hands, the lead tip hovering over the page as he eyes Jimin curiously. Jimin cleared this throat as he closed the door behind him, folding his hands behind his back as he let his eyes roam over the shop, just for something to do.
“Uhm. Well,” Jimin started, incredibly nervous as he looked at the boy sitting on the desk, “uh. A tattoo. I’d like to. Get one. Yes.”
The boy hummed under his breath, putting down his sketchbook and pencil on the table before he leans on it, hands folded like he’s the Godfather. “Any design in mind?”
Jimin scratches his cheek with one finger, smiling awkwardly. “W-well, no. Not yet. I was thinking maybe you have, like. A menu?”
The boy suddenly laughed, hand clapping down to his mouth to try and save face because everyone knew you weren’t supposed to laugh at customers. Luckily for the boy, Jimin took no offense. “A catalogue, yeah. You want to take a look?” He asked amiably, a little breathlessly, as he ducked down to a drawer and produced a navy blue folder. “Here are the designs we’ve done. Anything catch your attention?”
Jimin leaned over, peeking into the folder and flipping through the pages nervously. Almost all of them looked intricate, colorful, and Very Painful. Full-body, sleeves—Jimin’s eyes widened with each flip of the page. The boy must have noticed, because he was casually clearing his throat. Jimin looked at him.
“If you want, we can also try and sketch something more to your liking?” The boy was already pushing himself away from the table, standing up as he headed to the black door at the back of the room. “Please wait here a while, I’ll go see if the boss is up,” he starts, following it with a tired mumble, “he’s always fucking sleeping.”
Jimin watches as the boy enters the room, leaving Jimin all to himself in the room. He fiddles with his sleeves for a bit before deciding to let himself have the comfort of sitting down on the couch. As soon as he sits, however, the door opens again, and he straightens up as the boy walks out, followed by—oh my god.
It’s a man, with platinum blonde hair and multiple piercings on each ear (three on the left, two on the right). He’s clad in a plain white tee shirt, hanging just a tad loose on his slim frame. His jeans are so ripped and distressed, Jimin wondered if he had gotten into an accident five minutes prior. He walks after the boy, a certain swagger and slouch to his step, and really, on any other occasion, Jimin wouldn’t have noticed the man, but it isn’t any other occasion. Jimin is about to get his first (and probably, last) tattoo, he is absolutely scared shitless of the whole idea, and yet there, standing in front of him, is a man who is practically covered in ink.
The man’s pale skin is laden beautifully with intricate and artful designs, swirling around his forearms and down to his wrists. Through the low cut of his shirt, Jimin can spot some bits of lines and color peeking out, the man’s chest probably filled with ink, too. Jimin watches mutely as the man follows the boy to the desk, before he stretches his arms up above his head, yawning his sleep away. Jimin tries, he really does, but his eyes just drift down naturally to the way the man’s shirt rides up, revealing a thin sliver of skin and oh god hallelujah satan save me, the man has tattoos even on his hips. For one brief moment, Jimin wonders just how many tattoos he had. Were there some on his back? Maybe. Jimin shakes himself back to decency, because, as a properly functioning adult, he must not think of indecent thoughts about an unknowing tattoo artist, gorgeous and drop dead hot he may be.
“Jungkook-ah, go sketch some small designs for the customer. I’ll be right back,” the man suddenly says, his voice a mix of soft and deep and gravelly, and Jimin watched as the man started to cross the reception. The man glanced at him, stopping a bit to tip his head in acknowledgment, a small smile on his face. “Please wait a bit, Jungkook will sketch something that’ll suit you.”
Jimin nods his head blankly, lips pressed into a thin line as the man exited the shop. Through the glass pane of the door, he could see the man light a cigarette, let it hang between his lips as the sky darkened with pink and orange hues.
“That’s the boss,” Jungkook, it seemed his name was, suddenly spoke up. Jimin turned to see him poring over his sketchbook, pencil scratching away lightly at the surface. “He’s awesome.”
