#james hetfield needs to marry me

[viscerati]

OH MY GOD. hes so fucking hot im sorry

[m3t4llica-4-l1fe]

love on me || load era james hetfield, 18+

You're laying in you and your boyfriend's shared bed, watching a random TV show as you wait for him to get back home. You missed him more than anything right now, you haven't seen him in half a year now because of touring.

And it wasn't until 2 long hours later, after 6 whole months of being home alone, that he finally returned. Finally.

You hear his truck pull into the driveway before coming to a stop, the sound of his door slamming shut filling your ears. He opens the front door since you never locked it, and he kicks his boots off, quickly traveling through the house and upstairs to you guys' bedroom at almost the speed of light.

You look over from your spot on the bed, a grin tugging at the corners of James' lips as he sees you on the bed, impatiently waiting. Waiting for him. The grin is definitely cocky, but it's more soft and loving than anything. He missed his sweet, beautiful girl. He needed her too. He needed her badly. He shuffles over to the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You instantly sit up as he walks over to you, leaning your head up to eagerly return the kiss. You sigh softly at the familiar feeling of his soft, plump lips against yours for the first time in lord knows how long, and you murmur out between kisses, "Missed you s'much, James.."

"Missed you too, baby. God, I've missed you so much," He murmurs in response, gently pushing you back so you're laying down again, careful not to hurt you. You feel James climb on top of you, his elbows resting on either side of your head to hold himself up so he doesn't crush you. His hands cup your jaw gently, his lips still meeting yours in a series of soft, passionate, yet needy kisses.

You moan quietly against his lips, the sound ringing in his ears and making his cock grow hard and stiff in his jeans. His hands move down to find purchase on your hips, his knees the only thing keeping himself propped up.

His right hand dips down between your thighs, teasingly close to where you need it, but never even brushing your aching core. A shiver runs straight down your spine as James trails his lips down your neck after parting from the kiss, sucking and licking on the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. Your eyes flutter closed, your hand moving to grip his soft, short hair as his beard grazes the sensitive skin of your neck.

His hands slide under the waistband of your pajama pants, tugging them down to your knees. You push your pajama pants further down your legs, kicking them off your feet and watching as James pulls your soaked panties down as well, his eyes locking your wet pussy. He groans lightly at the sight, his eyes darkening with raw desire and love. His hands move to your knees to spread your legs wider before undoing his belt, making quick work to undo his uncomfortably tight jeans.

He shoves his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, his rock hard cock springing free from its confines. A bead of precum leaks down his shaft, his hand reaching up to stroke himself a few times as he positions himself between your legs.

After a few teasing seconds of prodding your entrance with the head of his cock, he sinks himself into your tight heat, groaning softly as your walls stretch around him. Your hands move up to grip onto his, interlocking your fingers with his as your hands rest on either side of your head, your pussy stretching out around his thick cock and hugging it like a glove.

He holds your hands a little tighter, his breathing growing ragged as his eyes gaze over your face, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort

"Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.. missed this so bad.." He rambles on, leaning over your body and pressing his lips against your neck as he bottoms out inside of you, desperately fighting off the urge to pound you into the mattress at any given moment.

He wants to take his time with you, to have you all to himself after all these months without seeing you. Yeah, phone calls are a thing, but they weren't enough. He missed you more than anything, and he certainly missed being inside of you like this. He leans up and looks down into your eyes with his half-lidded one, his lips parted as he whispers softly, "Tell me when I can move, okay?"

You give him a small nod, and with that, he slowly starts moving his hips, thrusting in and out of you at a gentle pace. His thumbs brush over your knuckles soothingly as you whimper softly, the pain almost overpowering the pleasure.

"Easy, baby, I've got you. Takin' me so well," He praises softly, the words starting to put you at ease. The pain slowly fades away, being replaced with pure pleasure.

He continues his slow and steady thrusts in and out of you, leaning down to kiss you gently. You kiss him back, his hips meeting yours in a sensual grind, pushing himself deeper inside of you. The tip of his dick hits the spot inside of you that makes your head spin, and he picks up the pace slightly after watching your head loll to the side, a small moan escaping your parted lips. He grunts a little, his thrusts becoming slighter deeper as he holds your hands.

"Look so pretty like this, you know that? Being such a good girl for me," He mutters, not even caring if you're listening to him or not. But, to his luck, you were. His words make your cheeks flush red, a wave of arousal and desire coursing through your body as your eyes close.

You feel the knot in your stomach start to form, your orgasm already getting embarrassingly close as you moan softly, your body heating up and shuddering underneath him. He lets go of one of your hands, bringing his own hand down to rub circles against your clit.

Your back arches off the bed, hips twitching and muscles tensing as he rubs at your clit, a whimper leaving your mouth as your eyes shut tighter. "Oh fuck..." You breathe, your voice strained as you moan, your head falling back against the pillows.

James moans softly as your walls tighten around him, his cock throbbing inside of you, desperate for release. He picks up the pace, covering your neck in soft, gentle kisses, a contrast to his rough love-making.

"Fuck, I missed you so much, baby girl... never gonna leave you like that again.." He moans, his shaft twitching inside of you as he gets closer to orgasm. Your walls hug his dick tighter, a low groan escaping his throat.

His thrusts turn sloppy, his hand still rubbing at your clit. Your hips buck and twitch, your muscles tensing even more as you whimper.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," He murmurs, kissing your cheek as he thrusts harder into you, sending you over the edge. With a soft whine, your eyes roll back a little as you cum, your orgasm washing over you harder than ever. He grunts and moans, his breathing heavy and ragged as he cums as well, emptying himself deep inside of you.

It takes you two a few seconds to come down from your orgasms, but once you do, he pulls out of you slowly. He leans down, kissing you softly as he moves his hands down to rub your hips soothingly.

"Be right back," He whispers softly, and you just hum in response as he walks out of the room. About a minute later, he comes back with a warm, wet rag. He sits on the edge of the bed, spreading your legs gently before carefully starting to clean you off, being sure not to brush any sensitive areas.

Once he's done, he pulls his hand away, tossing the rag to the side before scooting in bed beside you, his arms wrapping around you protectively. His hand rubs your back gently as he plants a gentle kiss to your temple.

You rest your head on his chest, listening to the calming sound of his heartbeat as he rubs your back. You missed being in his arms like this, nothing else could calm you down as much as this did.

Your eyes flutter closed as he whispers, "Get some sleep, sweetie, I'll be right here when you wake up."

And with that, you slowly start falling asleep, your boyfriend drifting off as well once he's sure you're asleep.

[ghostbustting]

Hey, I was wondering if you could write something about the fact that the reader has been James's partner for 5 years, and while they are at their friend's birthday party they argue over silly things but they both take it to heart, so the reader decides to make James jealous with x man (nothing too far-fetched) then James gets really upset and takes the reader to his house and they have rough sex (where James takes out his annoyance on the reader) And by the way, let it end with some good ending.

I imagined this scenario with James 1998, when he becomes beefier 🤭.

thank u anon, I shall say the word "beefier" on a daily basis now.

╰┈➤“𝑫𝑶𝑵'𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾

𝒀𝑶𝑼'𝑹𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑬 .ᐣ„ ๋࣭⭑

‘98!James Hetfield x Reader

Contains smut.

Hand in hand, James and I carefully step into the bar that we were told to go to by his bandmate Kirk and his wife Lani, finding all of our friends and some faces we haven’t recognized yet all gathered around the bar to celebrate the guitarist’s wife’s 27th birthday.

Smiles are on everyone’s face while I release James’ hand in order to pull Lani into a warm embrace, “Happy birthday!” I congratulate her, pecking her cheek and stepping back, watching as James congratulate her as well.

Kirk stood by her side with an even wider smile than I usually see on him daily, it warms my heart to see how many love he have as his eyes stays on Lani, seemingly mesmerized by her.

James and I stood back with the others as someone brings in Lani’s birthday cake, I feel his arm around me as he kiss my head, making me lean against him as we watch her make a wish and blow the candles.

Then, Kirk wrap his arms around her and kiss her passionately before exclaiming to the crowd, “Happy birthday to this amazing wife of mine!!” His cheeky smile spreads to Lani’s own face as everyone cheer.

I watch the look they share with each other, my eyes slowly falling to the wedding rings on their fingers.. then to my own empty finger.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot of how Kirk and Lani had only been dating each other for one year only, yet they have already gotten married not long ago in January.

I can’t help but compare the both of them and their marriage to my five year relationship with James.

We’ve been together for so long, yet only ever keeping things as boyfriend and girlfriend. Sure, maybe it means he’s extremely loyal. But is it wrong if I just want to make things even more serious with him? I only ever wanted to be tied to him by an unbreakable vow and strengthen our love.

James and I sit down with the rest, drinking. My eyes slowly gaze upon him, the smile on his face as someone make a crappy joke. I feel the need to try to talk about it to him, finding the couple in front of us as a perfect topic starter.

I wait patiently for the perfect moment, clearing my throat as he drink. “Hey, James?” I slowly call out to him. His blue eyes look over at me and he grin, “Yea, baby?” He place the glass of drink back down on the table.

Taking deep breaths, I slowly speak. “So.. Kirk and Lani make a pretty couple, right..? Can’t believe they’re already 11 months into marriage.”

“Yeah, but eh that’s love.” He answer casually.

I look down and sigh, “I um.. Well, what about us..?” I start again, he look at me with a raised eyebrow, a small hint of confusion on his face. “We’ve been dating for five years now, so I’m wondering—”

“God..” He mutter and sigh, taking another sip of his glass.

I cut myself off when I hear this, a bit surprised by his attitude. “Excuse me?” I lean back in my seat and furrow my eyebrows, “What’s with the sigh?” I ask, sounding a bit offended.

He drowned his drink and sigh as he swallow the liquid, setting the glass down. He slowly turn his gaze towards me, shrugging. “Look, I love you and you love me. Isn’t that enough luck for you?”

“Luck? That’s what you call our love? Not fate?”

He groaned and run a hand through his blond hair, “I don’t mean it like that! I’m just saying, we don’t need to concern about marriage as long as we love each other.” He rambled out, rolling his eyes.

Though his words are partially correct, it’s his attitude that bugs me. “But don’t you think we should start a family? It’s been five years, James. Five goddamn years—” But then he cut me off yet again.

“Yea you said that already. Besides, you’re already a family to me like I probably am to you.”

“But—”

“Can you just stop thinking about it? It’s a fucking birthday party, not a couple counseling.”

Feeling sick of his attitude, I sigh and stand up from my chair. “Where do you think you’re going?” James ask me, a hint of surprise in his voice. Instead, I simply shrug him off and take my glass with me as I walk away to another side of the bar.

I didn’t know why, but knowing he reject the very thought of creating an actual family, tying an ever tighter bond between us, making our love even more true, breaks my heart. I know he’s probably not ready yet. I know I’m supposed to accept his choice.

But I can’t stand the fact all of my friends had to shove their wedding rings in front of my face.

Sliding into a stool, I sigh and place my glass on the bar counter. I rest my elbow on the counter as I bury my face in my hands, rethinking the situation in my head. I find his harsh responses to be terribly unnecessary, he could’ve just responded with a softer response and try patiently to make me understand.

That’s when I hear someone slipping into the stool that was placed next to the one I’m currently sitting on. My eyes slowly peek through my fingers to see the mystery person, finding a guy I have never seen before. To be fair, I don’t know most faces here.

“Hey there.” He greeted me, a charming smile on his face, his arms resting on the counter as he tilt his head and look at me with those chocolate eyes.

“Hello..” I answer hesitantly.

Eventually, I discover that he was a close friend of Lani back then. He’s actually quite a nice and charismatic man, his style is a huge contrast to James’, yet no less intriguing. His brown eyes always looking serious whenever I speak, appreciating every letter that enters his ears. But of course.. there wasn’t any real special interest I have for him.

As he speak, I glance around the bar a little, a smile on my face now as he have lifted up my mood again. It didn’t took long before I notice the cold jealous eyes from across the bar that belongs to none other than my one and only boyfriend, James Hetfield.

Usually, it was a danger to play with fire when the James you’re dealing with is this type of James. But seeing the way his eyes sends daggers into the guy in front of me, the way his fingers grip his glass tightly to the point it seems like it’s about to shatter, the look of jealousy in his face..

I can’t help but grin to myself before I turn to the guy again.

Leaning slightly closer to the guy, I start talking more with him, making sure to laugh at a shitty joke he slip in that I’d probably actually call cringe if only I wasn’t testing James.

I put on my most stupid smile an twirl a piece of hair around my index finger as I listen to this guy ramble about something I surely and never will partake any interest in. He was definitely not James. He doesn’t share the same interest as the ones that James and I would talk about nonstop almost everyday of every year.

Bored, I take my glass of drink and take a sip of it. That’s when.. I feel a hand harshly grip my arm and tug on it.

When I turn my head, I was met by a stern looking James. It’s hard to tell what emotion was exactly built up inside those icy cold blue eyes of his, whether it’s jealousy, anger, annoyance, or everything in once. Nevertheless, the way his eyes immediately stare right into my soul gave my heart a quick pang of shock.

“Wha—”

“We’re leaving.”

“But—”

“No.”

Before I can say another word, he just drag me by my arm out of my seat and out of that bar, simply yelling to his friends; “See you, man!”

I was forced to stay silent as he bring us over to our car and push me into the passenger seat before jogging to the other side of the car and get into the driver seat. I look at him cautiously as I slowly relax into the seat.

The ride to his house was filled with tension, he didn’t even spoke a word or glance a bit at me, yet he kept his hand on my thigh, gripping it tightly and even massaging the flesh every now and then, especially when he got pissed off by the other drivers on the road.

Sure, I planned for him to fully unleash his jealousy. But I never really expected him to be this.. intense.

My heart was practically jumping in and out of my chest by the time we arrive on the driveway of his house, I try to speak. “James—” Then again, my words fail to come out as he immediately exit the car and go around to my side.

He opens my passenger seat door and suddenly grab me without another word, throwing me over his shoulder while he close the door with his other hand. I gasp and squirm on his shoulder as he carry me all the way into his house.

“James- put me down..” I practically whined and grab onto his shirt, scared of falling and possibly hitting my head hard on the floor. I let out another gasp when he take his hand and land a harsh smack to my ass. I stop squirming and wince.

I could’ve sworn I heard him mutter something under his breath that I couldn’t really hear clearly while I watch as he close the front door and lock it, still holding me on his shoulder as he start to walk us upstairs.

I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. He was quiet. Way too quiet. All I could hear and feel is my own loud heartbeat while holding tightly onto his shoulder, I can smell the stinging but nice scent of his cologne filling my nostrils.

Even without being able to see his face, I can sense how he surely isn’t playing anymore.

Then before I know it, we were in his room and he kick the door shut before storming his way to the bed and technically throwing me onto it, causing a small grunt from me.

His bed has always been comfortable, the sheets has been a witness of all the love we shared in his room and on his bed. Innocently, and.. not so innocently.

His large hand slammed down on the spot next to my head, his face leaning down close to mine, just a few inches apart. “You fucking slut.” He spat, his voice deeper than I remember and his eyes colder than I ever saw. “You did that on purpose didn’t you?”

“Did what..?” I try to play dumb, though my eyes were slightly widened, intimidated by the proximity and how much tension he’s putting on tonight. I can’t help but press my thighs together, feeling an oh so familiar soaking spot on my panties.

“You know damn well what.” All of a sudden, he flip me over and push my dress over my ass, my eyes widening and I try to squirm out of my position of which is underneath him.

Denying my effort, he pull me back and keep me in place as he lift my hips up a little, pushing my head into the sheets as his hand lands harshly on my ass, leaving a red mark in the shape of his very own large hand, a loud gasp and a wince coming out of me. “Trying to make me jealous? That jerk didn’t even look half good as me.”

I can’t help but let out a small scoff at his statement, only earning another harsh spank to my ass. I wince and try to pull down my dress back, failing when his hand slapped mine away and hit again, even harsher this time.

He was mean. Always has been when he’s not in a good mood.

The worse part is I love it.

“Did you really think I’d let you go home with a dick that small? Don’t you know you’re mine?” He chuckle and pull down my panties slowly, I just knew he was smirking wide and cocky when he saw the sinful pool on my panties. “Dirty girl..” He mutter as he throw the panties away.

An even louder gasp leaves me when I feel his tongue on my cunt, his hands holding my hips tightly in his grasp. “James—” I was cut off by another spank to my ass along with a harsh suckle on my clit, I moan and whimper, hips wiggling uncontrollably as he work his tongue’s magic on me.

I can feel him spitting onto my pussy before diving back in, his groan muffled. He sucked and licked and bite and technically made out with every part of me he found down there. Every single one of those action never failed to pull out the loudest moan from me.

My visions turns blurry, the pleasure always way too much to handle every single time. I will never underestimate the power this musician holds on me. He knows way too much about my weakness. Perhaps, that’s because he’s the only man I’ll ever let discover the dirties part of me.

The moment his tongue slips through my folds, I lost it.

I was a moaning mess, gripping every part of the sheets that I could reach while he ate me out like a starving man. Yet his cock haven’t even made it out of his boxers.

“James please.. ahn.. more..”

I whined when he delivered even more rough spanks onto my ass, feeling the mark he left stinging and will surely make sitting a difficult task for me to do later on. Each time his palm meets my skin, more tears build up in my eyes.

A tight knot is felt in my stomach and the moment he gave a harsh suck on my pussy, I start to release on his tongue, moaning loudly to the point I’m sure these walls around us might betray us and spill my pleads for him to our neighbors.

I can feel him lick me clean one last time before pulling back, his hand immediately going to his belt and unbuckling it. “Who said you can cum? Hm?” He sounds breathless yet annoyed at the same time.

Hips back down on the bed, I was still recovering from my strong release, tears spilling from my eyes to the sheets underneath me, soaking it. That’s when I feel him tap his cock on my ass. “Hips. Up.”

What else can I do other than obey him and lift my hips up, though my weak state only allowed me to do lift it a little, which then James force with his hands to be up high in the air on display for him to completely ruin.

“I’ll show you what that fucking dickhead can’t give you.” He hold onto my ass before guiding his cock in with his other hand, immediately thrusting in a harsh pressure, meeting that one special spot in me right away.

I gasp and grip onto sheets, “Oh fuck!” I cry as he grab ahold of my hips and hold it still, his hips ramming back and forth into mine, his well-sized cock stretching me out and hitting all the right spots in me I’m sure he knows all too well.

