#it has the air of yeah babe i can hold that *proceeds to almost topple over* no no i got it dont worry your pretty little head over it

[ratatatastic]

the struggles of a man whos bad at holding heavy thing who passes it to man whos also bad at holding heavy thing part 999...but also mikksy passing the cup off to erod... im supposed to be normal about that?

look at those chicken wings flex oh hes struggling so bad but he has to show off his cup its a need 😭😭😭

"[incoherent shouts x3] f-*remembers there are multiple children onstage*" *pushes the cup onto his head even more*

ladies and gentlemen we've got the first official cat to fall victim to mikksys cup bonking terrorising and unsurprisingly its erod

man who flirts predominantly by bullying strikes again or so the tale goes

[in this instance we know mikksy already struggles holding the cup (ofc as we know most people tend to do but some definitely struggle more than others lol) because of 1. the way forsy had to steady him before he faceplanted off a couch trying to hold that roughly 35 lbs tincan over his head while also possibly on the way to being smashed (x) and then not even seconds later proceeds to bonk someone in the head with the cup (x) so you can imagine the logistics of mikksy trying to pass this thing off to someone whos much shorter than him and who also struggles with holding it. a true logistical nightmare that he has to bend down farther than he can really handle without tipping forward to try and guide lordo into roddys hand but also erod has a head. and its in the way. and it can also be used as a stand if you think about. its why mikksy basically like chucks the thing over he was not prepared to have to give the cup over to someone wayyyyy shorter than him lmao.]

and erod struggles with it A LOT and i didnt notice it at the time because i was so consumed with hootin n hollerin but erods so smooth with it as he turns towards his kids and it looks like hes showing it off to them instead and while that might be true to some extent he also REALLY needed to put it down to get a proper grip and push up because mikksy did not help at all like girl where tf are you going come back help your secret spouse teammate out man what is this 😭😭😭

Panthers Championship Parade | 6.30.24

[all-hail-the-witcher]

I came back to you

look at that yall, your eyes do not deceive you, I actually did write something.

this is part two to this horrific angst mess

also uhhh shouts to mikey for describing a kiss to me (wink wonk) and doin the plan and shouts to fizz for being fizz and scalping me for making a Terrible Mistake

_______

genre: happy floofy make up stuff (I almost wrote angst ha lol)

ship: ralbert off and also married blush cause We Stan

warnings: hmm al is still paralyzed, race’s shoulder is still fucked, I think someone mentions depression or anti depressants or smth, fighting, screaming, I think thats it

editing: lkdfjghlkaghj

words: 3000 something

______

Mush ran full force down the hallway straight into his husband.

“Whoa, Mushy,” Blink said grabbing his shoulders so he didn’t topple over. “What’s going on? Is hell chasing you?”

“Sorta,” Mush said before toning down him voice. “We need to talk. Right now.”

Blink raised his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”

“Depends on your definition of okay,” Mush said. “Can you spare ten minutes?”

“Now?” Blink’s eyebrows knitted together.

Mush nodded and grabbed Blink’s hand, dragging him down several twisting hallways to a storage closet. He looked around for several seconds before yanking open the door and unceremoniously pushing Blink inside.

Mush flicked on the old light, casting a faint yellow glow on him and Blink. “We need to get Race and Albert back together.”

Blink stared at him for several long seconds before shrieking “What?”

“They’re totally miserable!” Mush groaned dramatically. “Race is convinced that Albert is paralyzed because of him, and Albert is convinced that Race doesn’t want him anymore and it’s driving me insane. Do you know how many of Albert’s check ups consist of him asking about how Race is? Every. Single. One. I can’t take it anymore. And it’s not just that, it’s making it harder for him. He was supposed to be all healed like three months ago. He was finally cleared last week. It’s not supposed to take six months to heal from a shattered pelvis! Three to four maybe, but six is insane. And don’t even get me started on Race, that kid is a disaster. He’s come to see me four whole times about his- babe, why are you laughing?” Mush cut himself off when he noticed Blink’s hysterics.

“Babe, I thought that you were hurt or we were about to be attacked,” Blink said as he fought to compose himself. “I wasn’t expecting you to lecture me on Albert and Race’s well-being.”

“But it’s truuueee!” Mush exclaimed, flailing his arms around dramatically. “For the safety of their health and wellbeing we have to get them back together.”

“Are you sure about this?” Blink asked. “They might not want to get back together and we don’t want to make it worse.”

“Blink, I’m their doctor and it’s affecting their mental health. I’d much rather try than have to prescribe them antidepressants,” Mush said.

“Alright,” Blink sighed poking Mush’s chest. “But if this backfires, I don’t know you.”

“Babe,” Mush sounded confused. “We’re married.”

“Then I’m printing divorce papers,” Blink said with an air of sarcasm.

Mush fake gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh I would, Race is very scary when he's angry.”

“Yeah,” Mush agreed, “but he’s a stick. Albert is way more intimidating.”

“Yes,” Blink agreed. “But albert is also paralyzed, I doubt he’d be able to beat me up.”

Mush lightly slapped Blink upside the head. “Now now,” he scolded in his best doctor voice, “don't be ableist.”

Blink rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you saw him get in a fight?”

Mush considered for a minute. “Ah, yesterday actually. Romeo took his cookie at lunch.” He smirked mischievously. “See? Your point is invalidated.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Blink scowled.

Mush popped his foot, smiled over his shoulder and batted his eyelashes playfully at Blink who groaned again before opening the door to the hallway.

“I think Race is scheduled for lookout tower duty today with Buttons, but Buttons already told me he has to call off for some reason so if you really want I can put Albert on with him,” Blink said as they headed down the hall back to central command.

“Depends,” Mush said. “Can we watch them make up on the security cameras?”

Blink looked at him incredulously. “Is that even a question?”

Mush jumped up and down and clapped his hands together. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

•••

Albert wheeled himself out of the rickety elevator and over to the door of the lookout tower. Why Blink has decided to put him on lookout tower duty at the last minute was beyond him - he knew it was a pain in the ass for him to get to.

He knocked loudly on the heavy wooden door. He hadn’t quite caught who he was on duty with so he was slightly horrified when a sadly familiar mop of blonde hair peeked out.

“Hey,” he tried to say casually. “Blink put me on duty with you last second, Buttons had a thing.”

Race merely nodded and opened the door, staring at the floor the entire time. He closed it behind Albert and wordlessly went back to his seat in front of the binoculars.

Albert sighed, not looking forward to nearly three hours of this, and wheeled himself over to the other chair - which was much too close to Race for his liking. With practiced ease, he maneuvered himself from his wheelchair into the other chair so that he could use the binoculars. He didn’t miss how Race kept his eyes averted the entire time.

“Who are you covering?” Albert asked almost reluctantly. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear Race’s voice yet.

Thankfully though, Race apparently wasn’t ready to talk yet and he pointed to three moving dots on the computer screen that was built into the tabletop. Race was watching JoJo and Henry, Smalls and Checks, and Finch and Spot, leaving Albert with Specs and Sniper and Mike and Ike.

Lookout tower duty essentially meant that you sat in the tower and kept tabs on the scouts who were out on patrol. They all had trackers on them - a new improvement since Albert’s accident - which transmitted their location to the digitized map on in the table. The scouts could send up a distress signal if they were in range and it was the people in the lookout tower who were responsible for sending them backup or medical assistance. Lookout tower duty also involved keeping tabs on the enemy and alerting the scouts if they got within range. It wasn’t a hard job, but it was generally improved by conversation.

•••

“This is the worst movie I’ve ever seen,” Mush groaned, slamming his head down on the table.

“That’s cause it’s not a movie,” Blink said, checking over some papers. “It’s real life.”

Mush groaned again and flopped onto Blinks shoulder. They had been watching Albert and Race on the security cameras for almost an hour but so far Albert had only said a few sentences and Race hadn’t said anything at all. For once in their lives they were actually doing their work, and merely sitting stiffly and sneaking glances at the other every few minutes. It was enough to make Mush’s head explode.

