nausicaamusiclover20

[nausicaamusiclover20]

I LOVE YOUR FICS AAAA!!! 💖💖💖

Anyways enough of my fangirling, i have a slightly different request that i don’t think you’re done at all.

Basically i was thinking of Kirk as some type of demonic priest (because he likes horror and stuff yk) and the reader is staying at an “abandoned” church because they make like content on paranormal stuff but in the middle of the night she hears something and he’s there…and work your magic for the rest 🙏

THANK YOUUUUUU ❤

Warnings: Paranormal Activity/Haunting, Violence/Injury, Blood and Injury Detail, Entity Threat, Fear and Suspense

I hope you’ll like this crazy idea

Beware

 The church was colder than I expected.

The moment I stepped through the creaking wooden doors, a chill crawled up my spine, as if the air inside was thicker, heavier than it should have been. I adjusted the camera in my hands, trying to steady the shaky lens. My breath hung in the air as I took a deep breath, ignoring the uneasy feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

“This is it, guys,” I said, forcing a calmness into my voice. It echoed in the empty space. “Saint Anselm’s Church. Abandoned for decades. People have disappeared here. Paranormal activity. Tonight, I’m going to uncover why.”

I swept the camera across the room, taking in the dimness, the decaying wood of the pews, the flickering light from the few broken windows. The altar at the far end was draped in shadows, and the stone floor looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Despite the coolness of the room, it felt stifling, like the air had been locked in here for too long.

The headache began almost immediately.

It was just a dull throb at first, nothing to worry about. Maybe I was dehydrated or tired. But the deeper I walked into the church, the sharper the pain grew. My temples pounded, and every step felt heavier.

I pressed my fingers to my forehead, hoping it would pass. I was here to get footage. I couldn’t back out now.

“I’m fine,” I muttered under my breath, turning the camera to capture the altar. The EMF detector in my bag wasn’t picking up anything unusual—no signs of paranormal activity yet, but the air was growing colder. Unnaturally so.

But the pain wasn’t going away.

It worsened, like something inside my skull was twisting, grinding against my bones. A sharp, pulsing ache that made it hard to focus. I staggered toward the altar, hoping that maybe moving around would help.

As I passed the old confessional booth, the pain hit me like a blow to the head.

I gasped, dropping to my knees, my hands gripping my skull. The pressure was unbearable. My vision blurred, and my breath became ragged. I couldn’t even think straight, and I felt like the world was spinning around me.

This isn’t normal.

Something was wrong.

I staggered back up to my feet, desperate to regain some control, but the dragging sound echoed through the room, cold and ominous.

I turned sharply, my flashlight flickering as I swung it across the dark expanse of the church. The beam landed on nothing but shadow.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice unsteady. It felt too loud in the heavy silence. “Is anyone here? I’m just filming...”

The creaking grew louder. Closer.

I spun around, heart hammering in my chest. The air had grown cold—impossibly cold—and the shadows in the corners of the room seemed to stretch, elongating like they were reaching out to grab me. The temperature continued to drop.

I backed away slowly, but my feet slipped, and I nearly lost my balance. Panic set in. My pulse quickened, and the pain in my head flared again, sharp and searing. It felt like my skull was going to crack open. I was dizzy. Disoriented.

I tried to shake it off, but it was getting harder to breathe. The shadows were closing in, swirling around me, and I couldn’t see clearly anymore.

Then I felt it—cold. A presence.

Something invisible, but undeniable. A chill that pressed against my chest, as though an invisible hand was pushing me down.

I gasped for air, but it was like the room was suffocating me. The whispers began—low, guttural, incomprehensible—but full of malice.

I dropped to my knees again, clutching my chest, feeling the weight of the air pressing against me. It was like something was holding me there.

The pain in my head reached a crescendo, and I screamed.

And then, something sharp.

The unmistakable feeling of a blade cutting into my skin.

I looked down in horror, and saw blood—my blood—beginning to stain my sleeve. The pain in my arm was excruciating. I tried to touch the wound, but I couldn’t move. My whole body felt numb, and the darkness was closing in around me. The whispers got louder, like they were coming from every direction.

No. I can’t...

Then—

“Enough!”

The voice rang out, sharp and clear, cutting through the air like a blade.

I froze, my heart skipping in my chest as the shadows recoiled. They hissed in pain, the air shifting around me. The pressure on my chest lifted. The cold receded, replaced by a strange warmth.

I blinked through my dizziness and saw him—a man—a figure emerging from the shadows.

He was tall, his black robe flowing around him as he moved. His presence was commanding, like something from a dream or a nightmare, but he was here.

His eyes were intense, dark—like they could see straight through me. The figure spoke again, this time in a calm, authoritative voice, filled with an undeniable power.

“You are not welcome here.”

The shadows screamed, twisting and recoiling as though they were being burned by his voice.

He stepped forward, and with a simple gesture of his hand, the darkness shrank back, as if it feared him.

My breath caught in my throat. The creature, whatever it was, hissed once more but seemed to fade, retreating into the corners of the church.

The man turned toward me, his gaze softening, and knelt beside me.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice no longer cold but filled with concern.

I could barely speak. “Who... are you?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his fingers brushed over the wound on my arm, his touch gentle but steady. The blood stopped flowing, the pain subsiding as though something in him had the power to heal it.

“Someone who watches over this place,” he said quietly, his voice low and reassuring. “Someone who protects those the church still holds dear.”

“W-What do you mean?” I gasped, still in shock. “Why did it attack me? What is this place?”

He glanced at the pendant around my neck—my grandmother’s pendant—then looked back at me, his eyes darkening with something I couldn’t quite place.

“Because of this,” he said softly.

I felt a strange shiver run down my spine as his gaze lingered on the pendant. I swallowed hard. “My family doesn’t have any connection to this church.”

He didn’t say anything right away. He just studied me, his face unreadable. Then he sighed and stood, offering me a hand.

“The church holds power—old power,” he explained, his voice firm but gentle. “Your bloodline is tied to it. You carry something with you—something the entity wanted to claim.”

I was speechless, staring up at him as if trying to make sense of what he was saying. “My bloodline? How do you—”

He shook his head. “I know more than you realize. You are connected to this place, whether you know it or not. And that thing... it knew.”

I took his hand and let him help me up, feeling weak but relieved. “Who are you?” I asked again.

The man’s gaze softened, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion I couldn’t name.

“Kirk,” he said simply, his voice calm but filled with a weight I hadn’t expected. “And I’m here to protect you.”

I couldn’t understand all of it. My mind was racing, but I knew one thing—whatever I thought I knew about my family, about this church, it was only the beginning.

He looked around the church once more, his expression darkening. “We can’t leave yet.”

I froze, my heart pounding. “What do you mean? The door’s locked... I—I can’t get out.”

His gaze was fixed on the door, but there was a strange hesitation in his eyes. “It’s not just that. There’s something else... something about you that’s keeping you here. Something the church won’t let go of.”

I stepped back, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “What are you talking about? Why can’t I just leave?”

Kirk exhaled slowly, turning to face me. “Because it’s not safe. Not yet. The church... it’s not done with you.”

The tension in the air thickened, like the church itself was holding us hostage. I pressed my palm to the door, but it didn’t move an inch. The strange energy in the room felt suffocating, and the darkness outside seemed to pulse with a life of its own.

“What is it that wants me here?” I whispered, barely able to breathe.

Kirk’s eyes softened, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. “I don’t know, but we need to figure it out. And we need to do it quickly. Whatever it is, it’s only a matter of time before it finds us.”

My pulse raced, and I couldn’t decide if I was more scared of being trapped here or of whatever he knew that he wasn’t saying. I glanced up at him, desperate for answers.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, his voice firm, though there was a flicker of uncertainty behind his eyes. “But we need to stay calm.”

He placed a hand gently on my shoulder, a surprisingly tender gesture, but his grip was firm, as if he was grounding me against the growing fear. His touch sent a small spark of warmth through me, and I fought to steady my breath.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said again, his voice more reassuring this time. “But first, we have to understand why this place won’t let us leave.”

 Then , he reached into his robe and pulled out a small vial, the liquid inside glowing faintly. “Drink this. It will help with the pain and calm your nerves. It’s part of the protection.”

I hesitated, but the dizziness was already creeping back in, and the thought of facing whatever else might be in this church without it was terrifying.

I took the vial, unscrewing it slowly. The liquid smelled faintly of herbs, but something else, something more ancient, lingered in the scent. I drank it in one go, feeling warmth flood through me almost instantly. The sharp pain in my head receded, and I could breathe more easily.

Kirk observed me with quiet intensity as I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to regain my senses.

Suddenly, he gently placed his hand on my shoulder, guiding me to sit on one of the pews. I felt too exhausted to argue. The ordeal had drained me more than I wanted to admit.

“Rest,” he said softly. “You’ve been through a lot.”

I glanced up at him. There was a tenderness in his expression now, something that made my heart skip. The pain in my head was subsiding, but there was still so much confusion, so many questions.

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the weight of everything still heavy in my chest.

He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he moved closer, lowering himself to kneel beside me. He gently cradled my head in his hands, guiding it to rest against his thigh. The moment was so unexpected, but it felt comforting, like an anchor in the middle of the storm.

His fingers lightly traced the edge of my hair, and I let out a shaky breath, the pain in my body slowly starting to fade away. His touch was so soft, and there was something calming about the way he moved, as if he’d done this before—or perhaps, as though he’d always been meant to.

“You’re gonna be okay, I won’t let him hurt you, I promise,” he murmured, his voice so low it was barely a whisper, but it sent a wave of warmth through me.

For a moment, I let myself close my eyes, allowing his presence to be the only thing I focused on. Whatever was happening, whatever this connection was, I wasn’t afraid anymore.

I wasn’t alone.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi Nausicaa))

So, it seems like a lot of people on this app, not just me, do think that James got hard wolf/werewolf vibes. So I had an idea. Medieval-ish times, a town inside the forest, where it’s a custom to offer a young beautiful maiden (and of course a virgin) as a wife to the forest beast (werewolf) to please him and for a guarantee that he will protect the village. While it’s an honor, a lot of girls are excited to be chosen because according to legends being the werewolf wife allows a worry-free life plus there are very exciting rumors about werewolf’s stamina (yup, the bedroom stamina).

Reader is the only one who doesn’t care about being chosen, she has no interest in this whatsoever, plus she thinks that the stamina rumors are ridiculous, and as a male he’ll only chase his own pleasure. However, of course she gets picked, personally, by James, because he overheard her saying that hirs a stupid tradition, etc. So they get married and the first night James proves her how true this rumors were true but he’s also very considerate because it’s her first time?

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: mature content, light tender and rough smut, mature language, smut

________

The beast's bride

The village’s tradition has always been clear: one maiden, chosen to be the bride of the forest beast. The stories I grew up with told me of his power, his wildness, the way the town would offer up a girl to keep the peace. The rumors that followed him were as thick as the forest he roamed. They spoke of his endless stamina, his insatiable desires, his wild, animalistic nature. And the women? They whispered that to be chosen was the highest honor—the chance to be married to a creature of legend.

But I never bought into those stories.

I’ve heard it all before. The girls sigh over the rumors, the older women smirk knowingly about the things they never tell you. But none of it fazes me. I didn’t care about the so-called protection the beast offered the village, nor the supposed pleasures of being his wife. Those whispers? They seemed ridiculous to me. If he was a man at all, he was only driven by his own instincts, not by any idea of affection or connection. It was a story made to scare us, to keep us in line.

So imagine my surprise when, on the day the elders called for the selection, I—of all people—was chosen.

It wasn’t supposed to be me. Not Y/N, the girl who rolled her eyes at every mention of the werewolf, who scoffed at the idea of marriage being some form of fate, who had always felt her future was her own to decide. But there I was, standing before James, the werewolf himself, as the villagers murmured and stared.

The moment he laid eyes on me, I knew something was different. He had heard my words—the ones I had said in jest to my friends. "The rumors about his stamina are ridiculous. Just a way to make girls swoon," I had said, laughing it off. "As if a man’s pleasure should matter more than anything else."

It was no secret I didn’t believe in the so-called allure of the beast. And when James heard me, he made his decision: I was the one he wanted. Not because of some twisted destiny, but because he wanted to show me.

He wanted me to see that the rumors were not just tales told around fires, that there was truth in them. And that truth would be shown to me, personally.

The wedding was quick, as expected. No grand feast, no dancing. The ceremony was just the two of us, a quiet exchange of vows in front of the village elder, and then we were bound. I didn’t even have time to protest, to question the strange pull I felt towards him despite my resistance. It was all happening too fast. Before I knew it, James was my husband, and the villagers were watching, waiting to see what would unfold.

When we’re finally alone, I feel the weight of the night bear down on me. The tension in the air is thick, the room strangely silent, save for the sound of my heartbeat.

James stands by the window, looking out at the forest, his silhouette casting a shadow that seems almost… predatory. His eyes flick to me, and the intensity in his gaze is enough to make me shiver.

“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice low and controlled. It’s not an accusation, but more of an observation, one that makes the room feel even smaller, as if the space between us is electric.

I swallow, trying to gather my thoughts. "I don’t understand why you chose me," I confess, my voice shaky. "There are others who wanted this. Who believed in all the stories about you, about what you could do. But I…" I hesitate. "I never believed them."

