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skarsgard-daydreams · 3 years

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Fell in Love with a Girl

Description: Axel helps his girl overcome her biggest fear, gaining a new favorite canvas.

Warnings: Needles, body image issues, sexual content (you must be 18+ to ride this roller coaster), references to spanking

Note: This is technically a continuation of this imagine, but you can read it as a standalone and it will make sense. The title is a reference to the song by The White Stripes.

Usually the tattoo parlor buzzed with activity on afternoons like this, “Back in Black” pounding over the speakers as the artists rolled up their sleeves and leaned over their human canvases, executing the visions of their clients better than they could articulate them. But on this particular day, Axel had closed the shop early so he and his girl could have the place to themselves. He told her to pick something to listen to, knowing she was more of a Fleetwood Mac kind of girl than an AC/DC fan. She was tense as she took her seat in the chair, watching him arrange everything he would need on the cart beside him. She swallowed nervously, picking at the soft leather on the arm of the chair with her fingernails and trying not to think of the needle.

She had done everything he told her: she’d moisturized her skin and kept herself hydrated and had forced herself to eat a substantial lunch even though her stomach had been sick with nerves for days. “I don’t want you to pass out in my chair,” Axel had warned. It was the last thing she wanted to happen. She had seen how pale he was after she fainted trying to get her flu shot at Walgreens that one time, and it would be so much worse if it happened here, in a situation where he would surely blame himself.

Even though she was terrified, she kept thinking how much she needed this—for him to use her as a canvas the same way he did those other girls who came into the shop, already tatted up and each of them so bold and excited for him to get to work. Only this time it would be his lover, and every time either one of them looked at the black lines on her skin, they would be reminded that she was his girl—his only girl—and she had trusted him with her biggest fear.

“I don’t want you to do this just because you know I think it’s hot,” Axel said the morning after she first brought up the idea of her getting a tattoo. He was standing in front of the fridge wearing a grey tank and his boxer shorts, drinking orange juice out of the carton.

“I’m not.” She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and pushed it into his hands. He blinked at the glass as though he had never understood its purpose, then poured some juice into it.

“Then what made you change your mind?”

She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Each of his tattoos told a story about who he was, even the crudest ones. She loved the way they turned his body into something more than flesh—into something on which to hang those stories, like paintings in a gallery. She loved the way they distinguished his body from every other man, how she could follow the map of signifiers with her tongue and find the various little spots that made him moan.

The girl in the locker room at the gym had caught her eye immediately. She had watched her towel off and rifle through her backpack, completely unhurried and unashamed of her own nakedness, a wild spray of flowers blossoming all along the curve of her hip and trailing over her lean thigh. She wasn’t sure if she was jealous of the girl or infatuated with her. On her way home, she had imagined Axel working on a tattoo like that, sitting for hours as he seared his artwork into the girl’s skin, listening to her chatter about this piece she wanted to get under the curve of her breast, or that piece she had on the back of her neck. As the endorphins from her workout wore out, she felt so frustrated that her own phobia kept her from sharing that kind of moment with Axel.

She wanted to look in the mirror and admire her lover’s artwork stretched across a part of her body that had always made her feel self-conscious. She would never be as lithe as the girl at the gym. She had more curves than she liked—plenty of soft parts that Axel loved to grasp and squeeze but which never matched the ideal body she pictured in her mind. She had started to think that a tattoo would help her look at her body the way her lover did, as something to be admired.

Axel stared at her quietly as he leaned back against the fridge, holding the glass of orange juice like it was two fingers of whisky. She didn’t know how to answer his question.

“It’s as much for me as it is for you,” she finally said. “I promise.”

But now she sat in that chair feeling like she was waiting at the office of a very strange dentist, imagining every needle that had ever pricked her skin and listening to her heart pounding in her ears over the sound of Stevie Nicks’ vocals. Axel’s hand closed over her own.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft, but reassuring. “I got you, okay?”