Jimin turns back to the man, since he had nothing else to do (honestly though, he just wants to Stare, thank you). The man’s crouching down on his haunches now, smoke softly billowing out from between his lips. From Jimin’s seat on the couch, he could only see the man’s profile. He suddenly reached a hand out, and Jimin bit his lip as the man started petting a passing cat, smiling brightly and seemingly talking to the fluffy little thing. Jimin could feel his heart clench (and the way the man’s back muscles tensed as he leaned over was Not Helping).
“How about this?”
Jimin whipped his head away from the door, knowing full well that his cheeks were probably flushed in embarrassment at how easily flustered he got. Jungkook held up his sketchbook filled with tiny little pencil doodles, most of them emitting soft yet simple vibes. Trying to not look at the man currently playing with the cat outside, cigarette stuck between his lips, Jimin stood up and looked at the sketchbook, choosing a tattoo. Once he had chosen (a small flower—a daffodil, Jungkook had explained—which meant new beginnings or something, whatever).
“Cool! Just go in there, and sit down, Yoongi-hyung will be with you shortly.”
❀
Sitting outside on the couch was nerve wrecking, but finally sitting on the chair where he’s going to get inked is Terrifying. The leather upholstery is too noisy when he shifts his position, the machines surrounding him are daunting, and the empty black stool where the man—Yoongi—will sit on while he works on Jimin looks ominous. Jimin kind of, really wants to cry.
“Hey.”
Jimin kind of, sort, really shrieked. He’s jumpy and scared, he’s not even ashamed. He looks up to see Yoongi watching him in amusement as he slid his hands into black latex gloves. Jimin could feel himself blush, either from embarrassment or finally having Yoongi’s eyes on him. “S-sorry.”
Yoongi smiles, calm and cool, as he shakes his head, sitting himself down on the stool and wheeling himself closer to Jimin. “Nah, it’s okay, kid.”
Jimin wants to say something, that he’s not a kid, that Yoongi should stop being attractive—anything, really—but his nervousness comes back with a vengeance when Yoongi reaches for a tub of what seems like Vaseline cream, dunks two fingers in and scoops out a generous amount. Yoongi faces him again, locks eyes with him.
“How do you want this done?” He asks, all serious and calm and collected (and really fucking attractive, Jimin wants Out™).
“D-done? What?” Jimin stutters, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt, teeth worrying on his lip.
Yoongi eyes him curiously, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observes Jimin’s movements. “First time?”
Jimin is nervous. He’s scared. He’s going to get his beautiful smooth skin inked because he thinks he’s being edgy and he doesn’t want Taehyung to call him a pussy, a scaredy cat. But. He’s scared and nervous and Yoongi is really, really fucking attractive. So he can’t help it when his brain to mouth filter malfunctions.
“Y-yes, I’m a virgin!” Jimin squeaks out, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, embarrassed at his own words.
Yoongi blinks at him, surprised, before he laughs softly, using the back of his other hand to cover his mouth. Jimin watches in silence as Yoongi’s eyes disappear into crescents, cheeks pulling up as he laughed gleefully. “Cute,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, and Jimin isn’t sure if he heard correctly. “I meant, where do you want your tattoo?”
Jimin lets out a soft, “oh”, feels his cheeks grow warmer by the second. He shrugs his shoulders, glancing at Yoongi awkwardly. “Uh, I don’t really know. Where do you think it’d look good?”
Without missing a beat, Yoongi reached forward and pointed a gloved finger at Jimin’s left hipbone, near the waistband of his jeans. “Here.” When Jimin nodded, Yoongi hummed. “Lift up your shirt.”
Aside from the soft stifled gasps Jimin made when Yoongi applied the cold cream on his skin, and the unnecessary summoning of whatever saint Jimin could think of, the whole thing was pretty chill, and anticlimactic. A moment too late, Jimin realized that he has a high threshold for pain. It hurt, of course, but it was bearable, and itchy at best. Not to mention, Yoongi had a light touch, Jimin barely felt the needles’ first prick. Yoongi talked to him through it all, introducing himself, asking Jimin things about himself, how old was he, does he work or study, why did he get a tattoo, and, well, the distraction worked. Jimin answered back, asked him questions, too, and at one point, Yoongi had to stop because he couldn’t stop laughing at Jimin’s story of when he mistakenly grabbed a professor’s ass.
Jimin is just a little disappointed to find out that his tattoo was done, watching with pouted lips as Yoongi applied more cream before pressing a square of clear plastic wrap over his new tattoo.