A brief smile tugs at his lips. It’s almost knowing, as if he’s been waiting for me to say this. He walks toward me slowly, like he’s taking his time, considering every step.

"I overheard you," he admits, his voice calm. "You called it ridiculous, the idea that I could satisfy a woman the way the rumors say I do."

I’m caught off guard by his frankness, but I don’t back down. "I don’t believe in them. I think it’s just a story. A way to keep people in their place."

His gaze softens just slightly. "Maybe it’s a story. Or maybe it’s more than that." He steps closer, his presence overwhelming in a way I can’t explain. "But I want you to know, Y/N, that there is truth to the things they say. And tonight, I’ll show you that."

A shiver runs down my spine, though I’m not sure whether it’s from fear or something else—something more confusing.

He notices, and his hand reaches out, fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch is warmer than I expected, his hand steady, as if he’s trying to comfort me. "I know this is new for you," he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with something I can’t quite place. "I won’t rush you, I won’t force anything. I know what I am, but I’ll be gentle. Because I know it’s your first time."

I freeze. His words hit me harder than anything. The werewolf, the beast everyone feared, is offering me kindness—patience. It feels so strange, so foreign to what I had expected. His touch is tender, his fingers brushing along my skin like he’s waiting for permission.

"I… I don’t know what to expect," I admit, feeling my vulnerability rise like a tide I can’t stop.

James looks at me, really looks at me, and then, without a word, he leans in. His lips meet mine—slowly, carefully, like he’s testing the waters. I don’t pull away. Instead, something shifts in me, something I can’t control. I respond to him, hesitant but curious, feeling the tension in his body that contrasts with his gentleness.

When he pulls away, his eyes search mine, his brow furrowed in understanding. "We can stop, if you want to. But I need you to understand—this is not about taking from you. It’s about showing you the truth. The truth about me, about the rumors you think are lies."

I nod, my breath coming quicker than I expect. There’s no more joking, no more sarcasm. This moment feels too real. And for the first time, I’m unsure of what I want.

He pulls me closer, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine. He’s not rushing, not demanding. His touch is patient, soothing, as he undresses me slowly, making sure I’m comfortable, making sure I’m ready. His lips press to my neck, soft and lingering, as his hands move with care.

My body responded instinctively, melting into him as I parted my lips, opening up to him.

His hands moved to frame my face, deepening the kiss, and I leaned into him, craving more. There was an urgency that surged within me as he pulled me closer. My hands found their way to his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt, wishing to peel away the distance between us.

With deliberate finesse, he pulled away from my lips, leaving a trail of shivers across my skin. His gaze was intense, searching mine, as if trying to read every thought flitting through my mind. "You're stunning," he whispered, and I felt a blush creeping across my cheeks.

Before I could respond, he stepped back just enough to grasp the hem of my dress, his eyes locked onto mine—seeking permission. I nodded, a rush of anticipation coursing through me as he pulled the fabric gently over my head, letting it flutter to the floor, revealing my bare skin beneath the dim lantern light.

“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured, his gaze appreciative and warm as he traced his fingertips along my arms, sending shivers dancing across my body. I fought the urge to cover myself, feeling vulnerable yet strangely empowered under his gaze.

With deliberate finesse, he undid the laces of his own clothing, shedding his layers until he stood before me, gloriously unguarded. The sight of his sculpted body made my breath hitch—he was everything the rumors depicted and more, an exquisite blend of strength and wildness.

Then, he closed the distance once more, capturing my lips in another searing kiss, but this time more demanding. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve and contour as if memorizing how I felt beneath his touch. I melted into the kiss, gasping softly as he pressed me against the wall.

When his lips trailed down to my neck, I couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped my lips. The sound surprised me, tinged with both pleasure and a hint of shame. “I didn’t mean…” I began, but he caught me off guard when he pulled back slightly to look into my eyes.

“Let me hear you, Y/N. Let me hear how much I make you feel,” he urged softly, coaxing me with his words.

There was something intoxicating about his invitation—an encouragement that stripped away my hesitation. I nodded, giving into the sensation coursing through me as he positioned himself at my entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a mixture of strength and gentleness.

I inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of the moment. “Yes... please.”

With that, he entered me in a single smooth motion, both of us gasping at the sensation. It felt overwhelming yet blissful, as if all the tension in the world found its release in that moment.

“God, you’re so tight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. I could barely reply as he began to move, setting a slow, steady rhythm. Each thrust filled me completely, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body, igniting an exquisite tension that coiled tightly within.

When the first wave of pleasure surged through me, a soft moan slipped past my lips, and I instinctively covered my mouth, a flicker of embarrassment washing over me. James paused for a moment, his eyes darkening with a predatory yet gentle glint.

“Don’t cover your mouth. Let me hear you,” he urged, his voice low and commanding. “Let me hear what I make you feel.”

I hesitated but then surrendered to the pleasure building within me. I uncovered my mouth, letting my moans flow freely. “James… please,” I gasped, craving more of him, wanting to share the pleasure he evoked in me.

With a teasing smirk, he quickened his pace, thrusting deeper into me, eliciting a chorus of moans that spilled from my lips, unrestrained now. “That’s it,” he encouraged, his thrusts growing more urgent and passionate, the sounds of our bodies meeting filling the room with an exhilarating rhythm.

“Faster,” I breathed, unable to contain the urgency rising within me. The intensity made my heart race, and to my delight, he obliged, his movements becoming more frantic and wild yet still holding that delicious control. With each thrust, I felt the delicious friction drawing me closer and closer to the edge.

The overwhelming sensations consumed me—the combination of his strength and the size of him filling me completely sent shivers down my spine. I gasped and moaned freely now, each sound echoing the ecstasy unfurling within me.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his breaths coming in ragged bursts, every thrust punctuated by the raw connection between us. He leaned down to capture my lips again, the kiss igniting even more flames of passion as we lost ourselves in the moment.

“Please, James,” I begged, feeling myself teetering on the brink of culmination. “I’m so close.”

“Let go for me, Y/N,” his voice was a low growl against my ear, urging me on. “I want to feel you come around me.”

As his rhythm quickened, I felt every nerve in my body pulse with the urgency of release. The overwhelming pleasure built like a tidal wave, crashing over me, and I cried out his name as another wave of ecstasy took hold.

“James!” I screamed, the intensity rattling my very core as I let go, my body tightening around him, squeezing him deliciously as I reached my peak.

“Y/N!” he shouted, and I felt him shudder and tense against me as he found his own release, filling me with warmth.

We clung to one another, breathless as the world faded around us, suspended in that moment of shared bliss. Slowly, he lowered himself over me, our bodies still intertwined, a protective embrace that held me close.

He gazed down at me, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “Now, do you believe the rumors?” he asked, the teasing glint in his eyes inviting.

I chuckled softly, still basking in the afterglow of what we’d just shared. “Yes, now I believe,” I replied, watching the way his smirk broadened.

James looked down at me, his expression softening. “But I didn’t choose you just for the rumors,” he confessed, his voice dropping to a serious note. “I chose you because you are truly beautiful—inside and out.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm blanket, igniting a sweet warmth in my chest.

As we settled into the quiet aftermath, he pulled me close, my head tucked against his chest, where I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It felt safe and right, our bodies melding together as I drifted into a peaceful slumber, comforted by the closeness of the man who had just changed everything I thought I understood about the forest beast and myself.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

hi 😊

could you write something about jason coming home from the studio in a bad mood cause of the guys picking on him and reader lets him take out his anger on her by yk.. 🫣

I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: mature content, light possessive smut, mature language, smut

________

Raw edge

The front door slammed so hard, I thought the hinges might give way. My heart jumped at the sound, the sharp crack of frustration slicing through the apartment's calm. I placed my mug down carefully on the counter, listening to the heavy stomp of boots and the unmistakable sound of Jason muttering to himself.

When he appeared in the doorway, his usual composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. His jaw was clenched, tension radiating from every inch of him, and his dark eyes burned with barely contained fury. He looked up at me for the briefest second before brushing past to drop his keys and bag onto the counter with a sharp clatter.

“Jason,” I called softly, watching him pace back and forth like a lion in a too-small cage. “What happened?”

He stopped for a second, his hands on his hips, staring down at the floor like it might give him answers. Then, he looked up, his expression unreadable but seething. “They don’t take anything seriously,” he snapped. “Every time I try to suggest something, or, God forbid, have an opinion, it’s like I’m the punchline of some stupid joke. Just a big laugh for the guys.”

I could see his hands trembling faintly as he ran them through his dark hair, his frustration bubbling closer to the surface with every word.

“I’m there to work, Y/N. To create something real. Not to play babysitter to a group of assholes who think they’re still in college.” His laugh was bitter, humorless, and it cut straight through me.

I stepped forward, carefully closing the gap between us. “I’m sorry, Jase,” I said gently, my hand brushing his arm. He didn’t pull away this time, but the tension in his body was palpable, a storm waiting to break.

“You shouldn’t have to deal with that,” I continued, tilting my head to catch his gaze. “But you can’t keep holding it all in like this.”

“What the hell else am I supposed to do?” His voice was low, gravelly, as his eyes met mine. “Smash something? Scream into a pillow? Pretend it doesn’t bother me?”

I hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath. “No,” I said softly. “You don’t have to pretend. You can take it out on me.”

His brow furrowed, his intense gaze locking onto me. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“I mean it,” I said, stepping closer until there was barely any space left between us. My heart pounded in my chest, but I kept my voice steady. “Let it out. Use me, Jason. I can take it.”

He exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath this entire time. His eyes searched mine, as if trying to gauge if I really meant it. Then, something shifted.

“You’re sure?” he murmured, his voice quieter now but no less dangerous.

“Completely,” I whispered, reaching up to brush my fingers along his jaw.

That was all the permission he needed. With a low growl, he pulled me against him, his hands gripping my waist with a raw desperation. His lips crushed against mine, the kiss rough and unrelenting, as if pouring all his pent-up frustration and anger into me. I met him with equal intensity, my hands tangling in his hair as I gave myself over to him entirely.

He broke the kiss only to whisper, his voice dark and hoarse, “Don’t hold back, Y/N. I’m not going to.”

“I wouldn’t want you to,” I replied breathlessly, my body already burning under his touch.

Without another word, he lifted me effortlessly, his hands firm and possessive, and carried me down the hall. The tension in his body, the fire in his eyes—it was like he was finally letting the storm out, and I was more than ready to weather it.

Jason’s grip on me tightened as he carried me to the bedroom, his steps urgent and steady. Every part of me felt electrified, his tension feeding into my own, but there was something deeper in the air—something raw.

He laid me down gently on the bed, but his hands didn’t leave my body. His fingers traced the curve of my waist, the soft skin of my hip, like he was grounding himself, making sure I was still there with him. He paused, just for a moment, to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, voice quieter now, his face softening as he looked at me.

I nodded, reaching up to cup his face, my thumb brushing over his stubbled jaw. “I’m sure, Jason. I’m right here.”

There was a flicker in his eyes—vulnerable, yet still brimming with that same unspoken anger. He lowered himself onto the bed beside me, his body still tense but more controlled now, like he was savoring the rare moment of calm before whatever storm was brewing.

His lips found mine again, softer this time, searching, asking for permission in a way that felt like he was truly letting me in. I kissed him back with all the softness I could muster, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer.

“I need this,” he whispered against my lips, the rawness of his words making something in me ache.

“You have it,” I murmured back, my hands roaming to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. He let me, then mirrored the motion, helping me out of my own clothes. There was a tender urgency in our movements now, as if we both needed this to feel something real again.

As he kissed me again, a desperate dance of urgency and want. Jason’s hands explored my body with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. I gasped against his mouth, every brush of his fingertips igniting a fire within me.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured, breath hot against my skin. The tension radiating off him pushed me into the mattress, the weight of his body making my heart race. His dark eyes were filled with a storm of desire—a possessive hunger that nearly took my breath away.

“Jase...” My voice was barely above a whisper, a plea layered with anticipation. He captured my wrists, pinning them above my head with a firm but gentle grip. There was something thrilling about being at his mercy.

“Don’t move,” he commanded, his tone low and rich with authority.

“I can’t make any promises,” I teased, matching the fire in his gaze with a challenge, testing the waters of this raw connection.

With a low growl, he released my wrists and began kissing a path down my body, his lips trailing hot against my skin. “You’re asking for it,” he said, pressing hot kisses to my collarbone and trailing lower. The way his mouth made contact felt electrifying, like every kiss was pulling me in further.

“Maybe I am,” I admitted, a playful challenge hidden in my words. My breath quickened as his hands slid over my thighs, teasingly close to where I wanted him most.

“Just wait until I get my hands on you,” he said, looking up at me with a smoldering gaze that made my heart race.

“Then take me," I urged, feeling bold. "I want you—every part of you.”

He didn't need to be told twice. He slid my underwear off roughly, tossing it aside before his fingers found my center. The sensation was electric, his touch teasing me, coaxing soft moans from my lips. Waves of pleasure began to pulse inside me.

“Damn it, Y/N, you feel incredible,” he groaned. His fingers moved expertly, coaxing me higher with each deliberate stroke, the tension building in my core. “I want to feel you fall apart underneath me.”

“Please,” I breathed, urgency spilling from my lips. “I need you. Now.”

Jason hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice a low growl weighted with need.

