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30-3am · 1 month

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im tipsy as fuck n cant stop thinking abt small town james oh mY GOD😭😭😭 pls give us all a little taste just headcanons anythinggg

𝘚 𝘔 𝘈 𝘓 𝘓 ' 𝘛 𝘖 𝘞 𝘕 ' 𝘑 𝘈 𝘔 𝘌 𝘚 ' 𝘏 𝘌 𝘈 𝘋 𝘊 𝘈 𝘕 𝘕 𝘖 𝘕 𝘚

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . small town! james hetfield x reader

this would've been james x my oc but i thought it would gain more traction if i did it x reader (icl it is pretty much the plot of my fic tho ... sorry!)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✪! most of the time, he's bored. nothing exciting ever goddamn happens in the damn place. so, to break up the day, he works. at the stupid gas station that's situated just off the main road.

✪! almost all that money is saved up so he can buy himself the guitar that's been hanging in the music shop window for almost a year now. no one else was cool enough to play something that looked so damn good.

✪! the rest of the money goes to beer. and although he doesn't smoke much, sometimes all the looks from the old women and the judgement from their husbands gets too much and he swipes a pack of marlboros from behind the counter and goes on his way.

✪! he doesn't have many friends - just talks to the few people who don't act like he's the most awful thing that has graced the town.

✪! and he won't lie to himself, it gets lonely.

✪! not only does he barely interact with the townspeople, he's also shit out of luck for women. when he was back in california, they were everywhere. he could go down to the beach and find them sprawled out on the sand in bikinis, walking down the road in shorts that showed off their ass and driving in convertibles with their boyfriends.

✪! then he got to the middle of fucking nowhere and suddenly, it was all old women and girls with skirts to their ankles.

✪! so he settled for one girl who was bold enough to flirt with him in the middle of his shift. she was pretty enough and he was pretty much out of options.

✪! and she was fine for a while - the on-and-off relationship he had with her. but eventually, he grew tired of being the catalyst for pissed parents.

✪! so he dropped her.

✪! and then, fuck, did it get even lonelier.

✪! the monotony of the days caught up with him. working whilst the sun was shining and then wandering aimlessly down dirt roads with a 6 pack under his arm and head full of something he couldn't quite pinpoint, during the night. a lot of the time he woke up in the cornfields or at the house he frequented that hadn't been occupied for at least forty years.

✪! and then he'd drag his feet behind him as he walked back to where he'd left his truck and drive home with a pounding head.

✪! just as the mundanity became too much, just as he thought about running fast into the sun and never turning back, you came.

✪! you walked into the gas station, looking like you were from the other side of town - not from where he resided. one of the rich catholic girls with a dad who worked on the city council.

✪! expecting the snobbishness and judgement that most showed him, you entirely surprised him as you looked at him, not with disgust, but with admiration.

✪! you looked enticed by him.

✪! and he wanted to get to know you better.

✪! as you paid for your soda and candy, you hadn't looked at him. even when he put on his customer service voice and wished you a good day, you had mumbled a "you too" under your breath and ran off.

✪! he had watched you leave, walking towards a man (who he assumed was your father) and james held his stare as he eyed him through the glass.

✪! he hoped that next time, you'd be alone. maybe you'd be a little more talkative if your asshole dad wasn't glaring at him.

✪! and, by the grace of god, you were alone the next time the bell above the door rang and you stepped in.

✪! even better, you talked.

✪! and therefore, a friendship blossomed.

✪! and finally, james' life became a little more interesting.

✪! when the relationship progressed out of the walls of the gas station, he'd taken you in his truck and shown you the abandoned house he'd found. he'd dragged you through the fields and to the outskirts of town where you had confessed you had never been before.

✪! most importantly, he took you to the lake - situated just a short walk from his house.

✪! in the summer, when it was a hot and sticky afternoon, he had taken you, by the hand, and led you to the body of water he called his own - that he refused to share with anyone.

✪! you'd talked to him about your parents, about your life, about your friends and family - things that you'd confessed you hadn't told anyone else before.

✪! you'd talked until the sun set and the moon rose.

✪! and you'd panicked about your parents and how it was way past curfew, but your stress fell on deaf ears. because james couldn't stop thinking about how damn beautiful you looked: slightly sunkissed, the light of the moon catching on the side of your face.

✪! maybe it was the heat driving him insane that made him think it was a good idea to kiss you. or maybe, over the months he'd spent in your company, he'd fallen deeply in love with you. it was most likely the latter.

✪! but he had held your face between his hands and silenced your hysteria with a kiss.

✪! the fire in him blazed when you kissed back.

✪! slowly, friendship turned into relationship, days spent sneaking around and stealing kisses. nights spent laughing and touching and skinny dipping in the lake.

✪! the bank of the lake was where he'd taken you for the first time - both wet and naked as you gripped onto his shoulders and pressed kiss after kiss on his lips.

✪! almost every time you were together, you would talk about running away, making plans and stories in your heads of where you would go. together.

✪! all either of you wanted was to get in his truck and drive far away. he'd promised you, with a kiss to your forehead that he would show you california one day - that he would find a way to get you out of there.

✪! then, your parents found out about your interactions with him. and although they didn't know the extent of the relationship, it was enough to force you to stop seeing him.

✪! they wouldn't let you out of the house, and if you did leave, they would have to supervise you.

✪! once again, james was left alone.

✪! he started drinking a lot more. more than he used to.

✪! because he hadn't heard a word from you in weeks. all he could assume was that you'd left him - that you didn't wanna be around him anymore.

✪! he'd called your house one time but a male voice sounded from the other end and he'd put the phone down out of fear.

✪! weeks and weeks and weeks you didn't talk to him and it truly felt like he was sinking.

✪! so one random night, he'd gathered all the cash he had saved up, packed his bags and clambered into his truck. he was headed for california. he'd already called relatives that would let him stay with them until he got on his feet.

✪! he was all set for home.

✪! as he began driving, he knew you were supposed to be coming with him. it was wrong that you weren't huddled into the passenger seat, rifling through his cassettes and toying with the radio.

✪! but he left either way. because he couldn't stand the place before you and he despised it after you. it was impossible to stay there.

✪! he left without a word and you never saw him again.

✪! all you got was a postcard from california in the mail that read "thank you for making that town bearable. i would've lost myself if you weren't there."

✪! it wasn't signed yet you knew exactly who it was from and, as soon as you held it and stared at the return address he'd crammed into the corner, you knew exactly where you were heading.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

this went in a completely different direction than i thought it would. it was supposed to be cute little headcannons yet i gave an entire plot lol. and someone take angst away from me omfg either way, i hope you enjoyed reading. it's something to tide you over whilst i keep working on the 90s james one shot and barefoot.

#alana's writing #james hetfield #metallica #small town!james #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fanfiction

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distorted59 · 8 months

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A Week In San Francisco pt.2

summary: after sharing a heated kiss the night before, James and y/n are a little on edge when they visit the beach.

pairing: Kill 'Em All!James x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw/smut, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, p in v, james likes to beg a little, cute lil' aftercare in the end

word count: 3344

A/N: sorry it took a while! honestly took me longer than expected lol. hope you enjoy it, babes! xo

part 1

✪

The fact that she even got a few hours of sleep is a fucking miracle itself. The butterflies in her stomach almost made it impossible to fall asleep.

But, here she is. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a cigarette in her hand. She’s wearing a beach-sundress and a simple bikini underneath. And honestly, she’s really excited to go to the beach.

