The room was filled with the smell of ink and the needle machine that pricked and painted people’s skin thanks to the werewolf’s precise wrist was propped up on the table. The white light of the spring morning entered through the glass door of the tattoo parlor where Remus, wearing a white tank top and baggy pants, was taking a break until the next client arrived. The muscles on your boyfriend’s thin, scarred arms were bare and his brown hair was, as usual, disheveled and messy.

Surprisingly, the wizard had found not only a job where he could manage his schedule to avoid it overlapping with the full moon, but he realized that he actually liked it. Remus enjoyed not only being able to create his own designs, but seeing people happy to replicate them on their skin permanently.

The permanent drawings were few among his thousands of scars, but they adorned them, repressing a little of the disgust he felt for those wounds that opened up month after month.

The little bell on the door rang and Remus instantly said "It's closed—" but when he looked up he saw you, his partner, and a crooked smile spread across his face "Oh, hello little dove." You walked over to him and hugged him from behind, leaning down to put your arms around his shoulders as he sat in his chair.