“More than sure,” I insisted, my voice firm despite the waves of anticipation crashing over me.

In one fluid motion, he positioned himself between my legs, the heat radiating from him igniting every nerve. He entered me with a swift, powerful thrust that stole my breath away, the sensation echoing deep within.

“Fuck,” he growled, his eyes dark and intense as he captured my lips with his, our breaths mingling in an urgent rhythm. I could feel the desire flowing between us, raw and unfiltered.

“Just like that, Jase,” I urged, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. “Don’t hold back.”

With a growl that resonated deep in his chest, he thrust harder, pushing us both into a rhythm of want and need. My body responded instinctively, arching into him as his movements became more frantic, the world outside fading away.

“Let go for me, Y/N,” he urged through clenched teeth, his voice thick with desire. “I want to hear you.”

“Jason!” I gasped, feeling the familiar coil of release tightening within me. I was teetering on the edge, drowning in the sensations he was pulling from me.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged, his thrusts turning frantic as he chased his own release. “Come for me.”

With a cry of his name, I found my peak, waves of bliss crashing over me as I surrendered to the moment. The intensity of our connection spilled over, and I felt him follow me, his body tensing as we both succumbed to the storm we’d created together.

Panting heavily, I fell back against the bed, his weight settling beside me. We lay there, breathless, the aftermath of our passion wrapping around us like a warm embrace.

“You’re amazing,” he said, brushing his fingers across my cheek, the warmth of his touch grounding me after the intensity we’d just shared.

“Right back at you,” I smiled, still feeling the aftershocks of what we’d just done. “I hope you know how to handle all that energy you just unleashed.”

“I’m learning,” he chuckled softly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “But only if you promise to help me out next time.”

“Deal,” I replied, leaning in to claim his lips again, our connection solidified by the shared intensity and vulnerability of the moment.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi, Nausicaa)) I really enjoy your James stories so I hope a can put in request for another one? may I ask for SKOM!James x reader, who just recently given birth to their first child. But it’s hard being a parent to new born, as he cries at night and day, won’t let them sleep, etc. James is not so excited to have a child anymore: he doesn’t come to comfort the baby at night, saying he’s tired from studio, starts to stay late in the studio to avoid being home, starts going to strip clubs. His drinking hits all time high and he starts sleeping with other women. The worst part is that he suggests to move the tour start date earlier, so they can get on the road asap. When the reader finds out about everything, she confronts him, but he blames her for not giving him enough attention and says he regrets having a child? He drinks himself till he passes out and next morning he wakes up to find out her and baby gone. At this point he realizes how much he messed up so he checks into rehab and upon completing it, he tries to make amends with her?

I hope you like it! ❤

Lost and found

I had always imagined what it would be like to become a mother—rocking my baby to sleep, watching them grow, hearing their first laugh. But nothing could have prepared me for the sleepless nights, the endless crying, and the overwhelming exhaustion that came with it. It was supposed to be the happiest time of my life, but instead, I felt lost.

The first few nights were a blur. Our baby, so tiny and helpless, cried almost nonstop, and I did everything I could to comfort him. But despite my efforts, the cries only seemed to get louder. James? He barely acknowledged it. I’d ask him for help, but he’d just roll over and tell me he was tired. I understood—he had a busy schedule with the studio—but after a while, it started to feel like he wasn’t just tired. He was avoiding us.

At first, I told myself it was just temporary, that once the baby settled into a routine, things would get easier. But James didn’t seem to want to be a part of that routine. His late nights at the studio grew longer, and when he did come home, he was distant, lost in his own world. I’d find him at the bar more often, or out with friends. There were whispers, rumors I tried not to believe—about strip clubs, about other women—but they stung all the same. I never confronted him about it, though. I didn’t want to believe it. But the signs were there.

One night, when I’d finally hit my breaking point, I tried to talk to him. I needed him, needed him to see that this wasn’t easy for me, for us, and that I couldn’t do it alone anymore.

“James,” I said, voice shaking. “What’s happening to us? You’re never here. The baby needs you. I need you.”

He didn’t even look up from his phone. “I’m tired, Y/n. You don’t get it. I’m doing this for us. I’m working, I’m—”

“No,” I cut him off. “That’s not it. You’re avoiding us. You’re always gone, always out. And the baby’s crying. I’m drowning here, and you’re just... you’re just... gone.”

I was angry. So angry, and it all came pouring out.

“You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted this?” he snapped, finally looking at me. His words felt like a slap to the face. “I didn’t ask for a kid, Y/n. This... all of this... it’s not what I wanted. It’s not how I imagined my life.”

The room spun as those words hit me. They cut deeper than anything he’d ever said before. I had given everything for this family. For him. For our son. And he regretted it.

I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know what to say. The tears started to fall, but I wiped them away quickly. I had to leave. I couldn’t be here, in this house, with him anymore.

I grabbed the baby’s things, packed a few bags, and left. I didn’t even know where I was going, but I couldn’t stay with him anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay when it was falling apart in front of my eyes.

The next morning, I woke up alone in a new place, the silence deafening. I didn’t know where James was. I didn’t care. I was done.

But as the days passed, I realized just how far he had fallen. He wasn’t just avoiding me—he was disappearing into his own world. His drinking was out of control, his late nights stretched longer, and his reckless behavior spiraled further. I couldn’t watch him destroy himself, but I couldn’t fix him either.

Then, the phone call came. His manager. The tour. It was starting early. James was ready to go, without us. Without me.

I felt the weight of his absence like a stone in my chest. He didn’t even care. He just wanted to leave everything behind and run, just like he had been doing.

And then I realized—I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t let him hurt me, let him hurt our son, any longer. I needed to take control of my own life.

I don’t know how long it took for him to hit rock bottom. I didn’t keep track. But eventually, I heard from someone close to him that he checked into rehab. Part of me wanted to believe it was too late, that I shouldn’t let him back in. But another part of me, the part that still loved him despite everything, hoped it wasn’t too late.

__________________

The light pierced through the curtains, and my head exploded in pain. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to will the world around me to stop spinning. I couldn’t remember how I got here, how I ended up back in this place—this dark, suffocating hole. The bottle beside me had long since run dry, and I was clutching it like it was the only thing left in the world that mattered.

But it wasn’t. Not anymore.

The silence in the room was suffocating. It was too still. Too quiet.

I opened my eyes, blinking against the harsh daylight, trying to piece together the remnants of the night before. The last thing I remembered was going to the bar—drinking too much, as usual, trying to forget. Trying to numb the ache that had been growing inside of me since the day our baby was born. I hadn’t wanted this—this responsibility, this life. I didn’t know how to be a father, how to be a husband. I’d tried, I really had, but it felt like I was drowning.

And then… I had run. Again. I always ran when things got hard.

I tried to sit up, but the room swayed around me, and I immediately regretted it. My stomach churned, a wave of nausea crashing over me. But something else hit me harder than the dizziness—the absence.

The bed beside me was empty. I glanced around, panic bubbling up in my chest. Y/n… The baby… where were they?

The silence was deafening. The baby’s cries, Y/n’s soft murmurs, the sound of life around me… it was all gone. Gone.

I stumbled out of bed, my legs unsteady as I made my way down the hallway. “Y/n?” I called out, but the word felt foreign on my tongue. It had been days since I’d really used it, days since I’d cared enough to check in, to be present. I’d pushed her away. I’d pushed them away.

My heart dropped as I walked into the living room. It was empty. The crib was empty. The silence was oppressive, pressing in on me like a weight I couldn’t escape. I ran to the door, yanking it open, my eyes scanning the driveway.

Nothing.

There was a note on the kitchen counter.

I picked it up, my hands shaking as I read the words on the paper.

I can’t do this anymore. I’m taking the baby. You’re not the man I married, James. I need to protect us.

The words blurred together as tears welled in my eyes. I’m taking the baby. That hit hardest. It hit me like a punch to the gut. How have I gotten here? How had I let it all slip through my fingers?

I thought of everything I had done—everything I hadn’t done. The nights I spent at the studio, the nights I spent out with friends, the drinking, the clubs. The lies. The women. I’d thought I was escaping, but what I had really been doing was running from the one thing I should’ve been fighting for: my family.

My mind spiraled. The shame, the guilt, the regret—it crashed down on me all at once. I had lost them. I had lost everything.

I stumbled back to the couch, my mind reeling. I’d hurt her. I’d hurt them both. And the worst part was, I had no one to blame but myself. I had been so focused on my own bullshit, so wrapped up in my own addiction, that I had ignored everything that really mattered.

I tried to reach for  the phone, hoping to call her, but my hands were trembling too badly to dial the number. How could I even apologize? How could I fix this? I had messed up too much.

I couldn’t fix it.

The weight of it all crushed me, and I buried my face in my hands, tears mixing with the remnants of the alcohol that still lingered in my system. I had pushed her away, I had pushed him away. I had become a person I didn’t even recognize. And now, they were gone.

In my haze, I could barely remember the last few weeks, the slow unraveling of everything I had once cared about. But I remembered the look in Y/n’s eyes when she left. The hurt, the disappointment. I had seen it, and yet, I had turned away.

Regret was too small a word for what I felt now.

I didn’t know how much time passed before I realized something—something that made my heart stop and my blood run cold.

I didn’t even know where they had gone.

My mind raced. What if she never came back? What if I never got the chance to make it right?

The truth hit me like a slap: I had already lost her.

I had destroyed everything.

The days blurred together in a haze. I couldn’t focus on anything. I couldn’t fix the broken pieces of my life. But somehow, amidst the wreckage, there was a small sliver of clarity. A quiet voice inside me—the one I had buried beneath all the noise—told me that I had to do something. I had to get help.

I couldn’t fix this by myself, and I wasn’t going to keep running. Not this time.

I checked into rehab.

And for the first time in a long while, I started to confront the reality of who I had become. It wasn’t easy. It was hell. But each day, I fought to break the chains that had held me captive for so long.

When I finally walked out of rehab, I knew I had a long road ahead of me. But I also knew that I couldn’t let Y/n go. I couldn’t lose my son. Not when I finally understood what I had been so blind to.

I had spent months working on myself. Every single day in rehab felt like an eternity. But it was the only way I knew how to get to a place where I could look at myself in the mirror without wanting to break down. I’d hurt her—hurt both of them—and if there was any chance to fix things, I had to fight for it. For us.

But now that I was standing here, outside her apartment, my heart was racing, and the fear clawed at me. What if she didn’t want to see me? What if I had ruined everything beyond repair?

I could barely breathe as I knocked on the door. My palms were clammy, my chest tight with anxiety. There was a part of me that felt like I was about to face judgment day—like she was going to look at me and decide whether or not I was worth forgiving.

The door swung open slowly, and there she was.

Her eyes flickered with recognition, then quickly hardened. Her posture was defensive, but I could see the exhaustion in the lines of her face. She looked tired, like she hadn’t slept properly in months.

“James,” she said flatly, her voice strained. “What are you doing here?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath. I wasn’t sure how to start, how to make her see that I wasn’t the same man who had walked out on her and our son. I wasn’t the man who had turned to alcohol, who had ignored her, who had ruined everything.

“I know I don’t deserve a chance to explain myself,” I began, my voice shaky but sincere. “But I’m here because I’ve spent every single day regretting what I did to you. To him. I know I messed up. I hurt you, and I hurt our son. And I don’t expect you to just forgive me, not right away, but I’m asking for a chance to show you I’m not that man anymore.”

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she studied me. “You shouldn’t expect me to forgive you. You disappeared, James. You checked out on me when I needed you most. I asked for help, I begged for help, and you... you just ran. You weren’t there for us.”

Her voice trembled with emotion, and I felt a sharp pang in my chest. She was right. I had run. I had turned my back on everything that mattered. And the worst part was that I didn’t even know why at the time. I was so caught up in my own head, in my own self-destruction, that I couldn’t see the wreckage I was leaving behind.

“I know,” I whispered, my eyes locking onto hers. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was scared, Y/n. I didn’t know how to be the man you needed. The father our son needed. So I ran, and I pushed you away... because I didn’t know how to deal with all of it. But that’s no excuse. I hurt you, and I can’t take that back. All I can do is try to make things right, one day at a time.”

She shook her head, her lips pressed together in frustration. “You think it’s that easy? You think you can just show up and say sorry and everything will be okay?”

“No, I don’t,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I want to prove to you that I can change. That I am changing. I’m not the man I was before. I’m not perfect, and I know it’s going to take time to earn your trust again, but I want to try. I’m willing to fight for you. For us.”

She looked away for a moment, and I could see the tears threatening to spill in her eyes. It broke my heart to know that I was the one who had put that pain in her heart. But I couldn’t fix everything in one conversation. I knew that. It was going to take time.

“I’m not asking for you to just forgive me right now,” I continued, stepping forward cautiously, as if unsure whether she’d let me get any closer. “But I want to be here for you. For him. I want to help you. I want to make it right.”

She looked at me then, really looked at me, and for the first time in a long while, I saw a flicker of something other than anger in her eyes. It was a mix of disbelief and cautious hope—hope that I could actually follow through.

“I don’t know, James,” she said quietly, her voice soft but still guarded. “I don’t know if I can believe you yet. I don’t know if I can let you back in.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I understand. And I’ll wait. As long as it takes. I’m here. Whenever you're ready.”