“Blinkkk,” Mush whined, “why couldn’t you have given them a job where they actually have to interaccttttttt?”

“Look, I told you not to meddle in their love lives,” Blink reminded him. “And this was what Race had. Albert hasn’t really been cleared yet to do stuff that involves interaction.” He paused. “Which you would know, because you’re his doctor.”

Mush whacked him on the arm with his badge.

“Besides,” Blink continued, “this is usually a job that requires talking, I’m surprised they haven’t said anything to each other yet.”

Mush stared at the array of buttons on Blink’s control panel. “Well,” he began sheepishly, “maybe we could contact one of the scout groups and have them send up a distress signal, surely that would get them to talk?’

Blink spun his chair around and gave Mush a cold, hard stare. “No,” he emphasized. “Distress calls are complicated and take a lot of people to answer, and they’re also dangerous. I am not risking the security of this entire operation just so our friends can talk.”

“You’re no fun,” Mush grumbled, shifting in his chair and looking back at the monitor that was displaying the security camera footage. Much to his surprise, Albert was turned slightly toward Race and it appeared that he was about to say something.

Mush leaned over and cranked up the sound. “Finally,” he sighed happily. “Babe, pass the popcorn, its finally getting interesting.”

“We don't have any?”

“Then go grab some. We’re gonna need it.”

•••

It felt like he had been sitting in silence for hours when finally Mike and Ike moved to a different location on the map. Albert reached for his pen to make note, only to discover that it had run out of ink. He groaned internally upon seeing that the pen cup was on Race’s side of the table.

“Hey, uh-”

Race jumped at the sound of Albert’s voice and Albert gave him an expressionless smile.

“Sorry. Could you just, uh, pass me a pen? Mine’s outta ink.”

Race nodded and wordlessly passed him one. Albert couldn’t help but notice the stiff robotic movements he was using - his shoulder was bothering him, and by the looks of it he hadn’t done anything to help it.

Albert opened his mouth, he couldn’t just let Race suffer in silence. Even after he had dumped him, he just couldn’t sit by and watch while he was in pain, it just wasn’t in his nature.

“Race?” Albert asked gently.

Race paused his writing but said nothing.

“Is your shoulder bothering you?” When Race didn’t respond, Albert took it as an invitation to proceed. “You’re holding it weird, and it looks painful. Have you been taking your meds? Do you want me to rub it for you?”

Race sighed, throwing his pen down onto the table and rubbing his temples with his hands. “You shouldn’t still care this much about me, not when I did- I did that to you.” He pointed at Albert’s wheelchair.

“Is that why you left me?” Albert felt anger bubbling up inside him. “You couldn’t own up to your mistakes?”

“No, I-”

“Then why else did you break up with me over a note?” Albert was furious now. “You could have at least done it in person!”

“No you don’t understand! I couldn’t bear to see you like that!” Race’s voice was scratchy - almost as if he hadn’t used it in awhile - and it cracked as he began to yell.

“You didn’t want me because I was disabled?”

“Al I didn’t want it to happen that way, you have to believe me!” Race begged.

“Then why didn’t you ever come see me? I was in the hospital for over a month and you couldn’t drag your sorry ass there to at least pay me a visit!”

“Albert I-”

“No, face it, you didn’t want me because I’m broken now! I’m not good enough for you because I can’t walk anymore, right! Well I’m still the same person, Race! It’s still me! And I still love you, even if you don’t love me!” Albert angrily turned back to his work, blocking out Race’s attempts at an apology.

•••

“MUSH!” Blink shrieked. “Stop this nonsense right now, can’t you see they’re fighting!”

Mush stood, transfixed as he watched Albert and Race scream at each other on the cameras. This had been a bad, bad idea.

“Mush!” Blink yelled again, shaking his arm. “We have to do something here before this gets bad!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m thinking okay?” Mush rubbed his hand across his forehead.

“Well think harder! I don’t wanna deal with blood later!”

Mush sighed, “Blink would you just-”

“Hey Blink could you run- oh hey Mush, what are you guys doing?”

The two of them looked up, utterly startled to see Jack standing in front of them, leaving through a folder of papers.

“Uh, paperwork,” Blink said immediately, picking up the stack of paper closest to him and looking it over casually. Mush followed suit, picking up another stack of paper, only to realize he was holding it upside down.

“Yeah….o kay,” Jack said uncertainly. “I can come back later...alright? I don’t wanna get caught in the middle of your married weirdness.” He backed up a few steps before running down the hallway.

“Paperwork?” Mush asked. “Really?”

Blink rolled his eyes. “Thank me later, let’s just get back to making sure that they don’t kill each other, okay?”

Mush looked at the screen again, and then looked twice. Albert and Race seemed to be, talking? Not screaming?

“Blink wait-” he said. “I think they’re doing it themselves.”

•••

After several long minutes of Race profusely apologizing, Albert had had enough. He had to face the facts: he was still very much in love with the idiot in front of him and he’d be damned if he didn't take this opportunity to make things right.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Albert spoke softly, anxiously twirling his pen in his fingers. “It’s just...I’m tired of there not being an us anymore. Ever since my accident I’ve been so alone. I….fucking hell, I need you Racer.”

“Albie,” Race sighed, staring down at his map, “I need you too. It’s been so painful not being around you. But I don't want to hurt you any more that I already have.”

“Listen, I’m not pointing any fingers because I know that this could have happened to anyone, okay?” Race nodded limply. “You leaving me in the dust like that though? That hurt more than the actual injury, or the surgeries, or the pt.” “Al, I’m so sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, physically or emotionally, I just-”

“Oh would you shut up and get over here?” Al interrupted, suddenly very much aware that there was far too much space between them. “I need to hold you.”

Race got up and moved slowly toward Albert, frowning when he patted his lap. “Aren’t I going to hurt you?”

“If you were I wouldn’t be able to feel it,” Albert shrugged. “I can’t feel anything from my hips down.”

“Al, I-”

“Don't you dare say ‘I’m sorry’ it’s not your fault, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Albert smiled, pulling Race onto his lap and sighing in content as he wound his arms around his shoulders.

“God, I missed you so much,” Race sounded close to tears as he nuzzled his face into Albert’s shoulder, breathing in deeply.

“Never leave me again, okay?” Albert whispered, his breath tickling Race’s ear as they melted further into each other.

“Kiss?” Race blushed as he pulled away from Albert slightly.

Albert smiled and pressed a soft kiss onto Race’s lips which he returned, gentle and slow. When their lips broke Race snuggled back into Albert’s shoulder. “Did I kiss it better?” he asked, reaching up to play with the ends of Albert’s hair.

Albert could only describe the emotion that overcame him as love. “Yes,” he breathed contentedly, “yes you did.”

•••

“TAKE THAT!” Mush screamed in excitement, throwing a fist full of popcorn at Blink. “I TOLD YOU MY PLAN WOULD WORK!” He continued his victory dance around his husband as Race and Albert held each other tightly on the cameras.

“Yes, yes,” Blink sighed, picking pieces of popcorn off of his precarious stacks of paperwork. “I’m very proud of you.” “Proud enough for a kiss?” Mush came to a stop in front of Blink, batting his eyelashes dramatically.

“Proud enough for a kiss,” Blink reluctantly agreed, squeaking in surprise when Mush dramatically dipped him, but enjoying his husband’s breathy laughter against his lips.

“Ew.”

The two of them looked up startled to see Romeo, Jack, and Davey staring at them with mixed expressions of disgust painted on their faces. The end of shift bell must have rung without them noticing.

“What are you two up to?” Jack asked suspiciously. “You were being weird when I was over here before too.”

“We got Race and Albert back together!” Mush exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. Three sets of eyes widened. “Look!” Mush said, pointing to the cameras where Race was standing by awkwardly as Albert maneuvered himself back into his chair. The group watched with bated breath as Race leaned down to mush his lips against Albert’s before they exited the watchtower.