She looked at him and tried to put on a brave face, swallowing hard. “Okay,” she said.

Axel studied her for a long moment and leaned over, cupping her chin in his hand as he kissed her. “We don’t have to do this,” he murmured against her lips. Her heart beat even faster.

“I want to.”

Even though her voice sounded small, Axel could tell she was sincere. He nodded and straightened up. “I gotta grab a few more things,” he said, then gently tugged on one of the belt loops of her jeans. “These are gonna have to come off.”

Her throat felt dry even though she had been drinking nothing but water for two days. She watched Axel disappear into the back of the tattoo parlor. It was the simplest, most obvious request, but it made her feel like a teenage girl about to lose her virginity to her boyfriend. She kicked off her sneakers and shimmied out of her jeans. It felt so wrong, sitting there in the shop wearing nothing but a t-shirt and her cotton panties covered in pastel polka dots. By the time Axel returned, her cheeks were flushed pink even though the rest of her face was pale and she looked as though she was going to be sick.

Axel sat down on a stool and tried to keep his own misgivings from showing on his face. He’d had plenty of squeamish clients before, but they were just clients. Usually they brought someone else along to hold their hand and talk them through the process while he focused on getting the tattoo done, preferably quickly, if they could tolerate it. This time it would be his girl sitting there, scared shitless, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to comfort her and work at the same time. He needed to give her something else to focus on.

“You okay, kitten?” he asked.

She nodded a little, chewing on her lower lip. Axel wanted to say to hell with the whole thing and capture that lip between his own teeth instead, but he didn’t let on.

“Let me show you what it’s gonna look like,” he said. They had talked about the design for weeks, compiling a list of her favorite kinds of flowers and debating on what colors she might like if she ever decided to have the tattoo filled in later. He showed her the design, holding it over her soft skin and pointing out the one dahlia blossom she had agreed to start with on the part of her thigh that would be the least painful. She smoothed her hand over the design and looked at Axel.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, her gaze darting toward the tattoo gun on the cart beside the chair.

Axel had an idea. He smoothed his big hands over her thighs and gave her hips a squeeze, enjoying the give of her curves under his palms and the way her body became so responsive to his touch. He pushed her panties out of the way and leaned down, kissing her along her pelvis and stopping just above her center.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and tell me if you need a break, right?” he asked, pulling her panties off completely and tucking them into the back pocket of his jeans.

For a moment, she couldn’t make a sound. She stared at him with wide eyes, nodding.

“Hm?” he asked as he nipped at her skin, waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“You’ll tell me to stop?” He wanted to make sure she understood, that she wouldn’t push herself too far in an effort to be brave for him.

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to squeak out a response. “Yes, I will.”

Axel kissed her skin one more time, sending a shiver down her spine. “Good girl,” he murmured. He sat up and put on a pair of gloves, then started prepping the area on her thigh with alcohol.

It felt cold on her skin, but all she could think about was how the lower half of her body was completely naked, how the stubble on his face had tickled her skin as he kissed her. She had watched other girls get thigh tattoos. They usually pushed their jeans down just far enough for him to work, keeping themselves as covered up as possible—even the ones who looked at Axel as though they secretly hoped he would suddenly whip out his cock and tell them to get on their knees. She felt the leather seat below her bare ass and tried to concentrate on something other than her own arousal that had gathered between her legs when he had kissed her. She felt so exposed, sitting like that in the tattoo shop, where there would usually be half a dozen people sitting around. It was only her and her lover now, but it still seemed so dirty.

“You’re the prettiest canvas I’ve ever seen,” Axel said as he traced the design onto her skin. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe the sweet things that came out of his normally filthy mouth. It made her heart flutter. He finished transferring the design and had her look it over for approval. Even though it was only a single flower, she couldn’t believe how beautiful it was—the way its delicate petals looked like they were opening, shining with dewdrops and framed by leaves.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered in admiration.