His grunts along with the sounds of his balls slapping against my pussy fills my ears, yet they were no competition to my loud moans, they just keep pouring out of my mouth and might make me lose my voice later on. But I could care less. If this man stuffed inside me felt the need to take out his annoyance to me and show me who I belong to, I’m ready all night for him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He murmured and deliver another hit to the already numb skin of my ass.

“I’m yours!” I moaned, “I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours!!”

“So you do know your place, huh?”

That’s when I feel his fingers in my hair, fisting it into a ball. I wince when he tugged on it and hold onto it as his hips move in a surreal speed, thrusting in and out of me in a speed of light. My lips were parted as I pant and whimper at the feeling, almost like a dog. It was humiliating. But at the same time arousing for him.

My eyes rolls to the back of my head, tears rolling down my cheeks uncontrollably, my hips try to move to his rhythm as well, adding to the pleasure. I slowly turn my head back towards James, finding him smirking smugly, still groaning with every thrusts. “Yea? You like that?”

He pulled me up by my hair and my back meets his chest, his arms wrap around me as he continue to thrust into me, my hands grip onto his arms as I lean my head on his shoulder. “C’mon.. answer me, baby.” He pull down the top of my dress now to pull out both of my breasts, cupping them in his hands.

“I love it!” I moaned out.

He chuckle and took ahold of my face, his lips finding mine in an instant, starting a sloppy and desperate kiss, our tongues meeting and rubbing against one another lazily. I whimper and look down when we pull away, “James.. wanna cum..” I mumble, breathless.

He bury his face in my neck and start kissing and biting there, a mark was made right below my ear. “Do it with me, baby. C’mon.”

With one last weak yet desperate thrust, we held onto each other and let out the most sinful noises ever as we release our load together. His cum shooting into me while mine came gushing out and mixing with his while he pull out his cock.

Too weak, I fall onto the bed and whine as I feel our mixed cum slowly dripping out of my swollen and used cunt.

He let out a heavy sigh as he fell onto my back, kissing from my shoulder, to my back, to the back of my neck, and to my other shoulder. I just hum tiredly, appreciating his caring gesture in a small soft smile as I turn to him.

I lift his arm up and slip right into it, “I’m sorry for—”

“No, I am.”

I look up at him with raised eyebrows, a bit taken aback by his sudden apology and refusal of my own apology.

He shook his head and look down, his hand reaching up to play with my hair, a habit he does every aftercare. “I shouldn’t have said it like that to you.. I was being a complete unreasonable jerk. I should’ve told you I’m not ready..” He sigh and kept his head low with his eyes away, as if he’s embarrassed of himself.

“James..” I sigh and reach up to cup his cheek, “Don’t be sorry, please..” I whisper and kiss his nose, smiling softly. “What happened earlier is just a silly misunderstanding, okay..? I love you and you love me, as long as we have love and each other, the world doesn’t matter.” I spoke, using his own words yet with a better arrangement. My voice gentle as I paint his face with kisses, pulling out his own smile as his blue eyes met mine again.

“God bless your mom and dad for creating you.” He mumble as he tuck a couple hair behind my ear. I laugh softly and close my eyes as I rest my head on his chest.

[valwrites-stuff]

heyyy you write beautifully for current James and I was wondering can I request one, if that’s alright please? They both are best friends knowing each other since they were born(they both are famous rockstars) After James divorce the reader comforts him (you can add the smut part here if you want 🙈) James realized that she was the one who he should marry not his ex wife. Feel free to add something else🖤🖤🖤

Hope you like this ❣️

Blind

James Hetfield x Reader ☆ smut, friends to lovers

You and James had been best friends since childhood. Growing up together, you shared everything from secrets to dreams. Both of you had a passion for music, and as you got older, you both pursued your dreams of becoming rockstars.

You found success with your band, while James found fame with his own. Despite being in different bands, you remained close friends, always supporting each other through the ups and downs of the music industry.

When James went through a tough divorce, you were there for him every step of the way. You listened to him vent and reminded him of his worth. You were his rock during his darkest days, and he couldn't have been more grateful for your unwavering support.

As time passed, James began to see you in a different light. He realized that you were the one who had always been there for him, the one who truly understood him and cared for him. He started to see that you were the one he should have married, not his ex-wife, realizing that he was slowly falling in love with you over all these years.

One day, as you were sitting together backstage, after a show, your band being the opening act for Metallica. The energy from the show still buzzing in the air.

James let out a sigh, running a hand through his sweaty silver hair  "Man, that was a killer show. Thanks for being a part of it." You smiled with a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, James. Today was so great. You guys were amazing as always."

He nodded, but you could see the weight of something else on his shoulders. "What's on your mind? You seem a little off."

James hesitated for a moment before opening up. "It's just...my divorce. It's been weighing on me a lot lately. I thought I was okay, but it's still hard, you know?"

You nodded sympathetically, knowing how tough it must be for him. "I'm here for you, James. You know that, right?"

He smiled gratefully, but then his expression turned serious. "There's something else I need to tell you, though. Something I've been keeping to myself for a while now." You raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is it?"

James took a deep breath, his eyes meeting yours. "I...I have feelings for you. More than just friendship. I've been trying to ignore it, but it's been eating away at me."

You were taken aback, not expecting this confession. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the sincerity and vulnerability there. And at that moment, you realized that maybe he always secretly had the same feelings for you as you had for him. Wondering if you could have been married to him all this time instead of his ex-wife, sparing him the difficult divorce. But perhaps the divorce was needed to make space for something new.

"I...I don't know what to say, James," you stammered, feeling a rush of emotions. "I never knew you felt that way."

He reached out, taking your hand in his. "I understand if you don't feel the same. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it inside any longer."

You squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth spreading through you. "James, I...I think I feel the same way. I did for a long time, actually. I never thought you would like me in that way."

A smile spread across his face, relief evident in his eyes. "Really? You mean it?" You nodded, feeling a weight lifting off your chest. "Yes, James. I mean it."

And in that moment, backstage after a show, you and James shared a tender, heartfelt moment that would change the course of your friendship forever. Love had been hiding in the shadows, but now it was out in the open, ready to be embraced.

James smiled even more, sitting closer until you were mere inches from his body, his hand resting on your knee. He looked into your eyes, blushing. After a pause, he spoke up, his voice soft as though he was testing the waters. “I don't know what to say, um...maybe I...Can I... do something?”

You look into his blue eyes, managing a nod. James smiled tenderly, a little nervous, and lifted one of his hands to cup the side of your face, gently caressing your skin with his thumb. Without another word, James leaned in and kissed me, his lips soft and tender against mine. The kiss quickly deepened, igniting a fire within me that I had never felt before.

James hummed into the kiss, enjoying it more than he could ever imagine, which caused him to pull you closer against his body until you were pressed flush, almost no space between you two. He softly nibbled on your lower lip, silently asking for permission to continue further.

You felt your body temperature heat up and parted your lips as James slowly slipped his tongue into your mouth, his hands now gripping your hips firmly, pulling you to him. His tongue explored your mouth hungrily, a low hum reverberating in his chest.

You melt into him, now desperate for more. James continued to kiss you, his hands gripped your hips, almost possessively now, as his tongue began to gently and slowly swirl around your own. His mind was filled with you, and nothing but you. He slowly pushed you backwards until your back hit the soft cushions of the sofa.

You let out a sigh and wrapped your arms around his neck as James' body hovered over yours, strong tattooed arms kept you locked in place.

James broke the kiss for a moment, his breathing coming out in short, shallow breaths as he looked down at you, his eyes slowly raking over your form. "You're so beautiful...was so blind..." He was panting slightly, his cheeks flushed, as he lowered his head towards your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your collarbone, all the while hardening in his pants.

"Should have told you years ago, I'm sorry..." You whispered, running your fingers through his silver locks. James mumbled against your skin, his words low and his hot breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

He began to leave a trail of small, gentle nips and kisses across your collarbone, his hands slowly making their way down to grip the back of your thighs. “Nevermind that... ‘m gonna make up for lost time now...”

James groaned low against your skin when you wrapped your thigh around his waist. One of his hands quickly slipped underneath it, his fingers gripping the back of it to hold you in place against him. He left a trail of kisses up the underside of your jaw, reaching your ear, and nipping at the soft lobe, gently pulling it between his teeth, his hips shifting to press against your core.

"Mhm James, I need to feel all of you...waited so long..." James groaned softly against your neck before he quickly lifted his head to look down at you. His eyes roamed over your face, taking in the sight of you. He was panting, his breath coming in shallow gasps now. “Are you sure? I don’t know if I can stop once I start, princess...”

"I don't know if I want you to stop once you start." You smiled and watched him expectantly. James looked at you for just a moment before he gently cups one side of your face with his large hand, his thumb caressing your cheek gently.

He lent down and presses a soft, slow kiss to your lips, all while his other hand slowly slides under the hem of your shirt, his fingers slowly skimming over the soft skin at your waist. When he pulled away from the kiss, he whispered against your lips. “You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart.”

James slowly began to pull your shirt up, exposing more of your skin, all while his mouth began to leave a trail of kisses down the new bared skin, stopping to remove the piece of clothing from you, throwing it aside.

He looked down at your bra for a moment before he gently palmed your breast through the fabric until his other hand snaked around to your back to undo the hook of your bra. “God… I’ve imagined seeing you like this… so many times… couldn’t get the sight out of my mind…”

James gently slipped your bra off and quickly tossed it somewhere, his eyes slowly raking over your bare chest. He swallowed thickly before he looked back at you, his breath catching in his throat for a moment. “You're perfect."

You shivered once the cool air hit your naked chest, nipples standing tall in anticipation. James slowly lowered his head to your chest, his gaze never leaving your own as he began to lay a trail of open-mouthed kisses and gentle nips along your collarbone, down the center of your chest, his hands squeezing you gently, followed by a pause to undress from the sweaty shirt he's wearing adding it to the pile of clothes on the floor.

He kicked off his boots before opening his leather pants to undress, before he placed hungry kisses on your belly. James warm breath caressed your skin, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His gentle kisses left a path of tingling desire in their wake.

When he reached the waistband of your shorts, he paused, seeking silent consent. Your body was arching subtly into his touch, as if begging him to proceed. With a soft hum of approval, James eased your zipper down, his fingers grazing the sensitive flesh beneath. He peeled back the fabric, revealing the lacy edges of your panties. A slow, sensual smile spreads across his face as he pulls the heeled boots from your feet, followed by your shorts.

You watched his every move, impatiently waiting to finally feel all of the man you always dreamed of. James admired the sight before leaning down to place a soft kiss right above your clit, through the lace, making you wetter by the second.

The delicate lace of your panties was no barrier to James's questing mouth. He pressed tender kisses against the damp fabric, his breath hot and enticing against your most intimate area. Each kiss sent ripples of pleasure coursing through your body, making you squirm restlessly beneath him. The friction of the lace against your swollen clit heightened your sensitivity, and you couldn't suppress a needy whimper as your hips lift involuntarily, seeking more contact. "James, please, I need you."

James chuckled low in his throat as his hands slid up your thighs, thumbs brushing against the outer lips of your sex through the thin material. Slowly, almost reverently, he begun to peel away the lacy barrier, exposing your glistening folds to his eager gaze.

He discarded his boxers with haste, freeing his impressive length from its confines. It sprang forth, thick and hard. Your eyes widened as you took in the sight of him, your tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips. He looked magnificent, all sinewy muscle and raw masculinity. When he wrapped one large hand around his shaft, giving himself a slow stroke from base to tip, you couldn't tear your gaze away.

The movement was mesmerizing, his calloused palm gliding over velvety skin. He pumped himself languidly, his thumb swirling around the leaking head, smearing the clear fluid. All the while, his heated gaze remained locked on yours, dark with promise and barely restrained hunger.

"Up to your expectations, sweetheart? Tell me, do you want this?" James hovered over you, hot and ready.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached up and grasped James's firm buttocks, pulling him closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your slick folds. "Give me what I wanted for so long."

Your words, laced with longing and yearning, serve as a catalyst for the intense moment about to unfold. With a sigh, James lined up with your entrance before sheathing himself within your welcoming heat. A collective gasp echoed through the room as he fills you completely, his girth stretching your inner walls deliciously.

For a fleeting instant, you remained still, savoring the sensation of being utterly joined. Then, with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, James began to move. Each stroke was a masterful blend of tenderness and passion, designed to stoke the flames of your desire to a fever pitch.

As he picked up pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, punctuated by your breathy moans and James's guttural groans.

Your body responded instinctively to James's rhythmic thrusts, undulating beneath him as waves of pleasure began to crest. The sensation of being so thoroughly claimed, so deeply connected to another, was almost overwhelming in its intensity.

With each powerful stroke, James seemed to hit that sweet spot inside you, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. Your nails dig into his back, urging him on as you lost yourself in the relentless build of ecstasy.

James's hands roamed your curves possessively, one palm cupping your breast while the other teases your clit. His touch was electric, every caress heightening the ardor between you until you were both panting and straining towards the precipice of climax.

"Oh fuck, Jamie. I'm coming..." Your breathy cry of impending release spurred James on, his hips pistoning faster as he drives into you with renewed vigor.

"I've got you," James rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own orgasm. "Let go, sweetheart. Come for me."

His thumb on your clit rubbed tight circles around the swollen nub as he continues to pound into you. The dual sensations prove too much, and with a keening wail, you tumble over the edge into oblivion.

Wave after wave of pure bliss crashed over you, your inner muscles clamping down around James's shaft as you convulse beneath him.

James' body tensed, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he buries himself to the hilt within you. His hot seed pulsed forth in powerful spurts, filling you to the brim as he rides out the intense climax.

For a few moments, you remained entwined, caught in the aftermath of your shared ecstasy. James' face was a mask of satisfaction, his eyes closed as he savors the feeling of your warmth enveloping him. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your own, a soothing counterpoint to the chaos of emotions swirling inside you.

Slowly, James pulled out, his softening member slipping free with a wet sound. A tender smile played on his lips as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead. "I was a blind man, very blind..."

"And I was just plain stupid to not tell you what I feel..." As you lay there, breathless and spent, you knew that this was just the beginning of our journey together. Despite the challenges and obstacles that lay ahead, you were certain that your love would conquer all.

And as you held each other close, you whispered, "I love you, James. I always will." And in that moment, you knew that you were meant to be together, now and forever.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Warnings: Mature Themes,Explicit Content Sexual Content,Strong Language,Intense Sexual Content, Emotional Intensity,Sensitive Topics (About marriage)

P.S I wanted to tell you this story is a work of fiction and is not intended to represent any real-life events or individuals. It is solely for entertainment purposes.

Craving the Forbidden

The rhythmic hum of the vacuum cleaner filled the mansion, steady and soothing as I moved through the sprawling halls. This place was a fortress of luxury—high ceilings, dark wood, and towering windows that framed views of an endless horizon. It felt like a castle, but it was so quiet it might as well have been a mausoleum.

I’d been working here for two years, long enough to know every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that shifted with the setting sun. Long enough to know the man who lived here, too.

James Hetfield.

He wasn’t just my employer; he was a rock god. Frontman of Metallica, a legend whose name carried more weight than I could fathom. And yet, he was also something else. Something infinitely more complicated.

James Hetfield wasn’t supposed to be kind. Or thoughtful. Or so... human. But he was. And that’s what made working here harder than it should’ve been.

I dusted the shelves in the library, my hands steady even though my thoughts weren’t. I had no right to think about him the way I did. He was married. Famous. Completely out of reach.

And yet, I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened every time I saw him.

The front door clicked open, the sound reverberating through the empty halls. My breath caught. I wasn’t expecting him.

“Y/n?” His deep, gravelly voice echoed down the hall.

I straightened, smoothing my apron before stepping out into the foyer. He stood there, guitar case slung over one shoulder, sunglasses pushed up into his tousled hair. His presence filled the room like a storm rolling in—effortless, magnetic, dangerous.

“James,” I said, keeping my voice even. “I didn’t think you’d be home today.”

“Change of plans,” he said, setting the guitar down by the door. His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thought I’d work from home for a bit.”

I nodded, clutching my cleaning supplies tightly. “I’ll stay out of your way.”

“You never do.” The words were soft, but they carried an undercurrent that made my pulse quicken.

I ducked my head and hurried back to the kitchen, my cheeks burning. The hours crawled by as I moved through the house, each room feeling smaller and more suffocating with him here. His presence was impossible to ignore—the faint sound of his guitar drifting from the living room, the occasional creak of floorboards as he moved upstairs.

By the time I reached his office, my nerves were frayed. This was the one room I avoided whenever I could. It felt too personal. The walls were lined with gold records, guitars propped in every corner, and framed photos that told the story of his life. Photos of his band, his kids, his wife.

Those pictures always made my chest ache.

I pushed open the door, steeling myself as I set down the bucket of supplies. My hands trembled slightly as I dusted the bookshelves, each movement careful and deliberate.

“You don’t have to do that right now.”

His voice startled me, and I turned sharply to see him standing in the doorway. His arms were crossed, but his expression was anything but casual.

“Sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes locked on mine, filled with something raw, something that made it impossible to breathe.

“I was just finishing up,” I said quickly, moving to grab my supplies. “I’ll leave—” “Y/n,” he interrupted, his voice softer now. “Stay. Please.”I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. “Why?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his confidence faltering. “Because I need to tell you something.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the air thick and charged. I leaned against the desk, gripping the edge for support. “What is it?”

James sighed, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of his words was too much to carry. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t want you.”

My breath hitched, my grip tightening on the desk. “You shouldn’t say that.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze steady despite the crack in his voice. “But it’s the truth. And I think you feel it too.”

Tears burned in my eyes as I shook my head. “James, you’re married. This isn’t right.”

His jaw tightened, and he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. “My marriage has been broken for years, Y/n. We’re just holding on for the kids, for the image, for everything except love.”

“That doesn’t make this okay,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

“I know it doesn’t,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “But it doesn’t change how I feel about you. How I’ve felt for a long time.”

The words hit me like a tidal wave, breaking down every defense I’d built over the past two years. I stared at him, tears slipping down my cheeks. “I don’t know how to stop feeling this way,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

James closed the distance between us, his hand brushing against mine. The touch was soft, tentative, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “Then don’t,” he whispered.

I looked up at him, my resolve crumbling as his fingers gently traced the back of my hand. Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I leaned into him. His arms wrapped around me, strong and steady, pulling me against his chest.

