Chapter Text
The machine buzzed in his hand, injecting the last bit of color into his client’s skin as a voice called out:
“And five, four . . .”
The atmosphere in the room tensed as sixteen artists hurried to add one last, panicked detail to their tattoos.
“Three, two . . .”
Jungkook bent closer, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“One. That’s it. Time’s up. Machines down. No more ink.”
Jungkook set down his tattoo machine, shaking out his hand as his client inspected the emerald viper curled around a dagger now adorning his forearm, its fangs and tongue lashing out in a vicious hiss.
He turned to the artist next to him, Namjoon, who was eyeing Jungkook’s tattoo appreciatively. He was the only other Korean in the competition.
“Nice touch with the emerald,” Namjoon said in Korean, nodding at the jewel in the dagger’s hilt, which perfectly matched the snake’s scales.
Jungkook offered him a hesitant smile. “Thanks. Yours looks good, too.”
Namjoon sighed at the simple black-and-gray snake inked out on his client’s calf. “Snakes and daggers aren’t really my thing. I’m usually way more creative than this, but I just blanked.” A hand came up to ruffle the back of his lilac-colored hair. “Our first challenge. What a time to choke, huh?”
Jungkook’s smile came a little more warmly this time. “Well, at least it’s just a flash challenge and not an elimination tattoo. Just think of it as a warm-up. The judges just want to see what we can do.”
Just then, they were interrupted by a loud, obnoxious voice carrying over from the other end of the room. “Jeez, Mike, is that supposed to be a snake? It looks like a limp water balloon. It’s even more fucked up than Sarah’s.”
Jungkook’s mouth twisted in a grimace. In the short time that he’d met the other competitors, one of the artists, Shane—young, buff, and somewhat handsome until he opened his mouth—seemed determined to establish himself as this season’s villain.
Namjoon grunted in annoyance. “You know, Shane’s tattoo is actually pretty good. He doesn’t have to be an ass about it.”
Jungkook craned his neck to get a better look at it; it was indeed one of the better ones in the room, each of the snake’s scales outlined with neat precision, and the color saturation was perfect. The snake looked like it was popping right off the client’s skin. “Wow,” he said. “That’s amazing for an hour and a half’s work. Fuck.”
“Fuck,” Namjoon agreed.
The low chattering in the room ceased immediately as three figures entered. Jungkook fidgeted quietly next to his new friend as they made their way over to the first tattoo to examine it. These were the three judges of the competition.
When Jungkook had found out he had been accepted on the tattoo reality show Ink Master, he had watched every season to prepare himself, so he was already familiar with the judges and their styles and the things they typically commented on. Each was an icon in their field, and they had notoriously strict reputations when it came to judging; even the most flawless tattoos had faults.
To Jungkook’s disappointment, but not to his surprise, they had high praise for Shane’s tattoo, and indeed didn’t have many positive things to say about Mike’s poor water-balloon snake. But despite Shane’s initial assessment of Sarah’s tattoo as “fucked up,” the judges complimented her design and correct anatomy, which gave Jungkook—and Sarah, judging by her smirk—a fierce prickle of satisfaction. All too soon, they were making their way over to Jungkook.
“Jungkook, let’s see what you got,” said the host of Ink Master, Dave Navarro.
Jungkook jumped aside, feeling ridiculously embarrassed as Dave’s cool gaze swept over him. Everything about the man was dark—his hair, his clothes, his eyes. Unlike the other two judges, Dave was not a seasoned tattoo artist, but a musician, though plenty of ink ran up and down his arms. One might think that made him less intimidating; he certainly seemed friendlier with his soothing voice and pleasantly interested expression. But as his dark, handsome eyes landed on Jungkook, he decided fervently that Dave Navarro was just as intimidating as the other two after all.
“Good outline, solid shading,” said the judge to Dave’s right, Oliver Peck. He was a specialist in American Traditional tattooing. He had long, copper-colored hair tied behind his back—with a mustache to match—was wearing a flannel shirt, and had a toothpick shoved between his teeth. “The snake bends the way it’s supposed to, and the dagger looks right. It’s a badass tattoo.”
Jungkook tried not to beam too hard at the praise.
“Effective use of color,” said the final judge, Chris Nuñez. He was a specialist in Japanese tattooing. He was dark-haired and broader than the others, the light scruff on his face making him handsome. “You nailed it. One of the few who did,” he added in a faintly threatening tone that made Jungkook feel more nervous than reassured.
”Ah, th-thank you,” he said, giving a quick bow.
As expected, the judges gave Namjoon poor remarks, and after announcing Shane the winner of the flash challenge, they left the contestants with a stern lecture that they expected better in the upcoming elimination challenge before dismissing them.
Happy to have made a new friend, and pleased that he had made such a good first impression to the judges, Jungkook gave Namjoon a sympathetic elbow nudge and followed him up to the loft, determinedly ignoring the calculating look from Shane that had narrowed in at him from across the room.
(Fon, season 12)
“It’s because he sees you as a threat, that’s why he’s so awful to you,” Jungkook said the following evening as he, Namjoon, and Sarah sat down for dinner. Their plates were loaded with mounds of chicken alfredo, which they ate with gusto after their long day of tattooing, the soft bickering of the contestants in the other room serving as a backdrop to their meal. Perhaps it was their mutual dislike of Shane, or just Sarah’s friendly attitude, but Jungkook had taken an instant liking to her, and the three of them had formed a bit of a trio. “All that big talk. He does the same to me.”
“Really? I thought it was because I’m a girl,” Sarah said sarcastically as she ran her hand through her shoulder-length brown hair.