Axel winked at her. “That’s because it’s you,” he said. She thought she would melt into the chair right then as he turned to prep the tattoo machine. “Lay back and try to relax, sweet girl.”

She leaned back in the chair and did as he instructed, squeezing her eyes shut so she wasn’t tempted to glance over at what he was doing. If she saw the needle, she felt certain she would call the whole thing off. She thought instead of how she would trace her fingers over the design later, a tangible reminder that she belonged to him, that he loved her so tenderly. His smooth voice interrupted her reverie.

“Take a deep breath for me,” he said. “Here we go.”

She inhaled sharply and tried to relax as she felt the sting of the needle on her skin. It wasn’t as bad as she imagined, but her heart began to race and she forgot to exhale.

“That’s my girl,” Axel purred. “Keep breathing for me, okay?”

She exhaled then, and forced herself to take slow, steady breaths. The pain began to subside after a few minutes and was replaced by a strange numbness. Her skin still smarted, but it felt manageable, and as Axel continued to talk her through it, she began to relax. She thought about how he sometimes slapped her ass during sex—how she would yelp, but always pushed her ass into his hands afterward, wiggling her hips and hoping for more. Once he had given her such an intense spanking that her ass was red for days. She couldn’t sit at her desk at work without it smarting and reminding her of him, of how he could turn pain into pleasure. She felt her face growing hot as she thought about it now, a gentle throb of desire drawing her attention to the place where he kissed her.

“Talk to me, kitten,” Axel said, glancing up at her. Her brows were furrowed together and her eyes were shut tight as she took slow, ragged breaths.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled.

“I’ll be done before you know it.”

He finished the outline and began shading the design, speaking soft words of praise and encouragement as he did so. He wanted to get it over with quickly for her, but he also wanted to get it absolutely perfect. Though the design was small and relatively simple, he did some of his best work that day. Sometimes when he finished a tattoo, he felt it was nothing more than a picture. But this one was a work of art. He added a few final touches and looked up at her. She didn’t seem to realize he was finished.

“All done,” Axel said, setting his gear aside and taking off his gloves with a snap.

She opened her eyes, blinking as though coming out of a trance, not unlike those times when he had fucked her out of her senses. “Already?” she asked.

Axel held back a grin and nodded. “You did so good,” he said, pushing the cart aside. He splayed his hand over her stomach, caressing her there before slipping his fingers down between her legs, dipping them into her arousal. A soft gasp escaped her lips, as beautiful and sweet as she was. As much as he wanted to fuck her, he didn’t want to irritate the area he had just tattooed. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t give her something lovely to think about whenever she remembered her first time. He stroked her with his long fingers, watching her body arc in response to her touch.

“Relax, baby,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”

That became their ritual from then on. Axel would close the tattoo shop early on a weekday afternoon and paint the canvas of his lover while she lay naked in that chair, content to let him do whatever he wanted. The blossoms spread out along her thigh and arched over her hips, coming to an elegant frame over her most delicate parts. They bloomed over her ass and flooded with color, deep shades of purple and pink that stood in perfect contrast to her flesh. When she’d had enough for the day, he’d cover the area with a bandage and make love to her. Those times were sacred, and he never felt closer to her than he did after she let him tattoo her skin, because no matter how many times they did it, she was always afraid. But she trusted him enough to let him do it anyway, and he loved her for it.

@stevesharrlngtons @skrsgardspam @loomiz @ladadada-da @jj-lynn21 @flowers-in-your-hayr @emmyrosee @walkxthexmoon @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @scuba-seamus @grandpa-sweaters @lihikainanea @gustafsnightangel

#axel #axel cluney #axel cluney fanfiction #tw: needles #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction #I have never wanted a tattoo #until today #this boy can FUCK ME UP

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brattyblu · 7 years

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(Day 3) Give Blood

“Dude, you should just donate some blood. It’s an easy twenty bucks.”

I shook my head while staring at my pathetic check. A full weekend at Walmart just to get this? My friends asked me to hang out this weekend, but there was no gas to put in my car.

