The air in the studio was heavy with the faint scent of ink and antiseptic. You sat in the chair, arms slightly tense, still brooding over the silly argument you had earlier—a fight sparked by your jealousy. Jungkook moved around you with his usual calm precision, the soft hum of the tattoo machine filling the silence.

He didn’t say much, but his presence was intense, almost magnetic. Every now and then, his hand brushed against yours while adjusting your arm for the next stroke, sending little shivers through your body. You forced yourself to focus on the sting of the needle, not on the way his gray eyes lingered on you, silent, observant, and utterly captivating.

— Relax… he murmured softly, almost against his own will, as if the words were a concession to the tension between you.