One Direction preference

He Takes You To Get a Tattoo

Zayn: “Okay, you know what? I’ve actually changed my mind!” you said weakly, half-heartedly. Zayn just grinned his crooked little grin, and, putting a hand on the small of your back, guided you to the tattoo parlor. “It will be fine, love. I’ll be here the whole time.” You shifted yourself so you could clamp onto his hand with your shaking fingers. You stomach was twisting up in knots. “I don’t even know what I want…” you hissed as you entered and saw a large man with very little of his straw-colored hair left look up, ink twisting over his drug-enhanced biceps. “Hey,” said Zayn casually, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Got anything for nerves?” he joked. The man didn’t crack, but you did. You erupted into anxious giggles and thought that even though this was most definitely a bad idea, it’s something you and Zayn can look back on and laugh about.

Louis: “Ready?!” Louis asked loudly. “Yeah!” you responded (not-so-convincingly) with fake enthusiasm. He didn’t notice; he was too excited, driving you to get your first tattoo. Nothing elaborate, but still. You allowed Lou to persuade you, if he paid for it, he picked it out. At the time, it seemed like a good idea (That judgment, however, was under the heavy influence of bourbon and vodka and should therefore be reconsidered). You’d been so nervous, not so much about the actual action of getting a tattoo, but having it done and hating it. It would be there, etched into your skin forever. No questions asked. And you were a horrible liar. If you hated it, he would know. He would feel awful. You tied your shaking hands in a knot as you nervously peeked out the window. “Um… Lou? Would it be possible to see the idea before they actually do it?” He stared at you dumbstruck. “Of course! Why wouldn’t you?” You didn’t answer, too relieved for words. Seeing your expression, he burst out laughing, stretching an arm around your shoulders, “You thought I would just put it there without you knowing?! Do you think I’m a terrible awful person?!” You just smiled, feeling a bit foolish in retrospect. “If you really want to know, it’s, like, the date we met, just… fancier?” he tried to explain. You laughed. “That’s perfect,” you said, kissing his cheek.

Niall: “Let’s do this!” you said eagerly, hopping off the bus, holding out a hand for your boyfriend, Niall. “I didn’t expect you to be so energetic about it,” he said, amused. “Well I was thinking, why not, you know? Getting a tattoo is sort of a rite of passage.” You and Ni strolled down the street, hands swinging between you. “Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” he joked. But maybe he wasn’t really kidding behind it. Just last night you were freaking out and making all kinds of excuses as to why you just couldn’t do it. Today, though, was different, exciting. “What? Am I not the tattoo kinda girl?” you teased. You held your tongue between your teeth, grinning cheekily. “No, not at all,” Niall said laughing incredulously. “When we first met, I never thought I’d see the day. But, I’m not gonna lie…” He tugged on your arm, pulling your close so he could practically whisper in your ear: “I kind of like it.”

Harry: “Are you sure about this?” you asked biting your lip. “You having second thoughts?” Harry asked stepping out of the car and pulling you along with him. “No it’s just… a matching tattoo? Those are so trendy and tacky… Do we want to be that couple?” Harry looked down at you, confused and bemused. “You’re lying. What aren’t you telling me?” You paused, not sure how to say it. Eventually, you just blurted out, “You’re not really known for your intelligent tattoo choices, okay?” He froze for a moment, and you were scared you said something that set him off. But slowly, his smirk curled the edges of his lips. “You know what? You’re right. You can pick it.” “Me?” you asked, a bit shocked he would allow you to choose what to permanently mark his body with. But he just nodded solemnly. “It wasn’t fair of me to just push this on you, so you get to pick.” You smiled, pecking him on the cheek. “I won’t make it too girly,” you promised, earning an eye roll from him.

Liam: Your nails dug into Liam’s arm as you walked down the street, tattoo parlor in sight. “Liam… I-I don’t know if I can do this,” you stammered out. “It’s your first tattoo, it’s okay to be a little nervous,” he soothed. “No, you don’t understand. My parents are going to kill me when they find out. They’ll disown me.” Your eyes widened as you realized the truth in your words. “Isn’t that exactly why you said you wanted one?” Liam recalled. “Something about a nonconformist policy?” “Oh God. Liam I was drunk when I said that!” you hissed at him. You were chewing on your bottom lip, not really sure if you could go through with this. A tattoo is permanent, you kept reminding yourself. “So, what are you saying? Do you need more time to think, or… What?” Liam asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. “You need to decide before rather than after.” You thought of all the things you’d put up with over the years. All the times you’d chickened out, or taken crap about being the sissy, “Daddy’s Princess,” type. You thought of the looks on your friend’s faces when you would tell them you just couldn’t do it, the “I-told-you-so” expressions they would all exchange. “I’ll hold your hand the whole time,” Liam said, tilting your chin up. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad,” he added at a poor attempt in lightening the mood. But your mind was made up. You grinned devilishly and said, “So barbed wire, or the half-sleeve dragon?” “I’m seeing more of a skull and cross bone,” he said smiling, looping an arm around your waist.