The space between us disappeared entirely, his body pressing against mine as we sank deeper into the couch. His hands, steady and deliberate, slid over my waist and up my back, drawing me closer. Each touch sent a shiver racing through me, my skin coming alive beneath his fingertips.

His lips never left mine for long, returning again and again with an urgency that grew with every passing second. When he pulled back to catch his breath, his forehead rested against mine, his lips brushing lightly over my cheek, my jaw.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick and low, a plea more than a word.

I tilted my head, granting him the space to let his lips trail down the line of my neck. The heat of his breath, the faint scrape of his stubble, made my heart race wildly. My hands clung to him, finding the solid strength of his shoulders, the warmth of his chest beneath his shirt.

He kissed me again, this time deeper, with an intensity that left no room for hesitation. His hand slid up my side, skimming over my ribs before settling at the small of my back, anchoring me to him as his lips moved against mine. Every part of me burned, the room around us disappearing into the haze of shared heat and need.

The soft sound of my name on his lips made my chest tighten. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if that could make the moment last forever. His touch became more insistent, his hands exploring, his lips speaking a language I understood in the way they pressed, tasted, lingered.

The space between us vanished entirely as he closed the distance, his body pressing me back against the solid edge of the desk. His hands, rough and warm, skimmed my waist before gripping it firmly, pulling me flush against him. His lips claimed mine with a hunger I hadn’t felt before—raw and all-consuming.

When he pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against mine. His fingers traced my jaw, his lips brushing over the shell of my ear as he whispered, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to rip these clothes off of you... to see you, all of you naked”

The words sent a shiver through me, and before I could respond, he took my hand, pulling me toward the bookshelf. My back hit the sturdy wooden frame, the books rattling softly as his body caged mine. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding down my arms before settling on the buttons of my blouse.

His eyes locked on mine as he began to undo them one by one, his breath warm against my cheek. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I have to fight myself not to do this.”

I couldn’t speak, my voice caught in my throat as his hands moved lower, pushing the fabric off my shoulders. His fingers brushed my bare skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake. My heart pounded, the air between us thick and electric.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever let myself imagine,” he said, his voice soft but strained, his gaze taking me in like I was a masterpiece he’d waited years to touch.

His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer as his lips found mine again, fiercer this time. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips left mine to trail along my neck, down to my collarbone. Each kiss sent a spark racing through me, leaving me breathless and clinging to him.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered, his voice raw against my skin. “Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been losing sleep over this.”

“You’re not,” I admitted, my voice trembling but steady with truth. “I’ve wanted this, James. I’ve wanted you.”

His lips found mine again, hungrier now, as his hands roamed over my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. The warmth of him seeped into me, his touch igniting something deep and uncontrollable. He pushed the blouse from my shoulders completely, the fabric fluttering to the floor without a second thought.

His hands slid down to my waist, his fingers teasing the hem of my skirt. “Every time I see you in this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of my neck, “it drives me insane.”

I gasped as he lifted me slightly, turning us so I was pressed back against the bookshelf. The cool wood against my skin was a stark contrast to the heat of his hands, which worked to slide my skirt down my hips, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing the newly exposed skin with a reverence that made my knees weak.

He leaned back, his eyes dark and filled with something primal as he took me in. “Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself.

I reached for him then, my hands trembling but eager as I tugged at his shirt. He didn’t resist, letting me pull it over his head. My fingers traced the lines of his chest, the muscles beneath taut and warm under my touch. He watched me, his breathing uneven, as if my touch alone unraveled him.

When he leaned in again, his hands found the clasp of my bra, pausing just long enough for his gaze to meet mine. “Okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, unable to speak.

James took a deep breath, his eyes dark and filled with a mix of desire and reverence as he pulled back slightly. His hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, the motion deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment. Slowly, he undid the button and the zipper, his gaze never leaving mine.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, as if he was trying to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He slipped his jeans down, revealing the taut muscles of his legs, his body every bit as imposing as it was graceful. I watched him, the heat between us growing stronger, more palpable with each passing second. He stood before me, bare-chested, seeming like a Greek god,  looking  with a storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He was beautiful in a way I never could have imagined, and now that the layers between us were slowly falling away, it felt like everything was shifting, like we were moving toward something neither of us could stop.

He stepped closer, his hands running over his own chest, and I reached out, my fingers tracing the lines of his abs, the warmth of his skin sending a shiver down my spine. Then I moved closer to his boxer, lowering it a bit to make his cock slliping out. 

“I want to make you feel good,” I whispered, my voice soft, but full of intent. I meant it, more than anything else. I took his cock erected and started stroking it gently, yet quick. 

His reaction was immediate. A low moan escaped his lips, the sound soft but filled with desire. I felt a surge of satisfaction at the sound, knowing that I was the one making him feel this way. His body tensed beneath my touch, every muscle drawn tight with need.

The sound of his moan—deep and unrestrained—only made me more determined to keep going, to show him just how much I wanted to give. I moved slowly, my fingers working with precision, matching the rhythm of his breathing. I could feel him reacting to each subtle movement, his body leaning into me as if urging me on.

His hands moved to my hips, pulling me closer as he kissed me, his lips urgent, but still gentle. I could taste the desperation in his kiss, the unspoken longing he didn’t have to say aloud. But his moan told me everything I needed to know. It made my chest tighten, a flutter of heat spreading through me at how badly he wanted this, wanted me.

With every stroke, I could feel him getting closer, his body trembling beneath my touch. He leaned into me, pressing his forehead against mine, his hands gripping my hips as if trying to steady himself. His breathing grew more shallow, the moans escaping him louder, more desperate now.

“You feel so good,” he breathed against my lips, his voice rough with need. “So good, Y/n.” His breath was quick and uneven, each word heavier than the last, his eyes dark with desire.

I could feel the way my own body responded to him, the fluttering in my stomach, the warmth spreading between my legs. I wanted to keep making him feel this way—wanted to see him undone by my touch. The moan that escaped his lips only encouraged me to continue, the sound echoing in my mind, and I matched the rhythm he set with my own, feeling a heat surge through me with every movement.

 There was only this moment, only the connection between us—deep, raw, and undeniable. I could feel his heartbeat under my fingertips, steady and frantic all at once. The way he moaned, his breath hitching with every motion, made me feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time.

I leaned into him, kissing him deeply, taking my time with the kiss as I felt the tension in his body grow. Every touch, every breath between us felt like it was drawing us closer, making the world outside disappear.

I kept my pace slow, letting the anticipation build, knowing how much he needed this, how much he needed me to be there with him. I could feel him trembling beneath my touch, the way his body reacted to each gentle stroke.

And then, with a shuddering breath, he moaned again, his entire body jerking slightly as he let go, his chest heaving as he finally released, the tension in him breaking. He collapsed into me, his hands gripping my shoulders for support as he tried to steady his breathing.

“Y/n,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so close...”

I held him close, my hands gently stroking him as I let him come down from the wave of pleasure. His breath was ragged, and I kissed him softly, as he came.

My body was still humming from the intense connection we'd just shared, and James, standing so close to me, his chest rising and falling with each breath, was no different. His hands remained on my body, and his gaze—those deep, smoldering eyes—told me everything I needed to know. 

His lips brushed lightly against mine once more, a kiss that was soft, lingering, and filled with unspoken emotion. His mouth parted against mine, just a breath away. “You were incredible,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, thick with desire. “You’re so much more than I imagined.”

I smiled at the sincerity in his voice, a warmth spreading through my chest. But even as he spoke, I could feel the tension building in the air again. He was looking at me like he couldn’t wait for the next moment to begin.

And I felt the same.

His fingers traced a slow path down my arm, igniting a trail of fire on my skin as he moved closer, his body aligning with mine. The gentle pressure of his chest against mine sent waves of sensation crashing through me, and I didn’t want to fight it anymore. His touch was electric, sparking something deeper, something raw between us that I couldn't quite name.

“I want to make you feel good,” he murmured, his voice deep and thick, laced with a promise. His lips brushed against my neck as he pulled me closer, his warmth enveloping me completely. The subtle movements of his hands were deliberate, slow—his fingertips grazing over my skin like he was savoring the moment, like he never wanted it to end.

I closed my eyes, giving in to the feeling of him, of his presence filling every space between us. His lips trailed soft, heated kisses along my neck, then dipped lower, his breath warm against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. My pulse raced, every inch of me aching with desire for more.

Without warning, he moved—his hands gripping my waist as he lifted me effortlessly. My legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, my hands slipping into his hair, feeling the weight of his body against mine as he turned us toward the bookshelf. The cool wood met my back with a soft thud, but I didn’t feel the coldness; I felt only the heat of him, pressing into me, his lips returning to mine in a deep, consuming kiss.

 James held me against the bookshelf. His grip on me was firm, but there was a tenderness in the way he held me, as if he were afraid to break something delicate. But there was nothing delicate about this—nothing about the fire burning between us was fragile. It was raw, powerful, and undeniable.

I gasped softly as his lips found my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. “You’ve made me feel amazing, but now I want to make you feel everything.”

His hands trailed down my body, gently pushing me back against the bookshelf as he moved in closer, his body fitting perfectly against mine. The pressure of him, the heat radiating from his skin—it was overwhelming, intoxicating. 

You’re perfect,” he whispered, the words rough with emotion, as if he couldn’t believe this was really happening.

I closed my eyes, savoring the sound of his voice, the way he said my name like a prayer. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down my spine, and I responded instinctively, my body moving closer to his. I could feel his cock rubbing in my clit.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with desire. His lips found mine again, kissing me deeply, his tongue brushing against mine with a slow, intoxicating rhythm. I couldn’t hold back the soft moan that escaped from me, my hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

He deepened the kiss, sending shivers through my spine, and I felt a spark of heat ignite within me. His kiss was fire, melting away every ounce of hesitation, leaving only raw need and yearning. I couldn’t remember a time when I felt so alive, so completely attuned to another person.

He broke the kiss, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that took my breath away. “Are you sure, Y/n?” His voice was a whisper, but there was a hardness to it now, a hint of desperation. “I don’t want to push you… but I need you.”

I swallowed, my heart racing in my chest. I wasn’t sure if I could find the words, but I didn’t need to. My body was speaking for me, my hands reaching down to pull him closer, feeling the heat of his skin, the hardness of his body against mine. Every inch of me wanted him, craved him, and I could no longer pretend otherwise.

“I’m sure,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything we were about to share. “I want this. I want you.”

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile, and without another word, he lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed me more firmly against the bookshelf. The sudden movement took me by surprise, but the moment our bodies aligned, a shudder of anticipation ran through me. I gasped as his lips found my ear, his breath sending a wave of heat through me.

“Now it’s my turn to make you feel good,” he whispered against my skin, his voice husky with desire. “Let me show you just how much I’ve wanted this, how much I wanted to fuck you all of you”

The intensity in his voice made me weak in the knees. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wood of the bookshelf, and let him guide me, his hands firm but gentle as he positioned me just right. He was so close now that I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips trailing hot kisses down my skin.

I felt the pulse of heat between us grow, every second making my body ache with need. He pressed into me slowly, deeply, and I gasped at the sensation, the feeling of him filling me in a way that felt both overwhelming and perfect. I didn’t know if I could take it, but I didn’t care. Every inch of me was alive with need, and I moaned softly, feeling him shift his position just slightly to allow for a deeper connection.

“James…” I whispered, my voice barely a breath. The sound of his name on my lips felt like a confession, like a promise of everything that was happening between us.

His name escaped him in a low groan, his hands gripping my hips as he started to move against me, the rhythm slow and deliberate. He was teasing me, pushing me to the edge, and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted, how my breath hitched, how my nails dug into his shoulders.

“You feel so good, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice strained with pleasure as he kissed the sensitive skin on my neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

The pressure between us was building, and every move he made seemed to bring us closer to the edge. His hands moved to my chest, caressing my breasts with a tenderness that made me shiver. He pinched my nipple softly, and I moaned, arching into him, wanting more.

He kissed me again, his lips hungry, desperate. I felt the way he kissed me, not just with passion, but with a deep, aching need, as though he couldn’t get enough of me, couldn’t stop himself. I let myself melt into him, responding to each touch, each kiss, each movement as if my body had a mind of its own.

His rhythm grew more urgent, and with each thrust, I felt myself getting closer to the edge, the tension in my body so tight I thought I might snap. My moans grew louder, more desperate, matching the frantic pace he set, until finally, with one deep, almost desperate thrust, I felt myself breaking apart, my body trembling as I found release.

“J-James, I’m cumming” "I moaned softly, my body trembling from the intensity of his thrusters.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his hands holding me closer as the tension between us reached its peak. “Let me know how much you want this.”

His name spilled from my lips again, a breathless cry, and the sound of it seemed to push him over the edge. I felt him tense, his body shuddering against mine as he followed me, his deep groan echoing in my ear. We both froze for a moment, suspended in the aftermath, the air thick with our combined breaths.

We stayed like that, locked in each other's arms, unable to let go of the connection we had created. James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me, his breath coming in soft pants against my ear. I could hear the steady beat of his heart, and I rested my head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine.

As we stood there, our bodies still entwined, the world outside the small office seemed to fade away. The only sounds were our ragged breathing, slowly starting to calm. My chest rose and fell against his, and I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. The air between us was heavy, but now it felt different—more peaceful, more grounded.

James pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around me like a protective cocoon. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, allowing the quiet to settle over us. We didn’t speak for a long time, and I didn’t mind. It felt good to just be in this moment, to be connected to him in a way I hadn’t ever expected.

Finally, James spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. “You okay?” he asked, his hand gently stroking my hair, as though making sure I was still with him, still here.

I nodded, lifting my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of desire and something softer, something I hadn’t expected to see. “Yeah… more than okay,” I whispered, smiling up at him, my heart still racing in the aftermath of everything that had just happened. But as the excitement ebbed away, a quiet realization began to settle in.

There was still so much we hadn’t said, so much unspoken. The weight of the situation was slowly sinking in. James was married. That fact hadn’t disappeared in the heat of the moment, and now that things were calm, I felt the tug of uncertainty.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. “James…” My voice was soft, unsure. “What about your wife? What does this mean?”

He paused, his fingers gently brushing my cheek as he considered his words. His brow furrowed slightly, and for the first time since we’d come together, there was a moment of vulnerability in his expression. He took a breath, clearly weighing the truth before responding.

“Things aren’t... what they seem," he said slowly, his voice quieter than before. "It’s complicated, Y/n. I’m not... I’m not happy in my marriage. I haven’t been for a long time.” He swallowed hard, his eyes not leaving mine as if searching for some sign that I understood. “I never meant for this to happen with you, but I can’t deny what I feel. What we’ve shared... it feels real. More real than anything else right now.”

I felt the weight of his words, a mixture of relief and sadness swelling inside me. My heart ached for him, for the situation he found himself in. I wanted to ask more questions, to understand the full depth of what he was going through, but instead, I found myself in his arms, my face pressed against his chest once again, trying to hold onto the feeling of being close to him.

“So, what does this mean?” I asked, my voice a little shaky, but I needed to know. "What do we do now?"

He exhaled deeply, running his hand through his hair, looking away for a moment before meeting my gaze again. There was something intense in his eyes, something that told me this wasn’t just a fleeting moment for him.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Y/n,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “But I know that right now, I don’t want to let go of this. I don’t want to let go of you.” He looked down at me, his expression full of raw emotion. “If you wanted to stay… I wouldn’t stop you.”

The offer hung in the air between us, and I could feel the weight of it. It wasn’t just about the physical connection we’d shared—it was about something deeper, something more fragile.

“I’m not asking you to leave her,” I said quietly, my heart aching. “But what happens now? What do we do with what we’ve just… what we’ve just done?”

James gently lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. His touch was tender, almost apologetic, as if he were afraid of the emotions he might be stirring. “I don’t want to complicate things for you, Y/n. But I can’t pretend that this doesn’t mean something to me.”

His words lingered in the space between us, and I could feel the shift—the weight of our shared desire, and the vulnerability that came with it. He wasn’t asking me for anything. He wasn’t rushing into anything. But the offer, the possibility, was there, hanging in the quiet.

“I think we need time,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. "We both do."

James nodded slowly, his lips brushing against my forehead in a soft kiss. “Yeah, time,” he echoed, his hand still holding me close. “But I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not if you don’t want me to.”

I closed my eyes, letting the quiet settle between us, and for a moment, there was no pressure, no confusion—just the two of us, holding onto something fleeting, yet real.

“I don’t want you to go either,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, but sincere.

And for a moment, we simply stood there, lost in the warmth of each other’s arms, our hearts beating as one, unsure of what tomorrow would bring, but certain of this—this connection, this moment, was something we both wanted to hold on to.

[artemisrogers]

can I request one shot, if that’s alright please? They both are best friends knowing each other since they were born. After James divorce the reader comforts him (you can add the smut part here if you want 🙈) James realized that she was the one who he should marry not his ex wife. Feel free to add something else!

Oh ok I've never done something like this before 😊 here's what I got

Happy Ever After James Hetfield x reader (comfort, smut, slight angst, foreplay)

James and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. When James told me he got divorced from Francesca about a month ago I felt bad. Ever since then he seemed lonely and sad. I decided to invite him over to spend the night at my place, rather then him being in his own head.

"You know I appreciate that you invited me over. I guess I needed to get out of the house for a bit."

"Of course Jamie I mean your my best friend I'm always here for you." I said as I got us some drinks .

I never told him for the sake of him having been married, that I loved him. I know everything there is to know about him and care so much for him. It hurts me when I see how empty his eyes looked, like a piece of him was ripped from him. I sat next to him sensing he was having that moment again.

"Ok I'm going to come out and say it. What can I do to help you...I mean I hate seeing you so fucked up."

"I'm not even sure, my head has been so up my ass lately." James said his voice soft.

I got bold and decided to trace my fingers over his tattooed arm. James watched me curious but not stopping me. I decided to go further and lean in to kiss his cheek. James blushed pink but gently grabbed my hips pulling me into his lap. For a second I saw the shy dorky dude I've known since we were in diapers.

"Are you ok with me doing this?"

"I don't mind one but in fact..." James said leaning in to press a kiss to my lips his stubble rubbing my skin.

I felt my heart skip a beat as we kissed gently. Slowly the kisses became passionate and I felt the heat in my jeans. James' hands began to explore my body as he nipped my shoulders and sucked on my neck making me moan softly.

"M-more please Jamie!"

"Naughty girl." James teased me as he lifted my shirt up and off me revealing my red bra and flat tummy.