“Maybe, I don’t know,” I mumble into the receiver, refocusing my attention to my roommate. I’d already forgotten what he called for, just knew that I wanted to hang up as I felt my stomach churn.

I knew the American Red Cross was taking blood donations again, they set up camp right near my dorm. I passed by everyday, trying my best to ignore the “give blood today” signs in bright red. No way in hell. But they kept following me, everywhere I went I saw their red stickers. People proudly walking and posting pictures of their “I donated!” stickers.

I hesitate and stare at the van, chewing my lip. Today, after class. I’ll just donate a pint for some quick gas money. It’ll be fast and painless, get in, get out. I duck my head and pick up my pace. The less I think about it, the easier it’ll be.

It wasn’t until another student walks past the open doorway and gives me a strange look that I realize how nervous I actually am right now. Ever since the nurse stepped out for some paperwork, sweat was forming in my clenched hands, I was bouncing my leg and my eye began twitching at the slow, autonomous sound of the clock ticking. The student moves away from the door, continuing to walk to the next room. I take some heavy breaths and unclench my fists. I run my hands through my hair, anything to get me to chill.

The nurse returns with a beaming smile. My stomach growls loudly, and I pretend like no one heard it.

“Okay, Joel. Just a few quick questions and then we can move on,” she sits in a swivel chair across from me.

“Have you given plasma, platelets, or blood cells in the past eight weeks?”

I give a nervous chuckle, “Not on my life.”

“Are you feeling well today?” She peeks up at me, the edges of her mouth twitch into a smile. Then, just as quickly as it came, her eyes swoop back down to her clipboard.

I bite my lip, I probably looked pale as fuck and couldn’t help it. “As well as I’ve ever been.”

“Have you ever had any type of cancer, including leukemia?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had hepatitis?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had malaria, Chagas' disease, or babesiosis?”

“No.”

We continue like that for five minutes, I answer no to all of her questions.

“Alright, you’re good to go,” she sets her clipboard down and stands up, “Don’t worry, this will be so quick, you won’t even feel a thing.” She shoots me a reassuring smile before washing her hands and putting on gloves.

“Go ahead and lift up your sleeve please.”

I give a heavy sigh and life the sleeve of my hoodie up.

She takes out the needle and vial and cleans off the needle. She taps the needle a few times and turns her full body towards me. Two steps and she’s wrapping some kind of plastic around my arm, then wipes my arm with disinfectant. I turn my head.

My heart’s beating loudly in my ears as I feel a slight pinch. Then nothing. I count the seconds in my head. Ten, twenty, thirty seconds go by. A minute passes and I look back over towards the nurse. Three vials were laying on the counter to my right. Damn, how many vials were in a pint?

The nurse was halfway done with filling the fourth vial. The blood was much darker than I expected it to be, there was foam slowly rising to the top of it. I watch the vial fill up, forgetting about my irrational fear. Instead, I’m focused on it’s changing color. The blood darkening into a deeper red. It fades deeper and deeper into a dark brown, until it appears completely black.

I look up at the nurse, her face is full of terror. Her lip quivered and her eyes wide with shock. I open my mouth, but before I say anything, the needle is ripped from my arm and tossed aside. The vial lands with the others and cracks slightly, but luckily no blood spills out.

The nurse gives a loud shriek and sprints out of the room in a flash. I stare at the door blankly before recovering, my other hand flying to cover my right arm. I wait for minutes on end for the nurse to come back. Just what the hell is wrong with me? What’s inside my body to turn my blood black?!

After 15 minutes I dash out. I run all the way to the dorm and speed walk to my room. I don’t say anything to anyone. I just walk, my sleeve down and clutching my arm. I slam the door closed and my roommate looks up from his laptop.

“Dude, what’s wrong?”

Sweat drips down my face, “N-nothing. Just busted a pen is all.” I rip off my hoodie and dig through my closet to fetch a new shirt.

