Daddy's Blank Canvas
Old! James Hetfield x Fem! Reader
Part 1 of 2
Synopsis: Daddy James just wants to mark you with ink
Warning: none (Simply a mention of sex but nothing graphic that will be for part two)
You’ve been with James for nearly two years now—facing those sidelong glances and the venomous whispers that seem to follow you everywhere—you’ve just turned 22, an age that for the rest of the world marks the start of adulthood, but for you, by his side, it means having found the stability and happiness that others are still searching for
It’s never bothered you that he’s nearly four decades your senior— on the contrary, there’s something quite thrilling about the gap that separates you— you’re fascinated by the idea of your relationship being seen as a forbidden romance or a direct challenge to how society dictates love should look, even though you’re both adults and there’s nothing illegal about your love, you still find people staring when you leave a public place with him
Lately, your phone hasn’t stopped vibrating with a relentless flurry of reels and TikToks that your partner’s been sending—videos of couples sealing their love with ink, names etched into skin, indelible promises
You didn’t even know James knew how to use social media so well, but the hint is crystal clear,he wants to mark his skin with your name, and he expects you to do the same
You desperately hoped it was a passing whim—not because you disliked the idea, but because you’re a blank canvas—you’ve never had a tattoo, and the mere thought of the electric buzz of the needle piercing you gave you goosebumps
—
After a week of silence, you could finally breathe easy—the videos stopped and, since you’d never spoken about it face-to-face, you thought the idea had dissolved into oblivion
How naive of you to think a man with James’s determination would give up so easily—now you found yourself tired and flushed, held tight in his massive arms after some rather wild sex
—“I love you…”—James whispered in your ear while showering your body in caresses and kisses —That tickles, James!”— you told him as a tired little giggle escaped your lips, which only spurred him on to kiss you more fervently, causing you to bite your lip to hold back the laughter wanting to burst out
James placed one last soft kiss on your lips —you opened your eyes to see him giving you a cheeky grin before pulling you against his chest your back hitting his monumental chest, your boyfriend reminded you of a great, cuddly bear—“D’you know something, babe?”—you turned around to face him—“Mmm, what’s that?”— you murmured without breaking eye contact
James looked at you with those eyes that had seen decades more than yours and knew how to read you perfectly, but in that moment, they shone with a youthful intensity, hungry for you—he brushed a strand of hair from your forehead that was stuck there with sweat, then slid his hand down to your cheek—his hand was so large it nearly covered your whole face—“I love it when people stare at us in the street, ‘cause I know they’re jealous of me for being with such a beauty”— he confessed, a playful smirk spreading across his face —“It thrills me that those men know you’re mine and mine alone, that this ‘blank canvas’ belongs to me”— he asserted in a provocative tone while stroking your legs
—“But, I’d like to mark you with a bit of ink”—you felt a shiver— you knew where this was going. James sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow, letting the sheets fall to reveal his imposing, robust torso, where in your eyes, time had only made him more rugged —“Honey, it’s not that I don’t want to... it’s just that needles terrify me—God, I can’t even imagine them”— you admitted, scrunching your nose and closing your eyes tight, as if you could block out the thought
You felt the warmth of his hand cupping your cheek, a gentle gesture that forced you to open your eyes, you met James’s sweet, almond-shaped gaze, watching you with infinite patience —“Sorry”— you whispered, feeling a slight blush —“I know it’s a silly fear”
—“It’s not silly”— he replied with a half-smile, he leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if telling you a secret —“Don't tell this to anyone but to get my first tattoo without running for the hills, I knocked back two bottles of vodka the worst part is, I was already about thirty five years old”
A laugh escaped you suddenly—James always had that knack for bringing up the most ridiculous stories from his youth to calm your nerves —“Are you suggesting I get drunk before we go in?”— you questioned with a raised eyebrow and an unconscious smile
—“No, I did that ‘cause I was on my own”— he laughed, stroking your skin with his thumb
—“But you’ve got me—I’ll be right there holding your hand so the fear vanishes, I promise once you see it’s not that big a deal, you’ll want more this stuff is like a drug, you won’t know how to stop”
Looking at the certainty in his eyes, you knew he wasn’t lying—the fear was still there, but your trust in him was much greater
—
Two weeks later, the air felt thicker, heavy with that characteristic smell of tattoo parlours: a mix of isopropyl alcohol, surgical soap, and a metallic tang that made your skin crawl—the shop wasn't dark or intimidating like you’d imagined in your nightmares; it was a minimalist space, all white walls and clean lines, but the sound... the sound was another story