I felt so exposed but I knew we both needed this. I traced his tattoos on his arms. I felt something hard and got the hint from him bucking his hips what he wanted. As things started to hear up I felt James pin me to the couch his pupils dilated.

"Fuck Y/N I'm gonna fill you up so good."

"Take what you need Jamie." I said horsly rubbing my thighs together seeking friction.

James pulled my jeans and panties off exposing my wet sex. Then he unclasped my bra my nipples hardened painfully from arousal. James took his time undressing himself teasing me secretly.

God he was already leaking precum his cock hard against his core. I spread my legs invitingly and let him put my legs over his shoulders as he slowly pushed inside my cunt. Fuck he felt so good filling me until he bottomed out.

"May I move?"

"Yes." I said adjusting to his size.

Slowly James rolled his hips as he started to thrust. That's one thing I loved about him. Always polite and caring. I gripped his biceps feeling how strong he was as I arched my back when he hit my g-spot.

I eventually became a cock drunk moaning mess. I knew he was getting close to his release from his labor breathing as fast paced thrusts. I felt my own release approaching too.

"Hah hah fuck I'm so close James."

"Me too. Fuck! Cum with me baby." James said.

As if on cue I buried my face in his chest moaning loudly as my gummy walls clenched around him milking his cock. One deep thrust as I heard James groan feeling warmth inside me. We stayed like this as we both rode out our orgasms.

James pulled out slowly his dick softening. I nuzzled and put my head on his chest. I was both satisfied and happy. I looked at James feeling him traced gently circles on my upper back. His eyes were bright blue and happy.

"I realized something that I should've done a long time ago."

"What's that Jamie?" I said curious. That's when he smiled at me softly and kissed me once.

"I was meant to marry you. Not Francesca. So Y/N, will you marry me?" James asked me. I felt my heart swell with emotions. I nodded pulling him into a hug.

"Yes Jamie! I will marry you!"

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

james hetfield x wife!reader | word count: 2746 | ao3 link

You'd be lying if you said you saw this coming. Sure, you've had your fair share of rebellious, reckless moments. It was often a reaction to your mom's nagging or your dad's emotional absence. Jumping out the bedroom window trying to run away and breaking your arm at 13. Skipping classes to make out with your boyfriend in his car at 15. Running away from home a few months after graduating High School with a guy 8 years older, only to dump him a week after arriving in Los Angeles and somehow managing to get by on your own. Compared to all that, having sex with your husband at your cousin's wedding reception seemed downright mild.

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, james hefield x female!reader, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, reader has mommy issues lol

You never really cared for family gatherings. Escaping the small-town life when you were young was a breath of fresh air, but occasionally, there were those moments when you felt compelled to show up, no matter how dysfunctional the family could be. Especially in moments like this; with your cousin tying the knot, it seemed less of a hassle to be present than absent.

Yet, at your cousin's wedding reception, it was inevitable that you'd end up doing what you usually did around your family: hiding. This time, you found yourself tucked away in a small office you found while exploring the place, relishing a few moments of peace and quiet before returning to the party.

“Finally found you.” 

You looked up and locked eyes with your husband, James, as he casually leaned against the door, slowly bringing a whiskey glass to his lips. A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth when you saw him; James looked too good in formal attire, even better than usual, if that was even possible. 

“Hey, handsome,” you whispered. Despite having been married for just over a year, he was still somewhat of a stranger to your family, mainly because you were too. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for leaving him alone in a crowd of mostly unfamiliar faces. "Sorry for ditching you. I just needed a little breather."

"Something up?" he strolled into the room and propped himself against the desk, his serious eyes scanning your face for any signs of trouble. You smiled, coming closer to him instinctively. You couldn’t help it; whenever you were around him, you felt like a small moth, helplessly drawn to his fire. Stepping closer to him, you ended up right between his legs, letting out a contented hum when he set his whiskey glass down on the desk and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. "Hey," he called, redirecting your attention to his question. It was so damn easy to get distracted around him; all you wanted was to touch and feel him, even when he was concerned about you. Maybe especially then. "Something on your mind?"

"It’s all good," you whispered, and he snorted. You arched an eyebrow, and he smiled.

"Come on, sweetheart. You only pull this vanishing act when something's bugging you." He tilted your chin up with a finger, making you meet his earnest blue gaze. "What's eating at you? You know you can tell me."

You let out a sigh. It wasn't that you didn't want to open up to James about the million and one ways your mother had to drive you up the wall whenever you two were around each other. But you knew that James and his mom used to be tight. He missed her a ton, and you didn't want to come across as selfish, complaining about something that might not even be that big of a deal.

"You've got a little pout going," James teased, his voice holding a hint of a smile as he pressed his thumb against your lower lip. Tugging your face closer, he planted a quick peck on your lips. "C'mon, spill the beans. What's bugging you? Did I mess up somehow?"

"It's no big deal," you whispered. The mere idea of him assuming for even a second that your frustration had anything to do with him was enough to make you blurt it out. "It's just... It's my mom."

"Oh, no. What did she do this time?" James chimed in with a chuckle, though it was evident he felt relieved that you were finally opening up. You couldn't help but laugh, putting your arms around his neck, your irritation momentarily forgotten. James had this incredible knack for making everything seem okay, no matter the circumstances. It was one of the reasons you fell head over heels for him – how safe he made you feel. He had this way of lightening the mood without even trying.

"She's being such a pain in the ass," you admitted. "Constantly bugging me about when we're gonna start a family. Telling us it's not okay to be married this long without even trying to have kids. We haven't even been married for that long! She's so annoying, it makes me want to run for the hills."

"I could have a chat with her if you want," he suggested, grinning mischievously while his hands gently caressed your hips. "I could tell her we've been going at it hard every night . How I’ve been cumming inside you every day…”

"James!" you exclaimed, and he erupted into laughter. "You can't say that!"

"I'm not going to, dummy," he teased, and you let out a snort. He planted a playful kiss on your lips, then continued, "Unless you want me to. It could be hilarious to see her reaction."

"No, don't! It would be a disaster. She's way too uptight to take it as a joke," you groaned, feeling your cheeks flush. "And besides, it's not even true."

"Hmm? What's not true?" he arched an eyebrow, a broader grin spreading across his face as he pulled you closer. "I'd say our love life is quite active, babe."

"It is, it's just... never mind," you muttered, your face growing even warmer. He raised his eyebrows, pulling you even nearer, his lips grazing your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. He smelled of cologne, and alcohol.

"You know I hate being in the dark, darling. You're gonna have to spill it."

"James, it's nothing," you whispered, and he grunted before giving your thigh a squeeze. You blushed, taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor.

"I'm not asking, sweetheart," his hand drifted from your waist to your back, then down to your ass, causing you to gasp in surprise as he squeezed the soft skin through your dress.

"It's really nothing! I just meant..." you stammered, your heart racing from the embarrassment. "You know, you haven't been, uh, cumming… Inside…"

He pulled back, gave you a quick, amused look, and then burst into laughter, which only deepened your embarrassment.

"James, oh God, stop laughing! " you complained, your face burning as you tried to pull away from him. He wasn't having it, though; he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer before planting playful kisses on your cheek, once, twice, three times.

"You're adorable," he laughed, and you rolled your eyes. "I didn't realize this was such a big deal for you, though. I thought we agreed I'd always use a condom?"

"We did! We did. I don't know why I said that. I'm sorry," you quickly clarified, your face still a little flushed. He smiled, cupping your chin in his hand to make you look at him.

"You don't need to apologize for anything," he said in the sweetest tone, then flashed a mischievous grin and added, "I mean, I'd be more than glad to cum inside you anytime you want."

"You're impossible," you huffed, and he laughed.

"And you love me anyway. But seriously, babe, if you ever want anything, just let me know. I know we agreed not to have kids for now..."

"It's not about that," you said, quickly. It wasn't that you didn't want to have kids, but you also didn't want to follow in your mom's footsteps – having kids too early in a marriage and then regretting it. Not that you felt you would ever regret anything with James by your side, but you just wanted to enjoy being just the two of you for a while before adding a little one to the mix. "It’s just, that one time we did it raw, it was so amazing. So I thought... Maybe on my safe days..." Your voice dropped to a whisper as you watched James' grin widen. Oh, God. He looked like a kid who had just won a lifetime supply of candy.

You were beginning to feel like maybe you shouldn't have said anything when he leaned in closer, his smile wide, and whispered:

"Wanna do it now?"

You'd be lying if you said you saw this coming. Sure, you've had your fair share of rebellious, reckless moments. It was often a reaction to your mom's nagging or your dad's emotional absence. Jumping out the bedroom window trying to run away and breaking your arm at 13. Skipping classes to make out with your boyfriend in his car at 15. Running away from home a few months after graduating High School with a guy 8 years older, only to dump him a week after arriving in Los Angeles and somehow managing to get by on your own.

Compared to all that, having sex with your husband at your cousin's wedding reception seemed downright mild.

You moaned as James slowly explored your neck with his lips and tongue, his fingers skillfully untying the knot of your dress, letting it slide down to reveal your bare breasts. He grunted in appreciation, grasping one of them firmly in his hand, his fingers circling your nipple slowly while he sucked on the other. Your fingers tangled in his hair, a sharp moan escaping your lips as he bit your nipple softly. He pulled back, raising his eyes at you with a smug grin on his face.

"Better keep it down, babe. We don't need anyone to hear us, do we?" he teased, and you shook your head, your cheeks blushing as he kissed you passionately, his tongue invading your mouth.

You could taste the whiskey in his breath as he kissed you, one of his hands grabbing the base of your neck as he pulled you closer to him. You pressed your hand against his crotch, feeling his hard on through his pants. He groaned, his lips going down to your neck again as he finished pulling your dress down, leaving you only on your lace panties as you stood in front of him. You unzipped his pants, pulling them down quickly, a small sigh escaping your lips when you saw his hard cock spring free.  

You kneeled in front of him, holding his cock by the base before licking on the tip. You moved your hand slowly, pressing the tip to your palm and massaging it before going down to his balls, pressing your tongue against the sensitive skin of his tip and feeling the salty taste of his precum. He let out a throaty moan, his knuckles turning white with the strength he used to grip the desk hard and keep himself steady. You raised your eyes to look at him, a sly grin on your lips.

“What did you say about keeping it down, again?” you asked, and he grunted, using one of his hands to grab a fistful of your hair, pushing your head down back to his aching erection. 

“No talking.” he said, using the other hand to grab his cock by the base, pressing it against your lips. 

You opened your mouth obediently, moaning against his skin when he pushed it into your mouth slowly. You tried to keep your breath steady; he was so big it was hard not to choke, even if he was moving as slow as his temper would allow. You moved your head up and down, increasing your pace while you squeezed his thighs with your fingertips. He moaned again, all restraints forgotten as he enjoyed how good you made him feel, arching his hips as his grip on your hair tightened, moving your head up and down even faster. 

You gasped in surprise as he abruptly pushed you away with a grunt.

“My bad, babe, oh shit . It felt so good,” he mumbled, his voice quivering just a bit. He raised your chin, his slightly blurry eyes locking onto yours as he used his thumb to clear the drool around your swollen lips. “Want to cum inside your pretty pussy today, okay?” he whispered, and you nodded, lips slightly open as his words made your pussy clench in anticipation. “Get up.”

You got back on your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck again, moaning in satisfaction when he squeezed your hips with his big hands, getting on his feet too as one of his hands went down to grab your ass firmly. You moaned into his kiss when his fingers went down even further, pressing your clit before penetrating your cunt without warning. 

“You’re so wet.” he whispered, and you moaned again when he started moving his fingers inside you, pressing the palm of his hand against your clit as he curled them inside. “Gonna walk around the party full of my cum, yeah? Gonna fill you up real good, babe. Do you want that?”

“Yes, p-please!” you whimpered, half in pleasure, half in frustration as he pulled his fingers out of you. He laughed, pressing his forehead against yours.

“We’ll come together, okay?” he said, and you nodded. You gasped when he grabbed you by your hips, turning you around with your hands against the desk, standing behind you as he grabbed your ass, spreading one of the cheeks apart to look at your throbbing pussy. You moaned when he pressed his cock against your entrance, pushing inside you. �� Fuck , babe. This is too good. Oh, shit. ” he whispered, and you moaned again, louder this time, tears pooling in your eyes as you felt his huge cock spreading your pussy. 

This was too much; you could feel everything as he moved, his fingertips digging into your waist’s skin as he moaned too. You were too lost in pleasure to care about keeping it down now; everything felt so good, more intense than anything you had ever tried before. He kept pushing deeper and deeper, his thrusts getting stronger as he moaned your name, and you knew that there was no coming back after this; you were addicted to the high of having him inside of you, you could give him anything he wanted from you right now. 

“James, oh God, James!” you moaned, quickly approaching your high as he pushed even faster inside you. 

He couldn't help but moan, his hands all over you, grabbing your hips, your ass, your breasts; it was as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you, as if he wanted to bring you closer and closer as he felt your skin against his. You bit your lip, holding back a sob when he started massaging your clit as he thrusted deep inside you; it was almost too much pleasure to take. 

You could feel his cock twitch inside you as he approached his orgasm, the overwhelming pleasure of his bare skin against yours making your pussy contract as you came, squeezing his cock inside of you. He moaned, thrusting one last time as he came too, his semen filling you up and dripping down your thighs as he pulled out. He grabbed your hip, spinning you around like it was no big deal. You let out a sigh, your breath shaky. Your head fell back as you tried to catch your breath, your pussy still twitching. 

"Fuck… I need to freshen up," you whispered. He groaned, quickly pulling on his pants before approaching you once more. He grabbed your thigh, pushing it so your pussy would be in full view, and then used his fingers to push back the cum dripping down from it inside you.

"No need," he said casually, his fingertips going to your clit and making you moan softly. "We don't want to waste this, right? You're gonna get dressed and head back there like a good girl."

"But, James..." you began, your cheeks heating up as you thought about what he was suggesting. He grunted, yanking you closer by the hips.

"No 'buts,' babe. You're gonna do as I say, got it?"

"Yeah," you murmured, your heart racing as you wrapped your arms around his neck. James knew how much you loved it when he took charge like this; how it made you want him so bad you could barely think about anything but him. He grinned, pleased that his authoritative tone got the reaction he wanted from you.

"Great," he whispered, his thumb teasing your lower lip. "And when this party’s over, we're heading back to the hotel. You better be ready, because I’m gonna fuck you real good, all night long, yeah?"

The rest of the party? You couldn't even focus on it after that.

✧ thanks for reading! requests are open here ✧

[ihavenolife346]

Don’t Forget Me

Pairing: 1998/2002 James Hetfield x f!reader

Warnings: Cheating, swearing, and crying

Characters: James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, Jason Newstead, Lars Ulrich, Francesca Hetfield, Y/N

Summary: James never meant to fall in love with a woman who wasn’t his wife. They fell in love…but knew they couldn’t be together as long as they wanted too.

Link to pt 2: https://www.tumblr.com/

Side note: Don’t cheat on your partners. It’s necessary for a good plot in this😅.

Neither of them meant for it to happen. All she was supposed to be was his guitar tech. He was freshly married. They never meant to fall in love with each other. James never did want to fall in love with her. But there was something about her that drew him to her. From the second he met her, he knew there was just something about her.

Y/N never did think she would fall for her boss. He was almost a year married, he seemed to be happy with Francesca. She thought he was until the night she was taking him back to his hotel room after he had to much to drink. She always has had a thing for him, even before she started working with him. That was the night he told her “I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time”, that was he night she become the woman he cheated on his wife with, that was the night she became the 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 woman.

That was a year ago. They had been doing this for a year now. James would always find a way to make time for Y/N. With Francesca hardly ever joining them on tour, Y/N spent most of her nights in James’s room. They acted just like a couple when they were alone. He’d hold her, kiss her, tell her how pretty she was, and even told her he loves her.

Y/N had been ok with being the other woman. Their relationship was working and James was going to get a divorce and they could finally be public about it.

“You still haven’t told her Francesca’s pregnant?!” Kirk felt like slapping James. Kirk was the only one who knew that James was also with Y/N.

James sat there in silence for a moment. He knows he needs to tell Y/N. He’s known Francesca’s pregnant for almost 3 weeks. “I know I have to tell her. I’m going to tonight.” James didn’t want to. He didn’t want to tell her cause he knew he would have to end things with her. He wasn’t going to give his child the same childhood he had. James was going to be there.

“Good luck man.” Kirk shook his head slightly. He had no idea how this was gonna go down.

______________

Just like clockwork, at 7:45 Y/N came softly knocking on James’s door. “Hi!” Y/N chirped once he opened the door, not noticing the look on his face right away.

James couldn’t even look her in the eye. This was the woman he loved, this was the woman he was gonna get a divorce for, but know this was the woman he was ending things with. “H-hi.” James stuttered out, earning the attention of Y/N.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N had no clue what was wrong. The only thing that crossed her mind was that he had finally given Francesca the divorce papers and she just ended up saying things to him that would hurt.

James’s mind almost went completely blank. “Y-you should sit down.” James moved out of the way so that Y/N could come in. As much as he wanted to hug her and kiss her, give her a proper greeting, he knew if he did he would never be able to get the words out of his mouth.

Y/N knew something was really wrong now. “Ok?” Y/N walked into the room, immediately finding the closest seat she could. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me.” Y/N was genuinely concerned now.

“God I don’t know how to tell you this.” James grumbled, getting on his knees in front of her, resting his hands on her knees.

“Baby, you know you can tell me anything.” Y/N grabbed his face to make him look at her.

James physically felt his heart break at her words and actions. “We can’t keep doing this.” James mumbled, not loud enough for Y/N to hear.

“What was that James?” Y/N questioned, resting her hands on-top of his.

“We can’t keep doing this anymore.” James repeated, feeling his eyes start to water.

Y/N slowly took her hands off of his. “W-what?” Y/N stuttered, hoping she misheard him.

“I’m so sorry baby.” James forced himself to look at the girl.

Y/N completely froze. He was ending things with her? Why was he ending things with her? He promised her he was going to leave Francesca. He told her he loves her. And now here he was telling her they can’t keep doing this. “W-why…?” Y/N stuttered, feeling tears form in her eyes.

“Um…” James tried to figure out how to say this as easy as possible. “So um…do you remember when Francesca showed up at a show a few weeks ago?” James sighed, only getting a nod out of her. “And how you told me to do what I need to make her not suspect us…?” James added on, wanting to punch himself for getting her on the verge of tears. All he got was a soft “yea” out of the girl. “Well…Francesca told me that she’s pregnant.” James watched as Y/N went as pale as a ghost.