“That too,” Jungkook said. “God, he’s an asshole.”
Namjoon grunted his agreement through a mouthful of noodles.
It was a night worth celebrating. Not only had they all survived their first elimination tattoo, but Namjoon had spectacularly redeemed himself by winning the achievement of “Best Tattoo of the Day” with a gorgeous surrealistic tattoo of a woman’s face morphing into a clock. It had wiped the smirk right off Shane’s face.
“You can’t let him get into your head,” Namjoon said calmly. “If he wants to be an asshole and underestimate everyone around him, let him. It’ll only hurt him in the end.”
Jungkook nodded heartily, his mouth too full of chicken to respond, and Sarah smiled. “He’s such a goddamn egomaniac,” she said. “You know what I heard him say to the cameras?” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “He said, ‘Don’t hate me, hate God.’”
All three of them burst out laughing.
“Are you serious?!” Jungkook said through a few tears as Namjoon shook his head. They stopped abruptly as the man in question burst through the doorway, clapping his hands obnoxiously.
“Talking about me?” he said loudly. “Planning my downfall like I’m planning yours?”
A stony silence fell as the three at the table tensed.
“No,” Sarah said sweetly. “We were talking about how your arrogance is going to bite you in the ass since you can’t acknowledge a great artist. Even when she’s right in front of you.”
“Oh, you’re a good artist, Sarah,” he said; Jungkook’s lip curled up at the haughty tone. “But you’re easy to beat. All I have to do is get in your head and you’ll fuck up. As for Mr. Purple Hair.” He aimed a sticky smile at Namjoon, who slowly set down his fork. “Great job winning Best Tattoo of the Day. But you know what I think? You’re just a one-trick pony who’s gonna give the judges the same thing every week. Is there anything in your portfolio that isn’t fantasy? Sooner or later they’re gonna get tired of you. Pretty boy here is my only real competition.” He leered at Jungkook, who scowled at him. “But he’s just a little baby artist and not as good as me.”
Jungkook ran his tongue roughly against the inside of his cheek. At twenty-four, he was indeed the youngest contestant that season, but that didn’t mean he should be underestimated; he was more experienced and creative than many of the other artists assumed. “You don’t have to be such an asshole,” he said quietly.
“Jinjja,” Namjoon muttered. Really.
“Yeah, well, this is a competition,” Shane snapped. “I didn’t come here to make friends. If I see an opportunity to take any of you out, I will.”
“Shut up, Shane,” Sarah spat, “the cameras aren’t even here.”
A grin spread over Shane’s face. “Ooh, am I getting under your skin already? Don’t worry, Sarah, you won’t have to deal with me for long . . . cuz you’ll be packing your bags next elimination!” With that, he backed out the door, cackling.
Sarah shot Namjoon and Jungkook a look that clearly read, Did he fucking just really? “Well I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, and unfortunately, probably neither is he.” She raised her glass. “Here’s to a few miserable weeks with that asshole.”
“If nobody kills him first,” Namjoon said cheerfully.
Jungkook switched off his tattoo machine and set it down. “All right, let’s take a break,” he said to his client, who looked relieved.
He had made it through another elimination challenge and was currently fighting his way through his third. Each elimination, the judges presented the artists with a different challenge. For the first one (the one Namjoon had won), the theme was “artistry,” which the judges had tested by assigning them surrealistic tattoos. For the second elimination challenge, the theme was “shading,” tested via landscape tattoos. Their third was proving a disaster.
“Good morning, artists,” Dave Navarro had said the previous day as he launched into his introductory speech. “You are all one step closer to winning $100,000, a feature in Inked Magazine, and the title of Ink Master. For your third elimination tattoo, we’re testing you on your linework. And there’s no better way to test linework than with American Traditional.”
The artists all gave a collective groan. American Traditional was the specialty of Oliver Peck, and you simply couldn’t win Ink Master without proving yourself in it. It was an iconic, yet simple tattoo style, well known for its bold lines, basic color palate, and easily readable design. Yet for a supposedly simple style, American Traditional sure had a lot of rules, and the problem with tattooing one of the judges’ specialties was that Oliver knew every single one of them. Any mistake would feel like a personal injustice to him.
“He’s not going to let anything slide,” Namjoon had whispered, eyeing the mustachioed judge warily.
“Your tattoo may include any elements you like,” Dave continued. “However, it must include an eagle and an American flag. This puts you all on an even playing field, giving us similar elements to judge.”
He then sent them off to the flash challenge.
Flash challenges happened every episode. They were mini challenges that served two purposes: one, to show off your artistic skills in something other than tattooing, like painting or sculpture—though the mediums tended to be a bit bizarre. In this flash challenge, for example, the judges had shipped them down to a local barber shop, where they had put electric razors in their hands and instructed them to shave geometric designs onto their client’s heads to prove they could handle linework in a medium other than tattooing.
“Hey, if you’re an artist, you’re an artist,” Namjoon had shrugged while Jungkook eyed the back of his client’s head doubtfully.
(Kay Kutta, season 2)
Two, the winner of each flash challenge was granted the power to assign the “human canvases” (which was what they called the clients) in the next elimination challenge; basically, you chose who tattooed whom. It was a huge advantage; you could help yourself and hinder your enemies. The strategy was to assign the easier clients (i.e., the ones who had straightforward ideas and wanted the tattoo on an easy part of the body, like the thigh or shoulder) to yourself and the harder clients (i.e., the ones with fussy personalities or weird ideas who wanted the tattoo on a difficult part of the body, like the ribs or heaven forbid the head) to artists you were trying to screw over.