She didn’t answer right away, but the silence between us wasn’t as thick as it had been. The tension still hung in the air, but it was softer now. Her eyes softened a little, and I couldn’t tell if she was thinking about it or if she was still too hurt to even consider it.

I took a deep breath, my hands trembling as I took a step back. ���I’m sorry, Y/n. I’m so sorry for everything.”

For a long moment, neither of us said anything. And then, she finally spoke again.

“You’ve got a long way to go,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “But... I’ll give you the chance to prove it.”

My heart swelled in my chest, but I forced myself to keep my emotions in check. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet. But it was something. And that was enough for now.

“I won’t let you down,” I promised, my voice steady with resolve. “I’ll prove it. I will.”

She nodded slowly, but she didn’t say anything else. I took that as a sign to leave, to give her the space she needed, but as I turned to walk away, I felt a glimmer of hope in my chest. Maybe we still had a chance.

________________

James showed up, again and again. He fought for us. For our family. He wasn’t perfect, but he was trying. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

In the end, I realized that it wasn’t just about forgiving him. It was about allowing myself to heal, to trust again. And, eventually, I did. For him. For our son. For us.

It wasn’t the fairytale I had imagined, but it was ours. And maybe that was enough.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Announcement

Hello sweeties❤ I hope you're all having a wonderful day! Just a quick update: I'm taking a little rest here on Tumblr to recharge and take care of a few things.

But don’t worry, I’ve scheduled some posts in advance, so you’ll still see content while I’m away. Any posts I haven’t written yet will be posted when I return.

Take care, my darlings, and see you soon! Wishing you a lovely day ahead.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

hii!! no requests for today, but the question is - how do you not burn out on your content? Do you not get tired of writing fics every day? I am very interested to know🌺

First of all, I want to thank you all for always liking my stories and leaving comments. It truly makes me happy! Anyway, I want to be honest with you—yes, sometimes it can be tiring, especially when balancing personal life. But writing is something I do with passion and love, so even when it’s hard, I always find time to write.

And here’s a little confession: I don’t actually write every day. A good part of my posts are scheduled in advance because I write whenever I have free time. When I do write, I tend to write a lot, so I end up having posts ready for a while.

But right now, I really need to take a rest, and I’m doing just that. Thank you for asking me this question, and if you have any other questions of any kind, feel free to ask! I’d be happy to answer❤

Lots of love, Nausicaa

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Reader is asking Dave to teach her how to play one of his guitars but he goes like “my guitars are custom, they’re expensive so I don’t want you fumble around with them”. So she finds an advert in the news paper (the teacher is a very attractive guy) and she’s really enjoying the lessons. That’s until Dave finds out, and he’s very jealous and wants her to quit, saying he has guitars and he can teach her. But she reminds him that she did actually ask him but he told her off cause he didn’t want her to mess with his “fancy expensive guitars”? And she’s very sad because while she understands the price of these, she really wanted him to teach her so they’d have more in common?

I hope you like it! ❤

Beyond the guitars

I don’t think Dave ever understood just how much I wanted him to teach me to play his guitar. It wasn’t just about the music or the instrument itself—it was about him, about us sharing something, something that we could bond over. But every time I asked, his response was the same. “My guitars are custom,” he’d say. “They’re expensive. I don’t want you fumbling around with them.”

At first, I didn’t let it bother me too much. After all, I knew he was protective of his guitars—hell, I couldn’t even touch them without him hovering in the background like a hawk. I could understand the value of his instruments; they weren’t just guitars, they were pieces of art. But they were also a part of his life, his world, and I wanted to be a part of that world. I wanted to learn. I wanted to connect with him in a way that felt real, that felt ours.

So, I started to feel like I needed to find another way in. I wasn’t giving up on this idea. I was determined to show him that I wasn’t just some novice who would wreck his precious guitars. I wanted to learn, to prove to him that I was serious about it. But when he refused to teach me, I had to look elsewhere.

I found the ad in the paper on a lazy Saturday morning. “Experienced Guitar Teacher Available for Private Lessons.” The ad itself was simple, but there was a picture of him—dark hair, a smirk on his lips, and a guitar in his hands that looked like he’d just pulled it from a rock ‘n’ roll dream. He looked... well, too attractive for words. And that caught my attention. I was feeling frustrated, and if I’m being honest, the idea of learning from someone who actually seemed open to teaching me sounded pretty good. Besides, it wasn’t just his looks that made me call. He was skilled. People spoke highly of him, and I needed to get better.

When I called, he was polite and professional on the phone, setting up a time for a lesson later that week. It felt like a breath of fresh air. He wasn’t dismissive like Dave; he wasn’t making me feel bad for wanting to learn. He was welcoming, patient. I felt a little guilty, but I told myself it was just about learning. It wasn’t anything serious.

The first lesson was everything I had hoped for. He had this calm, soothing way about him. He didn’t rush me or make me feel awkward when I made mistakes. Instead, he was encouraging, teaching me at a pace I could follow. It was like I’d finally found someone who believed in my potential.

I found myself looking forward to the lessons more and more. He was a good teacher, and he had this ease about him that made it fun. And yes, he was undeniably attractive, but the way he made me feel when I played—like I was actually good—that was what mattered the most.

Still, there was a part of me that missed Dave. I missed him in ways I didn’t quite know how to express. I wanted to share this part of myself with him, to tell him that I was learning to play, that I was getting better. But every time I thought about it, I hesitated. How could I tell him I’d found someone else to teach me? I was still hoping he’d come around. I wanted him to understand why it meant so much to me, to see that it wasn’t just about the guitar—it was about us.

Then came the day I walked into the living room after a lesson, expecting to find Dave as usual, sitting on the couch with his guitar in hand. Instead, he was standing by the window, looking out at the street. The tension in the room hit me immediately, like something was off. I had a bad feeling, but I wasn’t sure why.

“You’re taking lessons from someone else?” His voice was tight, and I could hear the jealousy in his words, though he tried to keep his tone neutral.

I froze. My stomach twisted in knots, the guilt starting to creep in. I had never meant to hide this from him, but I wasn’t sure how to explain myself. “Yeah, I am,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I needed to learn, Dave. You weren’t teaching me.”

He turned around to face me, his eyes narrowing. “I could’ve taught you. You could’ve waited.”

“I asked you,” I replied, keeping my tone calm. “I asked you over and over again. But you told me no. You told me not to touch your guitars because they were too expensive and too fancy. You said I’d mess them up.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—regret, maybe, or just frustration. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his emotions. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t want you to ruin them.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my own emotions in check. “I get it, Dave. I really do. But that’s not the point. I wasn’t trying to ruin anything. I just wanted you to teach me. I wanted you to teach me.”

His eyes softened a little, but there was still that edge of possessiveness in his gaze. “Well, I can teach you now. I’ve got guitars. I can show you, if that’s what you want.”

It was like a punch to the gut. His words were coated with a kind of defensiveness, as if he was trying to prove that he was still in control, that he was the one who should be teaching me. But it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like what I needed.

I shook my head. “No. It’s not just about the guitars, Dave. It’s about us. It’s about you and me sharing something. I wanted to learn from you. But you wouldn’t let me. So, I found someone else.”

He blinked, as though the idea of me turning to someone else had never fully registered in his mind. “But he’s just some guy, Y/N. I’m the one who knows these guitars. I’m the one who can teach you.”

“And yet, I asked you, and you said no,” I replied, my voice quiet but firm. “I needed you to understand that I wanted to connect with you in a way that wasn’t just about the instruments or the price. It was about us having something in common, about sharing something. But you didn’t want that. You wanted to keep your guitars in their little bubble.”

There was silence for a long time, and for a second, I thought he might not even answer. I could see the gears turning in his head, the way he was processing everything I had just said. “I just... I didn’t want you to mess them up. I didn’t want you to think that I didn’t care, but those guitars are important to me.”

“I know they’re important to you,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “But it’s not just about the guitars, Dave. It’s about you caring enough about me to teach me. To share something with me that means something to you. I’m not asking for a lot, just... you. Just you teaching me.”

His expression softened, and I could see the guilt in his eyes now. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “I guess I was too focused on the guitars to see how much you wanted to learn from me.”

I blinked, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. “I didn’t want to fight about this, Dave. I just wanted you to teach me. I just wanted to be part of your world.”

He took a deep breath and nodded, as though he were finally understanding. “I get it now,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for being so protective. I just didn’t know how to share them with you. But I want to try. I want to teach you, if you’ll still let me.”

I didn’t say anything at first, just standing there, feeling the weight of the moment. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it felt like maybe—just maybe—he was starting to understand what I needed. And maybe we could find a way to make it work.

Finally, I pulled away slightly, enough to look up at him. His face was soft, vulnerable, something I hadn’t seen much of before. And it hit me then—he did care. It just took a moment for him to see how much.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I really am.”

Dave returned the smile, his expression a little shy, but warm. “Me too. I’m glad you stuck with me.”

Without thinking, I stepped into him again, this time closing the space between us completely. His arms automatically wrapped around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I let out a quiet breath, my heart pounding in my chest. It felt right—this closeness, this understanding that had finally settled between us.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into my hair. “I should’ve listened sooner. I didn’t realize how much this meant to you. I promise, I’ll teach you. I want to share this with you. You matter more than anything else.”

I couldn’t help the tear that slipped down my cheek, though I wasn’t sure if it was from relief or from all the emotions that had been building up. I hugged him back tighter, my hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for understanding. I just wanted to feel like we could share something... something that was ours.”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now, almost breaking. “I’ll make it right. I’ll teach you. We’ll do this together.”

We stood there for a long moment, the world outside fading into the background. It wasn’t perfect, but it felt like we were finally on the same page. It felt like we were starting to rebuild what had been broken, starting to find that connection I’d been longing for. The guitars, the lessons, the frustration—it didn’t matter as much anymore. What mattered was that we were here, together, trying to understand each other.

Finally, I pulled away slightly, enough to look up at him. His face was soft, vulnerable, something I hadn’t seen much of before. And it hit me then—he did care. It just took a moment for him to see how much.

“I’m glad we’re doing this,” I said quietly. “I really am.”

Dave returned the smile, his expression a little shy, but warm. “Me too. I’m glad you stuck with me.”

I didn’t need him to say anything more. The way he held me, the way he apologized, and the sincerity in his eyes were enough to make me believe that maybe, just maybe, we’d finally found the connection I’d been craving.

And as we stood there, still wrapped in each other’s arms, I knew we were going to be okay. It wasn’t going to be easy, but we were willing to try, and that was more than I could have asked for. Together, we’d make it work—one lesson at a time.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi)) I was rewatching the “year in life of Metallica” recently and apparently the walls of studio they used were covered with girls from adult magazines plus they used to call strippers in (there’s actually a scene of one of these girls dancing in the studio). So I was thinking that James doesn’t want his fiancé to come to studio cause “we’re too busy and it’s gonna be boring for you”. One day she comes to bring him and the guys some dinner, but then she discovers the magazines and through the ajar door sees the stripper. The worst past is that even James is enjoying the show; Kirk, Jason and Lars were going through tue divorce at the time so technically, they get a pass. She rather shy and not very self confident, so she just leaves, without making a scene. However, that makes her think that James doesn’t find her sexually attractive, otherwise why the magazines and the stripper? She pretends like nothing happened until one day he complains about something so she snaps and telling him that he can always leave her and go to live with that stripper?

I hope you like it!❤

Behind closed doors

The smell of rosemary and roasted chicken fills the car as I pull into the studio parking lot. My hands tremble slightly on the steering wheel, a mix of nerves and excitement twisting in my stomach. James has been working so hard—late nights, long hours, always coming home smelling like beer and exhaustion.

“It’s boring, babe,” he always says when I ask about coming to visit. “Just us sitting around, arguing about riffs and drinking too much coffee.”

But I know it’s more than that. He’s protecting me from something, though I’ve never been sure what. Maybe it’s the stress, or the chaos, or just the raw intensity of his world.

Tonight, though, I wanted to surprise him. Bring dinner for him and the guys. Show him that I’m here, supporting him, even if I’m not part of that side of his life.

The studio hallway is dim and quiet, except for the faint thrum of bass vibrating through the walls. I balance the takeout bags in one hand and push open the heavy front door with the other, stepping inside. My sneakers squeak against the polished floors as I follow the music toward the main recording room.

When I reach the door, it’s slightly ajar, just enough for me to peek inside.

The first thing I notice is the walls. They’re covered in glossy pages from magazines—pages of women. Beautiful, confident, nude women. My breath catches, and I instinctively step back, the bag handles digging into my palm.

Okay. It’s just... decoration. Maybe it’s been like that for a while, and I never knew. It doesn’t mean anything, right?

But then I hear the laughter—Lars’s sharp, boisterous cackle, Jason’s low chuckle, Kirk’s unmistakable snort. And then, over the music, I see her.

A stripper.

She’s dancing in the center of the room, moving in time with the heavy beat of a song I don’t recognize. Her body sways effortlessly, her confidence filling the space. The guys are cheering her on, their voices blending into a chaotic roar of approval.

And then I see James.

He’s leaning back in his chair, a beer in hand, his lips curved into a wide grin. He looks relaxed, entertained... happy. My James. The man who tells me I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. The man who promised me I was all he’d ever need.

I feel like the ground has crumbled beneath me. My heart pounds painfully in my chest, and I take a shaky step back, my vision blurring. My head is screaming at me to walk in there, to confront him, to demand an explanation. But my feet won’t move forward.