At the time Y/N knew she had to be ok with James sleeping with his ����𝘪𝘧𝘦 that night, it never would have worked out if he hadn’t. “S-she’s…” Y/N couldn’t even get the words out.

As much as she hated it, she understood why he was ending things right now. He had told her how he grew up, how he was never gonna let his kids grow up the same way he did. She knew he had to be present in their lives, even if it meant those kids were with someone who wasn’t her. “I’m so sorry baby.” James mumbled. He could tell she was hurt…she was really hurt.

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She understood why he was ending it…as much as she hated it she understood. It was his fucking kid on the line, how could she not understand?

______________

They sat there in silence for a solid 10 minutes. Y/N was trying her best not to break down, they both were. They both knew this was wrong, but they loved each other. It’s hard to stop yourself from falling in love with someone. James couldn’t read her like he always could. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking, what she was feeling, she just sat there blankly. James was waiting for her to start yelling at him, start saying she hates him, but no. Instead she let out a broken sob.

James felt himself fighting back tears even more now. He hated being the reason that Y/N was crying. Y/N let out more sobs, covering her face in her hands. “Y/N…” James went to reach for her. Y/N immediately collapsed in his arms, she didn’t even care that she practically fell out of her seat. “Shhh, I know baby. I know.” James stroked her hair, he knew he had to keep himself together for her, at least right now.

Y/N sat there and sobbed in his arms for at least 10 minutes. She could feel James shaking under her. “O-one more night?” Y/N stuttered out, trying to pull herself together.

“What was that baby?” James couldn’t quite hear her.

“One more night….please?” Y/N got up the courage to look him in the eyes.

James knew he couldn’t say no, truth is, he needed just one more night with her too. “One more night.” James kissed the top of her heard, feeling her cuddle as close as she possibly could to him.

______________

That night, they tried to make the best of it. They laughed, talked about the happy times they had together, they spent their last couple hours together happy. When Y/N fluttered her eyes open that morning, everything came crashing down again.

Like she always did, Y/N woke up curled up against James’s chest with his arm around her waist keeping her in place. Y/N didn’t want to move from her place, but she knew if she was still here when he woke up, she wouldn’t be able to keep herself together.

Letting out a small sigh, Y/N gave James the best hug she could before maneuvering her way out of his grasp. Y/N started wondering around to find a pen and paper, if she was leaving without a proper goodbye, she was at least leaving a note.

Within 5 minutes she was folding her note up and setting it on her side of the bed. “I love you.” Y/N mumbled, placing on last kiss on James’s lips, feeling her eyes start to water again as she forced herself to walk away from the man she loved…

______________

When James opened his eyes, he expected to find Y/N curled up right next to him. But no…she was gone. James shot up in his bed, he didn’t think she would be gone, not without a proper goodbye. She never left his side until he was awake as well, she was always there to greet him with a hug and a kiss in the morning. He didn’t think she would leave yet.

Looking over at her side of the bed, James felt his heart break when he found a folded up piece of paper with his name on it. Reaching over and grabbing it, James took a breath before he slowly opened the paper.

I’m sorry I left without a proper goodbye…I didn’t want my last memory of us to be sad. I want to remember the last time I saw you, or at least the last time for a while to be happy. Seeing you peaceful, not a problem at the moment. By now I would have already told Kirk Im quitting, I’ve had offers and I’ve taken a job to work for Foo Fighters. I can’t stay here knowing the history we have.

The time I had with you had been the greatest year of my life. I never did think that we would be parting ways like this, but I understand. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. Your child deserves the best life they could get. I knew you could never be fully mine, but I will always be yours. I wish nothing but the best for you and your kid. I hope you don’t forget me, I won’t ever forget you. I love you James Alan Hetfield.

If things end up not working out, or if you just need a friend sometime, call me. I’ll always pick up for you. (***-***-****).

-Yours always and forever

Y/N Y/L/N

As James read over the note, he didn’t both holding back his own tears. He knew he could never just be friends with her. She was the only woman he never had an issue with opening up to. She was the only woman who actually listened to him with whatever it was, and as bad as he felt about it, she was the only woman he truly did love. And now she was gone…

______________

2002

“Jesus Christ Francesca! Nothing is fucking wrong! I had a rough day is all!!” James finally snapped at the woman who had been preying at him for the past 15 minutes, ever since he walked through the door.

“I know that’s not it James! You haven’t been happy in months!” Francesca shot back at him.

“You know, you’re right! I haven’t been happy in months, I haven’t been happy with you for months!” James snapped. That was a lie. He hasn’t truly been happy with her for years…ever since Y/N left. He loved his kids, they were the only reason he was sticking around with her.

“What do you mean yo-“ Francesca started.

“Mommy? Daddy?” Cali came creeping into the room.

James took a breath at the sight of his daughter. “Hi baby, what’s up?” James walked over to the child, kneeling down to her level.

“Why are you and mommy fighting…?” Cali practically whispered. Her and Castor could hear them from downstairs.

“We aren’t fighting baby.” Francesca intervened.

“Yea baby, we aren’t fighting. We’re just talking loudly.” James nodded along with his wife. “What’s up?” James further asked.

“Me and Castor are hungry.” Cali softly asked with a small smile.

“Well your mom can go down and make you guys something to eat ok?” James got an immediate grin from the girl. He needed Francesca away from him right now. He just needed a breather.

“Yea, come on baby.” Francesca didn’t bother looking at James as she took her daughter’s hand and started back downstairs.

______________

James groaned as he practically threw himself on his bed, rubbing his hands over his face. He knew this wasn’t working anymore. He knew this hadn’t been working with Francesca for a long time now. They’ve been arguing, sleeping in separate beds for a time James couldn’t even remember. But he hasn’t truly been happy in this marriage for a long time. He loved Francesca, but he knew he only loved her as a friend. As much as he’s been forcing himself to love her as his wife the way he used to, he knew she wasn’t the woman he loved. But he loved his kids, he didn’t want them to think their dad didn’t care about them if he left their mom, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

James laid here for a solid 10 minutes before a sentence rang though his ears. “ I love you James Hetfield.” 𝘏𝘦𝘳 voice rang though his ears. The woman he thought about for the past 4 years, the woman he missed, the woman he loved, her voice rang though his ears as if she was right there next to him.

James decided to just say “fuck it”. He’s kept himself from calling her for so many years, he 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 to at least hear her voice right now. Opening his bedside drawer, James pulled out that note she left him 4 years ago. He was amazed that Francesca hadn’t found it yet. He always kept it close to him. He remembered it word for word.

James immediately went down to the last small paragraph. “If things end up not working out, or if you just need a friend sometime, call me. I’ll always pick up for you. (***-***-****).”

James was hoping she still meant what she wrote as he grabbed his phone, flipped it open, and started dialing the number she had written down. He didn’t even know if she still had this number. He didn’t know if she would even pick up.

The phone rang a few times before the other line was picked up. “Hello…?” James knew that voice. It was her voice. He was hoping he hadn’t woken her just based on how tired she sounded.

“Hello?” Y/N asked again after a few moments of silence.

“Hey Y/N.” James could hear how she shot up from what he could assume was her bed.

“J-James?” Y/N sounded shocked yet also happy to hear from him.

James smiled, “hi pretty girl.” James spoke just loud enough for the girl to hear as he laid back on his bed smiling ear to ear.

[kirk-says-wah]

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐲 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐𝟎

You can also read it here

Pairings: Kirk/Lars, James/Lars, James/Jason

TW: guns, violence, blood, fire, hospitals

Anxiety rolls off of James in waves as he makes his way up to the third floor, leaning against the wall of the lift.

Kirk’s stood next to him, biting at his nails at they wait for the lift to open.

James can hardly look at him.

He knew something was wrong, he should’ve listened to his gut.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the silver chrome, fading bruises smudged across his skin, his hair ratty and knotted.

The doors open with a ping and he pushes himself away from the wall, practically sprinting up to the nurses station, Kirk quick on his heels.

The ICU is noisy, beeping and whirring coming from each room, and James can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

“I’m here to see Lars Hetfield.”

The name feels thick on his tongue, has his stomach cramping, and he can feel Kirk shift next to him.

The nurse behind the counter looks at him for a second before looking through a few sheets of paper.

“Can we see him?” Kirk asks, his voice trembling slightly. God, James hopes Lars won’t look too bad. The doctors hardly told him anything over the phone. He wonders what happened, why he’s become so ill. Did someone hurt him?

Why did they have to leave him?

“Immediate family only I’m afraid,” the nurse replies.

“I’m his husband,” James quickly says, ignoring the way Kirk’s eyes bulge. He doesn’t care right now, all he can think about is Lars. Lars, who’s become so close to him he can’t imagine a world without him. Lars, who died in his arms only a few days ago.

“Only one person is allowed at a time so you’ll have to wait until his mother is done,” the nurse says, turning back to her notebook.

“What about me?” Kirk says, voice quiet.

“Are you immediate family?”

“I- no,” Kirk stutters, eyes flicking up to James for help. But James doesn’t really know what to say. He’s kept away, tried to tell himself that Lars wants Kirk not him, but then he thinks back to the last kiss they shared, and he remembers Lars kissed him. Lars wanted him.

And they’re married. James just wishes there was a way for Lars to let Kirk go.

“Then I’m afraid you need to wait. Immediate family get priority,” the nurse says, pursing her lips. “If you both take a seat in the waiting area, a doctor will be with you soon to discuss Lars’ condition.”

James nods, tries to swallow away the lump in his throat, and walks over to the chairs by the lift, gingerly sitting down. His ribs are still sore, but they’re not as bad as they have been. He’s thankful for small mercies.

He sits on the edge, elbows to his knees as he thinks.

Kirk sits down next to him silently, and it’s like the dam bursts. James can’t keep his mouth shut any longer.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you,” he grumbles, rubbing his knuckle under his chin.

“What?” Kirk says after a moment, voice scathing, the tension in the air so thick James could cut it with a knife.

“I told you there was something wrong,” James spits, voice rising. “I fucking told you.”

“Excuse me.”

Both their heads snap to the side to see a nurse watching them, a scowl embedded in her face. “This isn’t the place. If you’re going to continue, you need to leave.”

James just sighs, mumbling an apology as he scrubs a hand over his face.

Time passes slowly then, and neither of them say anything. James picks at a scab on his knuckle that formed from fighting for Jason, the pain grounding him a little.

Eventually, a doctor approaches them, dressed in blue scrubs and a flat smile.

“Are you Lars’ husband?” the doctor asks, looking at James.

James nods, pressing his hands together to stop them from shaking.

“Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

James pauses a moment, then glances at Kirk. Kirk looks back brokenly, and James knows he can’t keep him out of this. It’s not fair.

“No, he can listen,” James says, feeling a little uncomfortable, but the doctor just nods before clearing his throat.

“When Lars got admitted, he had an underlying infection we didn’t know about. Most likely from the wound on his finger. It wouldn’t have been serious, but his body suffered from a huge shock when he was shot, and it caused the infection to travel into his blood,” the doctor says, watching them both closely.

“What does that mean?” James asks, feeling a little confused.

“It means he has sepsis.“

The air constricts and James’ lungs shrivel and crawl into his throat.

“Don’t people die from that?” Kirk asks, asking the question running through James’ mind.

“We caught it later than what I would have liked. I’m surprised none of you noticed. It can cause a fever, delirium, a rash. If we had known sooner he might have had a better chance.”

So James had been right. There had been something wrong. He wishes he had told the doctor, wishes he hadn’t been so easily fooled into thinking Lars was okay.

“So what, it’s our fault?” James spits, angry now, balling his hands into fists.

“I’m not blaming anyone,” the doctor says, raising his hands. “I’m simply saying we may have caught it too late.”

“So what?” Kirk asks, voice choked up. “He’s gonna die?”

“We don’t know anything for certain right now. We’re giving him the best care. It’s just whether his body is strong enough to fight the infection,” the doctor replies, before he’s interrupted, and they turn to see Mrs Ulrich, her eyes bloodshot and swollen.

She doesn’t say anything but James doesn’t need to hear anything else.

He gives her a reassuring smile before heading to Lars’ room, the doctor calling out the room number after him.

And then he finds him, the room stale and white as he approaches the bed.

Lars is lying there, his face too pale, a breathing tube down his throat. He’s got pink patches over both arms now, his chest mechanically rising and falling, the beeping of the heart monitor at least a reminder that he’s still alive.

James can’t help the sob that bubbles up from his throat, and he quickly takes Lars’ hand, pressing it to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, pressing his lips to Lars’ fingers.

He just wants Lars to look at him, wants him to smile and show the gap in his teeth, wants to swaddle him in his arms and never let him go.

He reaches up, brushes Lars’ fringe from his eyes, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks covering the dark marks around his eyes.

James kisses his hand again, and sits down.

He won’t stay for long. He needs to make sure Kirk gets a turn.

Lars means just as much to Kirk as he does to him, even if it pains him.

He lets out a shuddering breath.

— —

She sits in silence for a while, desperately trying to get ahold of herself. She hates getting upset in public, makes her more vulnerable, but she just can’t help it after seeing her boy look so broken. So lifeless.

When she first saw him lying in the ICU, breathing through a machine, she was almost afraid he’d already died, his cheeks sunken and lips blue.

Lone dabs at her eyes, her breath shaky.

Kirk doesn’t say anything from next to her, but she doesn’t expect him to.

He seems like a sweet boy. She’s had her suspicions about him for a long time, ever since Lars said they were friends. Lars didn’t have friends, Torben had made sure of that a long time ago. But she could tell there was something different. Lars became happier as time went on, and she appreciated seeing her son become someone she knew again. When Torben had Lars followed a few months ago and found out Lars was going to Kirk’s house, she tried to tell him it was okay, that maybe this was a good thing, but Torben was having none of it. He trusted no one outside of the family and he wasn’t changing his mind anytime soon.

And then the engagement happened, and Lone was pretty pleased that at least Lars was marrying into a comfortable life with a good looking partner and a stable future.

But now it all seems so far away. She doesn’t care who Lars ends up with as long as they take care of him. She just wants to make sure her boy is loved because that’s the least he deserves. She’s not always stuck up for him when she needed to, and she’ll carry that regret until the day she dies.

Movement catches her eye, and she looks up to see James towering over them.

He looks dreadful, like he hasn’t slept in days. She can’t help but want to reach out to him, want to comfort him and tell him it will all be okay.

She turns to Kirk, but Kirk’s eyes are on James.

“You can go and see him now,” James grunts, and Kirk doesn’t have to be told twice. He scrambles out of his chair, heading towards Lars’ room, and James dumps himself next to Lone, rubbing at his eyes.

She feels like she owes him answers, especially as he and Kirk had been asking and she didn’t really know what to say.

Talking about the past hurts her heart, and she’d really rather forget it.

The image of Lars lying in a hospital bed at the mere age of sixteen, a thick wad of bandages wrapped around his head, is branded so deeply into her mind she doesn’t think she’d ever forget.

James is silent, breathing heavily.

She doesn’t look at him.

“The first time he was shot, Torben was thoroughly convinced it was Dave’s fault,” she says, trying to keep her voice even.

James blinks up at her, cocks his head.

“And what do you think?”

She takes in a deep breath, clasping her hands together, keeping her eyes in front.

“I think Torben was projecting his own guilt. He was the one that sent Lars to the wrong house. He was the one that told him the wrong amount of money. And then he wondered why Dave was angry.”

She sniffs, her eyelashes sticking together.

“If I’m going to blame anyone for that day, it would be my husband. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him.”

James shifts, rubs a hand over his eyes.

“Well, what happened?” he says, voice gruff and tired.

This is the question she’s been dreading, but she knows she needs to answer. She can’t keep locking the past away and hoping no one will find the key. She’d rather the boys hear it from her than anyone else.

“Lars used to deliver and collect money on Torben’s behalf,” she says, already feeling anger and guilt wedging a deep hole between her ribcage. “He was treated so poorly, and back then Torben never listened to me. He said it was what was best for Lars. It was toughening him up.”

She stopes for a moment, her throat feeling tight.

“But Lars has always been a fragile boy. I should’ve put my foot down.”

She blinks upwards, tries to will away the tears pooling in her lash line. Even now, she feels like it was her fault. That she didn’t do enough to help him. That somehow, she could’ve saved Lars from fate.

“Torben sent Lars to drop off some money, but it was the wrong amount and to the wrong person.”

She can feel James’ eyes on her but she won’t look, too afraid of what she’ll find there. Anger. Disappointment.

“Dave was so angry, so so angry,” she continues, her voice barely above a whisper. “Instead of sorting it out himself, Torben sent Lars. He told me it would be fine. That he sent some of his men with him. That Dave would never shoot.”

She can’t help the sob that escapes her then, and she presses the back of her hand to her mouth, tries to breathe through it as tears spill down her cheeks.

“I remember the call. I remember Dave meeting me in the hospital. He was covered in blood, all over his hands, and he told me he was sorry. That this was never meant to have happened. That Lars got caught in the crossfire.”

That seems to catch James’ attention.

“And you believed Dave?” he says curiously.

She flicks her eyes to him then, but James’ face is unreadable.

“I’ve known that man a long time. If he wanted to hurt me he would’ve made sure Lars was dead.”

“And you don’t think Lars is worse now because of Dave?” James asks.

She frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“Lars’ finger was cut off by Dave,” James says matter of factly.

What? Why would he do that? She didn’t think Dave would hurt her boy.

“He wouldn’t have meant to kill him,” she says, because that’s the only thing she can think of to justify it.

“Are you sure about that?”

Her frown deepens, and she looks at James quizzically.

“Have you been by Lars’ side since me and Kirk left?” James asks, leaning forwards a little.

“Yes of course.”

“Are you sure?”

She tries to think but she’s been mostly by Lars’ side since Kirk and James left earlier that day.

“Well, I went to get a drink-“

“And the guards?” James interrupts.

“They can’t be up here.”

“So Dave could’ve come back. Poisoned him or something,” James says, but Lone doesn’t want to hear it. Dave would never do something like that, not unless he’d been hurt first.

“He’s got sepsis, James!” she cries. “This isn’t someone’s fault.”

James nods, hanging his head with a deep sigh before saying, “It’s the shooters fault.”

“I know,” she replies, voice softening now. “And whoever it is will pay. I’ve asked Torben to look into it but he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t even know where your house is.”

James nods, but he doesn’t give her any details.