Kirk shuffles into the kitchen, wearing his glasses and his hair is messy. His favorite ‘Dracula’ t-shirt is completely wrinkled and slightly raised, showing his belly.

“Morning,” y/n grins. “I see you slept very well?”

"Mhm." Kirk kisses the top of her head and yawns.

He goes over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee, he is a bit wobbly but he can still keep his balance. He goes to sit down next to y/n and smiles at her.

“How did you sleep? Did everything go okay last night?”

She almost chokes on her coffee, but luckily she doesn’t. A slight blush creeps on her face. Y/n quickly puts out her cigarette in the ashtray in front of her and tries to hide her blush with a smile.

“Yeah, I slept fine!” She assures him.

"Great." Kirk moves his hand through his hair. “You know, James told me he spoke to you last night.”

“He did?” She looks into his eyes. “What did he say?”

“That he told you we’re going to the beach today!” Kirk grins excitedly. “I see you’re all ready to go!”

Y/n breathes out slowly through her nose. It would be kinda dumb to immediately tell a guy you kissed his sister, right? But, hey. Anything can happen with these guys.

“Yeah, you know I love going to the beach!”

They sit in a comfortable silence for a bit, sipping their coffee and enjoying the morning sun that is shining through the kitchen window.

Until that is interrupted by a fucking war cry.

“Cliff! I swear to god, man! I claimed the bathroom first!”

“You’re too slow, Hetfield!”

Lars walks into the kitchen rolling his eyes, “Morning, guys.” He opens the refrigerator and grabs a carton of orange juice. “How did your first night in the Metallica Mansion treat you, y/n?”

“It treated me wonderfully, thank you.”

“Great!” He smiles. “That’s really good to hear.”

Later on, Cliff walks in with a big grin on his face. He sits down next to Kirk and looks at y/n and her cigs. “Good morning, can I?”

“Morning! ‘Course you can.” She slides the pack towards him and he lights one. Cliff thanks her and shoots her a wink, y/n nods back and grins.

“Dude, are you flirting with my baby sister?” Kirk leans back in his chair and raises his brows.

“Me? Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” Cliff grins, “Can’t say I’m speaking for everyone, though…”

“Morning everybody!” James walks in, unusually cheerful for this time of the day. “Is there still some coffee left?”

“Yeah,” Kirk says. “Over on the counter”

“Thanks, dude!” He grabs a mug and pours himself some, leaning against the counter and eying y/n curiously.

It’s almost like she can feel it, because she turns around and smiles at James. She holds up her mug. “James?” Her voice is sickly sweet, oh yeah, today is going to be that type of day. “Could you pour me another one?”

His eyes almost popped out of his skull, he hadn’t even really noticed what she was wearing. The way she’s looking and talking to him is making James weak at the knees.

“Y-yeah, of course!" He takes the mug from her hands and shakily pours the coffee in, trying not to spill.

The other guys are talking about what they're planning on doing at the beach today. Kirk and Lars are arguing over something and Cliff doesn’t know what conversation he wants to keep up with.

“Here you go.” He decides to sit next to her this time and puts on his best charms.

“Thank you!” She grins.

“So,” James starts. “Did you sleep okay, sweetheart?”

Her heart skips a beat at the nickname and she looks at him without breaking eye contact.

“I slept great. How about you, sweetheart?” she grins playfully.

“Me too, me too.” He looks into her eyes, not saying anything else.

The argument between Kirk and Lars has quieted down and one of them lets out a cough.

“So, is everyone ready to go?” Lars speaks up.

“Yes, more than ready.” Kirk eyes James and y/n suspiciously. “Let's get moving.”

Everyone gets ready and grabs their stuff; towels, sunscreen, and beer. You know, the essentials.

It’s a short walk to the beach, but the morning heat isn’t really working with them. James keeps trying to walk next to y/n, but Kirk doesn’t allow it. everytime James tries to pick up his pace, Kirk closes the gap between him and his sister.

“What are you doing, dude?” y/n raises her brows at Kirk.

“Just walking next to you, is that a problem?” He nudges her shoulder.

“No, but…” She starts.

“Good, we’re almost there.” Kirk cuts her off and smiles.

They arrive at the beach and find a good spot, putting their towels down and enjoying the warm sun on their already tanned skin.

Y/n takes off her dress and sits down on her towel, all of the boys take a quick glance at her and sit down as well. Kirk glares at the three, but doesn’t say anything.

“Aw, man!” Kirk groans in annoyance. “We forgot the radio!”

“What? No way, I definitely grabbed it before we left!” Cliff frowns and looks around.

“Well, It’s not here.” Lars sighs. “We’ll go grab it.” He grabs Kirk’s arm and drags him along.

Kirk protests and looks over at y/n, who is grinning at her brother and gives him a small wave.

“Why do I have to come along?” He whines, but walks with Lars anyway.

Y/n lays down and shuts her eyes. Feeling some movement beside her, she holds her hand in front of her face so that the sun won't bother her eyes, and looks up.

“Can I lay next to you?” James asks.

“Of course!” She tries to hide her excitement.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He grins and lays down.

Cliff starts laughing and lights another cigarette. He sits up and cracks open a beer. “You’re welcome, guys.”

Both James and y/n turn to look at Cliff with confusion, this only makes him laugh more.

“What?” He grins. “You got a little more freedom with Kirk gone, right?”

“Dude, what the hell are you talking about?” James raises his brows.

“The radio, I hid it under my bed.”

Y/n starts laughing too, she nudges James and hands him a bottle of sunscreen. “Could you get my back?”

“Yeah!” James' eyes widen and so does his smile. "Definitely!"

She turns around and loosens her top, making sure he gets every inch of her back. James puts some lotion in his hands and starts putting it on her back, squeezing every curve.

“I still don’t get the radio thing.” He whispers.

“Babe, he’s buying us some time.”

“Babe?” James grins. “Time for… oh, oh.”

His hands go a little lower, they slide over her waist and his fingers go down to her waist. He goes back to her shoulders and he gets closer to her ear.

“Could you put your arms up for me, babe?” He whispers.

She complies as she simply can’t answer him. She wanted to reply with a snarky comeback, but she couldn't. His voice sending shivers down her spine, she can feel his breath against her hair.

“There we go.” James gives the back of her neck a slight squeeze and his hands slide down her sides. He slowly caresses the side of her breasts and then quickly goes to her back, tying her bikini back up. “You’re all set, gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” She breathes out. Holy fucking shit, his hands feel good.

He lays down on his stomach and scoots a little closer to her, his fingers playing with the back of her top.

“Or do you want me to keep going?” He whispers. “I could if you let me.”

“Where are you getting all this confidence from?” She looks into his eyes, trying to read him.

James smiles and his hand wanders lower, sliding to the side of her bikini bottom.

“I finally figured out what I want.”

“And that is?”

“You, y/n. I need you.” He looks at her lips. “The way your lips felt on mine is driving me crazy.”

“Hm, you are a good kisser.” y/n smiles and turns to lay on her side.

“So are you, baby.” He slides his hand over her waist and he stops at her hips.

For a moment, they just stare at each other, he leans closer to her face. James’ weaves his fingers between the fabric of her bottoms, his gaze wandering as he admires her curves.

“Careful there, big guy.” She whispers, teasing him with a smirk. “We don’t want to give all these people a show here, do we?”

She glances at some beachgoers who are watching them fool around. She feels his eyes on her and turns to face him, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously.

“Hm, I don’t care.” James grins, leaning closer to her. “Please, I want you.”