To Jungkook’s immense annoyance, Shane had won and promptly used his win to give Jungkook the hardest canvas in the line-up, a tough old military veteran who wanted damn near everything in the tattoo: flag, eagle, horseshoe, grenade, rose. He might as well have asked for a kitchen sink, too.
At least he was sitting well for his tattoo.
“You can go out that way.” Jungkook pointed to the door that led to the back patio. “And make sure you drink some juice. We have a long way to go.”
With his canvas making a break for the exit, he wandered over to Namjoon’s studio to check in on him. A camera followed.
Jungkook had a reasonable amount of confidence in his own ability to ink out a passable American Traditional tattoo. He was a color artist, contrary to Namjoon, Sarah, and Shane, who all specialized in black-and-gray. He did color tattoos in his home shop all the time, so he thought if anyone had an advantage in this challenge, it was him. And he had a feeling Namjoon might need his help.
Namjoon was one of the best artists Jungkook had ever met. His specialty was magical realism, and his portfolio was filled with beautiful and strange subject matters, each page more captivating than the last: the kinds of things only Namjoon could come up with.
But despite how talented his hyung was, Jungkook worried. He would never admit it out loud, but Shane had been sort of right when he accused Namjoon of only having one style. In order to become Ink Master, you had to prove that you could handle a wide variety of tattooing styles and subject matters, and they would be assigned all sorts of things throughout the season to test their versatility. Namjoon’s work radiated elegance and finesse, which didn’t exactly suit many of the styles they would be tested on. Jungkook worried that his strong style might keep him from branching out. He couldn’t imagine how Namjoon would handle a cartoony style like New School if they were assigned it. He already seemed to be struggling with American Traditional.
“Don’t make your lines so bold, hyung,” he whispered, while the camera hovered behind them. “Oliver won’t like that.”
Namjoon lifted his machine and glanced at him sideways. “Are you sure, Kook? I think it needs bold lines.”
“Yeah, but all your lines have different weights.” He pointed to the thick outline around the eagle and then to the finer lines detailing the feathers. “See how they’re different? They should all be the same thickness. That’s the style.”
“I dunno, I think the different line weights look good.”
Jungkook shook his head. “American Traditional is just one thickness. You said yourself that Oliver is a stickler for the rules.”
Namjoon sighed. “I’ll trust you. Thanks, Kook.” He bent to thicken the lines on the eagle’s feathers.
Jungkook clapped him on the shoulder, then high-stepped it toward Sarah’s studio but pivoted when he saw her at the refreshment table.
As an artist, Sarah was extremely well balanced. Although her specialty was portraits, her portfolio was filled with stunning illustrations that covered nearly every subject matter from whimsical to horror. Jungkook wouldn’t admit this out loud either, but he was pretty sure Sarah’s portfolio was better than his.
“How’s it going?” he asked as he scooped up a bottle of orange juice and shook it.
Sarah slouched in exaggerated defeat before smiling at him. “Who would’ve thought American Traditional was so hard? Everyone is doing so bad. Did you see Tee-J’s tattoo?”
Jungkook took a swig of juice. “What about it?”
“His flag is so weird, it’s only got like three stripes. The judges are gonna tear him apart.” Jungkook grimaced. “Shane’s is pretty bad too.” She batted at him playfully as he visibly brightened. “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not bad enough to send him home. But his eagle is awful. You should see for yourself.”
Jungkook eyed Shane’s studio, tempted to take a peek, but then he caught sight of his client heading back into the lounge, looking slightly steadier than before. “I’ll take your word for it,” Jungkook said over his shoulder as he headed over. “Ready?” he asked.
The man steeled himself. “Let’s do this.”
(Steve Tefft, season 2)
The lighting in the elimination room was dim and moody, which reflected the general mood of the artists as they filed in before the judges, who were sitting up at their high table like kings about to bestow judgment. It didn’t matter that it was Jungkook’s third time in the room; he was no more comfortable now than he had been on day one. Even the low, soothing voice of Dave Navarro couldn’t ease his nerves.
“Welcome, artists, to your tattoo critique. This week we went old-school and had you tattoo an American Traditional design with an eagle and a flag, giving us similar elements to judge. Furthermore, we’re testing you on linework.”
Oliver picked up the speech seamlessly. “None of y’all had a good day today. Just because American Traditional tattoos are simple, it doesn’t mean they’re easy. And it looks like this tattoo style got the best of you.”
Jungkook glanced around to see if anyone else had felt a sudden tendril of foreboding creep up their spine. Most of the artists were shifting around, looking just as wary as he felt.
“Sarah, you’re up first,” Dave said.
Her eyes wide and unblinking, Sarah walked forward stiffly, stopping in front of the judges as her tattoo of a military woman saluting in front of a flag popped up on a big screen next to the table.
Oliver Peck began the critique: “The woman was drawn decently and has the right proportions, but the flag shape is weird and stiff . . . though the stripes are correct at least,” while Chris Nuñez finished with, “You’re not at the lead of the pack with this one, but you’re not at the bottom either.”
Sarah headed back to the line-up. It wasn’t the best critique, but she could at least be secure that she was not going home.
The mood, which was already tense, plummeted even further as the artists received critique after brutal critique.
“You put a red stripe below the blue field of stars on your flag,” Oliver said to an older tattoo artist, Mike. “It should be a white stripe. You have to get these details right.”
“The eagle is very comic-booky. It doesn’t look very regal,” Dave said to another contestant, Jessi.
“Why would you put a black background behind an eagle that you also colored black?” Chris griped to another. “That muddies the entire tattoo.”