Instead, I turn and walk away.

The bag of food feels heavy in my hand as I make my way back to the car. I toss it onto the passenger seat, climb in, and slam the door. My chest aches, but I don’t cry. Not yet.

The next few days pass in a haze. I don’t tell James what I saw. Every time I look at him, I see the walls, the stripper, the way he smiled at her. And every time, the thought eats away at me a little more.

I try to push it down, to pretend it doesn’t matter, but the questions won’t stop. Am I not enough for him? Does he need that kind of excitement to be happy? Why didn’t he want me there?

By the fourth day, I’m barely holding it together.

“What’s wrong?” James asks, his brow furrowing as he watches me pick at my dinner.

“Nothing,” I lie, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face.

He doesn’t buy it. “You’ve been acting weird all week. Did I do something?”

And just like that, the dam bursts.

“Did you do something?” I slam my fork onto the table, the clang echoing in the silence. “Oh, I don’t know, James. Maybe you should ask the stripper in your studio if you did something!”

His eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about?”

I push my chair back and stand, my chest heaving. “I came to surprise you with dinner. I saw everything, James. The walls, the magazines, her. You told me it was boring, that I wouldn’t want to be there. But it didn’t look boring to me. You looked like you were having a great time.”

“Y/N—”

“No!” I cut him off, tears streaming down my face. “Do you even want me anymore? Or am I just the boring one you come home to after you’re done living your real life at the studio?”

“Stop it,” he says, his voice breaking.

“Why?” I throw my hands up. “It’s true, isn’t it? If I was enough for you, you wouldn’t need those walls. You wouldn’t need her.”

For a moment, he just stares at me, his face pale and stricken. Then, slowly, he moves toward me, his hands reaching out as if he’s afraid I’ll bolt.

“Y/N,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head, pulling away from his touch. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, James.”

“I know,” he says, his hands dropping to his sides. “But you have to believe me. None of that—none of it—means anything to me. It’s stupid. It’s just... studio crap. I didn’t think. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt you. But you... you’re everything to me.”

I look at him, searching his face for any hint of a lie. All I see is regret. And love.

“Why didn’t you want me there?” I whisper.

“Because I didn’t want you to see that,” he admits, his voice raw. “Not because I’m ashamed of you, but because I’m ashamed of myself. You’re so much better than all of that. Better than me.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut.

“I don’t need better,” I say quietly. “I just need you.”

He steps closer, his hands trembling as he cups my face. “Then I promise you, Y/N. No more walls. No more excuses. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix us.”

For a long moment, I just stand there, letting his words wash over me. Finally, I nod, leaning into his touch.

“We’ll fix this,” I whisper.

And for the first time in days, I feel like maybe, just maybe, we can.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Load!Kirk asking reader to be in an open relationship (mostly to hook up with groupies guilt free), while she’s devastated initially, she then comes out with a plan to avenge herself. At one of parties a few months later (with Kirk totally enjoying himself on tour) he finds her on Slash’s lap with guitar- Slash is teaching her to play and even promises to write her a song. Kirk is mad, but reader reminds him that open relationship works both ways, so she can sleep with whoever she wants too - so he finally understands how much he messed up and apologies?

I hope you like it!❤

Open wounds

“I’ve been thinking,” Kirk said, his tone almost too casual. He leaned against the couch, his guitar resting beside him. “Maybe we should try an open relationship.”

I froze, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “You know, it’d make things easier. No guilt if something happens on tour. And you’d have the same freedom.”

Freedom? That’s what he called it? My stomach twisted as the meaning sank in. I could already picture the groupies—backstage, in hotel rooms, on his lap—laughing and clinking drinks while I sat at home, trying to convince myself it didn’t mean anything.

“You don’t think this is going to hurt me?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

His brow furrowed, like he hadn’t even considered it. “It’s not like I love you any less,” he added quickly, as if that made it better.

The betrayal stung, sharp and hot. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “Fine,” I said, my voice cold.

His face lit up with relief. “Really? Thanks for understanding. You’re amazing.”

I sat there, silent, as he kissed my forehead and disappeared to pack for the tour. The moment the door closed, I let the tears fall.

 

The first few months were agony. Every magazine rack was a minefield. There he was on the glossy covers, headlines like “Kirk Hammett’s Wild Nights on Tour!” and “Metallica Guitarist Spotted With Mystery Blonde!” screaming at me. The photos were worse—his arms around some fan, laughing like he didn’t have a care in the world.

It was humiliating. But after weeks of stewing, I came to a decision. If Kirk wanted an open relationship, it worked both ways. I wasn’t going to sit at home playing the fool while he had all the fun. 

The afterparty was packed, smoky, and loud. The energy was electric, the high from the night’s show still buzzing through the room. Kirk was somewhere in the mix, but I wasn’t there for him.

“Here, like this,” Slash murmured, his gravelly voice close to my ear as he adjusted my fingers on his guitar. He was perched on a couch, and I was sitting sideways on his lap, my legs draped casually over his.

“Am I getting it?” I asked, letting my voice sound light and teasing.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said with a grin, his fingers brushing mine as he helped me form the chords. “Maybe I’ll write you a song someday.”

I laughed, tossing my hair over my shoulder. That’s when I saw Kirk.

He stood in the doorway, drink in hand, his dark eyes locked on me. His expression shifted—from confusion, to anger, to something more vulnerable.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice sharp as he walked toward us.

I looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh, hey, Kirk. Didn’t see you there.”

“What’s going on here?”

Slash leaned back, his smirk as relaxed as ever. “Just teaching her a few chords. She’s got talent.”

Kirk’s jaw clenched. “You’re sitting on his lap.”

“And?” I asked, standing up and handing the guitar back to Slash, who gave me a playful wink. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

“That’s not—” he started, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, but it is,” I said, crossing my arms. “You get to hook up with whoever you want, and so do I. Fair is fair, right?”

His face softened as the reality of his choices hit him. For the first time, I saw guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t think...”

“No, you didn’t,” I interrupted, my voice sharp. “You didn’t think about how much this would hurt me. About how humiliating it is to see you on magazine covers with some random woman. About how it would feel to be treated like I don’t matter.”

“I was selfish,” he admitted, his voice low. “I thought I could handle it. I thought it’d be easy, but... seeing you with someone else—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I hate it. I hate that I made you feel this way. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

I raised an eyebrow, letting his words hang in the air. “You can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal, Kirk.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. I’ll stop—everything. No more open relationships, no more groupies. I just want you.”

For a moment, I stared at him, my emotions warring inside me. Anger, sadness, and a flicker of hope.

“You’re going to have to prove it,” I said finally, my voice softer. “No more taking me for granted.”

“I will,” he promised, his eyes steady on mine. “I’ll prove it to you.”

I gave him a small smile, brushing past him. “Good. Because Slash promised me a song, and I’d hate to miss out.”

As I disappeared back into the crowd, I felt his eyes on me. For the first time in months, Kirk wasn’t the carefree rockstar surrounded by adoring fans—he was just a man who finally understood what he stood to lose.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Happy Birthday Lars! I hope this year is his best one yet, full of exciting opportunities and cherished moments❤

(Sorry if I'm late)

Photos found on Pinterest

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi! I’m not sure if you do age gap one-shots too much, but thought I’d still ask:).

So I was having thoughts about when Metallica did the Grammys with Lady Gaga? Reader used to be one of Lady Gaga’s backup dancers. So reader is dating James and James decided to bring her to rehearsals with him one day without knowing that she used to be one of Lady Gaga’s back up dancers. Lady Gaga and reader had still been really good friends and when Metallica and her were taking a break, reader and Lady Gaga decided to just mess around a bit and do some of their old dances together. Watching the reader dance, how her body moved, and just how she let Gaga touch her (nothing sexual or anything just that casual touching dancers get sometimes from the main person), it kinda just made James realize how turned on her was by it and the second they get home he gets her to dance for him before making sweet but rough love to her?

I only do age gaps if they're over 18, if not, then I won't do his, I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: age gap, mature content, mature language, smut scenes

Dancing with desire

I never thought much about my past as one of Lady Gaga's backup dancers—at least, not until James invited me to come to one of Metallica’s rehearsals with him. It was supposed to be just another day of watching him work, hanging out with him while he went over his setlist and played guitar. Simple. But I hadn’t realized how much my past with Gaga would affect the way James saw me, and I had definitely never expected it to come up in front of him, especially not in this way.

When I walked into the studio that day, I was excited, but there was a certain tension I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t anything to do with James—he had been so supportive and understanding about my time with Gaga, my dance history. But seeing her again, after all these months, brought back memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time. As soon as we locked eyes, it was like no time had passed. We slipped into our old dynamic, instantly comfortable with one another, like two dancers who had shared years of stage time and knew exactly what the other needed.

We spent the next hour running through old moves, laughing at the routines we used to perform together, a mix of playfulness and muscle memory. My body moved like it always had with her, fluid, instinctive, and without hesitation. There was nothing sexual about it—it was just the casual intimacy dancers have, that bond you form after years of being in sync. Gaga would occasionally touch my arm or guide me into a turn, and I didn’t think much of it. That kind of touch between dancers is normal, comforting even. But I could feel James watching us. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and focused.

I tried not to pay attention, but it was hard not to notice. The way his eyes followed me, the way he stood there so still, as if he was taking in every movement I made. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but there was something different in his expression, something that felt more intense than I had ever seen before. It wasn’t just admiration anymore—it was like he was seeing me in a new light, something about my dance and my connection with Gaga awakening something inside him.

When we finally took a break, I noticed that James wasn’t saying much. He was quieter than usual, his mind clearly somewhere else. I figured he was just processing everything, but I could see the way he was looking at me, his eyes dark with something I hadn’t seen before. It was a look that made my pulse quicken, and suddenly, I wasn’t sure how to act around him. I thought maybe we’d brush it off and move on with the day, but there was a shift in the air.

When we finally got home, it was clear something had changed between us. The quiet tension that had built up earlier was now palpable. James didn’t waste any time—he came right up to me, his hands sliding around my waist as he pulled me into his arms. His eyes were still heavy with that same look from earlier, a kind of hunger that was impossible to ignore.

“Dance for me,” he said, his voice low and rough, as if it was something he had been wanting to ask but hadn’t known how.

At first, I didn’t know how to respond. It wasn’t like James to ask me to do something like that—not like this. But there was something in the way he said it, something in the way he was looking at me, that made it impossible for me to say no.

I didn’t even think about it. I just put on some music and moved, letting my body take over. The movements came naturally, almost instinctively, like I was back in that studio with Gaga. Every stretch, every turn, felt like it was a part of me. But this time, every step felt different. Every movement was for James. His eyes were locked on me, and I could feel him drinking in every detail of my performance, his gaze never leaving me. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

It wasn’t just the dance that was making the air thick with tension; it was the way he responded to it. His hands would twitch as if he was dying to touch me, and yet he kept his distance, as if waiting for me to finish. I could tell he was barely holding it together, like he was caught between watching me and wanting me closer.

When I finally finished, breathless and flushed, I looked at him, unsure of what would come next. But James didn’t say a word. He moved toward me, his hands cupping my face, and he kissed me, slow at first, as if testing the waters. His lips were soft but demanding, like he was trying to hold on to this moment where everything had shifted between us.

But it didn’t stay slow for long. His kiss deepened, growing more urgent, and I could feel him pulling me closer, his hands sliding down to my back, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. The way he touched me now wasn’t like before—it wasn’t just about love, it was about something raw, something powerful that had built up over the course of the day. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was showing me how badly he wanted me, how much he was affected by everything he had seen, by the way my body moved, by the way I danced.

As the kiss deepened, the world around us faded into a blur. James’s hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against him, the heat emanating from his body setting my skin ablaze. There was an urgency in his touch, a raw need that ignited something deep within me.

“I need you,” he breathed, his voice low and commanding. The intensity in his gaze was electric, and I felt a delicious flutter in my stomach.

With a swift motion, he guided me backward until the cool leather of the couch met the backs of my thighs. I gasped as he pressed me down, his body hovering above mine, a mix of strength and desire radiating from him. “Stay right there,” he instructed, locking his eyes with mine, searching for reassurance.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling exhilarated by the command.

James descended, his lips trailing delicate kisses down my neck, each touch igniting a trail of fire across my skin. He took his time, savoring, teasing, as if he were mapping out every inch of me. I could feel his breath hot against my skin, teasing me just enough to make my heart race with anticipation.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice thick with need, weaving intimacy into the dominance he exuded.

“I want you inside me,” I breathed, the words slick with longing. I craved the fullness of him, the wild intensity of our bodies coming together.

The look in his eyes shifted—his possessiveness deepened. He deftly shed his pants, positioning himself between my legs, powerful and commanding. “Hold on tight,” he instructed, the promise in his voice sending shivers down my spine.

With a smooth, deliberate thrust, he entered me, and my breath hitched, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled by him. The initial shock of him was intoxicating, and I gasped, pressing my palms against his chest, feeling the sheer strength in his muscles.

“Just like that,” I encouraged breathlessly, feeling the heat between us swell as he began to move, each thrust deliberate and deep. It started slow, allowing me to savor every inch, but the heat was building faster than I could keep up with.

