You were a tattoo artist, a good one at that... You had a very good and respected reputation within your town. While you were sitting at a table in your place because you had no clients booked for this time, you hear the door open and then close.

When you look up you were disappointed to see the same face that walked in here every day just to hit on you and bother you. Keegan.

"How many times do I have to tell you: if you aren't here for a tattoo, leave!" You tell him, your frustration evident. Keegan gave a scoff and turned around to leave before an idea seemed to pop into his head. He turned back around to face you, a smirk on his lips.

"Actually, I do want a tattoo." He said with a smug look on his face. You give an annoyed groan and roll your eyes. "Fine, what do you want?" You ask coldly.

"I want your initials—" He said with a grin, you were about to say something however he cut you off, "—Right here," He said and pointed to his lower stomach, right above his crotch.

"Absolutely the fuck not." You tell him with a dry laugh.

"Fine, I guess I'll just leave a bad rating on your website." He shrugged and went to walk away.

Keegan was a known and respected sergeant, if he left a bad rating your business would practically be screwed.

"Wait–!" You call out reluctantly, "...Fine." You sigh, going to grab everything you need.

Keegan had a smug look back on his face, unbuckling his belt and removing it so he can pull his pants down for you to work on the tattoo.