Namjoon fared slightly better—though, as Jungkook suspected, the judges were not pleased with his inconsistent line weights. But poor Tee-J got the worst of it. Jungkook cringed as the man stood stoically before the triple attack.
“I can’t get over the flag,” Chris said irritably as the flag—as Sarah had reported, crooked, warped, and containing far too few stripes—filled the screen. “And your client is a veteran. You’re lucky he didn’t throw you across the fucking room, giving him a tattoo like that.”
Dave continued, albeit in a gentler tone, “It looks like it’s twisted impossibly. I can’t make sense of how it would look unfurled.”
“That’s because there are problems with the folds and bends,” Oliver answered. “It just doesn’t look right.”
Tee-J returned to the line looking frustrated and miserable, while Oliver shook his head.
“Jungkook, you’re up next,” Dave called.
Jungkook jumped at the sound of his name. Fighting down his sudden wave of nerves, he walked over to the judges, suddenly overly aware of how big and awkward his hands and feet were. He stopped as his flag-eagle-horseshoe-grenade-rose design flashed up on the screen.
“For the most part it looks good,” Oliver said, “but a couple things are off. The eagle is a little strange—I can’t tell where its wings are supposed to be coming from. And your grenade looks more like a paper lantern.”
Jungkook frowned at the screen. His grenade looked like a paper lantern? That seemed a bit picky to him. Shouldn’t he at least be getting credit for including everything his canvas had asked for? It had been a real headache to design.
“I had to play around with the design to make everything fit. He wanted so many elements—”
“Well, when I see the tattoo, I like it right off the bat, so that’s a good start,” Oliver cut over him.
Chris nodded in agreement. “We were testing you on linework today, and your lines are the cleanest in the room. Good job.” His tone had softened somewhat, and—dare Jungkook imagine—perhaps there was even a spark of approval in his eye. He nodded, his lips cautiously pressed together, and returned to the line-up, painfully thankful for every time his mentor Seokjin had yelled at him for wobbly lines.
Shane was up next. He swaggered up to the judges, though as he went, Jungkook thought his movements looked a little too forced to be natural.
“I think he’s actually nervous,” he whispered to Namjoon, who grinned back.
Shane’s tattoo flashed up onto the screen. As Sarah had said, the eagle was quite bizarre. Chris’s expression quickly morphed back to irritation.
“The design of this tattoo is killing me,” he said crossly. “This is probably the worst eagle we’ve seen today.”
Jungkook’s lips pursed in a silent oop, as the rest of the artists perked up too; by now, Shane had become very sincerely hated by everyone, and seeing him put in his place by the judges almost made up for the miserable critiques they were all being given.
“What do you mean?” Shane said blatantly. “It looks like an eagle.”
Jungkook balked at the rude tone—and toward a judge. But Oliver continued, unperturbed. “The anatomy is completely wrong. One of the wings is coming out of its neck, and the other one is coming out of its lower back. This eagle could not exist in real life.”
Shane shrugged. “It’s an illustration. It’s not supposed to look exactly like an eagle. I felt like I could take a few liberties.”
Oliver leaned back in his chair and grinned, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying being on his side of the table. “It’s an illustration, but it’s still supposed to look like what it is.”
“Well I don’t agree with you. I think it looks like a Traditional eagle.”
A very shocked silence filled the room. Jungkook’s mouth fell open in disbelief. He swiveled around to catch the other artists’ reactions, which all ranged from shocked to gleeful. Shane, arguing with one of the judges? Over that judge's own specialty?! Namjoon leaned over and whispered, “Michiyeosso-eo?” Is he crazy?
Over at the judges’ table, Dave had his hands steepled in front of his face, intrigued, and Chris looked like Christmas had come early.
As for Oliver, he leaned forward again, and Jungkook watched in awe as he proceeded to take no mercy. “It is my job to tell you what is right and what is wrong. An eagle is supposed to look like an eagle. And yours doesn’t look like one. You know, a lot of people talk about American Traditional like it’s so simple, and that’s not the case. The simpler the design, the harder it is to do right. You didn’t get it right.”
Shane crossed his arms mutinously in front of himself. Whether he was unable to sense the grave he was digging himself or whether he was just too stubborn—Jungkook thought it was probably the last one—he persisted on. “Well I’m a realism artist. I don’t have a lot of experience with American Traditional.”
“So?!” Oliver shouted. “Did you think you would come to this competition and not get tested on this?”
Clearly feeling like he had been thrown a lifeline, Tee-J chose that moment to fight for his life. “How can you compete on this show without knowing how to do American Traditional?” he said incredulously.
“How can you fuck up the American flag?” Shane spat back. “I’m a better artist than you. I just don’t do American Traditional that much—”
“Then you should have practiced!”
The words had come out of Jungkook’s mouth before he could stop them. He cringed as every head in the room turned toward him—Shane’s spiteful glare, Namjoon’s surprised face, the judges’ level gazes, and the dark, handsome eyes of Dave Navarro. He shrank slightly. “I—I didn’t have much experience with American Traditional, either,” he said feebly. Then, because nobody shushed him, he said with a little more confidence, “but I gave out free Traditional tattoos in my shop for weeks so I could learn better.”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Well good for you.”
“Yeah, it is!” Jungkook said coolly. “I put out a sign out that said ‘Free American Traditional Tattoos’ and I spent hours getting the style right. You couldn’t be bothered to do that?” he couldn’t resist tacking on.
This time, a gleeful silence fell. Namjoon’s mouth had dropped fully open, and a few other artists huffed out impressed laughs. Shane’s expression grew pinched. He sent Jungkook one last death glare before turning back to the judges for a last-ditch effort to save himself. “Look, if you focus on the challenge, which was linework, you know I have the cleanest lines in the building.”