“HOW DID YOU MANAGE THAT?!” Romeo screeched, jumping up and down as he accosted Mush with questions. “I’ve been trying for weeks and it hasn’t worked!”

“I think we should just be happy that they did it,” Davey said, leaning against the wall. “Those two were driving all of us insane.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack sighed. “If i had to hear Race ask one more time how Albert was doing I was gonna punt him off the roof without a second thought.”

Davey glared at him sideways.

“Well, maybe there would have been some second thoughts,” Jack said quickly, trying to backtrack. “You know what? Just forget I said anything.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to get the two of them back together,” Romeo repeated, shaking his head in disbelief. “Those two are more stubborn than a pair of yaks who-”

“AL SLOW DOWN!”

Romeo was interrupted by Albert speeding into command in his wheelchair with Race seated on his lap. The two of them crashed into a wall, sending them flying in a heap of giggles.

“Ah, back to normal already I see,” Davey mused, stepping over the heap of woefully in love boyfriends. “On behalf of us all, may I say: ITS ABOUT DAMN TIME!”

“Jeez Davey,” Race said, pulling himself up to his feet and righting Albert’s chair. “You don't have to be so blunt about it.” He turned to help Albert, who was in the process of trying to get himself up by doing a terribly executed kick up before giving in and accepting Race’s assistance.

“Yes I do,” Davey said, gesturing to Blink and Mush. “If it weren’t for the co captains of romance here, you two would still be hopeless depressed disasters.”

“I’m right here!” Romeo whined.

“Oh no,” Blink said, ignoring Romeo. “It was all Mush, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Oh was it now?” Race said, marching over to Mush with a devilish glint in his eye. “We will be having words later, Dr. Medding In His Patient's Love Lives.”

Mush shrank back in fear.

“C’mon Race,” Albert said, wheeling over. “Leave the man alone, he was just trying to help us. I, for one, am incredibly grateful.”

“See, someone appreciates my efforts,” Mush scowled.

Race shrugged indifferently. “This is still not acceptable. Meet me tonight, three am, behind the supply closet. We’ll settle this the old fashioned way.” He cracked his knuckles for extra emphasis.

Mush scoffed and turned back to Blink as the two of them made their way down the hallway. “Did you see that, babe?” Mush said. “As if they could have gotten back together without my efforts. They’re so- wait, what's this?”

Blink had thrust a few sheets of paper at him while he had been rambling.

“Divorce papers,” he said simply, turning on his heel and walking off down the opposite hallway. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

Mush stared at the papers in his hands for a few long seconds before taking off after his husband.

“LOUIS GET YOUR SORRY ASS BACK HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!”

______

ah yes yes what good kiddos

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[hellomelusine]

Let me Dream, Let me Stay

A continuation of this so read that if you haven’t...also please ignore that I 100% switch tenses from part one to part two. When this goes up on Ao3 everything will be in present tense, I just - time. Big thank you to @happilyeveraftereveryday for looking this over for me

Rey has somehow incurred the wrath and pity of her waitress, by  doing productive things, like devouring two bowls of chips, downing a water, and continually  peeling the label from the empty bottle of Troegs HopBack Amber Ale. She had ordered the ale when she first arrived and settled in her usual back corner booth, was almost done peeling the whole sticker off, and he still wasn’t here. Her leg bounces up and down as she realized that she had messed up, she had miscalculated, oh god, she was going to have to come up with a reason why her fake boyfriend of two years suddenly couldn’t make it to the wedding.

“Ben Solo!” Maz’s voice rings out over the din of the evening crowd and the handful of TV’s perched in corners, broadcasting the Phillies game, while one lonely screen was showing the Capitals. Rey jerks, bottle spinning from her hands to topple onto the table where she blindly grabs at it, looking towards the door before frowning. Maz is making her way there, but the only person who has walked in - Kylo. Oh god, she was saved.

With quick movements she plucks up the scattered label remains and shoves them inside of the bottle, subtly watching Kylo talk with Maz. It’s a brief conversation, and whatever it is about has Kylo’s mouth turned down with an even more pronounced frown than usual.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up!” Rey tries to tease, but even she can hear the tremor in her voice as Kylo slides into the booth across from her.

“Sorry, Hux stopped me on my way out, needed some help with one of his files not formatting right,” he says, rubbing at his temples as he takes in the decimated remains of her snacks on the table. “It’s easier to just deal with him immediately, give him less time to stew.”

“Yeah, but he makes that face when you ignore him, you know.” She makes a show of stacking her chip baskets and smiles at him, “The one where he turns almost purple.” The hint of a smile finally began to show at the corner of his mouth and Rey counts it as a win, “So, I’m starving, I’m getting the nacho platter. What do you want?”

“The nacho platter is for four people, we can share,” he answers, picking up a menu and thumbing through it.

“We most certainly cannot share it,” Rey huffs, moving to stretch her legs out under the table, but accidentally catches Kylo in the shin, “Sorry,” she mutters, when he glares up at her over his glasses.

“You’re going to eat the whole platter?”

“Yes, but maybe, if you behave, I’ll let you have some. A miniscule amount, at most.” Rey grins as Kylo shakes his head at her and she sinks back in her seat. “So,” she starts, after giving him a minute to figure out what he wants, and before that pesky waitress who kept frowning every time she asked for more chips could come back, “you have a twin or something?”

Kylo snapped the menu shut as he looked up at her. “What? No, don’t be ridiculous, why would you - oh.” Rey frowned at him, but said nothing, “Maz.”

The waitress is back, bearing more chips accompanied by another glare and a beer for Rey. “Didn’t get stood up after all, I see,” Rey rolls her eyes at the comment but still manages to catch the way she eyes Kylo up - like a damn snack. When no one at the table says anything she smiles, “I’m April, I’ll be your server tonight, I can get you started with a drink while you look over the menu some more.”

“No, I think we’ve both decided, haven’t we, Rey?” Kylo asks, glancing over at Rey who nods, smiling up at April, who still hasn’t stopped looking at Kylo, who is valiantly trying to avoid eye contact, even when he’s speaking to her. “A Yuengling for me, the nacho platter and Maz’s Special Burger, medium rare.”

“You want fries, or more chips?”

“Fries, please,” he answers, tucking the menu back behind the condiments.

“Great, and you?” she asks, turning her body towards Rey, but not her eyes.

“He ordered for us both, so whenever you’re done gawking,” Rey’s whole body is shaking, and she’s surprised by the lack of tremor in her voice, but she does it. She stakes her pseudo claim, and April stalks away. “Sorry,” Rey says after watching her retreat, turning back to Kylo to find him blushing, “She’s been a bit of a bitch since I got here.”

“It’s fine, I guess.” Kylo laughs uncomfortably, “I should probably get used to it.”

“To waitresses telling you to leave because ‘he’s obviously not coming, honey’?”

A genuine laugh this time. “No, I meant you, being all,” he gestures at her, “you about me.”

“Oh, baby, I’m going to be insufferable,” Rey leans over the table and tries for a sultry tone, but Kylo just laughs again, and that’s okay, she thinks, because he’s got a nice one, and his smiles that come so infrequently are truly a sight to behold, so she’ll take it. “So back to the intrigue of Ben Solo,” Rey begins, pulling the new basket of chips toward her, when Kylo remains quiet she rambles, “If you don’t want to talk about it, you really don’t have to, I just-”

“No, it’s fine,” Kylo said, cutting her off and clearing his throat. “Ben Solo is my birth name.” Rey tried very, very hard not to laugh, but a small sound still escaped her mouth.

“What?” Kylo asked, brow furrowing as he looked at her.

“I’m just really relieved that there aren’t people out there who would actually name their kid Kylo Ren. I’m sorry, I’m being rude.” She shoves several chips in her mouth while Kylo continues to stare at her. “So how’d you pick the name you have?”