James greeted the artist with a brotherly hug, since they’d known each other for years—he was James’s go-to guy, and the one he now trusted to tattoo the love of his life—“It’s a simple design”—James said—you decided to go and sit on the table while James gave the artist the details
That electric buzz, rhythmic and constant, filled every corner of the place—you felt the chill of the protective paper on the table beneath your thighs—James was right there, sat on a stool beside you, not letting go of your hand—his presence was your only anchor—you’d decided on a small but deep design: his initials, "JH", etched forever on your left side, just over your ribs, close to your heart
—“You sure, darling?”—James whispered, squeezing your fingers gently—“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to—just say the word and we’ll forget all about this”
You shook your head—you were going to do this, even though your knuckles were white from gripping so hard
You watched the artist prep the machine, the glint of the brand-new needle coming out of its sterile packaging made you swallow hard
—“Close your eyes”—James commanded in a voice that brooked no argument, yet overflowed with tenderness—“Don’t think about the machine—just focus on my voice”
You did as you were told—you shut your eyes so tight you started seeing flashes of colour behind your eyelids, you felt the cold wipe of the gauze cleaning your skin and, suddenly, the buzzing drew closer
When the first sting hit the bone of your rib, a choked gasp escaped you—it wasn't unbearable pain, but it was sharp, a vibration that seemed to travel through your whole ribcage, you crinkled your nose, burying your face in James’s shoulder and he didn't move an inch
—“That’s it, just breathe...”—he guided you—“Inhale with me... one, two...you’re doing amazing sweetie”
Time became elastic—minutes felt like hours as you felt the trail of ink marking your skin—you focused on the heat of James’s hand, the texture of his jacket against your cheek, and the cadence of his breathing—slowly, the sharp pain turned into a dull ache, almost hypnotic—you realised James was right: it wasn't the monster you’d imagined—it was a small sacrifice for something eternal
—“All done”—the artist said finally
You opened your eyes, blinking against the studio lights—you felt strangely light, as if a weight had been lifted—James helped you sit up and, when you looked in the mirror while he carefully wiped away the excess ink, you saw the letters—elegant, firm JH
Your eyes grew misty, not from pain, but from a profound realisation—now you carried a part of him with you, in a way no one could ever erase
—
The drive back was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence, charged with a new kind of intimacy—the sun was beginning to set, bathing the dashboard in a warm, orange glow—James drove with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your knee, moving up occasionally to squeeze your hand
—“Does it hurt much?”—he asked, breaking the silence with that deep voice that always made your skin tingle
—“It stings a bit”—you admitted, leaning your head back against the seat—“but it’s manageable”
James let out a little chuckle—that laugh you loved so much and had learned to recognise as his ultimate sign of pride—he stopped at a red light and turned toward you—his eyes scanned your face before dropping down to where the tattoo was protected by the cling film
—“It looks beautiful on you”—he said with total sincerity—“Really—you look... I don’t know how to explain it... I love how my initials look on you”
You blushed, looking down—you knew that for him, a man who saw the world through loyal gestures and concrete actions, this was the greatest honour
—“Well, you did say it was like a drug”—you joked, trying to lighten the mood—“Maybe in a month I’ll want a full sleeve”
James let out a booming laugh, throwing his head back—then, his expression turned more serious, more intense he took your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles one by one
—“D’you know what I was thinking while I was watching you there?”—he asked, pulling away as the car moved again—“I was thinking about two things—how sexy you looked and how much I want to fuck you as soon as you set foot in the house, but also”
—“But also? What else?”
—“Next time we go”—he said, and you could tell he was completely serious—“it’ll be me in that chair I’m gonna get your initials on my arm”
You were speechless for a moment—James already had several tattoos, each with a story, but knowing he wanted to carry your mark on his skin sent a wave of love through you that almost didn't fit in your chest
—“You’d really do that?”—you whispered
—“Without a second thought”—he replied, squeezing your knee
You looked out the window, watching the buildings go by, feeling the slight sting in your ribs like a badge of honour—the fear of needles hadn’t vanished entirely, but it didn’t matter anymore
You smiled to yourself, knowing this was just the beginning of all the tattoos you’d ever get and because you knew what to expect tonight with James
End
hello it's SukkerEngel here I'm sorry it's very short and the delay but I'll make up for it in the second part that will be nsfw I also want to work on the second part of Shared lover my first one-shot since I'm seeing that it's quite popular now
Again, I'm sorry for the delay I'm back with my studies I moved and now I'm attending English classes again so I don't have much time but I'll try to be more active