“You feel incredible,” he grunted, his breaths growing heavier. The way he moved was a mix of tenderness and raw need, a dance that sent electric waves of pleasure shooting through me.

“James,” I gasped, my body arching instinctively beneath him. The way he looked at me, with equal parts admiration and desire, made every nerve in my body hum.

“Don’t hold back,” I urged, aching for him to unleash the intensity simmering beneath the surface. “I want all of you.”

A primal sound escaped him, something low and hungry, and without hesitation, he picked up the pace, thrusting into me with a fierceness that took my breath away. The couch shifted beneath us, the sound of skin slapping against skin merging with our breathless gasps.

“God, you’re so perfect,” he breathed, fingers digging into my hips as he thrust harder, every movement rough yet filled with an underlying sweetness that made it all the more intoxicating. He pulled the intensity from deep within himself, pouring everything he had into this moment.

The way he held me was a declaration; I belonged to him. I could feel the possessiveness in every thrust as he anchored me to the couch, his strong body hovering over mine like a shield.

“Yes, James!” I cried, surrendering fully to the pleasure coursing through me. He was relentless, pushing me to the edge and holding me there, building the tension until it felt like fireworks were sparking in my veins.

“Let go,” he commanded, his voice a low growl as his thrusts grew more urgent, more desperate. “I want to feel you falling apart around me.”

The pressure mounted, every powerful thrust of his driving me closer to the brink. I could feel myself spiraling, caught between the pleasure and the intoxicating grip of his control.

“James!” I gasped, the wave of release crashing into me like a torrent, tears of pleasure escaping the corners of my eyes as I surrendered completely. My body quaked around him, and I felt every bit of him pulsing inside me.

He followed right after, his groan echoing through the room, a rich sound that vibrated deep within me as we tumbled over the edge together. The world blurred, our bodies melding into one as we rode the waves of ecstasy, the rawness of our connection leaving me utterly breathless.

As we finally came down from our high, the world around us faded into a comfortable stillness. I lay wrapped in James's arms, his warmth radiating against my skin. He brushed my hair back from my forehead, and the tenderness of the gesture made my heart swell.

“You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice soft but thick with emotion, like he needed me to know just how much I meant to him in that moment.

I smiled, my cheeks warming as I melted against him. “So were you.” I could still feel the echoes of our intensity, every beat of my heart resonating with the connection we’d just forged.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured, the gravity of his words wrapping around us like a heavy curtain. “You have no idea how much I needed you.”

His confession sent a thrill through me, igniting something deeper than just physical desire. “I’m glad it was you,” I whispered back, feeling the weight of vulnerability in the air between us.

In that moment, everything else faded away. The laughter, the struggles, the world outside—none of it mattered. It was just us, two souls fully entwined in a dance that felt both sweet and consuming.

We lay there, quiet and content, each breath we shared a silent promise of what was to come. The connection we had discovered pulsed between us, a newfound anchor amidst the chaos of life.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hey, can i request a kirk x gf!reader where she has intrusive thoughts from paranoia and can't watch a horror movie because she starts getting anxious and spends all her time thinking a face will appear on the window/mirror, or someone is gonna break through her house (own experience lmao) and kirk insists in watching a horror movie without knowing it and she starts feeling bad/cant even go to the bathroom alone because of it? Idk if i explained it well 😭😭 but thank youuuu love your writing 🫶

I hope you like it!❤

A haunted mind

I sat down next to Kirk on the couch, trying to act like everything was fine, but my mind was already spiraling. He grinned at me, patting the seat beside him, clearly excited for the horror movie we had planned. But my stomach twisted with anxiety. The room was dim, the TV screen casting eerie shadows on the walls, and it felt like the shadows were growing, closing in.

He clicked play, and the opening credits rolled across the screen, the chilling music creeping into my mind. It wasn’t the movie itself that had me on edge—it was everything else. The house felt too quiet, the kind of silence that makes you aware of every little creak and groan the walls make. I kept glancing at the windows, at the hallway, at the dark corners of the room. Every inch felt too still, too empty, like something—or someone—was lurking just out of sight.

I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat wouldn’t go away. “I think I’ll go get a drink,” I said, standing up too quickly. My heart was racing, but I didn’t want to stay here, not with all those thoughts crowding in. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen if I stayed too still for too long.

Kirk gave me a strange look. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, trying to force a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just thirsty.”

He didn’t seem convinced but didn’t stop me. As I walked to the kitchen, the house felt even larger in the silence. Every creak of the floorboards under my feet felt like a warning. The kitchen light was too bright, making the shadows even darker once I stepped into the living room again. The door was closed, the window was shut, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching me from the other side of that glass. My chest tightened, and I quickly turned my back to the window.

I had to get away. I had to get back to Kirk. But every time I stepped further into the house, the air felt heavier. Every reflection in the windows, every shadow seemed to grow bigger, and the thought of being alone in the dark hallway made my skin crawl. My mind wouldn’t stop. What if someone was out there, just waiting for me to turn my back? What if they were already inside, watching from the shadows?

I turned back toward the living room, trying to calm my breathing, but it was hard. My hands were shaking as I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just needed something to hold, something to keep my hands busy.

And then Kirk was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me. His brow furrowed. “Hey, everything okay?”

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know how to explain what was happening in my head. The racing thoughts. The panic. The way the windows seemed to be closing in on me.

“Yeah,” I forced out, though it didn’t feel real. “I’m fine.”

But the way he looked at me told me he didn’t believe it. “No, you’re not. What’s going on?”

I sighed, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. “I—I just… I don’t think I can watch this.” I gestured to the living room, but I couldn’t make myself meet his eyes. “I can’t. I keep thinking someone’s going to break in, or that… that something’s watching us from outside the window, or…”

I trailed off, unable to put the rest of it into words. It felt so stupid. It felt so insane—but it was there, pressing down on my chest, a constant weight.

Kirk took a few steps toward me, his voice soft but firm. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. No one’s breaking in. No one’s out there.”

But even his words didn’t feel like enough to chase the shadows away. “I can’t even go to the bathroom alone,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I just feel like… like if I turn my back for a second, something’s going to happen.”

Kirk’s eyes softened, and before I knew it, he was pulling me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest, my breath shaky. “You’re not alone,” he said, his voice calm and steady, as though trying to anchor me to the present. “I’m right here. No one’s getting in.”

I felt his arms tighten around me, and for a moment, the racing thoughts slowed down. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me. “We don’t have to watch the movie. You don’t have to be alone in this. Let’s just hang out, okay?”

I nodded, still feeling fragile but somehow lighter with him there, with him reassuring me. “But the movie…” I hesitated.

“Forget the movie,” he said gently. “Your peace of mind matters more. We’ll turn on the lights, close the windows, lock the door. We’ll be safe, together.”

A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escaped me, and I allowed myself to relax, just a little. He wasn’t going anywhere. We didn’t need the movie to have a good night. “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay. Just… stay with me.”

“Always,” he replied, his arms pulling me closer as we sat back down on the couch. The TV sat idle, no movie playing, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

But even as we sat together in the quiet, the fear didn’t fully disappear. It was like a shadow that followed me, lingering just beyond the edges of my mind, always there, just waiting to slip back in. But in that moment, with Kirk beside me, I felt something stronger than the fear. His warmth. His reassurance. The knowledge that no matter what, I didn’t have to face it alone.

I leaned into him, letting the silence comfort me. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For staying. For understanding.”

He kissed the top of my head softly. “There’s nothing to thank me for. I’m here, and I always will be.”

And for the first time that night, I allowed myself to believe him.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hii, I love so much your fanfics, and I have a request.

It may sound a little silly, but I've had this idea in my head for many days. Could you make a James Hetfield fanfic, maybe in the AFJA or Load/Reload era, that is a knight of a castle? Just like he is the most important knight in the kingdom and all the women in the kingdom love him but he only has eyes for the princess (reader)? And for the king to know that James loves the princess, and wants her to marry James?

Thank you very much, I hope you read my request, I really really love your work! :3

I loved this idea, I hope you like it!❤

A knight's vow

The grand hall of Castle Aldric hummed with the sound of celebration. Noble guests and knights from every corner of the kingdom filled the space, their laughter mingling with the music played by the royal musicians. Yet, despite the joy around me, my mind was elsewhere. My eyes continually found their way to Sir James Hetfield.

He was standing near the hearth with the other knights, his broad shoulders set against the flickering firelight. Tall, powerful, and exuding an aura of strength, he commanded the attention of everyone around him. It wasn’t just his physical presence that drew me in. It was the way his gaze seemed to always find mine across the crowded room. It happened without fail every time we were in the same space — a glance that lingered just a little too long, a silent connection that I had tried to ignore for months.

I had always felt there was something between us. At first, I thought it was simply my imagination. After all, he was Sir James Hetfield, the most revered knight in the kingdom, beloved by all the noblewomen. Why would someone like him even glance my way, let alone give me the kind of attention that made my heart flutter every time he looked in my direction?

But tonight, something felt different. The subtle smiles and fleeting glances seemed to carry more weight than usual. My heart raced with the unspoken possibility that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way about me.

"You’ve been staring at Sir James all night," my father’s voice broke through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. I looked at him in surprise.

"Father, I wasn’t—"

"You don’t have to pretend," King Aldric said, his eyes twinkling with a knowing smile. "I’ve been watching you both. It’s clear to anyone paying attention that Sir James cares for you."

My breath caught in my throat. "Father, I don’t—"

"Don’t be coy with me, Y/N," my father chuckled softly. "I see the way he watches you. And you—well, your heart is far from indifferent to him."

I blushed, not knowing what to say. I had long suspected that there was something more between us, but hearing my father speak of it so plainly made it seem too real, too impossible. Sir James had long been the kingdom’s hero, and I was the princess. Our lives had always been kept apart by duty, and the idea that such a man could truly care for me beyond my title seemed too far-fetched to believe.

"I know what you’re thinking," my father said, his voice lowering with the weight of his words. "You think it can’t be true, that someone like Sir James, a knight of such renown, could have feelings for you. But you’re wrong. He’s been loyal to this kingdom, to me, for years. But the loyalty he holds for you goes deeper than any oath he has sworn. He loves you, Y/N."

My heart hammered in my chest. Could it be true? Did James really… love me? The thought felt like both a dream and a nightmare. What would that mean for us? What would it mean for the kingdom?

"I know what you must be thinking," King Aldric continued, as if reading my mind. "But I’ve seen it in the way he watches you when he thinks no one is looking. He is a man of honor, Y/N. And he’s been waiting for the right moment to ask for your hand. The only thing left is for him to gather the courage to speak to me about it. And when he does, you have my blessing."

I stared at my father, unsure of how to respond. "But… Father, I’m just a princess. What would I mean to someone like him?"

"You are everything to him," my father said, his voice filled with an unusual tenderness. "And you should know, he won’t rest until he has your heart. I’ve already given my blessing, though I haven’t said anything to him. It’s his to ask, not mine."

As my father left to speak with his council, I was left standing there, caught between hope and doubt. Could this truly be happening? Could James — a man whose heart was clearly so full of honor and strength — truly love me, the princess?

The evening continued on, but I could no longer focus on the festivities. The words my father had spoken lingered in my mind, and every time I caught a glimpse of James, it seemed my pulse quickened. Was this truly the moment when everything would change?

As the castle began to empty, and the guests slowly retired to their chambers, the hall quieted down. The cool night air beckoned me, and I stepped onto the balcony, hoping the fresh breeze would calm the storm brewing inside me.

"Princess," came a familiar, deep voice behind me, and my heart skipped a beat. I turned to see Sir James standing just inside the doorway, his towering figure framed by the flickering torchlight. His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable.

"Sir James," I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper. "I wasn’t expecting—"

"I know," he said softly, cutting me off as he stepped closer. "I’ve been waiting for the right time. But now, I can’t wait any longer."

He reached for my hand, and his touch sent a jolt through me, warm and electric. My heart beat in my chest, my mind racing. Was this it? Was this the moment he was going to tell me how he truly felt?

"I’ve fought many battles, Princess," James said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "I’ve fought for honor, I’ve fought for glory, I’ve fought for the kingdom. But none of those battles mattered like this one. None of them mattered like the battle for your heart."

My breath caught in my throat. His words were so simple, yet they held so much weight. "James," I whispered, unsure of what to say. "I… I don’t understand."

He took a step closer, his gaze never leaving mine. "I’ve kept my feelings hidden for so long, but I can’t anymore. I can’t pretend that what I feel for you is anything but love. I love you, Y/N. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be the one to stand beside you, through everything — no matter the battles we face, no matter the challenges."

My mind spun, disbelief giving way to a warmth I could no longer deny. The man I had admired from afar, the man who seemed so unreachable, had loved me all along. "James," I breathed, feeling the tears well up in my eyes. "I… I never thought you could love me. I never thought it could be real."

He smiled, his thumb brushing gently against my cheek. "I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, Princess. And I always will."

I felt the tears spill over, but they were tears of joy. "I love you too," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I always have."

The world seemed to fall away as he leaned in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that spoke of everything we had both kept hidden for so long. The kiss was soft at first, but soon it deepened, as though we were finally letting go of the years of doubt and fear that had kept us apart. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the kingdom. Not duty. Just us.

As we pulled away, our foreheads resting against each other, I heard a soft chuckle from behind us. We both turned, and there, standing in the doorway, was my father, King Aldric. He had been watching us from afar, a knowing smile on his face.