“It’s not important,” Kylo says grabbing the ketchup and giving it a quick shake. They lapse into a comfortable silence and Rey pushes the chips across the table at him. She watches him munch on a few while his eyes trail up to the TV in the corner opposite from their booth. If this were a real date, Rey would be offended, but it’s a strategy meeting, so she allows it. When the food finally arrives and April retreats, his intense gaze meets hers. “Let’s get to it.”

“Yeah, sure. First date?”

“Oh, I was going to ask about the wedding, but that works too. Here?” He gestures at the bar room around them.

“Smart,” Rey smirks, taking a quick drink, “Keep it as close to the truth as possible. Met at work, obviously,” she picks up a nacho and points it at him, “this part of the story I’ve already told, so, here we go-”

“I’m going to hate this, aren’t I?” Kylo interrupts on a sigh, squirting ketchup onto his plate and burger.

“No! It’s cute!” Rey defends, biting the nacho in half. “Right, so, we met at work not long after I started, we sat next to each other at a meeting,” she holds up her hand when he tries to interrupt again, “Finn already knows what happened, you can’t change it - so, you asked to borrow a pen, because yours suddenly wasn’t working. Good thing for you, I always carry around at least five,” Rey beams when Kylo quietly chuckles in acknowledgement of this fact; something he's teased her about more than once during the more bland meetings they’ve attended. “I give you the pen, and I proceed to take zero notes throughout the whole meeting, because I’m distracted by how hot you are,” Kylo chokes on his beer here, but Rey ignores him, “you don’t give my pen back, so then I just have to live my life knowing you’re a rude guy who’s incredibly hot - still a pen thief, though.”

“This, uh, is starting to feel a bit personal.” Kylo glances at her with a frown

“Good, because you did steal my pen the first time we met,” Rey huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And you’re clearly not over it.” He’s quick to point it out the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Rey laughs, “Of course I’m over it, babe, I’m trying to tell a love story for the ages here, and you’re worried about a pen.”

“I would like to point out, that you are the one that brought up the pen.”

“Because that’s how we met!” Rey tosses her hands in the air, and Kylo laughs again, “Anyway, cut to two months later, I’m moved into your department, desks super close to each other, it takes you a week and a half to notice I come in an hour early, like you usually do. You say hello when you pass by my desk, I’m still bitter about the pen.”

“Is that why you never said anything? Just grunted at me?” His tone is incredulous and Rey bites her lip in delight before schooling herself.

“Rude. Carrying on - I don’t know how you figured it out, but you figured out how I take my coffee, and you start bringing a cup for me every morning, for that place you always stop at.”

“But you hate that place -”

“Not the point, this is a fictionalized series of events about how we started dating. Plying me with caffeine in the morning works, regardless of where it comes from. I forgive you for the pen incident.”

“I feel like this is a really round about way of you asking me to replace the pen I stole from you three years ago,” Kylo huffs, leaning back against the booth, drink clutched loosely in his hand.

“Anyway,” Rey continues with a laugh, “you keep up your seduction by coffee for a few months, and one random Thursday, you ask me out, I say yes, and now here we are, two years later, deliriously in love.”

“Do we live together?” Kylo asks immediately, leaning back in.

“No, but we sleepover at each other’s places.” Rey is quick to answer, and equally as quick to steal a fry from Kylo’s plate as she does so.

“We work at the same place, why wouldn’t we live together?” Kylo counters, snatching the fry back from her with nimble fingers and devouring it in one bite.

“Ohhh, you haven’t earned enough friend points to learn my tragic backstory yet, sorry.” Rey frowns at the miniscule amount of fried potato clutched between her thumb and index finger before popping it into her mouth with a sigh. Biting her lower lip she starts to peel off the label on this new bottle, “It’s not unreasonable to think this won’t come up, so the short version is: I enjoy my independence, standing on my own two feet, you know? Plus there’s the long term abandonment issues.” She pauses before a falsely chipper, “Anyway! You don’t like it, but you’re content to give me my space about it for now.”

Looking back up, she finds Ben staring at her, his own bottle of Yuengling sitting poised on his lips for a moment too long before he tips it back and takes a long drink.

“You’ve really put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?” Kylo asks after settling the bottle on the table with a quiet thunk, Rey sags in relief that he’s moving on before she laughs.

“Yeah, uh, Finn and Rose, they mean well, and I love them, but they’re nosey as shit. I made the mistake of saying ‘I don’t know’ once when they asked how my boyfriend was, so then I had to make up a fight, and it was about that. You, boyfriend man, whoever, suggested moving in together, and I said no.”

“How long did the fight last?”

Rey smiles, “Almost two weeks? That’s the problem with fake boyfriends, you forget you have them, so you never resolve the fight until you’re asked about it again. Don’t worry, we had some pretty epic makeup sex.”

Kylo groans around a bite of food, and Rey preens while she waits for him to finish, “Please, please tell me you haven’t-”

“It’s fine, I just described a porno there’s no way Finn or Rose has ever seen and they were blown away. Probably also jealous? That was maybe six months ago, I’d like to dream they’ve forgotten, but if you get the world's least subtle thumbs up from either of them, it’s because of the porno sex we didn’t have.”

Kylo stares at Rey for a long moment, slowly chewing his food as she drums her fingers on the tops of her thighs. Rey thinks he might be blushing just a little, but in the dim lighting of the place, she finds it hard to tell. “It’s going to be a miracle if we survive the weekend., he finally declares.

“It will be fine, we have a month-ish to get ready, now, tell me your demands, sir.”

“First, I’m driving - I’ve seen your car, I have doubts it can make the whole trip.” Rey rolls her eyes at this, her car may look not that great, but she keeps it in tip-top shape, “Second, I want you to help Mitaka with Phasma’s latest project.”

“I thought you were supposed to do that.”

“You said anything, Rey.” Kylo points out, a decidedly devious smirk gracing his features now.

“Fine, fine. Mitaka is terrified of you anyway, between the two of us we should be able to keep on schedule.” Kylo huffs at this before popping a few fries into his mouth. “Is that it?” Rey asks, “I feel like I’m getting off really easy.”

“No, that’s not it. I get two random favors that I can call in, at any time, and as long as you don’t have any conflicts, you have to follow through.”

“Two?!”

“It’s a whole weekend, Rey.” Kylo points out and Rey concedes, “I think that’s it, for now, I’m sure I’ll think of a few more things in a months time. Now, how do you feel about PDA?” He swerves their conversation around so quickly Rey could laugh.

“Ugh, hate it.” she says as she plucks up a slice of jalapeno and pops it into her mouth, “but I don’t see a way to avoid it if we want to be convincing.”

“Right, hard limits?”

“No kisses with tongue?”

“Sure, how about we only kiss if it seems necessary to? Otherwise we just stick to hand holding and hugs.”

“Cheek kisses?” Rey asks, because her mind is running a mile a minute and knows there should be at least some mild lip touching somewhere along the way.

Kylo takes a long drink of his beer before nodding, almost seeming reluctant, “Sure, cheek and forehead kisses, but sparingly. What about dancing?”

Rey wants to point out that she’s probably too short for kissing his forehead, then realizes he will be kissing hers, maybe, hopefully at some point. She clears her throat, fingers fidgeting with the unused utensils at her place, “I’m not sure if there will be dancing, but if there is we can just run away.”

“How?”

“The venue,” Rey smiles, “It’s the Science Center, so we can literally fuck off and look at robots all night if we want...after the ceremony, of course,” she adds as an afterthought and Kylo chuckles as he picks up his burger. “This is off to a good start, I think.” Rey muses, pushing a nacho through a pile of melty cheese and sour cream. “Thankfully it’s not our wedding, so no need to kiss on command.”

“Right, just if the moment feels like it deserves it.”