“You can have the best lines in the room,” Chris said in a tone of indisputable finality, “but there are problems with your design. As far as I’m concerned, you failed before you even got to the tattooing.”
It was the final nail in the coffin. Shane glared angrily at the floor as he returned to the line, and Oliver just grinned, his toothpick crunching happily between his teeth.
“So who wins Best Tattoo of the Day?” Dave asked.
Oliver spoke. “In my opinion, nobody hit the mark one hundred percent, and none of these artists deserve Best Tattoo of the Day.” They all looked down, shamefaced. “But if I had to choose, I’d go with Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s jaw dropped open. He closed it before the cameras could catch it.
Chris nodded. “It has some flaws, but out of all the tattoos in the room, Jungkook’s is the most legible and has the most Traditional-looking linework.”
“We’re all in agreement then,” Dave said, slipping into professional mode. “The Best Tattoo of the Day goes to Jungkook.”
Namjoon jostled his arm in congratulations while a few scattered claps sounded around the room. Jungkook stared at the judges in amazement. After all that, his was the best? It was hard to feel like he had actually won; it had basically amounted to the best out of a pile of garbage. Still, he gave his best smile to the cameras, trying to feel like he deserved it.
After that came the debate over who would go home. In the end, Shane’s linework saved him, as Jungkook knew it would, and the judges agreed:
“Tee-J,” said Oliver.
“Tee-J,” said Chris.
“The judges have decided,” said Dave with a tone of authority, “that Tee-J, you do not have what it takes to be Ink Master. Please pack your machines and close shop.”
Jungkook watched him leave, wishing it was Shane who was leaving instead. After being dismissed, the artists, sans Tee-J, trudged up to the loft to stew over their critiques and wait for the challenges the following day would bring, relieved that today’s at least were over.
The next morning, the producers ushered them down to the lounge to hear their next flash challenge. Jungkook crowded close to Namjoon as they shuffled down the stairs and crossed the lounge toward the plush couches.
Today, Dave Navarro was wearing a baggy black sweater with distressed holes in it, making him look quite cozy and also very sexy. “Welcome, artists,” he said. “Today we begin with the flash challenge. Remember: if you win today, you will have the power to assign all human canvases in your next elimination tattoo.”
Jungkook sat up straighter. He was determined to win and pay Shane back for the American Traditional assignment.
“Each week we’ve been testing you on the essential skills needed to become an Ink Master. This week, we’re testing you on . . . dimension.” Dave paused to let the contestants give a few reactions—gasps, confused stares, knowing shakes of the head. For the cameras, of course. “Without dimension, tattoos are flat and lifeless. Let’s meet your canvases.”
The doors to the lounge opened, and in strode the canvases—though they were much different from what Jungkook had been expecting. He ducked his head, red-faced while Namjoon made a startled gulping noise next to him. Meanwhile, appreciative sounds rose from the other artists, and Sarah laughed as she said, “Bring it on.” A line of beautiful women stopped in front of them, all naked save for thin panties and stickers taped over their nipples, and all of them completely covered in white paint.
Dave continued, “In this flash challenge, you will be working in a different art form. Your canvas is still human skin, but instead of a machine, you’ll be using a paintbrush. You’ve been assigned a random model, and your job is to transform her into a unique, three-dimensional design. You’ve got ninety minutes to complete this challenge, and your time starts . . . now.”
With varying degrees of enthusiasm, the constants jumped up from the couches.
“Aigoo,” Jungkook moaned as he got up and headed for his assigned model. She was tall and gorgeous and—again, mostly naked. He didn’t know where to look; down was certainly not an option.
A few feet away from him, Namjoon was already talking excitedly to his model and turning her this way and that as he eyed her thoughtfully. Jungkook braved a glance up into his model’s eyes before quickly jerking his gaze back down, deciding the safest place to look was the floor. “Uh . . . hi, I’m Jungkook,” he said to his shoes. She giggled.
Copying Namjoon, he turned her around, using only the tip of his fingers as he considered the shape and curves of her body. An idea was starting to form in his mind—if he could pull it off without dying of embarrassment, that was.
After positioning her the way he wanted, he dipped his brush into the black paint. “I hope it’s not too cold,” he said apologetically.
“Don’t sweat it, I’m getting paid,” she said with a wink.
Smiling shyly, he got to work, starting with her collarbones—a safe enough area. After a minute, he started to relax. His model stood perfectly still and patient as he worked, and soon he fell into a rhythm of brushing, blending, and dabbing. Before long, her collarbones and upper chest were finished and it was time to get started on—the rest. Coughing awkwardly, he hovered his paintbrush over her breast. With an apologetic glance upward, he dragged the brush across.
“How are you doing over there, Jungkook?” called one of the veteran artists, Mike. He was one of the older contestants that season and had a mountain of experience under his belt. “This must be a dream challenge for a young guy like you.” A smattering of laughter filled the room.
Jungkook chuckled uncomfortably. “Actually, I’m gay, so, ah . . . but obviously this is still nice,” he whispered to his canvas, who smiled.
“Ohh,” the old-timer laughed. “Well maybe they shoulda given us some male models to work with, huh?”
Another contestant snorted, saying, “I’d pay to see Shane painting on a naked man.
Across the room, Shane scoffed, his eyes not straying from his work. “Bring it on. I’ll do whatever, I don't care. I’ll still beat all your asses.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes and returned to his brushstrokes.
“So do you have a boyfriend?” Mike asked conversationally.