“Don’t you think you need some too?” y/n grabs the sunscreen and holds it up, a mischievous smile on her face. “I wouldn't want you to get sunburned, baby”

“Oh, you’re mean.” he groans.

“So, you don’t want it?” She raises her brows.

“I want… something.” James looks at her through his bangs. “Please?”

She chuckles and lays down on her stomach again. The sun warming her skin and the waves crashing on the beach almost lull her to sleep. James huffs beside her and lays on his back. His hand creeps over her arm, tracing small circles over her soft skin.

After a while of enjoying the sun and each other's company, Lars and Kirk finally show up with the radio.

“There you are, what the hell took you so long?” Cliff speaks up.

“Why’d you hide it under your bed, dude?” Kirk huffs, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

“Dude, what?” Cliff tries to hide his smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, brother.”

The three bicker about the radio and y/n smiles, slowly closing her eyes again. The soft static of the radio and the crashing waves are really calming. She sighs softly and dozes off.

Y/n wakes up a little while later, not knowing how much time has passed. Her back feels a little sore and she immediately winces, she still got burned. She looks over at James, who also fell asleep and gasps.

“James!” She shakes him slightly.

"Mhm?" He opens his eyes. “Yeah?”

His entire chest and stomach are red, along with his face. This idiot didn’t apply any sunscreen at all.

“Dude! You got burned!” Lars yells. “Like, bad!”

“What?” James moves towards Lars and winces. “Ow, fuck! that burns.”

“Yeah, no shit.” y/n sighs. “You are so fucking stubborn.”

“It’s gonna hurt even more in the morning.” Kirk grimaces and looks at his sister. “You’re back looks fucked up too, sis.”

Y/n nods her head at Kirk. She stands up and puts on her dress, grabbing her stuff.

“You have to get out of the sun, James.” She says. “I have some Aloe vera lotion in my bag at the house, you can use it.”

James' eyes widen as he looks up at her, is this actually happening?

“Are you going with him?” Kirk raises his brows.

“Yes, I am.”

James doesn’t even speak, he is too busy grabbing his stuff. He’s almost like a madman, trying to find his shirt.

“Okay,” Kirk kisses the side of her head. “Be careful.” He gives her a knowing look and squeezes her shoulder.

“Ow!” She winces. “Kirk, that hurts!”

“Sorry!” He chuckles.

She walks away and nudges her head, motioning James to follow her. He doesn’t waste any time and runs after her. Lars throws him the keys to the house.

“Have fun, fuckers!” Lars yells after them.

“Dude!” Kirk groans and throws his shirt at Lars. “Please don’t!”

James and y/n walk home together, the walk back almost seems slower than it was before. Their hands dangerously close to each other, every time their fingers brush they share a look. He shoots her a quick and excited smile and she returns it.

James tries to unlock the front door but his hands are too shaky, eventually he gets the key in and opens it.

“It’s in my room, come on.” She grabs his hand and pulls him down the hallway.

They both walk into her room and she pushes him to the mattress. “Sit.”

James obliges and takes his shirt off, slightly uncomfortable with the feeling of the fabric against his sensitive skin.

Y/n finds the lotion from her bag and walks closer to him, crawling onto the mattress and pushing him on his back. “Can I sit?” she motions to his lap.

James nods his head so hard it almost falls off. “Fuck yes, you can.”

She smirks and straddles him, both of them letting out a quiet gasp. She can feel him hardening in his shorts and he can feel her heat.

“Mmh” She hums softly and starts to put the lotion on his chest.

“Ah!” He gasps. “That’s cold, y/n!”

She giggles and continues to take care of his sunburn. Her hands slide over his chest, softly squeezing her fingers into his shoulders. James looks up at her with nothing but love in his eyes, he squeezes her hips making her moan softly.

“Do that again.” James whispers.

She grins and leans down to kiss his chest, making her way up to his neck. He lets out a growl and leans up, smashing his lips onto hers. She kisses him back passionately and smiles into the kiss. James’ grip on her hips tighten as he flips her around, laying her on her back.

“James!” She gasps. “My back, remember?”

“Don’t worry, baby.” He whispers. “I’ll take care of you.”

He rubs the inside of her thighs and he goes a little higher, feeling how drenched her cunt already is.

“You’re already so wet for me, baby.” He smiles and starts kissing her neck. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“James, please…” She looks up at him, begging for him to stop teasing.

“What? I have to prepare my girl, don’t I?” He smirks.

She pushes him back and takes off her dress, along with her bikini top. James takes off his shorts, his cock springing free, begging for some attention.

“Hmm, so pretty, baby.” He mutters, his eyes not leaving her breasts. “Fuck, you look perfect.”

James leaves another trail of kisses down her neck and breasts, his fingers playing with the hem of her bottoms. His other hand touching and squeezing her breast, while leaning up to kiss her lips hungrily.

“Can I take these off, baby?” James whispers against her lips.

“Yes, Fuck. Yes, you can.” y/n’s breath hitches in her throat. She looks up at James, her eyes glossy and her lips parted.

He slides them off, desperate to feel her cunt around his cock. James slides his hand down her belly and starts to run circles on her clit. She gasps and reaches for his cock, starting with slow and agonizing strokes.

“Fuck, you really like to play mean.” James stifles a moan and rubs his fingers over her folds.

“Don’t hold your moans in, baby.” She pouts. “Wanna hear you too.”

Y/n starts stroking him a bit faster, she feels her hand getting covered in his pre-cum.

“Ah! ngh- Fuck!” James lets out the moan that has been stuck in his throat. “mhm! y/n… gonna… gonna prep you for me, okay?”

She nods and kisses him again, moaning into the kiss as he slowly slides a finger into her drenching cunt. He starts finger-fucking her at a steady pace, the room is filled with sloppy wet noises and their moans.

He adds another finger and goes faster, curling up his index and middle finger to hit the right spot.

“Fuck, James!” She moans. “Your fingers… they… feel so good!”

“Yeah? You like how I work my hands on you, baby?” He groans and goes faster. y/n’s hand starts tightening around his cock.

“If you keep squeezin’ me like that, I’m not gonna last long.” James chuckles and leans down to kiss her again.

“Baby, ‘m close, please!” She moans and lets go of his cock.

“Cum on my fingers, baby.” He curls his fingers deeper into her and feels her cunt squeeze around them. All he can think about is how her pussy is gonna feel around his cock.

“Fuck!” y/n cums all over his fingers, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

James pulls his fingers out and sticks one of them into his mouth, tasting her juices. He lets out a delighted moan and sticks his other finger in her mouth. She sucks it clean without a single thought, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Wanna be inside you…” He mumbles. “Please?” His face gets a little more flushed.

“It’s cute that you ask so nicely.” She smiles up at him and guides his cock to her drenched pussy. “You gonna fuck me good, baby?”

“Mhm.” He slides his cock over her folds. “Gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

He slowly pushes it inside of her and starts bucking his hips into her. Y/n cries out in pleasure, he’s hitting all the right spots. James leans down to kiss her again and thrusts a little faster.

“Fuck!” James whines. “Been wanting to feel this pussy for so long!” He almost starts crying with how good it feels, how good she’s making him feel.

“James…” She moans “Keep going like that, please!”

“I will, baby. I will.”

She doesn’t feel the sunburn on her back anymore, she only feels the incredible amount of pleasure James is giving her. She wraps her legs around his waist which makes James pound into her even harder.

“Gettin’ close, baby.” James whispers against her neck. “I’m gonna need to pull out.”

She just nods, she doesn’t care what he does to her. She just wants to cum around his cock.

