Something Different Corbyn Besson x Reader

Tattoos

"You sure this is ok?" My old co worker Jessica asks. I nod and she motions for me to hold out my wrist. I do and she takes it, her grip strong and firm. She looks me in the eye. "Are you sure you're sure?" I nod again, just wanting to get it over with.
Deep breath
One
Two
Three
"Aaaahhh!!!" I kind of yell as she digs the needle into my skin. It's the first poke. The first of hundreds. Oh god. Tears run down my face and she does another one. It feels like she's trying to stab my arm off. She does about twenty more pokes before I pull my arm away, open the door of her Chevy, and vomit onto the dirt road.
"Oh come on! I'm not even done with the 'A'!!!" She sarcastically adds. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve before sitting back up and holding out my arm to her. She puts down her tattoo needle and picks up her purse. She pulls out a rag still in its plastic packaging and hands it to me.
"Here. Bite down on this." She says. I take it and stick it in my mouth. She returns to her needle and continues my tattoo for the next hour or so. When she's done, the rag is almost torn to shreds, my arm feels like it's on fire, and left on my left hand wrist, made so carefully with black ink, in cursive, is my baby boys name.
Alex.