Shawn Mendes Imagines

Matching Tattoos

You sit on the high metal stool of the open bar, your elbows resting on the table in front of you as you scroll through your phone. You had been waiting for your boyfriend to arrive for the past twenty minutes, to celebrate your twenty-first birthday-- now that you could get into bars legally.

"Hey girly," you hear from behind you, two strong arms slipping around your waist.

"Hey," you smile at the sight of him. He was wearing a black sweater and skinny jeans, his hair messy and sweeping across his pale forehead. Even in the low darkness of the club, you could make out his deep eyes.

"Sorry I'm late," he puckers his bottom lip. "Your birthday present... kind of... melted... "

"That's okay," you smile. "You didn't even have to get me anything."

"Of course I have to get you something, Y/N. We've been a thing for almost a year now. Granted, I shouldn't get you something that is meltable, but-- "

"Shawn," you giggle, scooting closer to him on your stool as he eases into the one next to you. "I don't mind."

He smiles slightly, still looking apologetic as he presses his lips to yours quickly, running up and down your arm. "God, you're so cute."

You laugh again, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you take a sip of your drink. Of course you had drank alcohol before, but it tasted even better knowing it was legal now.

"Hey, wanna hear a secret?" You ask.

Shawn bites his lip, still only a few inches away from you. "Always."

You take a deep breath, looking away from him for a moment as you smooth out your skin-tight dress. He grabs your glass while he waits for you to tell him, moving it around so the liquid swirls and laughing at himself before taking a sip.

"Um, well," you start, "I was, uh.. I was thinking about getting a tattoo tonight."

His eyes widen as he nearly chokes on his drink, turning towards you and coughing slightly.

"What?"

"I've wanted one for a long time," you shrug. "I was going to get one when I was eighteen, but I never found the time. Now I have time. And plus, I'm in the mood to do something permanent tonight."

"That's... " he turns away, laughing under his breath. "That's really brave of you. I've always wanted one, too, I've just been too chicken to actually go get it done."

"Really?"

It was hard to hear him over the noise of the place, but he was talking loud.

He nods. "What would you get, cuddlebug?"

You play with a loose hem of your dress that was sticking out from the seam on the side, thinking for a moment.

"Well, this is going to sound really cheesy.. so brace yourself, okay?"

He giggles, his hand placing on yours on the table, the other being used as his headrest. "Tell me!"

"I was thinking maybe a little MMXIV on my hip. Because that's the year that we met in Roman numerals, two-thousand-fourteen. That was my first thought, but then I thought maybe a little bird taking flight, since the day we met... remember?"

"Outside the school, when you found the dying baby bird and you were trying to nurse it back to health. And then I got weirded out when I saw you and asked you what the hell you were doing. You named it Timmy, I remember. He flew, didn't he?"

You laugh, nodding. "He flew great places."

"That would be cute, baby girl. Both of those would be cute."

"Should I get both, then?"

He shrugs. "That might be kind of painful."

Suddenly, you got a brilliant idea. "Oh my god! I should get the bird and you get the Roman numerals! Matching tattoos! Wouldn't that be cute?"

He's taken back, his fingers smudging against the glass as he twists it back and forth on the table. His eyes suddenly light up.

"Oh, sweet baby," he smiles. "You've never been so wise. Let's do it, come on."

***

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