His thrusts are getting sloppier, meaning he’s gonna cum soon. He lets out some more strained moans and whimpers.

“Gonna… gonna cum.” He pants.

“Me too, baby.” y/n whimpers.

He makes her cum, her stomach exploding with pleasure. She’s almost seeing stars with how hard she’s squeezing her eyes shut. James lets out a grunt and quickly pulls out, finishing all over her stomach. He keeps fucking his fist to ride out his high.

“Shit…” James breathes heavily.

“Yeah…” Her chest moves up and down, trying to calm down from the pure ecstacy sensation.

“I’m sorry for the mess.” James has a stupid grin on his face, but that can’t hide the tremendous blush which reappears on his face. “Let me clean you up.”

He grabs one of the beach towels that were scattered on the floor and starts wiping her stomach. He throws the towel on the ground and lays down on her chest.

“You were amazing, baby.” y/n smiles and kisses him tiredly.

“So, were you, babe.” James smiles into the kiss.

They lay in each other's arms for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence between them. He has pulled her into his arms and they are softly caressing each other.

“Can I sleep here with you tonight?” He whispers.

“What do you think, baby?” She giggles. “You just screwed me silly, of course you can.”

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aplaceforyourhearttorest · 3 months

Text

Hell's Angel 𓆩𓆪 James Hetfield (18+)

The comforting and familiar mixed scent of cigar smoke and stale lager wraps itself around you like a layer of protectant as you make your way inside of the bar, the crunch of the empty peanut shells and glass bottle caps underneath your booted feet adding a much-needed inch of height on you as you trudge your way forward and fully inside.

The weighted and triple latched door slamming behind you gathers no one's attention, as the bar is already fully alive and packed with anyone and everyone, with their screams and joyous cacophonies almost overpowering the hums of the mufflers emanating from the bike and repair room only a few handfuls of yards away.

Your eyes traipse over the ever-growing crowd of prospects and guests as you try to find a familiar face or patched leather jacket, the ghosted weight of your boyfriend's still feeling like it was weighing your shoulders down as you do so. Goosebumps raise and dance their way along your partially bare forearms, and a frown attempts to tug your lips down into a permanent imprint, as the cool draft of wind teasingly reminds you that it's no longer there.

Before you can get too into your head about the whole situation once again, an obnoxious and wilted whistle gathers your attention from the direction of the multitude of pool and gambling tables. Your eyes narrow and squint, before latching onto one of your best, and currently very drunk, friend's. A gentle chortle of a laugh bleeds its way through your lips as you get closer to him and nudge your way through the overwhelming crowd, the sight of Lars barely holding on to a slippery pitcher of beer in between his halfhearted and barely cupped palms helps to temporarily push your worrisome thoughts about the future to the back of your mind.

You rush forward and place a palm on the bottom of the glass before it can fully slip out of his hands, and a sarcastic smile etches its way on your lips as he squawks out a thankful gasp and a sound of wondered awe. Kirk greets you with a wide and affectionate grin as he catches sight of you from his seat on top of a crowded and messy betting table, his hands full of gambling chips and crumpled dollar bills as he waves them at you. You return him one back, warmth blooming in your chest as you watch him let out a celebratory shout and yank another fifty out of a burly and clearly irritated man's fist. You quickly turn your head back to the drunken Dane once the angered man stands up and slams a hand down on the table, not interested in seeing another random prospect act out in anger from losing against one of the best poker players in the entirety of the Hells Angels motorcycle crew.

Lars sends you a rewarding and wide grin as you help him sit back down safely, the sound of the leather of his jacket squeaking against the cool and hard material of the chair making you almost guffaw from the nearly animated sound, but you somehow manage to hold it in. Lars laughs anyway, before letting out a sigh of contentment and sliding down into a messy heap of limbs.

"Where's Cliff and Jason?" You ask, your lips almost brushing against the shell of his ear as you bend down to level with his slumped figure. The two men in question are blearily and haphazardly pointed at, before Lars closes his eyes and lets out a resounding yawn. An amusement filled grin finds purchase on your face as you watch him fall asleep so easily in the chaotic bar, the peaceful expression on his face seemingly looking out of place, as you remember the stressed look painted on his own just a few days prior. Your fingers twitch as you fight back the urge to push the random and long stray strands of hair away from his cheekbone, completely unaware of the man stumbling his way over to you.

A jolt jumps through you as a large hand wraps itself around your left arm, and you snap your head in its direction as an unfamiliar voice loudly invades its way through your overactive eardrums. A sound of panic tears itself through your chest as you're yanked up into a fully standing position, and your heart begins to beat erratically as an unknown man comes in to your line of view once you're stood. "Haven't seen such a pretty back warmer in such a long time. Bet there's only one of you in each district, huh? How lucky of me to make my way on over here tonight." Your upper lip promptly curls at the derogatory and degrading term, and you're quick to yank your limb out of the man's grasp, hiding a wince as his unruly and uneven nails dig into your skin with the harsh movement.

"That's funny, because I seem to fit in here a hell of a lot better than you do, all things considered," you grit out, satisfaction filling and replacing the earlier onset fear and panic inside of you, as you watch the predatory and condescending look fall straight off of his face as you continue to speak. "Nice missing patch on the back of your jacket, by the way. Seared off, am I right? Who'd you piss off that badly? Or were you kicked out and dropped off here for flirting with and harassing women twenty years younger than you, from over where you're from as well?" The man scoffs and raises his chunky hand in your direction, and you watch in disbelief as he mimics the motion of a backhanded slap.

"Women from where I come from never talk back to an elder, like you just did. How about I show you how we deal with insolent little bitches like you, instead?" He offers to you in a rough and taunting tone, his eyes widened with barely concealed rage and a vein protruding from the center of his forehead. You take in a deep breath and prepare to jump back as he swings his hand forward and in your direction. Before you can duck and try to make your way into a safer part of the crowd or bar area, a ringed fist engulfs his own and twists it behind the older man's back. Your eyes widen as your boyfriend comes into view from behind the drunkard, and the relief you feel is palpable as you watch him tower over the now fearful man.

"Women from where I come from are heavily protected and respected, and I recommend you take up this kind offer to be escorted out by my men, before I rip the entirety of your arms off and replace them with the Ape Hanger handlebars on my bike, you old, drunken fuck." James spits out, his eyes and expression only softening up once they cascade over your tense and nearly trembling figure. James nods once, and you begin to hear movement coming from all sides and corners of the room. Cliff and Jason make their way forward from behind James and they each roughly collect an arm of the unknown man, your shoulders hunching inward and visibly flinching as your ears pick up on the man's screams overpowering the sound of Black Sabbath reverberating from and throughout the building's speakers.

Kirk hurriedly jumps off the table and wraps an arm around you, before gently turning you around and guiding you towards and past the bike and repair room. You refuse to turn around as you hear and feel a heavy thump hit the wooden and hard floor beneath your feet, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel a familiar and comforting hand lightly push your head into the safety of your friend's shoulder.

"Everything will be alright, doll. Let's get you back and into one of James' rooms."

You couldn't help but feel uneasy as the music stops and the loud creak of the bar's front door makes its way all the way back to you. Multiple pairs of feet make their way toward the entry, and you're the only one out of you and Kirk to flinch, as a muted and heavy weight collects and slams itself down on the uneven asphalt of the parking lot outside. Kirk quietly shuts the door behind you and sits you down on the chair nearest to your boyfriend's disheveled and folder stack-covered desk, his hands lightly squeezing at your shoulders in a comforting way and bringing stinging tears to your eyes.