“Right!” Rey knows her voice is too bright, maybe it’s to compensate to the waver in his, or maybe it was to cover the fact that it was one whole weekend, only a month away. He had agreed to it. She didn’t think she was that bad to look at, but it was hard not to feel a stab of hurt at the way Kylo was reacting to possibly needing to kiss her. They were friends, dammit, so what if she wondered what his full lips would feel like against hers - they were just friends, and they were awkwardly going to get through this wedding weekend, and on the Monday after they would go back to being friends and co-workers and everything would be fine.

“Rey?” Kylo���s voice penetrates her haze of wild thoughts and she looks up to find him frowning across the table at her, “We don’t have to do kisses at all, if the idea bothers you that much,” he tells her softly.

“No, sorry, they’re fine. I suggested them. I just got lost in thought.” She watches him watch her and she slowly pushes her giant plate of nachos towards him. “You want one?”

“Are you admitting defeat?” Kylo asks, grabbing one buried under a pile of toppings and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.

“No! I’m trying to be nice and share, but if you’re going to be that way about it, I take the offer back,” Rey grumbles and slides into the corner of the booth, taking the plate with her, “I am now the nacho gremlin, and you need to stay back.”

“Oh no, but you promised me anything,” Kylo grins, reaching over to grab another with his long arms.

“Can I take it back?” Rey asks, grinning right back, and laughing when he just lifts a brow and shakes his head ‘no’. “Fine,” she pushes the plate back towards the center of the table, then stretches her legs out on the booth cushion.

“What’s the dress code?” Kylo asks, scooping some nachos onto his now empty plate.

“Uhhh, nice?” Rey answers, not looking at Kylo, and instead watching Maz bop around tending to other patrons.

“‘Nice’ is not actually a dress code.”

“I can look at the invitation when I get home and text you. It’s not casual, but it’s not formal either. It’s also at the Science Center, so you know some asshole is gonna show up in jeans, but whatever. Just dress how you normally do at work, bring a tie as an option or something.”

“What are you wearing?”

“A dress,” Rey sighs, it’s the last thing she wants to wear, but there’s also no way in hell she’s wearing her office attire to a wedding where she wants to have fun and celebrate her friends.

“A dress?”

“Yes, a dress! Just because I don’t wear them to work - I wear dresses when the occasion calls for it.”

“What’s wrong with one of your pantsuits?” Kylo asks, and Rey turns to shoot him a glare.

“I don’t - wait, do you think I wear pantsuits? Because this is a problem, if so. Kylo, Kylo, it’s important to me that you know I don’t wear pantsuits. I wear slacks. When have I ever come to the office in some kind of power suit with a fancy blazer that matched my pants?”

“Is this a legitimate question?”

“Uh, yes, you think I wear pantsuits to work! I’m a 28 year old woman, and you think I’m out here, oh my god.” Rey grabs her bottle and chugs the rest, slamming it back onto the table. “Do not ever say that to me again.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I will not, wow.” Kylo arches a brow at her and then with a finger nudges the nachos back towards her. “Do you want another round?” he asks, “A pantsuit apology round?”

“Oh my god,” Rey laughs into her hands, “you’re the worst, and sure, one more.”

Kylo sends a wink in her direction as he clambers out of the booth, “For what it’s worth? I think you look great in everything you wear to work,” he tells her before striding to the bar, leaving Rey to stare slack-jawed after him. With a distressed whimper, she polishes off the last of the nachos and tries not to think about the disaster looming on the horizon. If she survives the weekend of Finn and Rose’s wedding in close quarters with Kylo, without compromising their friendship, it will definitely be a miracle.

[bangtaninink]

just skin

Summary: You’re back home and itching to get the final piece of Jungkook etched into your skin (tattoo artist!au)

Notes: I’ll save you guys the trouble/horror of googling it yourselves: yes, a Prince Albert piercing is a dick piercing; also, this is the tattoo(s) that Jungkook and the OC get

“Yeah, and so I said to the guy, ‘listen, man, I’m way too sober to pierce your tongue and your d--’ wait.” Hoseok stops, ears perked as he tilts his head. “Do you guys hear something?”

Yoongi takes his foot off the pedal, the buzzing of his tattoo gun cutting off immediately. The studio falls silent as everyone strains to hear whatever Hoseok’s heard, the sound growing louder and louder in volume, until eventually, the studio door swings open, the bell overhead ringing frantically as you step in, phone held up above you, Eminem blasting from your phone’s speakers.

Guess who’s back? Back again...

“Holy fucking shit!” Jungkook cries, standing up so quickly his chair almost topples over, Jimin quick to catch it before it does. “Babe?”

“The queen is back, bitches!” you announce, grasping the pleats of your imaginary skirt and curtseying for your crowd. “Miss me?”

“Hell yeah, I did! Come here, sweets.”

You barely have time to blink before Jungkook has run towards you and swept you off your feet -- literally -- carrying you up and spinning you around in his embrace.

“Um. Who’s that?” the man sitting at Yoongi’s station asks, warily eyeing the cluster of needles still hovering inches away from his thigh.

“Hmm? Oh. That’s Jungkook’s girlfriend. _____ pierces here with Taehyung and Hoseok.”

“One of the best,” Taehyung adds, spinning around in his chair, lollipop hanging precariously between his lips. “Have you ever seen someone pierce themselves? Because I’ve seen _____ pierce her own bellybutton without flinching and I just knew, at that moment, that I would never reach her level of badass. Ever.”

“Alright. Who needs glove refi-- _____?”

You turn to look over your shoulder, laughing at the sight of Namjoon staring dumbly in your direction, unopened boxes of disposable gloves in his arms. You give him a little wave hello before turning your attention back to Jungkook, whose arms are still wrapped around your waist.

“Namjoon. Namjoon.”

“Huh? What?”

“Gloves,” Yoongi says, holding one hand out for a box.

“Right. Yeah. Sorry, hyung,” Namjoon mutters, handing him one of the boxes before walking to each station, discarding the empty boxes to replace them with new ones. Yoongi haphazardly tosses his box onto his work bench, the monotonous buzzing returning as he lowers his foot back onto the pedal and returns his attention to his customer. 

                                                          ▫▫▫

Everyone has already turned their attention back to their work while you and Jungkook remain lost in your own little bubble, giggling and whispering words in between kisses.

“You said... you weren’t coming back... ‘til next week,” Jungkook mumbles, your bottom lip caught between his teeth. You grin, combing your fingers through his hair.

“I know,” you reply. “I lied.”

“Minx.” There isn’t a hint of betrayal in his voice, however, and he leans forward again, the tip of his tongue just barely brushing against the small silver ball below the corner of your lip before kissing you once more. You smile, shutting your eyes as you kiss him back.

“Jesus. Will you two lovebirds move away from the door? People’ll be thinking this place is a goddamn brothel, not a tattoo studio.”

The sound of Yoongi’s voice pulls you two apart, and the both of you are laughing quietly, foreheads pressed to one another’s for a moment before either of you think about moving. Jungkook keeps his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you both waddle back towards his station, so close to falling over.

“So,” Taehyung sing-songs, wheeling himself over to you when you sit down in Jungkook’s chair. “How was Japan?”

“Oh my god,” you moan. “I am probably fifty-percent noodles and sushi right now, Tae. You will not believe how good the food is over there.” You tilt your head back, looking at Jungkook over the back of the chair. “We gotta go together sometime, babe.”

“Did you go to the Ghibli Museum?”

You reach forward to grab Taehyung’s wrist, sighing dramatically.

“It was the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to,” you reply. Taehyung groans loudly, wheeling himself back to his station as quickly as he can, just as the studio door opens to let another customer in.

“I shouldn’t have asked you.”

“I’ll send you the photos later.”

                                                         ▫▫▫

“Have any clients today, babe?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame the chaos. Clearly, today too, Jungkook hadn’t bothered to brush his hair. He shakes his head where it’s resting on your shoulder.