“Is there anyone that wants to hurt you?” she asks, because she needs to know. She needs to know if being with James is causing Lars harm.

“I don’t think so.”

“What happens if this was aimed at you?” she asks, inquisitively. “What if someone was trying to hurt you?”

“By hurting Lars?”

“I can tell you have feelings for him,” she says, because it’s true. She can tell by the way James acts around him, even when Kirk is there. She saw the pain in his eyes.

“I can see it in your eyes. It makes you look just like your mother.”

James’ head snaps to her, eyes wide as he

“You knew her?”

Lone thinks back. It was a long time ago, but she still had fond memories of James’ mom.

“She was lovely”, she says, nodding. “Me and Torben usually kept to ourselves, but she would always reach out to me. She was a special woman.”

James gives a small smile, but it drops as quickly as it came.

“Why would someone kill her?” he asks, though it doesn’t seem like he expects an answer. Lone can’t give him one. It was always a mystery to her.

“I honestly don’t know. I know that Virgil blames Dave, but-“

She stops herself, shaking her head.

“Something doesn’t sit right with me. Dave loved your mother. I just don’t think he’d ever do something like that.”

It’s true, Dave spent a lot of time with the Hetfield’s in those days.

“A lot of things happened back then,” she confirms. “I get the impression there was a lot of fighting. But I mostly kept out of it. I had Lars to think about. And then what happened to Dave’s wife, Pam-“

She sighs heavily, thinking back to that sweet woman. Neither she nor James’ mom deserved what happened to them.

“I don’t think your father ever forgave himself,” she says, though she quickly realises she’s treading on uneven ground when James frowns.

“What do you mean?”

She lifts an eyebrow.

“Has he not told you?”

James just shakes his head, and she nods, dabbing at her eyes with a heavy breath.

“I don’t know the details. Torben kept me away. But I know Virgil killed Pam.”

“He what?” James asks, his voice loud, and she quickly shushes him before the nurse can kick them out.

“I think it was revenge. For killing your mother.”

James thinks for a moment, and she hopes she’s not said too much.

“But Dave didn’t start the fire.”

Well, that’s new information to her. She always doubted Dave did it, but no one had actually said it wasn’t him.

“How do you know?”

“I- it’s not important,” James says, shaking his head. “But I think he’s innocent.”

“I think you might be right,” Lone replies. “But I don’t understand who would want to hurt Virgil like that.”

James shrugs, leaning back in his chair.

She sits there for a moment, her brain running full steam ahead as she tries to wrap her head around the idea that the fire wasn’t Dave’s fault. But who else could it be?

As far as she was aware, Virgil didn’t really have enemies, and the ones he did have never would do something as drastic as kill his wife.

She wipes a hand under her nose, sniffing away the last few tears.

God she just hopes Lars will be okay. He needs to pull through. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if he doesn’t.

“Please don’t tell Lars,” she says after a moment, turning to James. “About the first time he was shot. He doesn’t remember and I’d rather keep it that way.”

“Why?” James asks. “What are you afraid of?”

“You don’t understand, he was in a coma for nearly two months. We thought he was going to die. And when he woke up-“

She swallows thickly, finding it hard to remember such a difficult time.

“He doesn’t need to remember. I care about him too much to make him go through that again.”

“But it won’t be that bad-“ James tries but she interrupted him, her voice snapping like thunder.

“Leave it, James,” she hisses, her composure breaking slightly. “You weren’t there. You didn’t have to see him in that state. He didn’t remember what happened but his body certainly did.”

She rubs at her eyes again, tries to gather herself.

“Six months,” she says, flicking her eyes to the floor. “Six whole months he spent in the hospital. It was more than just a physical injury. It took away the boy I knew. But we kept him safe. I helped him recover, and now he’s the best he’s been in years.”

And it’s true, Lars has managed to recover all the motor skills he lost, forgot the traumatic event, and kept himself busy working out Torben’s money. He’s doing so much better than he was a few years ago. She guesses spending time with Kirk probably helped him a lot, and he’s become a young man that’s she’s proud of.

“Whoever tried to kill my boy this time will pay,” she says, her voice low. I’ll make sure of it. But I need you to be honest with me. Did you see the shooter?”

“Of course not,” James says, anger lining his words. “I would’ve killed them already if I knew.”

She huffs a laugh at that, keeps her eyes on the young man.

“You sound just like your father.”

James blushes slightly and looks away. She wonders if Virgil ever tells him he’s proud of him. She wonders if anyone ever showed James that it was okay to feel.

“You’re a sweet boy, James,” she says, putting a hand on his knees “You’re perfect for my Lars. I need your help to figure this all out. For Lars’ sake.”

“He’ll make it,” James says quickly. “He will.”

She squeezes his knee, her eyes wet.

“I hope so. I really do.”

There’s interrupted when the lift doors open, and in steps a familiar face.

Lone has never felt so angry so quickly, and she flies up from her chair.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses, jabs a finger at his chest.

“I’m here to see my son,” Torben says, holding his head high. He’s got that smug look on his face which means he can get away with anything.

But not his time.

“I don’t think so,” she says, standing in his way. He tries to side step her but she just stands in his way, and he frustratedly glares at her.

“Move.”

“You can’t bully me, Torben,” she says, trying desperately hard to hold her own. “And you certainly can’t bully Lars.”

What she doesn’t expect is for him to shove her, but she’s quick, her hand flying up, slapping him around the face.

He startles backwards, eyes round and confused.

“Don’t bother coming home,” she says, getting in his space. “I don’t want to see your face.”

“This isn’t my fault,” he tries, but she doesn’t want to hear it. Not when Torben tries to keep this from her.

“Everything is your fault,” she cries, fisting a hand in his shirt. “I’ve let you walk over me all our lives but not anymore.”

He’s not use to this side of her, and she can’t help the satisfaction that wraps around her chest.

“You disgust me,” she spits before letting go of his shirt and stepping back.

He blinks at her before snarling and stalking back to the lift.

She finally lets out a breath and turns to see James watching her with wide eyes.

She cracks a smile.

“Marriage is harder than it looks.”

[jeanearhart]

Situation-Ship

Short story following the inner dialogue of a young man in his first (and last) gay relationship.

6086 words

JUNE

Love. We love to love. It’s inescapable, the media is polluted with love, our literature, every social event. First ten minutes at a party and your friend is asking, still seeing that girl? Turn on spotify, hit shuffle, you’ll hear a song about finding love followed by a song about losing it, wanting it, hating it.

We all have been through the ringer in love, love troubles are as common as spring allergies. Sneeze, they say bless you, break up they say I’m so sorry.

I’m a good looking guy, I’ve had plenty of girlfriends; theater girls, sporty girls, an emo chick who drew her eyeliner all the way to her hairline and pierced her own ears with a hot sewing needle.

I’ve had one boyfriend.

My one and only, I met him at a house show in Portland.

Ex-boyfriend, as of now.

Newly graduated from high school, I had no clue what my plans were for the next year. I could take a gap or enroll late, sure I’d be doomed to the nearest community college or trade school, I’d lead a mediocre life, marry an orange skinned blonde and have insufferably Kentuckian children. I’d had this delusion as a kid that I’d be famous when I was older, it lasted up until my sophomore year when despite my pretty face not a single casting audition I sent in received a callback. Sure, I was still in high school, my chances at success were higher if I auditioned as an adult with a real education in acting. It was a shame I wouldn’t be caught dead in drama school, surrounded by wannabes in desperate need of a shower, already so drenched in self-entitlement they miss the point of it.

The house was small, three rooms on the first floor, three on the second. The living room had been converted into a 10 by 10 concert hall, the only indicator of a stage being a thick red rope that separated the band from the mosh pit. As I made my way through the sweaty sea of stoned teenagers and drugstore James Hetfields, I asked myself again and again why I had decided to attend the show.

I hadn’t been since last summer when my ex, the emo chick, dragged me to some abandoned warehouse where the ‘Dickswatters’ abused instruments for three hours while a swarm of underaged kids took acid and mindlessly rammed into one another. I was no different than the others, in fact I got so shitfaced that when I stumbled upon said emo chick blowing a guy in the forest out back I said;

“Wow dude, your lay looks just like my girlfriend, that’s some insane shit,” In complete, honest awe and disbelief. It wasn’t until she pulled off and faced my way, still on her knees might I add, that I realized she was the real deal.

We broke up after that, but stayed friends. She was the only person in Louisville I didn’t find insufferable and her life was always interesting enough that I didn’t need to bother to have one of my own. She never saw it as an issue that I had no friends outside of her, if anything I think she liked it, all of my attention and focus was spent on her problems and her priorities. I was the guy best friend girl’s dream about, laid-back, non-judgmental, and completely uninterested in her sexually.

She was out of town the first few weeks of that summer, she had decided to celebrate her freedom from highschool with a trip to Italy. She took a few friends of hers, paying for all of their plane tickets and hotel rooms with her parent’s money. The first time I’d seen her parents' three-story estate I’d understood her completely. Rich and bored, pretty and neglected.

I think I missed her.

I recognized some of the punks at the show from her instagram posts and the last show I’d been to. They seemed nice enough and no doubt would have let me join them if I’d made an effort, however, I was intimidated by their crowns of hair and heavy jackets. I found a corner to press myself against in the kitchen. Unlike other parties the only way to get a drink at a show was to buy it, make friends, or bring it. I had forgotten this fact, expecting the usual array of intoxicants to be sitting out in the kitchen, perspiring in anticipation of my arrival. Painfully sober and visibly out of place, I kept stiff and pretended to scroll through my phone. Without any intoxicants in my system the music was intolerable, the kitchen was stuffy and hot, I doubted the house had a working ac, an accurate assumption given the trashy state of the kitchen I was standing in. This was where I met him, the beginning and the end of everything I ever believed about myself.

He owned the house.

“Hey, polo shirt,” His voice was just deep enough. I've always found high pitched voices grating, but bass tones were worse. They unsettle me, sound way too out of place. I’ve never seen a man I truly believe looked the part of a bass, so anytime I’ve met a man who’s Adam apple drops that low I’ve been petrified, effectively frozen in fear. I must have given him a stupid look, something torn between awe and fear because the man laughed and pointed at the fridge behind me. “I’m trying to get a drink,”

“Oh sorry,” I peeled away from my spot and stood awkwardly to the side as he opened the fridge and got a beer. He offered one to me as well, which I took, despite the fact I’d never really enjoyed the taste. Too bitter.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” He commented, not so much as making eye contact. It wasn’t an obvious thing, first he was looking at the fridge, then his drink, and now the crowd that filled his property. It made sense for him not to be looking at me, he had plenty of other things to look at. “I’m Caesar, the host.” He took a long gulp of his beer and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed at the action. I still hadn’t moved back to my spot against the fridge, I was suspended in time, lagging. “And you are?”

I barely registered the words. “What?”

“And you are?” He repeated, this time with heat. “I’m asking you your fucking name,”

I tensed at the harsh words, still reeling from being approached at all when I’d been completely prepared to spend the whole night standing in the back of the venue with my arms crossed and my head dully nodding to the music. I was going to take some pictures, bathe in the online validation and praise, you’re so hot, then fall asleep to a cult classic so I was only half-lying when I would later tell smart girls I’d seen it.

“John,” I finally replied.

His laugh had a roughness to it, years of smoking tearing up his throat. “You’re kidding, your parents couldn’t think of anything better?”

“My dad’s a christian, I’m named after John the Baptist,”

“I didn’t ask,”

I opened my mouth to retort, pausing when I noticed the slight tilt to his lips. Oh, he was fucking with me. I was so caught up in my own head I forgot this was simply how these kinda men spoke to each other.

“At least I make good pizza,”

He made a face, took a sip of his beer, his Adam's apple bobbed. “What?”

“Get it, uh,” I shrugged, I still hadn’t drunk any of my own beer. I probably would be throwing away a full bottle at the end of the night. “Little Caesar’s Pizza, and Papa John’s, Papa John’s is better,”

Caesar snorted into his drink, averting his eyes from the crowd to peer at me from the corner of his eye. “Really?”

He pronounced his words so clearly that despite the clamor of yelling and cymbal crashing echoing around us I could understand every word he said perfectly. Either he’d won the genetic lottery, or he spent many years in speech therapy. Given his sharp eyes, height, and broad shoulders, I concluded it was the former.

“C’mon,” He motioned toward the living room with his drink and under the kitchen strobe lights his silver rings shone. A snake, a skull, and a die on one hand. A singular dark band on the other. I followed after him into the other room, let him slide an arm around my waist whilst we listened to the music, and protested only once as he dragged me into the mosh pit.

We saw each other often after that, every day of the next two weeks in fact. Caesar was a hurricane, assertive, intelligent, and impossibly stubborn. He insisted on doing everything himself, cooking, cleaning, fixing, paying. Caesar didn’t owe anyone anything, even the government.

“College is a scam,” He told me one day while we were sitting in his driveway, Caesar’s hands black with grease. He’d just changed the oil in his car, I watched his back muscles flex, sweaty and shiny in the glaring sun. His shoulders were freckled with acne that gathered at his chin, obscured mostly by the scruff he’d allowed to grow. “There are plenty of jobs that don’t require a college education, and anything really important you can just teach yourself, everything you’ll learn at an institution will be capitalist propaganda,”

“How do you make money?” I prodded. I used to admire Caesar’s ability to support himself without answering to anybody, but looking back it was actually quite pathetic. Constantly his wifi or power would be out, turned off due to unpaid fees.

“Renting out the house, fixing shit,” Caesar leaned back and tilted his head toward the sun. “It’s really easy, no one knows how much fixing a car should cost, they pay whatever you tell em’ to,”

“Awesome.”

Pathetic.

One of the best things about going out with Caesar was his cooking. He didn’t believe in following recipes, but knew how to make a damn good dish. I left his house early late one Thursday with a tupperware of fried tortellini smothered in marinara. I took it down to my dad’s apartment, a studio situated unbearably close to the train tracks. He couldn’t hear me knock over the wheels slamming into splintered tracks, long overdue for repair, so I took the extra key from his mailbox and let myself in. I’d be worried about someone robbing my father if there was anything to steal.

I found him lying, passed out on his bed, a single mattress on the floor, surrounded by Dorito crumbs and empty bourbon bottles.

“Dad, I brought food,” I sat at the end of the mattress and tapped his foot. He peeled open a crusty eye, looking over the pregnant bump of his beer belly.

“Ah, John, good boy John, it’s so good to see you,”

“Eat,” I nudged his foot again, prompting the man to sit up. He took the tupperware and peeled it open. "Caesar made it,"

"It looks good, is Caesar Italian?"

"No dad," I picked up his empty bottles of bourbon and took them to the kitchen. Vines of rusted cracks branched out beneath my feet, overhead a broken strobe light flickered. The cheap bulb gave everything in the kitchen a yellowish appearance, as if it were molded.

“Itailians are such wonderful cooks,” I could hear the food in his mouth as he spoke. I opened his pantry and tossed the bottles into his trash can, they sounded like wind chimes as they clinked against each other on the way down. “Where is her family from?”

“His,” I corrected. I closed the pantry door behind me and opened his fridge, it was mostly empty besides a few unlabeled takeout boxes and lines of beer cans. “Do you have any water?” I asked.

“Take from the tap, Louisville water is real clean, don’t gotta pay for overpriced plastic,”

The water from his tap always tasted like iron, and occasionally had a faint brown tint to it. “I’m alright,” I replied, leaving his kitchen empty handed. I came back to him already half-way finished with his pasta, he had smudges of marinara across his bulging cheeks that I assume he’d felt around his lips and attempted to wipe away. I studied the ombre lines of spotted red as I continued talking. “I don’t know where Caesar’s family is from, I haven’t asked,”

“Should soon, he could be illegal, you don’t want to be caught up with someone like that,”

I don’t think I would have cared if he was. “He’s not,”

“We have really good genetics you and I, blue eyes, strong enamel, don’t impregnate someone with bad genes, your kids will miss out,”

“He’s a man dad,”

My father’s face pinched. “A real one? Not one of those weird pussy boys you bring around,”

I wasn’t sure how to reply to that one. I wasn’t even sure who he was talking about.

“Your generation is doomed, boys are girls, girls or boys, back in my day we just called em dykes and moved on with it,” He shoveled more of the food into his mouth, little pieces spewing as he preached. “Nothing wrong with being a bull dyke, nothing wrong with dating one either, your mom looked a little like a bull dyke when I met her, real angry,”

I just nodded dully. He took that as a sign to keep talking.

“This boy have a penis?”

“Yes dad, he has a penis,”

“Do you take it up the ass?”

Years of similarly uncomfortable sexual questions had made me immune to the embarrassment of answering them. “We haven’t had sex,”

“But you want to,”

I considered it. Caesar was tall and broad, he had a nice face, nice hands. I’d never slept with a man before, but as far as relationships go we already did everything else associated. We went out to dinner, saw movies, we held hands, shared a bed, held each other while we slept. “I think I do,”

“I think you should, trying new things is good for you, teaches you things about yourself,” My dad finished the last of his tortellini and set the tupperware on the floor beside his mattress. “I’ve participated in sodomy with a woman, it was okay, no better than the usual penetration,”

“I don’t think I needed to know that,”

He laughed, raspy and wet. “You’re a grown man now, you can take it, you’re what, 19?”

“18,”

“18, I remember being 18, best years of my life,” I sat down on the end of his mattress and listened as my father began to recall the tales of his youth. He spent his later teen years working in a factory, he told me, a factory that belonged to the company he later became a higher up in. He told me that was where he met my mother, she was a receptionist, impossibly pretty with a strong attitude. She took her coffee black and didn’t tolerate any disrespect. He told me to stay away from women like that, that if I’m going to marry a woman, marry a real one.

As I walked back out to my car I stopped at the headlights and lifted my chin up to stare into the full moon. The moon has always looked fake to me, too round and picturesque. The lines of its craters are so vivid that as a child I had once tried to climb a ladder and grab it. At 18, I was still just as much of a child, silently I lifted my arm up into the air and hovered my hand over where I could see the moon. As I closed my hand I imagined it crushing and turning to dust between my fingers.

JULY - AUGUST

Caesar and I started hanging out less, he got a new job at some warehouse that had him on from six in the morning to eight in the afternoon every weekday. I still worked at the same grocery store I’d started working at freshman year. I felt a little emasculated when Caesar would talk about his job, lifting wooden panels, crates, and gas tanks seemed a lot manlier than checking out housewives in an apron. I didn’t know what it was about being with another man that made me so determined to reassure myself I was still one as well, maybe I’d spent too many years picturing gay men as skinny twinks in booty shorts and wearing glittering lip gloss. One day while in the bathroom at work I practiced saying gay slang in the mirror. When I cocked my hip and limped my wrist with the work apron on I did look like a real fag. It was a strange concept to comprehend. Did I want his dick up my ass? I didn’t think so, I’d never been interested in a thing like that before. Plenty of other guys seemed to like it, girls even.