"You know we'd never let any drunk fucker put their hands on you," you nod mutely and send him a watery smile as he crouches down to your sitting height and sends you a worried glance. You twist your arm to ease the discomfort emanating from the slightly bleeding scratch marks on your forearm, and Kirk lets out a curse as your injury comes into view. "We need to get that jackass off the property before James sees you. He'll kill him if he's still here once he does." He mutters to himself, before standing back up to his full height and hastily making his way back out to the front of the bar and building.

You let out a tired and shaky exhale as you force yourself to relax in the chair you were placed in, your eyes taking in the photos of you and the rest of the gang encircled around his small office, his family. You stop yourself from getting up and walking to the bathroom and scrubbing the feeling of that man's hands off of you, knowing James would want to do it himself. Clutching your middle with your uninjured arm and making yourself small, your breath begins to finally even out as the music begins to play once again and heavily booted feet rush their way into the office and over to you.

James lets out a sigh of relief once you're in his line of sight again, the angered expression on his face melting into one of exhaustion as he resolutely closes his office's door for privacy. Your lips settle down in a frown and you go to stand up to reassure him nothing serious had happened, before letting out a quiet hiss as the skin around your scratches strain and nearly fully reopen with your movement.

James' attention zeroes in on the obvious red and jagged lines on your arm and wraps his palm around the doorknob to yank it open again, only stopping himself from walking back out and beating the drunkard to a pulp when your eyes begin to water, and your bottom lip starts to quiver.

Your boyfriend quick strides over to you and encircles you into a warm and protective embrace, before carefully lifting you up and taking you into the bathroom, where he can properly clean you up and make sure that you're okay.

𓆩𓆪

"It's not your fault." You begin, pursing your lips and quieting down as your boyfriend sends you a glare from underneath his layered and astray hair fanning his face, his already bruising knuckles pausing momentarily from pressing a saline solution into your skin with a cotton pad as he looks at you.

"Don't Good Will Hunting me. If I hadn't gotten back here in time, that old drunken fuck would have put his hands on you. More than he already has," James averts his eyes back down to your injury as his voice begins to soften, his true and young age seeping into his tone with forlorn exhaustion weighing in on it. "I shouldn't have listened to the others and invited everyone in for a celebration so soon after the first round of initiations. We don't even fully know these fucks, and look what's already happened to you."

You lift your uninjured arm and lightly brush a few strands out and away from his eyes, a small smile gaining momentum on your lips as he still melts into your touch, no matter the circumstance.

"It wasn't just the rest of the guys; I encouraged it too. You've been busting your ass to try and make things work after your uncle retired, and we just wanted to get everyone together to finally relax after a few months of stress and hard work," you try to soothe, your thumb delicately brushing over one of his dimples as he goes back to cleaning up and sanitizing your wound. "You deserved the day off and small break, and it doesn't matter if one old bastard got a little too handsy. What matters is that you got here in time, and I had Kirk and the other guys here with me too, in case it all could have gotten out of hand. I was at fault for not calling out for help, I didn't think the guy would want to get so violent with me. I thought he'd just spit some shit and walk away, like the rest of them usually do."

James bites back a rebuttal and instead just nods, his knuckles pulsating a relentless protest as he expands his fingers to intricately wrap the clean gauze around your forearm, its material already saturated in antibiotic ointment and disinfectant.

You sigh out quietly in the bathroom's tense air and look down at the ring James got you on your first anniversary as you continue your ministrations on his cheek- the snake studded skull logo of his district entangled with your number in the crew, alongside with your birth month's gemstone and your initials. You glance down at the small band underneath the weighed down silver and smile to yourself this time, the promise that came with the ring being kept like an oath for the past five years you two have been and treasured together.

"You're upset with me." You state, your left foot beginning to ants around the carpet surrounding the toilet you're sat on as you watch James put the first aid kit away.

"I'm upset that you didn't call out for help, and that you let that pig put his hands on you," You flinch back from the harsh tone he speaks with, the reaction instinctual even though you know his tone wasn't directed at you. "I'm upset that you came here tonight, without my jacket on. How else is anyone supposed to know that you're my old lady? You're surrounded by a bunch of men, a good majority of them being at least ten years older than us and our best friends, and you walked in here looking like fresh meat." You cringe at the old term of endearment, but turn to face him anyway, watching hesitantly as he frustratingly runs a ring clad hand through his tussled mane.

You push yourself up with your good arm from the low sitting toilet and ignore your boyfriend's protests as you stand, walking over to him and wrapping your arm around his neck to tug him down to your height. You press an unyielding and affirmation filled killed on his stress bitten lips, your eyelids fluttering shut as he encases you against him and lifts you off of your feet. A silent gasp breathes itself out of your now slightly gaping lips as the coolness of the sink brushes against the back of your bare legs. James takes advantage of the fact, his slick tongue sliding in between your plush lips to wrap itself around yours and beckon you in closer, your spine arching to melt your front against his and to become one.

The bitter sensation of beer engulfs your senses as his taste envelops itself on your tongue, and your fingers grab ahold of his locks as his hands come up to grip at the flimsy material of your t-shirt, the coolness of the air in the restroom beginning to feel warm and charged as the two of you refamiliarize yourselves with each other.

You let out a pant as he slides his way in between your legs and flush against the sink holding you up, the movement causing your skirt to ruffle up and rest on the upper parts of the outsides of your thighs, your dampening underwear catching onto the draft in the air and causing you to shiver.

James removes his biker jacket from his shoulders and tosses it, it somehow finding solid purchase on the shower curtain rod multiple feet away. Your boyfriend detaches from you and lets out a light groan, his tongue peeking out to catch the remnants of your taste still clinging itself on his kissed red lips.

"I'm not upset with you, baby. I'm upset for you," He murmurs, his lips finding yours with each vowel he makes physical, a strand of electrified spit keeping you two together in a roundabout and intrinsic way. "I just want you to be safe, and I feel like I failed you by taking the day off and taking the break you guys offered to me earlier. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I could never be upset with you, especially after all that you've done for me, for the crew, our family. Hell's Angels wouldn't be a damn thing without you, and you know that. Knowing and seeing that man disrespect you made my skin crawl, and it made me upset for you because you deserve so much more than that."

"And you give me so much more than that, every day." You reassure him, your head swimming and thoughts seemingly slowing down from the close proximity of having him so close to you again. James' eyes glaze over from the praise and heat spikes its way to your core as his hands slide their way down to your bare and exposed thighs and squeeze. The coldness of his rings and the press of the sink against your backside make your lids flutter, and you moan out as his hold tightens and spreads your legs even further apart.

"Yeah?" He asks you, resting his forehead against yours and staring straight into your eyes as his right hand and bruising knuckles brush against your clothed clit. A harsh exhale of a breath bursts its way out of your chest, and James lets out a husky laugh as your thighs tighten around his, shaking and restless. "How much do I give you, angel?"

"You give me so much, spoil me so well." You whimper out, a fingertip of his pushing the damp cotton of your underwear away and dipping itself into your soaking wet folds. James moans from the praise and the feeling of your velvet-like heat, and his mouth begins to salivate from the sounds spilling and pouring themselves out of your mouth.

Your forehead disconnects from his as you toss your head back, a combination of a moan and a laugh lodging itself in your throat as the back of your head makes contact with the mirror embedded in the wall behind you. James bites back a grin at the sound and bends down to kiss you once again, as he slides a thick and long index finger past your entrance and inside of you.