“No,” Jungkook sighed, sounding more dejected than he meant to.
“Oh . . . sorry,” Mike said awkwardly.
“That’s okay,” Jungkook said, shaking his head and trying for a more upbeat tone. “I’ve got tattooing, so I’m happy. I know it sounds cliché, but I’ve worked so hard. I’m happy with where I am.”
“And you have a shop here in New York?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook said, “with my two friends, Jin-hyung and Suga-hyung. It’s one of the reasons I came to the city, to learn more about tattooing. It’s the same with Namjoon.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon chimed in. “I’ve been in San Francisco for a few years now. When I was growing up, I showed a lot of talent with my art, but my parents and teachers didn’t approve of me putting it into tattooing. But you gotta go your own path, you know.”
“Oh, I know that feeling,” Mike said sympathetically. “It’s the same with so many of us, isn’t it? I had a hard time growing up, went to jail, hit a lot of rough patches. I’m not kidding when I say tattooing saved my life . . . ”
The room fell into a comfortable lull as Mike chattered on about his life experiences, flashing toothy grins every so often and encouraging others to tell their stories too. Jungkook listened as he padded the brush up and down, moving down his model’s ribs.
Before long, the judges reappeared and Dave counted down, “Three, two, one . . . brushes down. Time’s up.”
As Jungkook sat back, his model looked down at herself, admiring her transformed body. Painted over her entire front was a massive skull, its eye sockets sprawling across her upper chest, while the nose ran down her breastbone and long, gristly teeth descended down onto her stomach. Most clever of all, though, were the skull’s cheekbones, which Jungkook had painted across the curves of her breasts, making them pop out and literally look three-dimensional.
“Damn,” Sarah said as she materialized next to him. “You killed it.”
“You, too,” he said, nodding over at the gorgeous array of painted flowers sweeping across her canvas’s shoulders.
“Jeez Namjoon, are you trying to show us all up?” Sarah teased as she crossed over to him.
“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, turning to him. Namjoon smirked. Running up his model’s right side was an intricate system of wheels and pulleys that blended her arm right into the design. Cool and unusual—Namjoon’s typical style.
All in all, the artists had done a spectacular job on their canvases, successfully making up for the disastrous American Traditional tattoos. It seemed like the judges had praises for everyone, which put them all in a great mood. As they made their way around the room, there wasn’t a single bad critique. They were especially impressed by Namjoon’s.
“You disguised what her natural shape is and transformed her body into something it wasn’t,” Oliver said, his mustache bouncing up and down, impressed. “You definitely met the parameters for this challenge.”
They turned to Jungkook.
“Wow,” Dave said, sounding genuinely impressed. “Looking at it from across the room, that piece is literally three-dimensional.” Jungkook beamed, feeling that even if he didn’t win today, if Dave thought his art was cool, it would feel like he had.
“It’s interesting that you put the cheekbones on the breasts,” Chris commented. “Instead of just painting on her, you used the shape of her body to create a three-dimensional image. You really thought out of the box.” As he looked at Jungkook, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly.
The judges convened in the corner to discuss the winner, leaving the artists to shuffle around awkwardly while they spoke in low, urgent tones and made exaggerated gestures and facial expressions to the cameras. When they returned, they were their usual serious selves.
“Many of you impressed us today,” Dave said, “but we can only choose one winner. The artist that stood out for us the most . . .”
He paused for dramatic effect.
“. . . was Jungkook!”
Jungkook let out an excited gasp as Namjoon shouted, “All right! Two wins in a row!” and Sarah did a happy little dance. Mike flashed him a thumbs up from the side, and in the corner of the room, Shane glowered.
“Because Jungkook won the flash challenge,” Dave continued calmly, “he will have first pick of the elimination canvases, which as you know is a huge advantage.”
“I’ll hook you up with something good,” he whispered gleefully to his friends.
The contestants then returned to the loft to eat and relax before going down for their canvas assignments. Jungkook sat down for an interview, where he gave a generic speech about how excited he was to win his first flash challenge. Namjoon and Sarah gave interviews as well, no doubt singing his praises. And Shane gestured angrily to the cameras during his, with no one to hype him up but himself.
(Tommy Helm, season 1)
(Bili Vegas, season 1)
After a long break, the artists returned, fed and refreshed, to the lounge for their canvas assignments for the next elimination tattoo. Jungkook took his place on the couch next to Namjoon, feeling extra jittery, determined to put his win to good use. Dave began his usual speech:
“You’re all one step closer to $100,000, a feature in Inked Magazine, and the title of Ink Master. This week we are testing you on dimension, so your final product should look like it’s popping off the skin. Let’s meet your canvases. Come on in, guys.”
A line of people paraded through the door—men and women, young and old, tattooed and bare. Jungkook eyed each of them critically, cataloguing them in his mind as he anticipated what tattoos they might ask for. Yet, as they filed past, his eyes stopped on one person in particular, and his mouth dropped open.
“Oh my god, hyung,” he whispered to Namjoon.
“Hmm?”
He was the most beautiful person Jungkook had ever seen. He had big, plushy lips; bright, animated eyes; and high, rounded cheeks that sloped perfectly to his chin. Dark hair ruffled over a face that glowed with excitement and pure loveliness, and he looked small and huggable, the kind of person laughter came easily to. Jungkook found that he suddenly couldn’t blink.
And there went any intention he’d had of strategically evaluating them all.
As the canvases turned to face the artists, the guy’s gaze was drawn to Jungkook—probably because he was opening gawping at him. A jolt of electricity shot through him as their eyes met. It must have shown on his face because the man bit back a laugh, his eyes crinkling with amusement. Jungkook glanced down shyly. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a low, tonal sound, which might have been someone’s voice . . .