“Finished already. I had one this morning at ten,” he replies. He takes your other hand where it’s resting on his stomach, threading his fingers between yours and resting it on his chest. “I’m free for the rest of the day, pretty much. Unless someone comes in specifically requesting me.”

You glance up at the clock on the back wall; it’s almost two o’clock, but you know that the day is far from over, considering it is Friday.

“Hey,” you say, nudging the side of his head gently with your cheek. Jungkook hums in acknowledgement. “Since you’re free, do you wanna do my arm?”

His eyes snap open, and Jungkook sits up, his back lifting off of your chest. He turns around with a grin.

“Yes,” he replies, already climbing off the chair and walking over to his work bench, ripping open the new box of disposable gloves. “God, I thought you’d never ask.” You laugh, blindly searching for the lever to recline chair. “So you’ve decided to get inked up then? Like, definitely?”

“Yeah, I guess I have. It was all I was thinking about in Japan, aside from the food, I mean.”

“About time. We’ve had a couple customers ask why you’re the only one who hasn’t had any work done in here. I had to stop Namjoon hyung from telling everyone you’re too chicken to get anything.”

“Pfft.” You roll your eyes. “That makes no sense. How am I supposed to be scared of getting a tattoo when I pierce for a living?”

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook laughs, shaking his head. “Honestly, for a certified genius, he can be a bit of an idiot sometimes.”

“Anyway. Have you drawn anything up? Wait. Never mind. You probably started sketching the minute I brought up the idea.”

“You know me so well, sweets,” Jungkook replies, the latex snapping against his wrist. He hands you his sketchbook before preparing his station, a bottle of sanitiser already in his grasp. “Pick something, because lord knows I’ll never be able to.”

Shaking your head, you open up his sketchbook, the smell of sanitiser sharp in the air as you flip through the pages, finding the ones with your name scrawled on the top corners. You leave Jungkook to prepare himself, setting up his gun and small pots of ink to be lined up beside his chair.

You stop flipping pages when you find a sketch of some swallows, flying in a line across the page. It’s simple, nothing in comparison to the complexity of the ink covering Jungkook’s body, but it’s hard to take your eyes off of it.

“Found something?” Jungkook asks, peering over your shoulder from behind the chair, looking down at the page in front of you. “Oh yeah. That’d be good for your first tattoo, babe.” You nod your head slowly, humming in reply. “Where do you want it?”

You lift your head up, staring at the mirror in front of you, suddenly hit with an idea. Putting the sketchbook down, you stand, taking Jungkook’s hand and leading him over to the adjacent wall.

“Hold my hand,” you say, turning around so that your back faces the mirror.

“O...kay,” Jungkook replies, raising an eyebrow but following suit anyway, turning on his heels and peeling off his glove to take your hand in his. Looking over your shoulder, you smile, pointing down at your wrist.

“Right here,” you say, drawing an imaginary line starting from your wrist and ending just below his elbow. “Let’s get matching ones.”

Jungkook follows your finger in your reflection, a smile growing on his lips as he begins to understand.

                                                        ▫▫▫

“I can’t believe you two have become that couple,” Jimin mutters from where he’s crouched down behind you and Jungkook, applying the stencil to both your arms.

“Says you,” Jungkook scoffs. “You and Yoongi hyung have matching piercings.”

“Piercings are piercings. You guys are getting matching tattoos. Gross.”

“Whatever. Just hurry up.”

You chuckle quietly and shake your head, feeling the stencil paper being pulled away to leave a crisp purple outline on your skin.

“Good?” Jimin asks, standing up.

“Looks good to me,” you say, nodding and smiling.

“Good. Well, I’m not even gonna ask Jungkook because his OCD ass’ll find something wrong with it regardless, so I’m gonna bounce before this brat can scold me.”

“Thanks, Chim.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and leads you back to his station, letting you sit back down.

“We gotta let it dry first, sweets,” he tells you, pulling on a new glove, careful not to smudge the stencil on his own arm. “You just want black ink?”

“Mhm. Exactly as you’ve drawn it, babe,” you reply, fanning the stencil on your arm in an attempt to dry it quicker.

“God, I can’t believe I get to do your first tattoo,” Jungkook says, grinning as he attaches the needle tip and tube to his gun. “I feel just as excited as the first time you said yes to going on a date with me. And the first time we had sex.”

“That’s literally the worst thing to compare it to,” Yoongi deadpans, not looking up from his neighbouring station where he’s finished tattooing his customer and proceeds to rub some balm over his skin, rolls of bandages already ready on his lap.

“Whatever. The point is, I’m pumped as fuck right now. My baby���s getting her first tattoo.”

You shoot Jungkook a glare, but there’s barely any malice in it as you try to suppress your laughter.

“So dramatic,” you mutter.

“I love you,” he replies, smiling as he leans forward to kiss you quickly. “Ready?” You look down at the tattoo gun in his hand before nodding once. “Just tell me if you can’t handle it. We can take as many breaks as you want.”

(Yoongi rolls his eyes, but spins around before either of you can catch the hint of a smile on his lips.)

                                                        ▫▫▫

The process is, fortunately, not as bad as you’d anticipated it to be.

“And... we’re done,” Jungkook says, taking his foot off the pedal and lifting his head. “You okay?”

“Peachy,” you reply, sighing with relief regardless. “That wasn’t so bad. I think getting my tits pierced was worse than that.”

“Oh yeah. How’re those healing up, by the way? Can I touch them yet?”

“Jungkook, please,” Namjoon sighs from his station when he overhears you both. “There are customers here. We can all hear you.” The both of you laugh, while a few of the customers seem to flush red and turn away.

Jungkook presses a kiss to your shoulder, handing you a small mirror to look at your new ink before starting his clean up process, disassembling his tattoo gun to clean and sterilise the needle.

“Everything look okay?” he asks you.

“Perfect,” you reply, beaming. “Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like when we both have ‘em.”

Jungkook grins, peeling off his gloves and washing his hands, making sure to avoid the purple ink still clear on his forearm.

“I’ll show you how to take care of it at home,” he says. “Amongst other things.”

“Oh yeah? And what exactly are those ‘other things’?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take the balm he holds out to you.

“Oh, you know. A ‘welcome home’ celebration and stuff. You were gone for three weeks after all, sweets.” The studio is filled with quiet groans. Jungkook looks over his shoulder and winks in your direction; you blow him a kiss in return.

                                                        ▫▫▫

“Uh... _____?”

You look up, pulling your eyes away from Jungkook’s newest additions to his portfolio to turn your attention to Seokjin.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re still technically on leave still,” he says. “But I just got a call booking in ten kids for some piercings and ink, and Tae and Seok have already got a few clients booked in for tonight.”

Scrunching up your nose, you shut the album in your hands, already standing to walk across to your station.

“You guys owe me.”

                                                        ▫▫▫

It’s just after nine in the evening that a wave of customers start to flow into the studio, and before you know it, you’ve dove right back into work as if you’d never left, gloves on, piercing gun in hand.

It’s a taxing job at times, because while it seems simple enough (one: gloves on; two: clean the skin; three: load the gun with the cartridge; four: mark the skin; five: point, aim, and shoot), no one really tells you about the emotional counselling that accompanies your work.

It’s almost half past ten when you’re sitting at your station beside a girl who can’t be older than twenty, quickly losing feeling in your hand because of her vice-like grip around your fingers as she tries to calm herself enough to get the small silver hoop in her nose.

“A-are you sure it won’t hurt?” she asks on the verge of tears.

“You’ll hardly feel a thing, babe,” you say. “See Yoongi over there? I did his eyebrow. And over there, I did Hoseok’s tongue. And at the station next to you, I did Taehyung’s septum. Exact same piercing you’re gonna get.”

“Hardly felt a thing,” Taehyung adds, smiling and shooting your client a thumbs up. “_____’s one of our best. I might even say she’s better than me.”

“Gee, that’s reassuring,” the client at Taehyung’s station mutters, smacking Taehyung’s arm.