“There, all done, I’ll meet you at the counter?” Yoongi smiled at him, pulling off his gloves as he stood up and led the way.
Jimin followed behind him, carefully patting down his shirt and taking extra care not to press on his tattoo. When he looked up, it was to the image of Jungkook grinning smugly at Yoongi, who was furiously writing on a piece of paper, cheeks slightly tinged pink.
“Jimin-ssi! I hope the experience was life-changing?” Jungkook asked as he mindlessly prepared and counted whatever Jimin needed to pay.
Jimin smiled shyly, running his hand through his hair in a nervous tic. Standing beside Jungkook, Yoongi stood in silence, a paper folded in his hand. “Yeah, it was cool. Yoongi-ssi is really good at what he does.”
“Yeah, hyung’s probably really good with his hands,” Jungkook quips back airily, earning himself a smack on the head from Yoongi.
Jimin decides to ignore the obvious sexual joke, stifling back a laugh as he handed over his payment. It’s quiet for all of three seconds until Yoongi hands him the folded paper (his receipt, Jimin realizes). Yoongi grins at him cutely, and Jimin feels himself smile, too.
“I guess I took your first time, huh,” Yoongi teased, a little shy, but Jimin felt his face grow warm nonetheless. He wanted to punch himself in the gut for being so damn embarrassing. Yoongi chuckled quietly, reaching over the desk to ruffle Jimin’s hair before proceeding to remind him of how to take care of his tattoo and how to not get it infected, and with a little disappointment, Jimin soon found himself leaving the tattoo shop, his skin sporting a new tattoo but his heart feeling just a little heavy.
As he walks back to his apartment, he takes out the receipt from Yoongi’s tattoo shop. He unfolds it carefully, knowing full well that he’d keep it for memory’s sake, but he gets the shock of his life when he sees something scribbled on the back.
care for a first time dinner with me? ;) -myg
xx-x-xxx-xxxx
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(On the fifth date, as Yoongi is walking Jimin back to his apartment, the younger boy suddenly overtakes his steps, jumps in front of him, loops his arms around his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss. Yoongi is surprised, since Jimin is always the shy one, but he returns the kiss nonetheless, his hands resting on Jimin’s hips, pulling him close and flush against his chest. Jimin’s lips are soft and warm, sweeter than the ice cream they ate on the way back. He’s pliant in Yoongi’s arms, their lips moulding together perfectly, sweetly, softly.
Jimin laughs breathlessly into the kiss, and as he pulls back, he smiles at Yoongi shyly. He leans in for one more kiss, a quick peck that Yoongi tried to chase, but Jimin pulled away, still grinning, cheeks flushed pink.
“I guess you took my first kiss, too, hyung,” Jimin whispers shyly, like he’s not sure if he should be saying it, but Yoongi heard him.
Without missing a beat, Yoongi kissed him again, arm snaking around his waist. Pulling away, he smiled cheekily at Jimin. “Took your second one, too.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Jimin mumbled, flustered, cheeks flushed pink.)
(On the eleventh date, as Yoongi wipes Jimin’s stomach and thighs gently with a warm damp cloth, trying to clean him up as best as he could, Jimin makes grabby hands at him. Yoongi reaches for one of his hands, laces their fingers together, leans close to hover over his boyfriend.
Jimin reaches up his free hand, fingers tracing over the beautiful ink swirling and swimming all across the expanse of Yoongi’s pale skin, smooth and soft and warm. Jimin traces one particular tattoo—a small marigold with blue petals, blooming prettily over Yoongi’s heart. He smiles. “I love you.”
Yoongi smiles back, lays himself down carefully beside Jimin and scoops him into his arms. He crosses their legs together, pulls a blanket over their bare, sweaty bodies. He presses his lips against Jimin’s temple.
“I love you, too.”)
(“My favorite flower?”
“Yeah, and color. Favorite flower and color.”
“Hmm...I love blue, and I like marigolds!”
“Why marigolds?”
“Hyung, it’s my birth flower!”
“Alright, got it.”
“Why’re you asking?”
“It’s a surprise, baby.”
“I can’t wait to find out. See you soon!”)
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