Sarah’s knee jerked against his, and he started.
“—ook, since you won the flash challenge, you get your pick of human canvas. Go ahead and make your selection.”
Jungkook jumped up a little too quickly and sheepishly walked over to the start of the line-up, conscious of a pair of soft eyes following him.
“Hi,” he said to the first person. “What do you want to get?”
As he went through the line, listening patiently to each person describing what they wanted and where—an octopus on the chest, a mandala on the thigh, a battle scene on the shoulder—he found that the farther down the line he got, the more he was struggling to pay attention. Through his peripheral vision, he could see the face peeping playfully out of the line-up, grinning at him. When he was only one person away, it was nearly impossible to pay attention with that teasing gaze right next to him. “Leopard on the upper arm,” the woman was saying. He nodded at her, promptly forgetting what she had said. And then it was time. Unable to keep a dopey grin from sliding up his face, he shuffled sideways and looked up.
And immediately faltered.
What do you want to get? his brain supplied. His mouth didn’t seem to get the message.
“I’m Jungkook,” he said loudly.
He heard a few snickers rise behind him; he hadn’t introduced himself to any of the other canvases.
“I’m Jimin,” the man said seamlessly. To Jungkook’s relief, he started launching into his explanation. “I was thinking about getting a lotus flower on my ribs, but you should know, um . . . I’ve never been tattooed before.”
A few squeamish oohs sounded behind him, and Jungkook couldn’t help but wince himself. A virgin canvas. And on the ribs. That automatically made Jimin one of the most difficult prospects in the line-up. Hiding any signs of turmoil, he simply nodded and moved on.
When he had gotten through all the canvases, he picked up the golden skulls on the table, weighing them in his hands. Each skull had the name of an artist on the bottom, and he was to distribute them to each of the canvases, who would then flip their skulls over to reveal their artist’s name, thus forming the assignments. As he deliberated, he glanced at Jimin and grinned.
He was not being smart. He could almost hear Namjoon silently begging him: do not choose the virgin canvas who wants his first tattoo on his ribs. Working quickly through the line-up, he handed each person a golden skull, pressing his lips together as he placed Jimin’s into his waiting hands. When he was done, he sat back down on the couch, glancing guiltily at Namjoon.
“Kook, tell me you didn’t . . .” Namjoon moaned.
One by one the canvases turned their skulls over to reveal their artists. Jimin flipped over his skull to reveal . . .
“Jungkook,” he said.
Jungkook waved at him cheerfully. Sarah jerked her head toward him sharply, and he heard more than one confused murmur rise from the artists; he’d basically given the hardest canvas to himself. Off to the side, the three judges raised their eyebrows.
“Oh my god,” Shane said obnoxiously, clearly putting two and two together, and Namjoon sank his head in his hands.
Back in the line-up, Jimin was smiling hopefully at him. Jungkook smiled back. He had wondered if he would feel regretful about his decision once Jimin flipped over the skull and read his name, but he was happy to find that that was not the case. All he felt now was excited.
With the assignments complete, Dave dismissed them. “You have the rest of the afternoon to talk with your canvases and come up with a design, and tomorrow, you’ll have another six hours to complete the tattoo. So go ahead and meet your canvases.”
His whole body aflutter with nerves, Jungkook leapt from the couch and headed over to Jimin, grieving his lost sanity and wondering what exactly he’d gotten himself into.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” Jungkook said as he gestured into his studio. Jimin flashed him a sly smile before ducking in.
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him,” he heard a low voice say behind him, and then Namjoon was at his shoulder. “Excuse us for a minute,” Namjoon said to Jimin, who looked up from his position halfway into the chair, nonplussed.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whined as Namjoon dragged him back out into the lounge. “What?”
“Jungkook, I can’t believe you!” Namjoon hissed, rounding on him. “Picking Jimin . . . that was the stupidest thing you could've done! What were you thinking?”
Jungkook pouted at him. “Hyungggg, don’t be mad at me!”
There wasn’t a shred of amusement on Namjoon’s face as he scrutinized him. “Did you pick the most difficult canvas for yourself just because he’s hot?”
A wild giggle escaped Jungkook.
Namjoon crossed him arms and looked at him seriously. “Jungkook, please don’t forget, this is a competition. There’s a lot at stake here. If Jimin can’t sit through the tattoo and you don’t finish it, you’re screwed.” Jungkook’s grin slid a couple notches at the rebuke, and Namjoon sighed gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You’re one of the best artists here. I just don’t want you to go home too soon because you picked the wrong canvas.”
Jungkook looked down. He understood what Namjoon was saying. He hadn’t chosen Jimin because he was the best choice; he’d chosen him because he liked him, and he couldn’t afford to be doing that if he wanted to win this competition. Still, he couldn’t help but feel that he had made the right decision.
“Hyung, if I chose the easiest canvas, the judges wouldn’t be impressed with me. Now I have their attention. Besides,” he added quietly, thinking of the pained moans that frequently filled the lounge once the tattooing started, “I want his first tattoo to be with someone who will treat him well, someone who can handle a client in pain, which I can. You know what it’s like in here. If someone else had him, they wouldn’t care if he was in pain. They’d make him sit through hell just so they could get their finished tattoo. I want to show the judges I can take care of my clients. That’s part of being a tattoo artist, too.”
Namjoon looked at him for a few more moments before nodding slowly, though he still didn’t look convinced. “I hope you’re right. Just remember, the judges won’t listen to excuses. Make sure you give him something simple that he can handle. A small tattoo is better than an unfinished one.”