Your lips widen and part as he crooks his digit and begins to slowly fuck it in and out of you, the slick and thick globs and strands of your arousal making a sinful sound echo in the room surrounding the two of you. "Such a good fucking girl for me, baby. Who else could make you this wet, make a mess out of you so easily?" Pleasure filled tears fill your waterline as he adds his middle finger and roughly taps and massages his palm against your spasming clit. You cry out as he makes contact with your sponge-like spot without even trying, and you feel your abs begin to contract as your first orgasm quickly approaches.

"Nobody can make me feel as good as you," you sob, your hips rising up from the ceramic to ride his fingers as the tightness in your middle begins to snap and break apart. "Nobody ever will. It's just you and it always will be."

"Look at me," your boyfriend orders, and you do. Wild and dilated blue eyes stare back at you, with a facial expression that looks like he was orgasming with you as well, a look of being fucked out of breath painted on his features while he brings you over the edge. White flashes in your vision, but you maintain eye contact anyway, teetering on the verge of overstimulation as his hand and fingers massage and continue pounding themselves into you.

You have to reach down and force him to stop, your trembling fingertips pressing against his cloyed skin and into his hammering pulse point, your chest heaving for breath as your body shivers against his upper half. James closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as your walls constrict around his ruined and messy fingers and knuckles, his cockhead beet red in the confines of his jeans and leaking an embarrassing amount of precum against the rough fabric of his zipper.

"Think you can take another one?" He asks you, reaching up with his clean hand to brush the hair away from your face as you continue to struggle to catch your breath. Exhaustion and weariness run through you, but so does excitement and the craving to be filled, so you say yes, regardless of the fact that your body might not be ready for another orgasm or be able to take it.

You let out an accumulation of a laugh and a gasp as you're lifted off of the sink and instructed to grab ahold of James' jacket, and you feel a wide and exuberant grin against the heated skin of your neck as you're carried back into your boyfriend's office, and right on top of his desk.

Before you can even voice out a complaint, his large and calloused palms are gently tugging off your shirt and unclasping your bra with one hand, his rough tongue dancing its way down your neck and hooking itself around one of your already swollen and taut nipples. By the time he's got his sharp and straight teeth embedded in the cotton of your arousal-soaked underwear to tug them down, you're already a panting and sweaty mess. Your injured forearm is elevated and resting on a stack of folders already finished by his tenacity, your other holding up your weight and helping you stabilize as you watch him travel his way down your trembling legs. His biker jacket is the only thing keeping you partially warm from the cool air, draped around your shoulders like a permanent branding and much more accepted and welcomed than the weight and touch of any other man's hand.

Hickeys and love bites are sucked into your bruising skin, and you have to repeatedly plead for him to finally fuck you before he decidedly detaches himself and his mouth from the soft flesh of your inner thighs and calves.

James mounts himself over you on the desk, his strong arms caging you in and gifting you warmth as he carefully inserts himself inside of your tight and soaked heat. You both gasp out in relief, the air in between you becoming frenzied and the sounds of skin connecting and shallow whimpers soon follow thereafter.

Even and ruled nails make their way down your partners back as he arches into you, his ballsack smacking against your backside and creating a beautiful red hue as he fucks into you with passion and reckless abandon. You scream out as his tip brushes against your spot and even further in to reach your cervix, and he holds you down in place as you cum and make a mess against him.

You hold on tight, and attempt wrap your legs around his waist as he continues to use you for his pleasure, one hand holding you in place by your hair as you slide up and down the polished and finished wood of his desk by the force of his thrusts, and the other connected and interlocked with yours. "You look so beautiful, baby." and "You were made to take my cock, weren't you?" are whispered into your damp and blushing skin, and you reach another handful of climaxes before he finally reaches his. Warmth floods into you and paints your walls white, and James moans out against your feverish skin as your walls continue to tighten around him and milk him for all that he's worth. You let out a gasp as his hips continue to stutter into you, as if he was subconsciously trying to breed you and fill you even further with his seed.

"How was you break?" You ask him once you're both fully satiated and sat in his large chair, his arms encircled around you and holding you close, sticky skin on sticky skin. A pleased and fulfilled hum is vibrated and almost purred against you, and you place your forehead against his damp and muscled chest as you wait for his answer.

"The break we just had now, or the one I had earlier?" He teasingly asks you, falling into hysterical laughter as you swat at him and soon follow suit, tears of mirth making their way down both of your guy's cheeks while you two fall apart together this time, head resting on each other's and heartbeats eventually aligning to create a single and steady beat once you both calm down.

"Oh, shut up, you know what I meant!"

𓆩𓆪

Cliff sends the officer a sarcastic grin and wave as he drives away, before sneakily placing the blunt he hid in his long sleeve in between his perked lips and letting out a sigh of relief at the feel. Kirk lifts a lighter up for him and flicks the flame, sending his best friend and Percenter a tipsy smile as he's offered a muffled thanks.

"Any chance the police are going to go with the story we just half assed and gave to them?" He asks, the ending of each of his words sounding slightly slurred and overjoyed. Cliff shrugs and momentarily closes his eyes in bliss as the smoke pleasantly burns through his lungs, instantly opening them back up as the blunt gets yanked out from in between his index and middle fingers.

"You guys are such assholes, letting me fall asleep around all of the new guys," Lars tiredly rasps out, narrowly missing a still burning and loose ash landing on the bare skin of his knee as he squats down on the front porch, his eyes barreling in and staring down the police car as it makes its way down the now abandoned and dark highway. "Last time I did that, it was our initiation, and you two cunts drew a dick on me."

Cliff grins widely as Kirk lets out a sharp cry of laughter, his left hand holding onto his side as he howls with amusement. Lars rolls his eyes and takes another hit, before nearly knocking his friend over with his elbow as he tries passing it back to him. Coughs ring out and become visible in the thick air of the beginning of winter, and they all calm down and huddle next to each other on the closest step for warmth.

"Next time, we'll draw a labia." Kirk mumbles out, his head falling to the side and landing on Cliff's shoulder, causing him to drop the rest of the roach. Laughter tears out of the man instead of anger, and he quickly steps on the filter to cease the flame, his laughter becoming painful and uncontainable as he looks over and see's the Dane shake his head and wrap his arms around himself, the smile on his face still visible in the dark of the night as he pretends to be annoyed and irritated.

"I hate all of you assholes, every single one of you." Kirk clicks his tongue and blindly reaches out for him, before placing him in a headlock and bringing him into a choking hold.

"We love you too, Larzy Poo!" Lars gasps for breath as his best friend continues to choke hug him, and only does Kirk let up once Cliff lightly raps against his curl covered forehead to let him know that he's unknowingly loving their friend to death.

"What happened while I was out?" Lars innocently asks once he can breathe and speak again, raising an amused eyebrow as two of his closest friends look at each other and then try to yell out an answer first.

"James knocked out a fucking geezer-" "James pounded an old man, and now he's pounding his chick!"

"Shut the fuck up! No way!"

#metallica #james hetfield #james hetfield smut #james hetfield x reader #metallica x reader #metallica smut #metallica imagines #lars ulrich #kirk hammett #jason newsted #cliff burton

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ihavenolife346 · 3 months

Text

♡♥Heartbreaker♡♥

Part 2

Pairing: Black!Album James Hetfield x f!mom!reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcoholism, and pregnancy, arguing

Summary: James didn’t remember anything about what you or him said that night

Characters: James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Jason Newsead, Kirk Hammett, Julie (readers daughter)

She was right in front of him. James never once in his life thought that he would ever see her again. Looking straight at her, and looking back down at the kid in front of him. James wanted to say something to her, he wanted to say so much to her. He knew if he ever saw her again, he would apologize for whatever it was that made her leave him. He never knew why she did. One day they were fine, the next he woke up to her packing her things crying. She was so sad yet also pissed. He tried getting her to stay, he tried getting her to tell him what he did, all she said was “don’t play fucking stupid”. Hell, even Lars didn’t talk to him for a week after Y/N left.