“Whatever, man. Did you donate blood?”

“Yeah, and I’m hungry as hell. Did you eat already?”

“Nah, let’s go eat something. I’m sick of this paper anyway.” He pushes his laptop closed, not really bothering to power it off, and stands up.

I pull on a black shirt and make a mental note to stop by Walgreens and grab some band aids.

A few days pass after the incident. Things were normal, but the Red Cross wasn’t leaving. I just played it cool. I visited my doctor that weekend but everything came up normal, even my blood test was fine.

. . . At least that’s what I thought. I woke up one morning to banging on my door. My roommate gone. I planned on sleeping in this Sunday morning, but I begrudgingly opened my door anyway. I squint at the newfound light entering the room. A man in a hazmat suit stares back at me. The next thing I know I’m being pinned to a stretcher and shoved into an ambulance. There’s a lot of yelling and rushing, but I can’t make out anything. Instead I’m just cursing at everyone and screaming back. No one pays me any mind, and the ambulance hauls me off. More people in hazmat suits stand over me, they’re only starting before putting a mask over my face. I breath in cold gas and my eyelids get heavy.

White. Blinding white. The bright lights fade out to show yellow blotches randomly strewn about. My vision focuses until I see more hazmat suits standing over me. Unrecognizable faces peer through the glass covering their faces. All of their brows were furrowed with concern. The gas mask over my face was gone, and I heard the steady beat of a heart monitor.

“His heart rate is normal.”

I want to say something, but my mouth is dry, and I can’t get it to move. My eyes are still heavy, my mind slow and groggy. I roll my eyes around the room, nothing looks familiar.

A doctor turns around and begins fiddling with something, all I hear is scraping metal.

“What’s going on?” I finally groan out. No one seems to have heard me, or maybe they were just ignoring me.

I try to sit up, but at least six hands fly to my chest and gently push me back down.

“Easy now, you're in a critical state.”

My eyebrows furrow. I was fucking fine last I remember! I mean, I did go out drinking with my friends, but I didn’t get wasted.

“Giving him the anesthesia now,” the doctor is turned back around with needle in both hands. A clear liquid is filled into the vial about halfway. All air leaves my body and I swing up. I’m yelling something, but I’m not sure what. For whatever reason the words flying out of my mouth aren’t clear in my head.

More hands force me down again, much harder than the first time. Another hand in holding my arm out, a purple bruise showing from the last needle incident. My left arm is held out as well, and I can no longer move my legs freely. The heart rate monitor is beeping faster.

“Hold him steady,” the doctors say as they both hold the needles up to my forearms.

Sweat that formed onto my forehead is now dripping into my eyes, they begin watering but I’m too afraid to blink. I feel pinching in my limbs and a searing pain, something rushing in through my veins. My torso lurches forward and the whole bed shakes, or whatever I’m strapped down to. I finally realize I’m screaming, my limbs feel like they’re burning. They start twitching but in time my whole body is shaking. I can’t tell what those damn doctors are doing anymore, I just know that this hurts like hell.

In the reflection of the glass through a hazmat suit, my eyes are oozing something black. I’m foaming at the mouth and it looks like I’m having some sort of seizure. The heart rate monitor is beeping at an alarming speed. More pinches in my body, up my arms and legs, in my stomach, on my back. All over my body I’m feeling unending stinging.

“Help . . . me . . .” I was sure no one heard me whisper my plea, but I just wanted it to end. I prayed that maybe this was all just a bad dream, and it would end quickly.

“Don’t worry, you won’t suffer much longer,” a voice calmly tells me. A splash of yellow zooms in in the corner of my eye, another doctor is holding a needle pointed straight towards my eye. A palm is holding my head steady, I don’t think I’m screaming anymore. Instead, I’m just groaning out something inaudible:

“Aaaaaaaauuuuuugggh . . .” I’m mumbling.

The needle comes closer to my pupil.

#promptober #prompt #short story #short stories #day 3 #horror #spooky

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