“You’ll be fine, I promise,” you say. “I’ve done so many piercings by this point, you’ll be done before you can blink. Here. Pinch the skin between your nostrils as hard as you can.” The girl slowly brings her hand up, sniffling quietly before bringing her thumb and forefinger close, squeezing the cartilage separating her nostrils. “Really squeeze hard. As hard as you can, babe.” The girl’s eyes narrow slightly as she tries as hard as she can, fingers starting to tremble a little as she exerts as much energy as she can into squeezing her nose. “Okay, you can stop. How’d that feel?”

“That... wasn’t so bad, I g-guess,” she says, lowering her hand and resting it in her lap. “It’s kinda like... I need to sneeze or something.”

“That’s all you’re gonna feel. Your eyes might water, but it won’t be because of the pain. Besides. You know why I’m positive it’s not gonna hurt as much?”

“W-why?”

“Because us girls are better at handling pain than the boys. And if Taehyung says he hardly felt a thing, then it’s gonna be a breeze for you, babe.”

Your client is quiet, staring at the ground, deep in thought.

“How would you know though? Your nose isn’t pierced,” she says.

“Wanna see my most painful piercings?” The girl sniffles and nods her head. You smile, carefully pulling her hand off of yours to stand. You lift your shirt up, tugging down one cup of your bra to expose one of your breasts, shrugging. Her eyes grow wide with shock.

“Y-you... you got your nipple pierced?”

“Nipples,” you correct. Just before he passes your station, Jungkook freezes on the spot, whistling appreciatively.

“Woah, hello. Didn’t realise we were starting the ‘welcome home’ celebration early, sweets,” he laughs, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Keep walkin’, babe,” you reply, fixing your bra and shirt before sitting down next to your client again, peeling away your gloves to replace them with new, sterile ones. “Don’t worry about it. I know pain. Waxing your legs hurts more than getting pierced most of the time, to be honest. Your nose’ll be fine.”

Gnawing on her bottom lip, the girl is quiet again for a moment, and it might be a full minute that passes before she speaks up.

“Okay. I think... I think I’m ready.”

“You sure?” you ask, already pulling on your second glove.

“Yeah,” she replies. “If you can get your nipples pierced and still be alive, I think I can survive a nose piercing.”

“Good for you, babe,” Taehyung cries from his station. “You got this!”

                                                        ▫▫▫

The girl stares at her reflection for a good three minutes after it’s done, while you’re busy cleaning up and readying your station for the next customer.

“I know it’s tempting to touch it,” you say, smiling a little at the awe on the girl’s face. “But try not to. At least for a couple months.”

“This looks... so cool. And you were right. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”

“Hey, hey. Lookin’ good!” Taehyung says, throwing her another thumbs up from his station.

“Thanks,” she laughs. “And thank you, _____. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” you reply, waving your hand. You watch as she turns back to the mirror to stare at her reflection a little more, and you can see her fingers twitching, wanting to reach up and touch her nose but resisting. You toss your gloves into the trash, grabbing a bottle of sanitiser to clean up your work bench and chair before turning your attention back to your client. “Alright. All good? Were you after anything else tonight? More piercings? A tattoo?”

“Ah, no, I think the nose’ll do for tonight,” she says, chuckling quietly.

“Sounds good. Well, I’m done here cleaning up here. Let’s head over to the front and fix you up so you can be on your merry way and show off your new hoop.”

At the front counter, you take her money (and the very generous tip), counting out the money more out of habit.

“Hey, um.”

“Hmm?” You look up, watching as the girl leans forward on the counter.

“Who was that guy before, when you were showing me your boob? The one who called you sweets,” she asks, voice lowered slightly.

“Oh.” You laugh, putting the money into the till. “That was my boyfriend, Jungkook. He’s one of the tattoo artists here. Why?”

“He’s cute. You’re a lucky chick, _____.”

“Don’t I know it.”

                                                       ▫▫▫

“No way.”

“_____, please.”

“Jung Hoseok, I am not doing a Prince Albert. Get Taehyung to do it.”

“He’s busy. He’s gotta pierce five sets of ears and three noses. Please?” You tilt your head back with a wince, hands on your hips as you sigh. “Is that a yes?”

“No. Jungkook. Jungkook.” Before he can walk back to his station, you grab Jungkook’s hand as he passes you. “Babe, help. Save me.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“I need your girlfriend to do a PA on that dude with the bright blue hair up front.” Jungkook’s eyes grow wide.

“Woah. No. _____’s not touching anyone’s dick except mine. And if she even thinks about coming near my dick with a needle, she can fucking bounce. No offense, sweets.”

“Jungkook, we have too many customers coming in, and not enough piercers. I already spoke to Seokjin hyung. If she does this, she’s done for the night. Me and Tae’ll do the rest.”

“A Prince Albert? Seriously? Who the fuck even wants that?”

“The guy with the bright blue hair, apparently.”

Jungkook sighs, staring down at the ground as he thinks. It’s almost a minute before he looks up again to meet your eyes, holding a silent conversation with you.

Complete and utter dread washes over you when it dawns on you that you really have no choice: money is money, and if you have any chance of buying that new piercing gun for your station, you’re gonna need to take all the jobs you can get.

It’s as if Hoseok senses your admission of defeat, because before you can blink, his expression transitions from pleading to pleased, grinning as he runs back to his station to tend to his client, leaving you and Jungkook standing in the middle of the studio completely dumbstruck.

You sigh, huffing loudly as you exhale and scratch your temple.

“Want me to come with you?” Jungkook asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You shake your head in reply.

“I’ll be fine. You have clients to work on anyway,” you say. Jungkook leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“My trashcan’ll be ready for you to throw up in when you’re done.” Despite yourself, you find yourself laughing, and returning the kiss with one of your own.

“Can’t wait.”                                                        ▫▫▫

“Hi. Uh, you were the one after an Albert?” you say, approaching the man with the bright blue hair. You watch as he stands quickly, wiping his hands on the back of his jeans nervously.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“I’m _____. I think Hoseok spoke to you earlier, but he and the other male piercer here are swamped with clients tonight, so I’ll be the one taking care of you tonight, if... that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, um... sure. No... no problem.”

“Cool. I’ll take you over to my station then.”

With your client following behind, you walk to the back of the studio where you station is, motioning for him to take a seat while you move to the corner and grab the curtain to pull it shut around your space. You see heads turn in your direction at the sound of the small metal hoops holding the curtain up scrape against the railing overhead, and you take another deep breath, flashing Jungkook a tight-lipped smile as he throws you an encouraging thumbs up.

(You resist the urge to flip off Hoseok and Taehyung when they look your way.)

“Just gimme a sec to set up and we can get started.”

“No problem.”

Though you don’t want to admit it, you are stalling a little, taking your time to pull your gloves on and make sure everything is sterile and sanitary. You pull open the bottom drawer of your cabinet, digging around for circular and bent barbells, almost forgetting where you kept them all. You lay everything out on your workbench, all still sealed and cased, not daring to open anything until it was absolutely time to.

“Alright,” you say, turning around to face your client. “I’m, uh, gonna need you to take your pants off.”

“Right. Yeah.” The guy clears his throat and stands, awkwardly fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. “Have you, uh... have you ever done this kind of piercing before?”

“A few times, yeah,” you reply, nodding. “Most guys request for either Hoseok or Taehyung though, which is understandable. But I’ve pierced a few dicks in my time.”

“That’s, uh... that’s pretty reassuring, actually.” You chuckle, nodding again as he drapes his jeans over the back of the chair.

“Hey, um, can I ask, just out of morbid curiosity... why’re you getting an Albert?”

“Oh. U-um...”

“Oh. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I ask all my clients why they’re getting the piercing their getting. But an Albert’s in an... intimate area, so if you don’t wanna say why, that’s cool.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Uh... it’s for my girlfriend, actually.”

“Oh. You... wanna improve your sex life, or...”

“Kinda, I guess. But she also was saying the other day that my dick looked kinda... plain. Boring.”