I decided to text my ex about it. She told me to meet her at Barnes and Noble that weekend, I agreed.

The ex’s name was Singe, she stood at an unimpressive five feet four inches that she overcompensated for with obnoxious platforms and tall updos. Her hair was 'singed' at the ends, as she liked to say, fading from black at the roots into a crimson red at her ends. I found her perusing the psychology section, carefully looking over each book with narrowed eyes and a manicured finger.

“We don’t take well to shoplifters,” I said behind her, holding my voice an octave lower. She rolled her eyes and slid the book she’d been holding back into its spot on the shelf before turning to face me.

“Hey John, took you long enough,”

“Traffic,”

“I’m sure,” She motioned with her hand for me to follow, an array of beaded crystal bracelets sliding down her wrist at the action. “So you think you’re gay?” She inquired, non-accusatory. In Singe’s circles everyone was gay, genderqueer, polyamorous, it might as well have been a prerequisite to being punk. I knew she’d be the last person to judge me, but I still hesitated to answer, as if a camera crew were going to walk out from behind the bookshelves and expose me for my perverted attraction.

“I still like women, or at least I think I do, I liked having sex with you,”

“Did you? You never seemed as into it as I was,” She replied.

“I was into it, just, I don’t know,” I tapped my fingers against my pantleg. “Wasn’t as into as you in the ‘frequency’’ sense,”

“You’re the first guy I’ve known who was put off by a girl who wants to bone 24/7,”

“There’s other more interesting things to do,”

“Like what?” She led me into Barnes n’ Nobles adjourning Starbucks, sitting us down at a table by the window so we’d get to enjoy the beautiful view of an outlet mall parking lot.

“Movies,”

“Movies are boring, why would I care about fictional lives when I could be living my own?”

I frowned. “There’s a lot more to them than that,”

“For you, I actually get out of house and live my life,”

She had a point.

“So you’re what, bisexual?” She followed up.

“I guess,”

She tapped her long nails against the tabletop, considering. “Who’s the guy?”

“Caesar,”

“The guy who owns the PotStop?”

I didn’t know it had a name. “Yeah, him,”

“He’s really standoffish,” Singe commented. “I don’t see him actually talk to people much. Do you know who he normally hangs out with? Everyone I know knows him but no one I know hangs out with him. Have you met any of his friends?”

“Not yet, why’s it matter?”

She gave me a look, a deadpan ‘are you serious’? “Number one red flag is no friends, either they’re a narcissist too obsessed with themselves to put time into other people or they’re such a dick no one wants to be around them,”

I opted to ignore the implications that had on myself, seeing as my own personal circle consisted only of Singe, my dad, and now Caesar.

“Have you ever done anal?” I asked her.

“A few times, why?”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s okay, I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite but I enjoyed it,”

“Do you think I’d enjoy it?”

She laughed. “I can’t tell you whether or not you’d enjoy it John, you have to figure that out for yourself,”

“I don’t want to do it if I’m not going to like it,”

“So don’t do it,” Signe clapped her hands together. “Problem solved,”

I didn’t end up doing it, not anal at least. Caesar and I rarely got each other off and when we did it was strictly hand stuff. He thought doing anything else would make it weird, too gay. I should have realized early on that a guy who doesn’t want to be ‘too gay’ is not a guy you should be in a gay relationship with. For the first time in my life I worried that I was unattractive. Even if I wasn’t super interested in having sex with Caesar, it felt weird that he wasn’t at all interested in doing it with me. I wished at times I was more feminine looking, another first, I thought eventually he’d meet a girl he wanted to penetrate and either cheat or leave. I couldn’t stand the thought that Caesar would leave me.

We only dated three months.

I think back on those three months quite often and I find myself standing in front of two Caesars; the man I fell in love with and the man I dated. The man I fell in love with knew me and understood me in ways no one ever had before, and in ways no one ever would again. He saw through every lie I told, every fake smile and charade. This Caesar loved the parts of me only he saw and took no offense to the many idiosyncrasies I have that were exposed during our while short lived, intimate relationship. This Caesar is deep and intelligent, with good intuition and a drive to be better, do better, that I could respect.

This Caesar, funny enough, didn't exist, and would never exist. Even if one day he grew out of all of his immature habits and actually tried to make something of himself, maybe went to therapy and self-reflected on the way he treated me, the man I dated would never be the man I fell in love with.

The man I dated left me stoned and strung out downtown Louisville with no car and no wallet to hook up with a chick because I, just as I had dreaded, was not fulfilling his needs. His very real, manly needs to get off inside of something. I will admit, he was not completely to blame, he asked for my permission to swing and I, ever eager to please, had said 'batter up'! I had hardly expected him to find a girl that same night, nor did I expect him to abandon me for her on the dirty concrete of the city sidewalk. Too many drinks and a 10mg edible in, I could barely walk. Luckily enough, my tall frame and the bulge in my jeans saved me from being kidnapped or date raped. No, the worst outcome of the night was a thirty dollar bullet to my bank account. Initially the uber was only twenty, but I left a ten dollar tip after he'd been so kind as to even walk my crossfaded ass up to my apartment door.

I fell asleep as soon as I hit my bed, the cheap mattress I’d thrifted had never felt firmer, my decade old sheets softer. I almost didn’t want to get out of bed the next morning, if the source of my tribulations hadn’t let himself inside I would’ve stayed buried in those soft sheets all day.

“Rise and shine beautiful, I brought a hangover cure,” Caesar placed a strange drink concoction on my kitchen island, along with a tupperware of breakfast food.

“You make that or her?” I asked him, my voice was raspy from drunk singing and it added an extra edge to the sharp tone of my inquiry.

“I did,” He opened the tupperware and grabbed a fork from my cabinets. “I didn’t spend the night at her place, just hit it and went home, I hope you like meat in your scrambled eggs,”

“Meat?”

“Chicken,”

“Normally people use pork,”

“I’m not a normal person,” Caesar came around to the side of my bed and nudged my shoulder with the tupperware. “Eat,”

I felt sick to my bones. It’s a much different feeling than feeling sick to your stomach, you feel it through your whole body. It’s a cold feeling, on the edge of nausea, it makes you tense and void. Not sad, not angry, not jealous, sick.

I sat up and took the food from Caesar, it smelled delicious. I wasn’t sure if I could stomach it.

“How was it?” I prodded. He shrugged.

“Okay, sex is sex,”

Sex is sex.

The eggs looked like clay, mushy, impenetrable. I grit my teeth.

Sex is sex.

“I’m not hungry,” I gave the tupperware back to Caesar, who leveled me with an odd look. “Too hungover?”

“Yeah, sorry, thank you for the thought,”

“Of course,”

I thought about that for days. Sex is sex. I’d had sex very few times in my life, strangely enough. You’d think, wow John you’ve dated so many girls, and you’re so hot, you’ve probably done it a million times, but I haven’t. The very few times I did have sex it was awkward and weird, I hardly enjoyed it. Hand stuff with Caesar was good, really good, I genuinely enjoyed it and it made me feel connected to him. It was like him and I were in on this secret, we knew each other's bodies in ways others didn't.

Sex is sex. I began to question if he saw our hand stuff the same way. I began to question if he saw any of our relationship the same way. Was I so delusional as to believe this man and I had this insane, unfathomable bond, unlike anything I've ever felt before, when in reality I was nothing more than an experiment? Not even that, if I was an experiment I'd know, he'd be more curious, want to try more things, no Caesar enjoyed my company, he liked my personality.

He liked me.

I'll never know if he loved me. I loved him, I know that much. I was obsessed with him, the way he wore his hair, the rings on his fingers, the shark tooth necklace that hung over face when we roughhoused and the forgotten skateboard in his garage. I loved his tenacity and when he'd act stubborn, scrunching his face to convey his silent protest. I loved his sharp eyes and soft cheeks, I loved his worn out Doc Martens and his wall of stolen street signs. I loved Caesar. I loved him so much that when he looked at me, really looked at me, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I was sure during the time we were together that he was my endgame. That we had some connection no one else could understand, that my allowance of his misdeeds was a test of my love for him. I realize now that kind of thinking is idiotic. Real life isn’t a romcom, there is no fate, no destiny. Caesar and I weren’t meant to be, we weren’t soulmates, we were two losers without friends who just happened to be at the same place at the same time.

I’ve never been a good sleeper. It doesn’t help that my dad likes to stay up most nights watching conspiracy theory documentaries and listening to ‘underground’ podcasts. I could hear them from my room, the apartment walls thin enough that even the heavy breathing of dad’s neckbearded idols reached my ears as I searched desperately for sleep.

I started calling Caesar anytime I couldn’t sleep, and soon enough every night ended with the two of us deep in conversation over the glitchy speakers of our androids.

“Would you step on a bird to put it out of its misery?” Caesar asked me one night during an exceedingly more abstruse game of 21 questions.

“No,” I replied. “I couldn’t,”

“I could,”

“I’m not surprised,”

He laughed. “The bird is better off dead than suffering,”

“Did you ask me this just to sound edgy,”

“No no,” Caesar sounded earnest. “I wanted to know your thoughts, why wouldn’t you?”

“I’d feel bad,”

“You should feel worse about letting it suffer, if you really felt bad you’d kill it,”

I shifted uncomfortably in my bed. It wasn’t my fault that the bird was suffering, but it would be my fault the bird was dead if I killed it. There was no certainty that the bird would suffer forever unless I killed it. Why was the first option to step on it rather than to rescue it? In all honesty, the apartment might benefit from having something bright and energetic like a bird. I thought to myself that if the next morning I found a bird with a broken wing or legs that couldn’t care for itself, I wouldn’t step on it, I’d take care of it.

“If you had a pet bird what would you name it Caesar?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never wanted a pet bird,”

“But if you did,”

“Bladee,”

“Like the artist?”

“Yes,”

Naturally. “You’re obnoxious,”

“I’d be boring if I wasn’t,” I rotated onto my side so my hand rested in the palm of my hand and I faced the side of my phone. “Would you rather I named it something like Tweety?”

“No,” I said through a yawn. “But maybe something like Carl,”

“Carl?”

“Or Steve, Miles-”

“John,”

“Yes?”

“A name like John,” Caesar reiterated. “What’s with you and lameass names?”

I didn’t respond to that comment, it was true, I had a lame name. It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t pick it.

“Have you ever considered renaming yourself?” Caesar continued to dig. “Like Singe did,”

“I’m not alternative like Singe is,” I flipped back onto my back. “I don’t see the point, John fits me,”

Caesar grunted in agreement, then began on a tangent about the latest homicide he’d heard about in the news. He echoed the same sentiments I’d heard from other proud anti-fascists our age, not spouting a drop of his own thought out opinion. The line of reasoning he followed wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t stupid, just vague and overused, empty showy protest against a system he didn’t understand but pretended to know better than. I suppose his name fits him as well, if taken ironically. He was the personification of misquoted Caesar, a buzzword finding itself quite often in the wrong place; a politician's shitty speech, a school wall, a teenagers social media bio.

SEPTEMBER

I’ve recently started college, my major is still undecided but for my electives I’m taking Introduction to Film Studies and Spanish.

I enjoy Film Studies, it's easy. You don't have to learn how to feel, just the words to describe it.

The scene before you is dark, a single light flickers, the pole it stands upon is rusted. Beneath the actors feet the ground is moist from the morning's rain and one man awkwardly regards his partner's back pressed against the alley's brick wall with hesitation.

He can feel the ghost of wet brick on his back.

In class he'd describe these details as ominous, foreboding, and dreadful.

The man against the wall lifts his head and laughs, his voice is smoother than is normal; he is drunk.

"I don't like when you drink," Now that the man has spoken it becomes aware to the viewer that he's not a man, no not nearly, he's just a boy.

An eighteen year old boy.

"You're seriously no fun," Caesar mocks. "Weren't you just drinking with me? Fucking hypocrite,"

I looked anywhere but at him. The night was alive, the beating blood of Louisville's punk scene pumping around us, but never touching. "I had one shot, you've had six,"

He didn't digest my comment well, looking as though he might puke up five months worth of built up grievances onto my adidas. "So judgy," He settled on.

"I'm calling us an uber,"

"You're not,"

I didn't reply.

"You know what your problem is?" He lifted his head up, hair askew. "You think you're so much better than everyone else, you're so caught up in your own head you've convinced yourself that you're the only person that matters,"

I struggled to push my phone up and out of the pocket of my skinny jeans. I couldn't be sure if my hands were shaking, not when the light barely reached them.

"Do you even feel anything?"

"Of course I feel things," I pressed hard against the outline of my phone. The corner was caught on my pocket seam.

"You never show it," Caesar shook his head, hair beads rattling against one another. They were new, silver to match his rings.

A skull.

A snake.

A die.

All rusted on the inside.

I finally got my phone out of my pocket and it was heavy. A lead weight in my hand. Beneath the street light shone a glare on the screen that made it difficult to find my uber app.

"Do you love me John?"

I ignored him. Requested two stops.

"Do you love anyone?"

"Would you stop."

Caesar laughed. "Predictable,"

I grit my teeth. "What, what's predictable?"

"You," He pushed away from the wall so that he towered over me. "You're just like every other entitled, emotionally constipated, middle class white boy, it upsets you that I actually want us to feel something,"

"Want us," I echoed.

"Us, I want to feel something together, collectively, connected," He took my free hand, interlocking our fingers. "Don't you want that too?"

"Our uber will be here any minute now," I pulled my hand away from his and stepped back. His dark eyes remained trained on mine, locked into my irises.

"I can see why everyone leaves you, John," I stifled. "You never gave them a place to stay to begin with,"

In a movie scene you can see the ground is wet but you can't feel that the air is humid. You can infer from the blue hues and the main character's shivers that it was cold, but you'll not always be right. There was no shiver, just a violent twitch, as though someone hooked up spark plugs around my big toes. Caesar's pretentiousness was painful, and his snobby, accusatory attitude extremely off-putting. I hated dramatic assholes who pretend they can see right through you, that they understand the world in ways you're incapable.

I put him in the uber when it came and ordered a separate one for myself, let the driver know the second stop was unneeded, but could keep whatever pay they gave him for it.

My ride took me to my dad's, where I didn't bother to peel off my wet shoes, instead just stumbled into his bedroom and sat on the edge of that stained, crusted, rickety old mattress. I crumpled like a paper wad, head in my hands and joints stiff. I stayed there until the sun came up and my father's alarm rang.

He slid his glasses onto his face with sweaty, wrinkled hands, almost dropping them as they journeyed from the bedside table to his bed.

"John," He coughed out. "What are you doing here,"

"I'm breaking up with Caesar,"

"Who?"

"Caesar," I repeated. "The real boy,"

"Ah," My father slapped his lips together, kissing away his morning mouth gunk. "Never quite liked the kid anyways, give it just a few years and they'll have him locked up for one thing or another."

"Yeah," I kept my head in my hands, embarrassed that my dad might see the puddles that had begun to form in my palms if I dropped them. "He wasn't really my type anyways."

[babybluebex]

is it weird that one of the hottest parts of the video of Joe meeting Metallica to me is that it looks like they gave him in-ear monitors when he was playing and it makes him look an actual proper musician and made me 🥵🥵 at the idea of actual rockstar musician joe

ugh rockstar joe is so special (yes this is a headcanon list deal with it) ((also let's suspend disbelief and say that he's in metallica bc YEAH THAT'S HOT))

rockstar!joe is one of those rockstars that doesn't look the part

like he doesn't have tattoos or piercings, he just looks like Some Guy

like if you passed him on the street, you'd never know that his band headlined lollapalooza lmao

"sorry to this man but idk who he is" type energy

he's one of the guitarists ofc

he's always noodling away on his guitar

if he has it in his hands, he's playing something, even if he's just playing random chords

holds his pick between his lips when he needs to do something with both hands

at home, he's always got jazz music playing

he's not an elitist at all, but he's definitely studied the history of rock and roll and where the roots of his music style come from, and he appreciates jazz music

always has it playing in the house and he'll like sing the guitar part he would put it

he does that a lot

listening to a song on the radio and he goes "i'd put in a guitar line here, it would go like this" and sings it

now's a good time to say that he's a good singer

he's a little anxious about it, though, so he doesn't sing at concerts, stays pretty away from the mic

he only sings with you, when you're in the car or at home

he'll put on good music and dance with you and sing with you

he writes songs about you but he doesn't show them to anyone bc he doesn't think they'll work as like heavy metal/metallica songs

at home, he has a special room that has all of his guitars and amps and everything, and he spends a lot of time there working

sometimes he'll spend all day in his special little studio room, only coming out for dinner

"good day?' you ask and he nods "what did you work on?" "oh, you know, just working on some songs"

going to his concerts and they're stadium shows, and he likes having you by his side as much as possible

getting a VIP pass and hanging in the green room with joe and everyone in the band

james hetfield is 100% totally obsessed with you, loves calling you "the missus" even though you and joe aren't married

getting to stand offstage and watch soundcheck and joe keeps flashing silly faces at you

you make heart hands at him and you can see his grin and blush all the way from the wings

during concerts, joe performs pretty much like eddie, stanced up, headbanging his curls around as he focuses on playing

he's always losing picks bc he'll toss them into the crowd after like EVERY song

he gets special things printed on his picks like his initials or whatever and signs a bunch bc he KNOWS he's gonna be tossing them into the crowd

after shows, he is DRAINED and all sweaty and collapses into you all jokingly "hold me, i'm gonna pass out" but he's fine

but after show sex… oh my god

his adrenaline is high and he’s getting you in the hotel bed as quick as possible

he’ll be a little feral when fucking you after a concert, nipping at your neck as he ruts into you

can’t even undress all the way type fuck

but once he’s made sure you’ve cum like 3 times, he’s kissing you all sweet and telling you stories about what happened during the concert

“james was telling jokes over the monitors the entire time, did you see me laughing? i feel like you could see me laughing”

“i fucked up during master of puppets, my fingers just stopped working and i completely forgot it”

“i almost tripped at one point, did you see it?”

he’s just so excited to tell you all about it

golden retriever rockstar

yeah that’s all i’ve got rn

[inquisitiveheretic]

i can’t stand james bc he’s said out of his own mouth he needs to be the center of attention and that’s why there was some tension between he and lars bc they’re the same BUT he’s also so so visibly disgusted by being Seen and Witnessed when he’s not in charge of how he’s presented and like girl….me too so sorry to hear it <3

he looked so icked out and rigid in that video lmao the panic must have been bad that night. same behavior when he interacts with fans, he only seems comfortable with his identity when there’s distance but not so much it makes him feel like James Hetfield is somebody hanging over his head. idk how the hell this man ever got married— three cheers for Francesca

i've talked about this before a few times, most pointedly here, but james seems to conflate sense of self with sense of purpose — his purpose of being 'metallica's frontman' developed at the exact age where he became a person (an adult), so to speak, so he's understood that as his self being metallica's frontman. when he can't be that ..... who is he?