It completely destroyed him. Whatever it was that he did, he knew it was bad. She was there with him through everything. When his mom died, when he started drinking, she never left his side even when he tried getting her too. She was a hard person to piss off, yet he did somehow. Yet now, there she was, right in front of him. James wasn’t sure what to do. He had pushed any thought of the show to the back of his head. “James!” Derek snapped James out of his gaze. Derek came running up next to James with his guitar in hand, barely even a minute left until Metallica was on stage.

James only turned to grab his guitar for maybe a second. He was hoping he could give her a silent plea to just talk to him for even just 15 seconds. But by the time he turned back around, Y/N and the kid were gone. James snapped his head back around, watching Y/N gently pull the kid along with her, “Y/N!” James blurted out. He watched as she stopped in her tracks. Y/N turned around, making brief eye contact with James. She looked as pale as a ghost, she looked terrified to see him.

“James! Come on! We’re on!” Jason came up next to James, pulling his lead singer to the side of the stage with him. James didn’t wanna go. He didn’t wanna lose sight of Y/N, not after all these years. He didn’t know where she was going, he didn’t even know why she was here, and he didn’t know how long she would stick around. The only thing he could assume was that Lars had convinced her to come, he knew they were still friends. Hearing their cue to get on stage, James followed right behind Jason, hearing the roars of the crowd. He was still going to put his best effort into the show. When Kirk stared the into to “Creeping Death”, James still had Y/N lingering in his mind, he had his eyes searching the crowd for her. His mind wouldn’t let her leave, and then came the lingering thought of that little girl Y/N kept close to her. The little girl that looked 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 like him.

_________________

Y/N panicked. The second he wasn’t paying attention to her or Julie, she practically ran up to Julie and got them both out of there. She didn’t know what he was thinking. She couldn’t read him like she used to be able too. But hearing her name come out of his mouth…that was her breaking point. She felt her eyes fighting off tears as she was trying to get her and Julie to where Lars said so. “Come on baby, we don’t wanna miss more of the show.” Y/N tried getting Julie to walk just a bit faster, hearing the opening riff for “Creeping Death” playing.

Julie happily picked up her pace, keeping up with her mom. Julie was excited to see her uncle playing live. Hearing her name come out of his mouth…it brought back memories she wish she had forgotten. It brought back the warmth she used to feel when he said her name. Y/N’s mind kept wondering back to the way he looked at Julie. He looked like he was terrified and confused. Could he tell how much she resembled him? Could he tell that she was his? “Mom?” Julie snapped her mom out of her gaze.

Stopping her walking, Y/N looked down at her daughter. “Y-yea baby?” Y/N put on the best smile she could, finally sitting a place they could watch the show from.

“Are you ok?” Julie looked up at her mother with a sympathetic smile, noticing that she was trying not to cry.

“Yea baby, im ok. Im just really happy to be seeing your uncle play.” Y/N nodded over to Lars with a soft smile on her face.

“Me too!!” Julie grinned, making sure her headphones are on as they should be.

“Yea baby…yea I am.” Y/N sighed, somehow finding her eyes landing right on James. Watching him sing, run around on stage, it made her happy knowing he achieved his dream.

_________________

They weren’t even 5 songs into their set before James kept a lot of his focus on Lars. Lars was the 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 person who still talked to Y/N. He was the only reason James even knew she was still fucking alive.

Lars could feel James’s eyes on him whenever he wasn’t singing. Lars could feel the tension James had in him. Looking up from his drums, Lars made immediate eye contact with a pissed, confused, and almost helpless James. That look on James’s face told Lars all he had to knows. James knew 𝘴𝘩𝘦 was here, he knew Y/N and Julie were here.

They made it through the first 3 songs before Jason greeted the crowd. “How we doing tonight St.Louis!!!” Jason yelled into the microphone, earning screams and yells from the crowd.

James took this time to walk over to Lars. As much as he loved interacting with he crowd, this was more important right now. “Did you know?” James almost growled at Lars.

“I invited her.” Lars yelled just loud enough for James to hear him.

James wasn’t sure if he should be mad at the Dane or if he should be happy that he had invited her without telling him. “Why didn’t you tell me!?” James felt betrayed that Lars didn’t bother telling him.

“Wasn’t my place to. If she wanted you to know she would have told you face to face herself.” Lars wasn’t in the mood to argue with James for once, at least not in front of 80,000 people.

“You ha-“ James started, quickly being cut off by Jason.

“Now! If you would turn your attention to Mr.Hetfield, he’ll show us how to get this next one started.” Jason threw his arm up in James’s direction.

“Harvester of Sorrow.” Lars could tell James had no clue what their next song was, only getting a nod out of him.

James diverted his eyes back to the crowd. He knew if Y/N was in the crowd, she would be closer to the front. She always loved being closer to the stage every concert he took her too. Yet she was nowhere to be seen. And he knew he would never miss her beautiful Y/E/C eyes, her soft Y/H/C hair, he would 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 miss her. So where the hell was she?

_________________

Y/N tried keeping her eyes on Lars and Kirk the entire show. Lars was a complete beast on the drums, and Kirk was just as amazing as she remembered him being. Julie seemed to be having the time of her life. She was dancing and was singing every lyric she knew. Lars had made sure to check in on them every couple of minutes, simply mouthing “you guys all good?” Then going back to his drums.

Y/N had seen Lars and James’s interaction. Y/N could only assume James was practically interrogating Lars. Y/N never did think she would ever see James again. After what he said to her, after what he said about their child, she didn’t think she would ever even want to see him again.

Y/N tried her best to push the thought of James out of her mind for the rest of the show. Yet she still always found her eyes lingering right back to him. She didn’t want to look away from him. Y/N had no idea how much she missed him until she finally heard his voice call out for her.

But Y/N managed to make it though the show. And frankly she absolutely loved it. But now that the band was saying their goodbyes, she was gonna find Kirk and Lars, congratulate both of them, answer Kirk’s questions, and get her and Julie the fuck out of there.

“Come on baby, let’s go find your uncle.” Y/N smiled at the girl who had not stopped smiling since Metallica started playing.

“Ok mom!” Julie skipped off with Y/N close behind her. Y/N was hoping that James didn’t want to see her again, she was hoping she wouldn’t have to talk to him.

_________________

Lars knew James well enough by know to know that he was going to find Y/N the second he walked off stage in a hurry. “We need to find Y/N and Julie.” Lars practically dragged Kirk along with him, in a hurry to get to them before James.

“Yea ok.” Kirk nodded. He didn’t know much about Y/N and James’s break up, all he knew was that it was bad, really bad. It pissed off Lars, and Y/N to the point that she disappeared. Kirk figured as much that Y/N didn’t want to see James.

_________________

Y/N was trying to remember the way to Lars’s dressing room without running into James. But she wasn’t fast enough. “Y/N!!” James yelled the second he saw her, once again with the kid he still had no clue about.