Surprised, you raise your eyebrows.

“She said that to you? To your face?”

“Yeah. I mean, she was a little tipsy when she said it, but... pretty much.” You let out a loud exhale, leaning back against your work bench.

“I mean, it’s not really my place to say, but she kinda sounds like a bitch. Who says something like that to their boyfriend?”

“I dunno,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “She kinda has high standards though. She’s one of those rich kids. Her parents run some kind of law firm or some shit.”

“Still. That’s not something you just say.” He shrugs, sitting back down. “How long’ve you two been together?”

“About a year and a half now.”

“You love her?”

“I mean... I guess? If we’ve been together that long, that means I more than like her, doesn’t it?”

“Not necessarily,” you say, pulling over your wheelie chair to sit down too. “I’ve known people who’ve dated for two years and never said ‘I love you’ to one another the entire time. I also know people who were together for about a month before dropping the ‘love’ bomb on each other. Time’s just one of those things that can’t define relationships. That’s what I think, at least.” You lean forward, chin resting in your palm as you prop your elbow up on your knee. “I don’t know you, and I don’t know your girlfriend, but I have a feeling it’s more tolerance than love between you both. Correct me if I’m wrong, of course.” He says nothing, so you continue, flicking the small silver ball under your lip absentmindedly. “I mean, if she does love you, I don’t think she’d be going around calling your dick boring and plain-looking. After a year and a half, I’d like to think you learn how to love your significant other’s so-called flaws alongside everything else, y’know?”

“Dicks aren’t really attractive things though,” he suggests.

“True, but that doesn’t give her the right to insult yours.” You shrug and stand again, moving to your bench. “If I was you, I’d probably drop her ass. She doesn’t deserve someone like you. But, hey. That’s just my opinion. If you’re happy in your relationship, then that’s all that matters, right?”

You client stares off into space while you get back to work setting up, taking out a bottle of disinfectant and some topical anaesthetic.

“So. Do you wanna sit or stand for thi--”

“Wait.” You pause, eyebrows rising expectantly. “Can I, um... can I take a raincheck on the Albert? I, uh... I think I wanna think about this some more, and about what you said.” You smile in reply.

“For sure.”

“Thanks.” Quietly, he stands to put his jeans back on, getting dressed in silence while you start to clear your bench and put everything back.

You’re in the process of peeling your gloves off when he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet.

“Hey. It’s fine,” you say, stopping him.

“You sure? I took up a lot of your time with my unnecessary bull-crap.”

“Totally fine. No needle, no money.”

“Right.”

You walk over to the other side of your station, grabbing the curtain to pull it back and expose your space to the rest of the studio, heads once again turning in your direction.

“It’s funny,” the guy says, tucking his wallet back into his pocket. “I came in thinking I’d be walking out with a sore dick and some numbing cream, and instead I’m gonna be leaving with a full wallet and a piercer-slash-therapist blowing my mind. Thanks, _____.”

“Anything to avoid doing an Albert,” you joke; he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair. “I’ll walk you out.”

You finish peeling off your gloves, throwing them into the trash can before leading your client to the door.

“Hey, um. Not to sound like a complete ass, but... are you single?” You laugh, holding the door open for him.

“I’m not, sorry.” You nod your head towards the back of the studio in Jungkook’s direction. “My boyfriend’s one of the artists here.”

“That’s a shame. You’re pretty cool.” He gives you a small wave before walking off, hands shoved in his pockets.

                                                       ▫▫▫

You’re sitting at Jungkook’s station just as he bids his customer goodbye, sliding the money into the till and his tip in his back pocket.

“Hey,” he says, quick to rub sanitiser on his hands before leaning over to steal a kiss from you. “How’d it go?”

“It didn’t. Thank god,” you reply, chuckling. Jungkook raises his eyebrows.

“You talked him out of it?”

“He practically talked himself out it, actually. I don’t think he wanted the Albert in the first place.”

“Why?”

“I asked him why he was getting it. You know what he tells me?” Jungkook shrugs. “He said he wanted to get an Albert because his girlfriend said his dick looked ‘plain’ and ‘boring’.” Jungkook leans back, eyebrows furrowed.

“To his face?”

“Yup.”

“What a bitch.”

“That’s what I said. I told him ‘look, dude. If you’re gonna get your dick pierced just because your bitch of a girlfriend doesn’t like the way it looks, you can tell her to hit the fucking road’. Alberts are no joke.”

“Christ. Poor guy,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “Wait. You don’t think my dick looks plain and boring, do you?”

“It’s my favouritest dick in the whole world,” you chuckle, leaning over to kiss him.

“Get a fucking room,” Jimin groans; Jungkook throws him the finger over his shoulder.

                                                      ▫▫▫

You’re all finally able to call it a night just before two in the morning, but to your surprise, even with the jetlag, you’re hardly tired.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Yoongi sighs, dropping into his chair with obvious exhaustion, a bottle of sanitiser still hanging precariously between his fingers. “We made it.”

“Another Friday night done and dusted,” Namjoon says, peeling off his gloves, throwing them towards his trash can (he misses).

“Alright, folks. Pay day,” Seokjin announces, a thick wad of cash in his hands as he leaves the front desk to wheel himself to the centre of the studio, right in the middle of everyone’s stations. Namjoon reaches over, pushing Seokjin’s glasses higher up the bridge of his nose when he spots them sliding down as the elder starts to count out paper bills.

“Woah, woah, woah,” you say, sitting up in Jungkook’s lap when everyone is given a stack -- everyone, that is, except you. “What am I, chopped liver? Did I not just pierce thirteen ears, four noses, an eyebrow, two pairs of nipples, and almost a dick? Fuck you, Kim Seokjin. I’m suing. I’ll see your ass in court.”

“Hey!” Namjoon cries out. “No one gets to see hyung’s ass except me.”

“Calm your pierced tits, _____,” Seokjin says, rolling his eyes. “You’ll get your money when you’re officially off leave.” You grumble, leaning back against Jungkook’s chest, arms crossed in front of you.

“And when is that?” Taehyung asks, counting out his money before pulling out his wallet.

“About a week and a half from now,” you reply.

“What’re you gonna do for a week and a half?”

“I have suggestions,” Jungkook answers immediately, raising his hand in the air.

“Shut up,” Yoongi says, sighing.

                                                     ▫▫▫

“Drive safe, you horn bags,” Yoongi says, draping his arm over Jimin’s shoulders, watching as Jungkook lifts the seat of his bike to pull out a spare helmet for you. “No road head.”

“How the hell am I gonna give Jungkook a blowjob if I’m sitting behind him?” you laugh, putting the helmet on. Yoongi shrugs, taking the cigarette from behind his ear and holding it between his teeth as he rummages around his pockets for his lighter.

“If anyone can find a way to do that, it’s probably gonna be you, _____. Come on, babe. Let’s go home. I need a shower.”

“Later, brats,” Jimin says, throwing you both a little wave goodbye over his shoulder as Yoongi walks him to the car. 

On the sidewalk, Hoseok helps Taehyung untie his bandana, carding his fingers through the younger’s bright red hair with a fond smile.

“We should head on home too, cutie,” he says, chuckling as Taehyung nuzzles Hoseok’s neck before nodding. “C’mon. Let’s boogie. See you two tomorrow.”

“See you,” Jungkook says, waving goodbye. You watch as Seokjin locks the front door of the studio, one arm wrapped around Namjoon’s. “Alright. We’re heading off too, hyung.”

“Sure. Drive safe, Jungkook,” Namjoon says, giving the both of you a salute goodbye.

“Try not to stay up too late, please,” Seokjin adds, sending you both a pointed look.

“Can’t guarantee anything,” Jungkook says, grinning before shutting the visor of his helmet, warming up his bike with loud, growl-like revs of the engine as you wrap your arms around his waist, blowing Namjoon and Seokjin a dramatic kiss goodbye.