"You two have been stubbornly slow, haven’t you?" the king said, his voice warm and amused. "But I suppose there’s no need to wait any longer." He stepped forward, his eyes twinkling. "You have my blessing, Sir James. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.

"

James bowed his head respectfully. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

The king turned to me, his gaze filled with pride. "And you, my daughter, have my full support. You are both meant for one another."

In that moment, everything felt right. The pieces had fallen into place, and for the first time, I truly believed that James and I were destined to be together. With a shared smile, James and I looked at each other, the promise of a future together glowing between us.

And from the shadows, my father watched, his heart full of knowing joy. The knight had claimed his princess, and the kingdom had found its future.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Merry Christmas everyone my sweeties❤

Christmas Paws

The house was warm and cozy, the smell of pine and cinnamon filling the air. The Christmas tree twinkled with lights in the corner, casting a soft glow across the room. Metallica’s house was quiet for once, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos of their touring schedule. The living room was packed with Christmas cheer: snacks on the table, a few scattered presents, and, of course, the band lounging around, ready for the holiday gift exchange.

James was sitting on the couch, trying his best to look casual, but I could see the glimmer of excitement in his eyes as he eyed the pile of presents. I knew he was curious about the gift I had gotten him. I had kept it a secret for weeks, and I was almost bursting with anticipation.

The guys were all in their usual joking, playful mood. Kirk was first up, tearing into a gift from Cliff.

“Alright, let’s see what we got!” he said with his usual enthusiasm. Inside was a vinyl record of a classic rock album. Kirk grinned, holding it up. “Cliff, you know me too well. Classic rock never gets old.”

Cliff rolled his eyes. “I swear, you get the same gift every year,” he teased, leaning back on the couch. “You’re impossible to shop for.”

Kirk laughed. “You can’t go wrong with the classics,” he shot back.

Lars chimed in with a grin. “Next year, I’ll just get you a guitar pick. It’s the only thing you ever need.”

They all laughed as James, sitting next to me, leaned forward, clearly eager for his turn. His excitement was contagious, and I had to bite my lip to stop from laughing.

Cliff tossed him a gift, smirking. “Alright, Hetfield, it’s your turn. Let’s see what you got.”

James ripped into it, revealing a custom guitar pick holder, engraved with his initials. “Nice!” James said, holding it up. “Just what I needed. Thanks, man.”

The teasing continued with everyone cracking jokes, but I could feel the moment coming closer. I stood up, holding the gift I had for James. It was time. I smiled at him, my heart racing.

“I’ll be right back with yours,” I said softly.

James raised an eyebrow, curious. “Okay, babe. I’m looking forward to it.”

I made my way to the other room, where the dog was waiting. It was the moment I had been waiting for, and I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. The dog was medium-sized, scruffy and cute, with a thick coat of fur in shades of brown and white. He looked up at me with his big, trusting eyes, wagging his tail.

“You’re gonna make his Christmas,” I whispered to the dog, gently petting his head. “You ready?”

The dog wagged his tail again, as if he understood. I walked back into the living room, the dog following behind me. The guys were talking and laughing, but when they saw me walk in with the dog, everything stopped. They froze, all eyes on the little creature at my side.

James’s jaw dropped. “Wait… is that…?”

I could barely contain my grin. “I got you a dog, James. I remember how much you’ve wanted one.”

His face lit up instantly, and I could see the surprise and joy spreading across his features. “Are you serious?!” he asked, his voice full of disbelief. He dropped to his knees immediately, extending a hand toward the dog.

The dog ran right over to him, tail wagging excitedly, and James laughed as he rubbed its head. “Oh my God, Y/N, this is perfect,” he said, his eyes wide with happiness. “This is the best surprise ever.”

The guys were still recovering from the shock. Cliff, being Cliff, broke the silence first. “Guess we’re not the only ones stealing James’s attention now, huh?”

Lars smirked, “Yeah, just don’t let the dog start playing bass, or we’ll have to put him in the band.”

Kirk laughed, “We’ve got another member now, huh? Hope he can keep up with the riffs.”

James didn’t even respond, too busy giving the dog all the attention. “This is seriously the best thing ever,” he muttered, still petting the dog. “I don’t care what any of you say. This is my new best friend.”

I watched him with a smile, my heart full. The happiness on his face was everything I had hoped for. The guys continued to tease him, but I could tell they were just as happy as I was. This Christmas was shaping up to be one of the best.

I couldn’t resist walking over to him, sitting beside him on the couch. The dog, of course, hopped up with us, making himself comfortable on the floor. James looked at me, still grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you, babe,” he said, his voice soft with affection. “This is honestly the best gift anyone could’ve given me.”

I smiled, my heart fluttering as I leaned down to kiss him. Just as our lips met, the dog—sensing the moment, or maybe just wanting attention—jumped up, his tail wagging furiously, and promptly started licking James’s face.

James pulled away, laughing, wiping the slobber off his cheek. “I guess he wants in on the action!” he said, his voice full of amusement.

I burst out laughing. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re not the only ones who love you, huh?”

The dog, tail wagging faster than ever, turned to me and gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek, too. I laughed even harder, wiping my face. “Well, now we’ve got the whole family in love,” I said.

James just grinned, reaching down to pet the dog, who was now rolling around happily on the floor. “I’m keeping him,” he said, still laughing. “No one’s taking him away from me.”

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, teasing, and dog play. The guys kept poking fun at James, and he kept trying to get the dog to stop licking him. It was the kind of holiday I had always dreamed of—a perfect mix of love, humor, and friendship.

The dog, of course, was the star of the show, but I couldn’t have been happier to see James so genuinely happy. It was the best Christmas ever, surrounded by my favorite people and a dog who, I had a feeling, would be just as much of a character in our lives as any of us.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Merry Christmas from tallica boys ♡

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Once upon a December

"Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember..."

The ballroom is eerily silent. My footsteps echo with every step, a hollow rhythm against the cracked marble floor. Dust hangs heavy in the air, swirling in the faint silver light of the moon filtering through the shattered windows. I can almost hear the faint strains of a forgotten waltz, the ghost of laughter and voices that once filled this space.

Now, it’s empty.

The melody hums faintly in my mind, unbidden, as I step further into the ruins of what was once a place of grandeur and joy.

I run my fingers along the edge of the long-abandoned banquet table, its surface still faintly sticky from spilled wine no one bothered to clean. The golden chandeliers above are dull, their light extinguished for what feels like a lifetime. My hand trembles as I let it fall back to my side.

I can’t help it. I pause in the center of the room, tilting my head to take in the ruins around me. It hurts to look, but I can’t tear my eyes away. I close them, pressing a hand to my chest as the memories rush in, vivid and unrelenting.

It was a night of beauty, a fairytale come to life.

The music had been loud but elegant, its melody weaving seamlessly through the laughter and chatter of the crowd. The ball had been everything I could have hoped for—a celebration of family, of peace, of everything we were trying so desperately to hold onto.

But if I’m honest, it wasn’t the music or the gowns or the wine that made my heart race that night. It was him.

James.

I had seen him the moment I stepped into the ballroom, his figure impossible to miss. He stood near the base of the staircase, his ceremonial armor catching the golden glow of the chandeliers, his posture as strong and confident as ever. But it was his eyes that captured me. Those dark, piercing eyes that softened the moment they found mine.

I couldn’t look away.

When he crossed the room toward me, everything else seemed to fade. The murmurs of the crowd, the swell of the orchestra—all of it became a distant hum. My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

He stopped in front of me, bowing low, his hand extended. "May I have this dance, Your Highness?"

His voice was low and smooth, tinged with a warmth that sent shivers down my spine. For a moment, I hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. But then I placed my hand in his, and he leaned down, pressing the softest kiss to my knuckles.

The world seemed to stop.

The warmth of his touch lingered, spreading through me like a flame, and the way he looked at me as he straightened—it was as if no one else in the room existed. My cheeks burned, and my voice caught in my throat, but I managed to nod.

"I would love to," I whispered, barely able to find my words.

His smile was slight, but it held a tenderness that made my heart ache. His hand tightened ever so slightly around mine, grounding me as he led me to the center of the dance floor.

"Someone holds me safe and warm, horses prance through a silver storm..."

As we began to move, it was as though the entire world had melted away. His hand rested lightly on my waist, his other holding mine with a steady firmness that left me breathless. I dared to meet his gaze, and the look in his eyes was enough to steal the air from my lungs.

Neither of us said it. We didn’t need to. It was there in the way he held me, the way his thumb brushed the back of my hand, the way his lips quirked into the smallest of smiles whenever our eyes met.

But then the music stopped.

I remember the way the silence struck, sharp and unnatural, cutting through the joy like a blade. It was followed by screams, shouts, and the unmistakable clang of steel. The enemy had come.

James reacted instantly. His hand left mine, and in its place was the cold gleam of his sword. "Come with me," he said, his voice steady but urgent.

He pulled me through the chaos, his grip on my wrist firm but careful, as if I might shatter if he held too tightly. I stumbled after him, my skirts tangling around my legs as we wove through servants and soldiers, past overturned tables and broken glass.

We reached a hidden chamber, tucked deep within the castle walls. He pushed me inside, his chest heaving as he closed the door behind us.

His hands trembled as he cupped my face, and for the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.

"You stay here," he said, his voice low and firm. "Don’t leave this room. Do you understand me?"

"No," I whispered, my own hands flying to grip his arms. "James, you can’t—"

"I have to," he interrupted, his tone softening. "If I don’t, they’ll find you."

My breath caught as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine. His words came as a whisper, so quiet I barely heard them. "I’ll come back for you. I swear it."

Before I could stop myself, I blurted, "James, I—"

He kissed my forehead, his lips warm and soft against my skin. "I love you," he said.

Then he was gone.

I remember screaming his name, the sound tearing from my throat as I pounded on the door. But no one came. Not James. Not anyone.

His words echoed in my mind even after the heavy door shut between us: I love you.

I pressed my hands against the cold wood, my breath shaky as tears blurred my vision. I wanted to call him back, to beg him to stay, but the weight of his promise stilled my tongue.

I’ll come back for you.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly in that tiny room. I paced, every sound from outside—the clash of swords, the distant shouts, the screams—made my heart lurch with fear. My fingers twisted into the fabric of my gown as I sank to my knees, whispering prayers into the darkness.

When the noise finally subsided, the silence that followed was more terrifying than the battle itself.

I waited.

And waited.

But he didn’t come.

The air grew colder as the hours passed, the weight of the quiet pressing heavily on my chest. I couldn’t stay there any longer, couldn’t bear the uncertainty. Swallowing my fear, I pushed open the door and stepped into the castle halls.

The sight that met me stole the breath from my lungs.

The corridors were dark and desolate, the tapestries and golden sconces that once lined them reduced to ash and ruin. My footsteps echoed ominously as I wandered through the wreckage, searching for any sign of life, of hope.

When I reached the ballroom, my knees buckled.

The once-grand space was unrecognizable. The marble floor was cracked and stained, shattered glass littered every surface, and the chandeliers that once gleamed like starlight hung crooked and broken. The remnants of the ball lay scattered—abandoned shoes, torn silk, spilled wine—each piece a haunting reminder of what had been lost.

I whispered his name, my voice trembling, but it only bounced back to me in the empty silence.

I stumbled forward, my legs weak beneath me. "James," I called again, louder this time, but the answer I so desperately needed never came.

Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember…

The memory sharpens as I walk through the ballroom now, my footsteps slow and deliberate.

Even now, after all this time, I can still see it—the ghost of that night etched into every corner of this room. I can almost hear the music again, feel the warmth of his hand in mine.

I close my eyes, letting the memory pull me under.

I hum softly to myself, the familiar melody trembling on my lips. It’s the only thing that keeps me grounded, the only thing that reminds me of what once was.

"Things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember..."

Without thinking, I lift my arms, letting the memory of that last dance guide me.

I take a step, then another. My movements are slow at first, hesitant, but soon I’m spinning and twirling across the floor, my gown sweeping the marble. The music plays in my head, faint and sorrowful, and I let it carry me.

A sob escapes my lips, and I falter, my legs buckling as I sink to the ground. Tears spill freely down my cheeks, and I press a hand to my chest, clutching at the ache that never truly left.

"James," I whisper. "Where are you?"

The sound of footsteps startles me.

I freeze, my breath catching as I slowly rise to my feet, turning toward the sound. My heart pounds in my chest, wild and desperate, as I strain to see through the dim light.

And then I see him.

I see him, standing in the doorway, the moonlight casting a silvery glow around his figure. For a moment, I think I’ve conjured him from my memories, that the grief has finally overwhelmed me.

But then he takes a step forward, his armor catching the faint light, and I hear his voice, hoarse but unmistakable.

“Y/N.”

My breath catches, my heart pounding so violently I can feel it in my throat. For a moment, I can’t move, my feet rooted to the floor as if afraid that if I move, he’ll disappear.

“James?” I whisper, my voice trembling.

He steps closer, and the light reveals him fully. His dark hair is mussed, and there’s a faint scar running along his cheek that wasn’t there before. His armor is dented, his tunic torn, and he looks like he’s been through hell. But his eyes—those eyes I’ve dreamed about every night since he left—are the same.

It’s him.

It’s really him.

“Y/N,” he says again, his voice breaking as he crosses the room toward me.