Sarah was lingering over to the side, listening in. She walked over. “Try and get him to move the tattoo somewhere else. The ribs are a killer. Another area will be easier.”
“Thanks, hyung. Thanks, Sarah.” Jungkook flashed them his best bunny smile in an attempt to appease them—then whined as Namjoon cuffed him against the side of the head.
“That’s for being a dumbass. You gave Shane a good canvas.”
“I did?” Jungkook said sheepishly as he rubbed at his head.
Namjoon face-palmed and stalked away.
Sarah pointed two fingers at Jungkook as she walked away too. “Leopard. Upper arm. You idiot.”
They disappeared into their studios, leaving Jungkook to handle his new client alone, which he couldn’t help but feel was a bit like being thrown to the wolves. But he supposed he had to face the consequences of his actions—the consequence of picking Jimin being having to actually talk to him. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, he peeked into his studio. Jimin was in the chair, looking around meekly. He perked up when he saw Jungkook. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook said, stepping into the room. A camera followed him, melting into the corner. Ignoring it, Jungkook sat down in his chair and turned to Jimin, trying to adopt a professional tone. “Let’s talk about your tattoo. Are you nervous about it being your first?”
“Um . . .” Jimin collapsed in on himself shyly, doing severe damage to Jungkook’s determination to be professional. “Yeah, I’m pretty nervous. And I get the feeling your friends aren’t too happy you picked me.”
Jungkook hesitated, trying to pick his words carefully. “Well, since this is your first tattoo and you want it on your ribs, I think a lot of the artists didn’t want to take that on.” As Jimin’s face fell, Jungkook hurriedly continued, “It’s not personal! It just means we need to have a plan. How’s your pain tolerance? I know you want it on your ribs, but I promise it will hurt a lot. We should move it somewhere else. How about your shoulder or leg?”
Jimin sighed. “That’s what my friends said. I know it will hurt, but I’ve always wanted a tattoo on my ribs.” He looked at Jungkook with a hesitant kind of hopefulness that Jungkook found extremely hard to resist.
He bit his lip. “Well . . . sitting for six hours is a lot, especially if it’s your first time. The thigh would be easier . . .”
Jimin raised his shoulders guiltily. “I really, really want it on my side. Please,” he added.
“Aish,” Jungkook groaned. Namjoon would kill him for giving in so easily. “Okay, ribs it is.” Jimin beamed at him, and Jungkook couldn’t resist grinning back. “Hey, I’m a good artist,” he insisted. “If I can’t pull off a rib tattoo, I shouldn’t be in this competition.”
The next hour they spent flicking through pictures of lotuses on Jungkook’s tablet for inspiration while tossing covert glances and shy smiles at each other. The cameraperson stayed for a suspiciously long amount of time before eventually deciding they’d gotten what they needed and left.
Jimin tapped his fingernails against the arm of the chair. “You know, I am pretty nervous about getting tattooed for the first time.”
Jungkook looked up from the lotuses he was scrolling through to flash him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll be okay.”
Jimin hummed unenthusiastically. Then he leaned forward. “It might help if I had something to look forward to. To keep me motivated.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook flipped the tablet to show him a watercolor lotus that had popped up. “What do you think of this?”
Jimin shrugged, so Jungkook discarded it. A few seconds ticked by.
“Maybe if I make it through the tattoo, you can give me a kiss.”
Jungkook’s fingers froze over the screen, and he jerked his gaze up in alarm. Jimin was watching him with unashamed interest, his chin resting on his hand. Jungkook rubbed at his face, trying to stop a stupid grin from appearing. “Yeah, maybe. I might—I might like that. Um . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. The room was suddenly very hot. And to make matters worse, Jimin had put his hand on his shoulder and was rubbing his thumb lightly against it.
“I—um. Here, my portfolio!” Jungkook blurted, shoving the binder at Jimin while inwardly throttling himself for sabotaging his own love life.
Bursting into giggles, Jimin took his hand away from Jungkook’s shoulder and very kindly opened the portfolio even though Jungkook had already shown it to him at the beginning of the consultation. Much to Jungkook’s relief—and devastation—he made no further mention of a kiss, though unfortunately for him, Jimin seemed to have gotten a taste of teasing him and apparently decided that he liked it. As Jimin flipped through the pages, he barraged Jungkook with an avalanche of praise until Jungkook’s face was so red he didn’t think it would ever cool down again. It was hardly better than all their talk about kissing.
“So, is there a specific reason you want a lotus?” he asked in a desperate attempt to steer the conversation away from himself.
Jimin relented with a chuckle. “Well, it’s a bit cliché.” Jungkook shook his head fervently for him to continue. “Lotuses are a symbol of purity and rebirth. Even when their roots are in dirty waters, they produce the most beautiful flowers.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s just a good reminder to make the best out of whatever situation I’m in.”
Jungkook smiled softly. “I really like that.”
After a bit more back and forth about the design, Jungkook felt he had a pretty good understanding of what Jimin wanted, so he ended the consultation. As he stood to leave, Jimin grabbed his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” he said hopefully.
“Yeah, I’ll see you!” Jungkook replied eagerly, letting his hand linger in Jimin’s before reluctantly letting it slip out as he turned away.
“Jungkook,” Jimin called. Jungkook turned back hurriedly. Jimin smiled. “I’m really glad you’re my artist.”
Grinning so widely it hurt, Jungkook skipped up to the loft to join Namjoon and Sarah. After a dinner full of their merciless teasing, he buckled down for an evening of researching and drawing.
