“I’m not gonna ask you if you still want this tattoo because I’ve waited far too long for this day.”
Harry said seriously, making you roll your eyes playfully, propping your face with your hand on the table.
“You’re a tattoo artist, Harry. You’re kinda supposed to ask that.”
He scoffs, rolling his eyes on you too before putting his tight black gloves on, running them through his hair.
“But I, have exceptions. You’re my wife and I wouldn’t let this go past.”
“I know, but still ask me.”
“And I know your answer before you could even say it!” he laughed, pinching your cheek.
“Ask me or I’ll go to Ed for this.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He shook his head, squeezing black ink on a container, slightly shaking for it to flatten even though it’s not purely liquid.
“I’m serious, Harry.”
He sighed heavily, blowing out his hair with an amused but slightly annoyed expression on his face, knowing that you’re serious.
“Are you sure about this tattoo, baby?”
You grinned, finally getting what you want.
“See?” Harry flailed his arms around with a feigned look of shock in his face, getting a needle from a container he was sterilizing it with, wiping the liquid before installing it on the tattoo gun.
“But I do like your choice of a tattoo.”
“No, you love it.”
“Because, you’ll be getting your husband’s initials which is of course written by him, tattooed on your wrist, by himself.”
He added emphasis on each word to rub the facts on you, each passing second being a lot more entertaining than you expected it to be.
Especially of what he did to commemorate this day, he cancelled all his appointments for the day, the two of you being the only two people in his shop.
He already put the sticker stencil on you, pulling it after he set all his materials ready so he wouldn’t need to squint if some letters were smudged.
Harry was so enthralled by your idea.
H.S on your wrist.
He tapped the pedal a few times to see if it’s going well, and it is. You weren’t able to hide some of the nervousness you were feeling.
“Would you like the truth that it would hurt or would you like the lie that it’s not going to?”
You shot him a straight look, making him raise his hands up in defense.
“Sorry, I’m just trying to cheer you up.”
“It’s not working!”
Harry apologized at his will, hugging you from behind before running his hands on your arms.
“We’re gonna start, love, okay?”
He grabbed your wrist gently, massaging it a few times before looking at you again, the tattoo gun on his left hand.
“Just look at me, okay? Not the tattoo.”
“Oka — but don’t look at me because you wouldn’t know what you’re doing if you did!”
He chuckled, his hand going through your hair.
He looked at you for the last time before pressing his foot against the pedal, dipping the gun in ink before coming in contact with your wrist, making you slightly writhe in your seat because of the unfamiliar feeling.
“It’s coming close, love. You’re doing good.”
A few minutes passed with you not being still on your seat and Harry keeping you still, it going on until he took the final wipe of it, and grinning.
“Besides my promise, I’m permanently with you.”
Harry kept smiling, putting a piece of wrap over your tattoo and pulling out a small tube of cream.
You looked at it, adorning the way it fit you so perfectly.
Little did you know, Harry was looking at you the whole time, a grateful look on his face he always has.
“Hey, I love you.”