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Vegas Lights - LRH. MASTERLIST

Carter Mayfair had worked hard to get where she was. Her life was on track, and she finally secured a position working with one of her two best friends at the magazine company they had their eyes on for years.

Until she caught her boyfriend of two years in bed with another woman.

After being forced into a celebratory trip to Vegas, the fun turned into body shots and a drunken mistake.

And she has the ring to prove it.

Luke Hemmings Fanfiction.

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE, SEXUAL REFERENCES, DEPICTIONS OF MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES AND PANIC ATTACKS, AND POSSIBLE VIOLENCE

Sydney Sweeney as Carter Mayfair

"I swear to god, if you touch my pillow one more time I will murder you."

Luke Hemmings as himself

"Maybe if I glare at her long enough she will  combust and our marriage will be void anyways"

Laura Harrier as Stephanie Jordan

"if Jo pisses me off enough and I finally snap I'll need somebody to help me hide the body"

Katherine McNamara as Josephine Lumley

"You get married after one night. I devote a whole ass three years to a relationship and get nothing. This is what you get when you have boobs."

Calum Hood as himself

"Stop flicking me, you angry little leprechaun!"

Ashton Irwin as himself

"You're a walking commitment issue and I want to smack you."

Michael Clifford as himself

"So help me god, if you keep testing me boy I will cut Ashton's hair off and glue it to your forehead."

Crystal Leigh as herself

"I'm surrounded by testosterone yet in the only one who will kill the spider in the bathroom."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 1

What happens in Vegas... sorely affects a strong portion of your life. What have we gotten ourselves into?

                   Everyone gets a chance to heal from their decisions and clean up their mistakes; I'm just hoping you're the chance I get.

1: I Hate Being Mad at You and Your Boobs

2: I Hope She Has Herpes

3: I Could Never Hate James Hetfield

4: Sneaky, Sexy Ninja

5: You’re Just Mad Because You’re Ovulating

6: Luke, You Are Naked

7: Mrs. Carter Hemmings

8: Y’know, You’re Meant to Wear Shoes, Right?

9: Sorry, Didn’t Know My Official Title was ‘Wife’ Now.

10: You Have Exactly 23 Minutes to get that Perky Ass Ready

[the-a-word-2214]

☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹

Spikes and Purple Hair

A/N: This is the final part, everyone! Thank you all for reading. I plan to write more in the future but I might take a break from it for now.

Warnings: Language

679 words

Chapter 9

August 1987, Monsters of Rock tour

Metallica had been on tour for a couple of days on the Monsters of Rock tour with various bands such as Anthrax, Bon Jovi, W.A.S.P, Deep Purple, and Cinderella. Veruca had tagged along for moral support because James was nervous about them playing a festival. He knew that they would have a good time but the number of people scared him. With the success of Ride the Lightning and Master of Puppets the fans were coming in in droves now.

As the band was getting ready backstage, James's nerves were getting to him. He had already thrown up once and was attempting not to do it again. Veruca was by his side, soothing him in any way she could. He was currently hunched over, sitting on a bench while Anthrax could be heard in the background. The roar of the crowd was almost deafening. Kirk walked over, towel in hand. "Here, dude. You look like you could use this." James simply grumbled and flipped him off.

Veruca sat next to him and put an arm around him. He let out a large burp. "Do you need anything?" Jason inquired as he pushed his hair out of his eyes. "Fuck off, new kid," James grumbled. Lars walked past them and scoffed. "Someone's got his panties in a twist." Veruca sighed and stood up. "It's going to be okay, Jamie. You know how different you feel once you're up there. Just say 'fuck it' and go for it."

James finally gets up and rolls his shoulders. "Okay, I'm good now. Let's go fuck the audience in the face." He smirks as he presses a chaste kiss to her forehead.

The roar of the audience got louder and louder as the band neared the stage. They walked on and were immediately met with cheers. They started off into "Creeping Death" just as Ennio Morricone's "The Ecstasy of Gold" finished off its final notes. Their heads thrashed in time with each other as their hands strummed faster and faster. It was always a sight to see when they played together. Veruca watched them from the backstage area. She smiled to herself knowing that they could become Metal gods one day.

Halfway through the setlist, James walked up towards the microphone to greet the crowd. "Helloooo everyone! How ya doin' today? We're Metallica, I'm James, this fucker is Kirk." He said as he motioned towards Kirk. "That's Lars and this is Newkid- I mean Jason." He chuckles as he pats Jason on the back. "I got up here because I'd like to introduce you guys to someone special." At this point, he's dragging Veruca onto the stage. "Say 'hi' Ruca."

She giggles as she says a quick greeting to the thousands of fans. "This is my girlfriend, Veruca, she's been with me through all of the crazy shit." He starts out, his palms are sweaty by this point. "I hope that she loves me enough to stay with me through even more shit because..." he trails off as Kirk tosses him a small velvet box. James caught it and started grinning as he got down on one knee.

Tears welled up in Veruca's eyes as she cupped her hands over her mouth. "Holy shit, are you serious?" She gasped. He nodded and brought the microphone back to his mouth. Fans in the crowd were muttering to themselves as they watched. "Veruca Elizabeth Jones, will you marry me?" He pops the box open to reveal a tear shaped sapphire set in the middle of a silver band. "Yes!" She shouts as she pulls him up before engulfing him in a hug as he slides the ring on her finger. Whoops and hollers were heard throughout the crowd as the pair kissed. The band finished off the show with a bang, as usual. Veruca and James were happily married a year later. She stuck with him through all of the hard shit. Who knew that a flurry of spikes and purple hair would make James Hetfield weak at the knees?

☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹☻☹

[nausicaamusiclover20]

There’s a picture of James and Kirk with that looks like Dallas Cowboys cheer squad https://www.tumblr.com/ba11ltongue/765314535953481728

I think it’s DCC cause of uniform. Can you write James x former cheerleader, they met when this photo was taken and got married pretty fast, which kinda shocked everyone cause all press didn’t pin James for husband material. And maybe couple years later, they are on Grammy/MTV red carpet and a journalist asks James why he married her and Het goes on how caring and amazing she is; but she’s very sassy so she jokes something like “oh really? So nothing to do with me doing all the flips she twists in tiny shorts”?

Hope you like it❤

Husband Material? Ask the Cheerleader!

The roar of the crowd was still ringing in my ears as I wiped sweat

from my forehead and tried to catch my breath. My squad was chattering around me, celebrating another routine well done. It was one of those surreal nights — cheering on a massive stage, bright lights everywhere, surrounded by the biggest names in rock.

Then I spotted him. James Hetfield. He was standing off to the side with his bandmates, looking out over the bustling scene with that signature mix of intensity and cool detachment. It was like he was in his own world, even here, even in the middle of all this chaos.

I’d heard about him — everyone had. Heartbreaker, rebel, “not exactly husband material,” as one of the girls had put it. But right now, he was just… there. And he was staring right at me.

I tried to ignore the sudden flutter in my chest. It’s not like he was going to walk over, right?

Wrong. He was walking straight toward me.

“You did great out there,” he said, a lopsided smile on his face, voice smoother than I expected.

“Thanks! You weren’t too bad yourself,” I replied, trying to sound casual, though I could feel my heart pounding. “So… you’re the infamous James everyone keeps talking about?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Infamous, huh? What are they saying?”

“Oh, you know.” I shrugged, trying to keep my tone playful. “Heartbreaker, rebel.  That sort of thing.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Guess they don’t know everything.” He gave me a look that was both curious and intense. “How about you? You look like you can handle yourself. Break a few hearts yourself, maybe?”

“Maybe,” I replied with a smirk. “But I try not to leave too much collateral damage.”

He chuckled, and before I knew it, we were talking about everything from music to the chaos of life on the road. By the end of the night, he had my number, and I had a feeling — that crazy feeling you get when you just know something big is starting.

----------

Fast forward a couple of years, and here I am, walking down the red carpet with James Hetfield — my husband. Funny how life works, huh? The tabloids had gone wild when we’d gotten married after just a few months of knowing each other. “Impulsive,” they called it. “Uncharacteristic.” And my favorite: “James Hetfield? Husband material?” They couldn’t wrap their heads around it.

But they didn’t know him like I did. And they definitely didn’t know us.

Tonight, James was nominated for an award, and even though I’d been to plenty of these events with him by now, the flashing cameras and chaos still felt surreal. I felt his arm wrap around my waist, steady and sure, grounding me like always. He leaned down, whispering, “You look stunning.”

Just then, a journalist waved us over, a wide-eyed grin on her face. “James! You two are a fan favorite. Everyone’s still fascinated by how you got together so quickly. People were saying they never saw you as, well, husband material. What made you decide she was the one?”

James glanced at me, his eyes softening as he pulled me a little closer. “She’s… everything I never knew I needed,” he said, his voice warm. “She sees me, the real me, not the guy on stage, not the name or the fame. She’s always been able to see right through all of that, and she reminds me of who I am when I forget.” He looked at me, his gaze filled with something so tender, so unguarded, it made my heart skip a beat.

I couldn’t help but tease him, especially with all these cameras around. “Oh really, James?” I grinned, giving him a playful nudge. “So, nothing to do with the fact that I was doing all those flips and twists in tiny shorts?”

The journalist burst out laughing, clearly amused. “So that’s how you won him over!”

James joined in, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, maybe that caught my attention at first,” he admitted, with a grin that only made me want to tease him more. “But that’s not why I married her. She’s so much more than that. She’s the only person who keeps me sane. The only one who keeps me grounded.”

I rolled my eyes, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks as the journalist chuckled again. “You make a good point, but I still think the flips helped,” I replied with a wink, leaning a little closer to James for effect.

James gave me a look somewhere between exasperation and adoration. “Maybe. But it’s your humor, your strength, and the way you don’t let me get away with anything. You’re my best friend.”

I softened, unable to keep up the teasing any longer. The way he looked at me — so full of love and pride — made it hard to think of anything witty to say. I just gave his hand a gentle squeeze, grateful for this moment.

The journalist, still smiling, shook her head. “Well, you two are adorable. Rock’s golden couple,” she said with a playful twinkle. “So what’s the secret, then, to a rockstar marriage?”

I laughed, catching James’s eye with a grin. Before he could answer, I chimed in, “Oh, that’s simple. I just keep him on his toes. Don’t let that rockstar image fool you — I’m the boss in this relationship.”

The journalist chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. James sighed, giving an exaggerated look of exasperation. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. “Thanks for putting up with me,” he murmured, just for me to hear.

I squeezed his hand, smiling softly. “Like I said, Hetfield, you’re not getting off that easy.”

--------

Hours later, after the whirlwind of the red carpet, the interviews, and the blinding camera flashes, we finally made it to the after-party. I let out a long breath, kicking off my heels and wiggling my toes as I leaned against the bar with a glass of wine. My feet ached, but it was a good kind of ache, the kind that reminds you of everything you’ve just been through.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of warm, familiar arms wrap around my waist from behind. James pulled me close, his chin resting on my shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss against my neck. “Finally,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’ve got you all to myself.”

I smiled, leaning back into him. “I know. I swear, these events get longer every time.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling my skin. “Worth it, though. You were stunning out there. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

I turned to face him, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the wine. “You said that already, Hetfield,” I teased, nudging him playfully. “But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

He smirked, tightening his hold on me. “You’re sassy tonight.”

“Always,” I replied, grinning up at him.

James looked at me for a moment, his expression softening. “You know, I meant what I said out there to the press,” he said quietly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Don’t think I say it enough.”

My smile faded, replaced by something softer, more genuine. The world knew James as the rock legend, the larger-than-life icon, but this side of him — the man who was vulnerable, grateful, and unguarded — was the one I fell in love with.

I reached up, resting my hand on his cheek, my thumb brushing gently across his jawline. “You know… I don’t think people would believe how mushy you actually are.”

He let out a low laugh, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone. Gotta keep up the image.”

I grinned, pulling him a little closer. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

We stood there for a while, the noise of the party fading into the background. It was just us in our own little world. James leaned down, his lips finding mine in a soft, lingering kiss. It was warm, slow, and said everything we didn’t need words for. When he pulled back, he kept his forehead against mine, his thumb tracing gentle circles along my waist.

“Ready to go home?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

I nodded, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

As we walked out of the party hand in hand, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet kind of joy. Fame and all its chaos might come and go, but this? This was real. This was ours. And as long as I had him by my side, I knew I had everything I’d ever need.

[67-chevy-baby]

Who I Am With You

Ship - James Hetfield x Reader

Rating - PG-13

Tags - Fluff, angst, doubt, crying, and possibly a curse word or two

Word Count -  1.2k ish

Written for - @superheroginger8811

“Hey Shawn, can I get another coke, please?”

James pushed his glass towards the bartender and watched as he filled it up to the brim. Shawn eyed him warily while he dried a freshly washed mug with a towel.

“You’re in here awful late James, Everything okay with the missus?”

James let out a long, heavy sigh. Truth be told, there was a lot going that he just didn’t know how to fix. He wasn’t even sure if there was anything wrong. Metallica’s latest album was coming along nicely, right on schedule in fact, but that meant he was away from home more than he’d like to be. Y/N, his beautiful, supportive wife, had been a little more distant than usual, and it worried him.

“I don’t know Shawn. Y/N’s been more reserved lately, and I think it’s because of me. This new album is what Metallica needs, ya know? Metallica’s been my baby for over twenty-five years now. It’s all I ever had to worry about really. Ever since I married Y/N, I’ve had to divide my time, and I don’t think I’m very good at it. I try, I really do, but I think she’s getting fed up with me.”

James took a long pull of his coke, relishing the taste of the refreshing liquid. He set the glass on the coaster provided to him and watched as a bead of condensation slid down the outside of it. Shawn leaned against the counter. He gave James a knowing glance before clearing his throat.

“You wanna know what I think you should do?”

James ran a hand over his face and looked at the bartender desperately.

“I’ll take any advice you got, Shawn. I can’t lose her.”

Y/N hated waking up alone. It made her miss her husband even more, and even though she hated to admit it, she was starting to become jealous of the other members of Metallica. It seemed like they got to see James more than her. It made her feel guilty because she knew they were hard at work on the new album, but on the other hand, she wanted just a little time with him every once in a while.

As much as she wanted to stay in bed and mope all day, she had other responsibilities to take care of. If not her, who else would pay the necessary bills for the month? Sighing she got up and slid on the nearest clean clothes and threw her hair into a messy bun.

Other than paying the rent and the utilities, all she had to do today was pick up a couple things at the grocery store. After that, she would be home by herself until James pulled in around ten thirty.

About halfway to the store, her cell phone rang, lighting up with her Mom’s face on it. She always swore her Mother had a sixth sense or something. Whenever she was feeling upset or troubled about something she would call her. Hitting the answer button on her Bluetooth stereo, her mother’s voice filled the interior of her SUV.

“Hey, Mom.”

There really wasn’t any point in hiding the disappointment in her voice, so she didn’t. Her Mother sighed sympathetically, once again expressing how much she longed to be with her only living daughter. Ever since Y/N’s younger sister lost her life in a freak accident, her Mom and she have become closer.

“What’s going on sweetie? Did you and James get in a fight again?”

Part of her wished that was the case. At least then she would have an excuse to be as upset as she was. The truth was, James was being more romantic than usual, and it only made her want him around all the time that much more. She knew that was impossible, especially in his line of work.

“No, Mom that’s just it. We haven’t been fighting.”

The emotion in her voice was evident, hot tears streaming down her face as she pulled the car over. Y/N covered her face with her hands as sobs racked her body.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s going on? Do you need me to come up? I can call the store and let my boss know that there’s a family emergency. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I stayed for a few days.”

She took a deep shaky breath and did the best to dry her eyes. Even if her Mom came to stay, it still wouldn’t solve the distance issue between her and James. She swallowed thickly, pulling her vehicle back onto the main road. Screw going to the store today. She’d do it tomorrow when she had more motivation. All she wanted to do right now was go home and soak in a nice hot bath.

She didn’t expect to find James’ truck in the driveway when she turned onto her street. She suddenly got a horrible feeling in her gut that something was wrong. He was never home this early, let alone done writing and recording. Y/N pulled her SUV in behind his truck, threw it in park and rushed towards the slightly ajar front door. Once inside she couldn’t believe her eyes. Her purse hit the linoleum, contents scattering different directions.

“James wha-?”

There, clad in his best dress pants and button-up shirt, stood her husband. He was just lighting the last candle on their dining room table. He’d prepared a homemade meal, poured one of his oldest bottles of red wine in glasses, and he even dimmed the lights before lighting scented candles.

James smiled, looking her up and down, as he started towards her. His snaked one of his large hands behind her head freeing her hair from the confines of her ponytail. He watched wondrously as her long red locks cascaded down her shoulders. How he got this lucky, he’d never know.

“I’m sorry if I startled you Y/N, I just had to see you.”

He kissed her long and slow, savoring the moment between them. She pulled away to look into his loving, ocean-colored eyes.

“It’s okay, baby. I just … what is all this?”

James cradled her face in his hands. He knew she missed him. It pained him how long he had to be away, but he knew he could still be doing more for her. More things like leaving her little notes in the morning for her to wake up to, calling her throughout the day just to hear her voice and see how she’s doing, and coming home early every once in a while to make her dinner. She did most of the work for them financially anyway.

“Y/N, I first want to apologize to you. I know I’ve been gone most of the time since Metallica started to write their latest album. I hate to see you hurt when I’m gone. It breaks my heart to see the pain I’ve caused you. I can be better. I can be the man you need, hell, I want to be the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Starting right now, I’m going to prove it to you. Tonights all about you baby. I’m gonna show you how much you mean to me, because baby, who I am with you makes me a better man.