The moment he’s close enough, my feet move on their own. I run to him, throwing myself into his arms, and he catches me, pulling me against him with a strength that leaves me breathless.

I sob into his chest, clutching at his tunic as if afraid he might slip away. “I thought you were gone,” I choke out. “I thought—I thought I lost you.”

His arms tighten around me, his hand tangling in my hair as he buries his face against my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to leave you.”

I pull back just enough to look at him, my hands trembling as they cup his face. “Where were you?” I demand, my voice trembling with both relief and anguish. “Why didn’t you come back?”

He closes his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. “I couldn’t,” he says. “Not right away. The battle didn’t end when I thought it would. There were more of them—so many more. I couldn’t risk leading them back to you.”

I shake my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I waited for you. Every day, I waited.”

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking. “I know. And it killed me not to come back to you. But I had to make sure you were safe. I couldn’t lose you, Y/N. Not you.”

His words break something inside me, and I press my forehead against his, my sobs quieting as his thumb brushes away my tears.

“I thought you were dead,” I whisper.

“I thought of you every moment,” he replies. “It was the thought of you that kept me going.”

For a long moment, we simply hold each other, the silence between us filled with everything we’ve left unsaid.

Finally, I manage to find my voice. “I love you,” I say, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve always loved you, James. I just—I never told you.”

He lets out a breath, his eyes searching mine. “I’ve loved you from the moment I first saw you,” he says. “And I never stopped, not for a single second.”

And then he kisses me.

It’s soft at first, his lips tentative against mine, as if afraid I might pull away. But I don’t. I press closer, my hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepens, a rush of warmth spreading through me that chases away the cold I’ve felt for so long.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“I’m here now,” he says, his voice steady. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

I nod, my tears finally slowing as I cling to him. “You’re here,” I whisper, as if saying it aloud will make it more real.

He pulls me close again, his arms wrapping around me protectively, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the ache in my chest begins to fade.

We stay like that for a long time, the ruins of the ballroom around us forgotten as we hold each other. The future is uncertain, and the scars of the past will take time to heal, but for now, I have him.

And that’s enough.

"And a song someone sings, once upon a December."

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Part 2 of whispers of the forest

Whispers of the Forest: The Price

The days that followed were a blur of desperation. Eldewood had grown quieter, darker. Fewer people walked the streets; more houses were empty, their inhabitants swallowed up by the illness that had no cure. No one was left to help me—no one but myself.

Despite the warning from Jason, the strange half-human man, I couldn't stay away from the forest. My people needed me, and I had no other choice. The herb was still out there, deep within the forest's dark heart, and it was the only thing that could save them. The weight of their suffering hung over me, a constant reminder that time was running out.

So, despite everything—the strange warning, the fear clawing at the back of my mind—I packed my satchel again and set out once more into the woods.

The path through the forest seemed different now. The trees, thick and looming, felt more oppressive, as if they were closing in on me. I remembered the first time I entered, how the forest had seemed so silent, so still. But today, there was a different energy in the air—something darker. And yet, I pushed on.

Hours passed, and my search seemed to be going in circles. I had been here before, but this time, everything felt more dangerous. The forest felt less like a sanctuary and more like a labyrinth with no way out. Each step felt heavier than the last. My body was growing tired, my feet sore, but I couldn’t stop. I had to find the herb.

I had learned the signs—where the plant would grow, what it would look like—but every time I thought I had found it, I realized I was mistaken. It was like the forest itself was toying with me. The more I searched, the more elusive it became.

Just as the last sliver of light from the setting sun faded, the forest around me seemed to come alive in an eerie way. A sudden rustle in the brush caught my attention, and I froze, my heart racing. I wasn’t alone. Something—or someone—was out there.

The growl came next, low and menacing, vibrating through the air like a dark omen. It wasn’t a sound I had ever heard before—not from the wolves in the village, nor from any creature in these woods. This growl was different. It was filled with hunger, with a predatory force that sent a chill racing down my spine.

I spun around, my breath catching in my throat. My hand instinctively gripped the dagger at my side, but my fingers trembled. The shadows shifted, and then—there they were. A pack of wolves, their eyes glowing a cold, hungry yellow, their teeth bared in a way that made my pulse race with fear. They moved together, fluid, coordinated, closing the distance between us with alarming speed.

Panic surged in me. I knew that if I didn’t act, I wouldn’t make it out alive. The dagger in my hand felt inadequate, a mere scrap of metal against the hunger and ferocity of these creatures. My heart thundered in my chest as I took a step back, trying to think, to come up with some way to escape.

But the wolves were too close now. My breath came faster, my vision narrowing as the pack advanced.

And then, just as the first wolf lunged—its jaws snapping toward me—a blur of movement shot through the air. My heart skipped a beat, and I froze, stunned by the figure that emerged from the shadows.

Jason

The half-human, half-deer creature, his body a powerful mix of grace and raw strength, leapt into the fray. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he collided with the first wolf, knocking it aside with a force that sent the creature sprawling. His eyes gleamed with an untamed ferocity as his body shifted with a fluidity that was both human and animal, his limbs stretching impossibly, his antlers rising from his head like dark, beautiful weapons.

A wolf darted toward me from the side, its jaws snapping in the air, but before it could reach me, he was there again. In one fluid motion, he spun, his arm extending to catch the creature by the throat. His hand—no longer entirely human—clawed through the air, its animalistic strength sending the wolf crashing into the earth with a growl that echoed through the forest.

Another wolf dared to approach from behind, but the man was there again, moving with terrifying speed. He shifted, his body a blur of motion as he was everywhere at once—striking, slashing, roaring. The wolves, once so confident in their hunt, now recoiled. They could sense the power radiating from him, the primal energy that flowed through his every movement.

I stood there, transfixed, watching him fight with a raw, untamed ferocity. His body seemed to glow in the dim light of the forest, his eyes burning with an otherworldly intensity. The wolves hesitated, retreating, their hunger curbed by the sheer force of his presence. His antlers gleamed in the fading light, catching the last rays of the sun like a crown made for battle.

With one final growl, the wolves scattered, fleeing into the shadows, unwilling to challenge the being who ruled the forest. The tension in the air lingered, the quiet aftermath of battle hanging heavy around us.

Jason, panting lightly, his chest rising and falling with exertion. His gaze locked on mine, eyes intense, wild, but something else flickered in them—something that seemed to soften as he saw the fear in my face.

I stepped toward him, my legs unsteady from the adrenaline, and without thinking, I reached out, placing a trembling hand on his arm. His skin was warm beneath my touch, the heat of him grounding me in the aftermath of the attack. His body was still half-transformed, the hint of antlers and animal-like grace evident in every muscle. His breath was ragged, but his eyes softened when they met mine.

Jason turned to me, his eyes dark with a mix of fury and concern. “I told you to stay away,” he said, his voice harsh, almost accusing.

His words stung, but I didn’t pull away. Instead, I stepped closer, my heart racing for a different reason now.

 “I—I couldn’t,” I stammered, trembling, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “I need the herb… My people… They’re dying. Please, you have to understand.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he said nothing, just watching me with those glowing eyes. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he stepped forward, placing a hand gently on my shoulder.

"You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like this," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of concern and something else—frustration, maybe. But there was no anger in his eyes. Only that strange, deep care that seemed to come from somewhere ancient.

Before I could respond, he reached into a small pouch hidden at his side and pulled out a sprig of the very herb I had been searching for. It was a deep green, its leaves smooth and velvety, and it glowed faintly in the dim light of the forest. My heart skipped a beat.

“This is the herb you seek,” he said quietly. “I’m the only one who can produce it. But remember—nothing comes without a price.”

I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I found it. The cure. The salvation for my village. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea what this means. My people… they will live. Because of you.”

His gaze softened even more, and there was something unreadable in his eyes. “You should not have come back here,” he said, his voice low. “But now, there’s no turning back.”

I nodded, clutching the herb tightly in my hand. The weight of the moment settled on me, and in that instant, I understood the depth of what he had said. The forest would remember. The price would come. But I couldn’t think of that now. I had to heal my people.

Over the next few days, I returned to Eldewood with the herb. I used it to create a potent remedy that cured the sick, revived the weak, and brought life back to the village. The people rejoiced, their faces lighting up with gratitude as they regained their strength. I had done it. I had saved them.

But I couldn’t forget  Jason, who had given me the herb. I needed to thank him properly, to show my gratitude. And, maybe—just maybe—understand him a little better.

I ventured back into the forest, my heart racing as I neared the place where I had last seen him. The air was thick with anticipation, and the trees seemed to whisper around me, urging me onward.

When I found him, he was standing by a stream, his back to me. His shirt had been discarded, and the soft glow of his skin shimmered in the dim light. His antlers were gone now, and he was fully human, his lean from naked and stunning in the moonlight.

I froze, unsure whether to approach. But then he turned, sensing my presence. His eyes met mine, and there was no anger there this time—just a quiet intensity that seemed to draw me in.

“I came to thank you,” I said, my voice trembling. “For everything. You saved my people.”

He didn’t speak right away, just watched me with those piercing green eyes. Then, his lips curved slightly into a smile. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t expect you to return. But… I’m glad you did.”

Something shifted between us in that moment—an unspoken understanding, an undeniable pull. He took a step toward me, closing the distance, and before I could react, his hand reached out, gently cupping my face.

The forest seemed to hold its breath. The world faded away, leaving just the two of us standing there, surrounded by the trees that had witnessed it all.

And then, without warning, his lips were on mine, soft yet urgent. The kiss was unexpected, but it felt like something that had been waiting to happen for a long time.

As the kiss deepened, something in me unlocked—an overwhelming mix of desire and tenderness that I hadn’t anticipated. His touch was electric, his presence overwhelming. The world seemed to fade away as he pulled me closer, his body warm against mine.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair as he pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. I felt his heartbeat, strong and steady, beneath his chest, and my pulse quickened in response. The night air seemed to thicken, the cool breeze brushing against our skin, but it was a faraway concern. All that mattered was the feeling of him, of us, tangled in something both unfamiliar and entirely necessary.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes searched mine—intense, uncertain, as if trying to read the emotions flickering across my face. I caught my breath, lips tingling from his kiss.

“Do you understand now?” he asked softly, his voice thick with meaning. His thumb traced along my jawline, a soft touch that made me shiver despite the warmth spreading through my chest.

I didn’t answer right away. Part of me knew what he meant, and yet... I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension breaking just a little. It felt right, somehow, in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“I understand,” I said, the words coming out more easily than I expected. “And I think... I think I’ve fallen for you. You warned me. You told me the price.”

His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of something passing across his features. “The price, yes,” he murmured. His hand rested at my waist now, holding me in place as if he were afraid I might disappear. “The price is... never simple.”

I smiled up at him, a genuine warmth radiating from me. “Maybe the forest got it wrong,” I teased, though I could feel a shift inside me, a deeper connection growing between us, something I hadn’t expected when I first ventured into these woods. “Maybe I was meant to come back, after all.”

He seemed to pause at my words, his eyes softening, his breath catching slightly. Then, as if something inside him unlocked, he stepped closer. His hands found their way to my sides, sliding beneath the fabric of my tunic, his touch gentle but insistent. I felt a deep ache, a longing that seemed to mirror his own, in the way he pulled me nearer.

“I didn’t expect this,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. “You... you shouldn’t have come. But I’m glad you did. I’ve been waiting... for someone like you.”

His words stilled me for a moment, and I pulled back slightly, searching his face for any sign of hesitation. But all I saw was honesty—raw, unfiltered honesty in those deep green eyes. There was something in the way he said it, something that told me this wasn’t just about the herb or the forest’s ancient bargain. It was something far more personal, something between us.

“Why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if summoning the courage to answer. When he opened them again, the vulnerability was clear. “Because... I’ve always been alone,” he confessed, his voice barely audible. “In this forest. In this life. But you... you make me feel like maybe I don’t have to be.”

My heart swelled, and I reached up to touch his face, my fingers tracing the contours of his jaw. His words struck me deeper than I expected, because, despite the confusion and the impossibility of it all, I felt it too. The connection between us was undeniable. And though the forest's price loomed overhead, I couldn't bring myself to regret it.

I leaned in again, kissing him softly at first, but the kiss quickly deepened, a quiet urgency threading through each movement. I wanted to be close to him, to bridge the distance between us. I didn’t want to hold back anymore.

His hands were everywhere now, guiding me, lifting me as though I weighed nothing. He kissed me like he had all the time in the world, but it was clear that time wasn’t something either of us could afford.

With every step we took deeper into this connection, I felt myself surrendering, allowing the sensations to wash over me, to fill me. The forest’s magic swirled around us like a spell, a blanket that wrapped us in something that transcended the physical, something primal and raw.

When we finally paused, breathless, he rested his forehead against mine, his chest heaving. “You understand now,” he said softly, the words barely escaping his lips. “The price, the connection, it’s all tangled up together.”

I smiled through the haze of desire and affection. “I understand,” I whispered back. “And I’ll pay whatever price it takes. For you, for us.”

In that moment, the forest did seem to fade into the background, leaving only the two of us—two souls caught in the mystery of the world around us, but somehow, for once, together.

And in the quiet after, as we lay beneath the canopy of ancient trees, there was no more need for words. The forest had its price, but in the end, it wasn’t something either of us feared anymore.

We were already part of it. Together.