Y/N stopped in her tracks. She knew she couldn’t get away from him this time. Y/N darted her eyes around, desperately trying to find Lars or Kirk. She knew she couldn’t get out of talking to James this time, she at least needed Julie out of there. “Y/N! Please don’t run this time!” James picked up his pace. He was almost desperate to talk to her, and he wasn’t sure if she was gonna run again.

“Y/N!” Lars yelled seconds after, Kirk trailing right behind him. Y/N immediately started in their way.

“Take her, please.” Y/N lightly pushed Julie over to Lars the second she could.

“What about him?” Lars had already spotted James.

Y/N sighed. She knew James had seen Julie, he was face to face with her. She knew he wasn’t that stupid. Y/N knew if she needed too, he at least had a right to know his daughter’s name. “I’ll be ok…don’t worry about me.” Y/N turned her attention to Julie. “You’re gonna go hangout with Uncle Lars and get to know Uncle Kirk here for a bit. I gotta go say hi to another friend of mine.” Y/N summed it up for the small girl.

Y/N wanted to laugh at Kirk’s face when she said “Uncle Kirk”, he had never been called that before. “Ok mom!” Julie grinned, grabbing onto her uncles hand, practically dragging him with her before he could say anything back to her mom.

“You sure you’re gonna be ok?” Kirk stayed behind for a second.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you in a bit Kirk.” Y/N let out a shaky breath.

_________________

“What.” Y/N couldn’t bring herself to look at him when he finally reached her.

“What? Are you fucking kidding me!?” James snapped at her bitchy tone.

“Can we please not do this here Hetfield?!” Y/N couldn’t bring herself to even say his name.

“Oh you can’t even fucking say my name can you?!” James was now more irritated. “Come on.” James grumbled, pushing past her on his way to his dressing room, Y/N hot on his tail.

It’s didn’t take more than a minute before James was slamming his dressing room door shut. He was going to be nice, but when she greeted him with the bitchy tone she did, he snapped. She was the one who left, yet she was the one acting like he did something wrong. “What the fuck?!” James threw his hands in the air.

“Oh what the fuck what?!” Y/N shot back.

“You just decide to leave one day and now all the sudden you just show up and act like you fucking hate me!! You won’t even say my fucking name Y/N!” James watched as she broke at him saying her name. He never knew what it was that he did to make her leave. He never knew why she was crying that morning. He didn’t know, or remember anything.

“Oh cause you’re so fucking surprised I act like I hate you! Of course I’m still fucking mad at you James! Of course I fucking left!! All the shit you said to me, all the shit you said about Julie, yes i fucking hate you!” Y/N accidentally blurted out Julie. She was so worked up, she wasn’t even sure what she was saying. Y/N never thought she would have this conversation with James, she never even thought she would see him again.

“What the fuck do you mean?! What the hell did I say to you?! I don’t remember shit from what I said! I woke up one morning with a killer hangover only to find out you were fucking leaving! And who the actual hell is Julie!!!” James shouted, rolling his eyes at the girl. The image of the little girl who was practically a copy of him hadn’t left his mind either. He figured that Julie must have been her.

Y/N stopped for a second. He didn’t remember anything from the night before she left? He didn’t remember what he said to her? If he didn’t remember…he didn’t remember Y/N telling him she was pregnant. “W-what do you mean you don’t remember what you said…?” Y/N’s voice broke to a whisper.

Even though he hasn’t seen the girl for 7 years, he knew he still loved her with all his heart. He hated seeing how her face immediately dropped. Taking a breath, James tried to calm himself down. “What the fuck did I say to you Y/N…” James didn’t know what he felt. He was mad at her yet at the same time he was hating himself right now.

“Oh my god…” Y/N started pacing a bit. “You don’t remember.” Y/N finally got the guts to look him in the eyes. She felt herself break. He didn’t remember. He was hammered when she told him. He didn’t know Julie existed…

“No I don’t.” James held eye contact with the girl.

Y/N didn’t know how to get the words out now. She thought she was doing the right thing by leaving. It’s what he wanted, or at least what he told her. But instead she took away his chance of getting to see his daughter grow up. “You said you never wanted to see me again…” Y/N’s voice was hardly above a whisper as she made her way to the small couch in the room.

“I said that to you?” James didn’t think that was something he would have ever said to the woman he loved. But he could tell by the look on her face that there was something much more than that. Standing next to the couch, James was silently asking permission to sit next to her.

Getting a small nod from the girl, James quickly took the seat next to her. “You told me you thought I was trying to trap you. You said “I never want to fucking see you again”. you told me you didn’t want anything to do with me…or the baby.” Y/N finally let it slip. She could almost feel the brick wall hitting her like it did him. James’s face completely dropped.

“B-baby…?” James felt like he could hardly move. He had said all those things to her, all because what he could assume was because she told him she was pregnant. James wasn’t even close to mad at Y/N anymore. He was pissed off with himself. He knew the way she thought. After he told her he never wanted anything to do with her or the kid, he knew she thought she was just granting his wishes. He saw her reasoning for leaving. He understood why she did now.

“Yea…baby.” Y/N nodded, wondering if he was going to put two and two together.

The image of the blond little girl from earlier came through his mind. He could only assume she was the baby. Julie as James could guess, looked almost nothing like Y/N. She had long blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and the same grin he had. “Wait…the…” James couldn’t even get a sentence out.

Y/N already knew what he was trying to ask. “Yea…that’s her.” Y/N felt tears start to well up in her eyes. She felt terrible…she thought she was doing the right thing when in reality he didn’t even remember what he said to her.

The pair of them sat there in silence for a moment. Neither of them really knew what to say. It really was all just a huge misunderstanding. Y/N couldn’t help it anymore, she let the tears fall. “I’m sorry…” Y/N stuttered out.

_________________

They sat there in silence for a solid 10 minutes. Neither of them could get much more out. James was in complete shock. Had Julie ever asked about him? Did she think he just left her? Did she think he didn’t want anything to do with her? “I’m so sorry James…” Y/N choked, letting her tears fall, allowing James to feel ok doing the same.

James was hesitant but he slowly wrapped his arms around the girl. Y/N really felt herself give in then. “I-I’m so sorry James.” Y/N stuttered out again, leaning into James, feeling him let himself go as well. She hadn’t realized how much she missed his touch, how much she missed his words, Y/N didn’t realize how much she had missed him.

“I-I’m sorry too.” James knew he was also to blame. He told her basically to fuck off. He told her he wanted nothing to do with either of them. Truth is, James wasn’t really sure how they would’ve handled a kid at the time for those first few years. But he still would’ve been there. He still would have provided for both of them. And with the money he’s making now he could’ve taken care for all three of them without an issue at all. This wasn’t all to blame on her. James hadn’t even gotten the idea of having a kid wrapped around his head yet. “Wait…so Lars…” James started, feeling Y/N nod into his shoulder.

“I told him not to tell you anything about her.” Y/N muttered, trying to pull herself back together.

James felt his heart clench. His best friend kept this from him…his best friend knew his daughter more than he did. “Has she…has she ever asked about me?” James pulled himself together at this point, still trying to go to wrap his head around the idea.

“A few times.” Y/N lifted herself up from his arms. “I’ve jsut told her things with us didn’t work out. She never asked more than that.” Y/N sighed. She couldn’t believe all these years he didn’t remember anything about that night. All these years their daughter could have known her father, all these years they could have still been together. She took away his chance to see Julie grow up.

James sighed. From what he understood, she didn’t think he left her. She didn’t even seem to bothered by the fact that he wasn’t there. Then again, she was only 7. “I…umm…can I meet her…?” James asked quietly.

Y/N smiled softly. She was amazed at how comfortable they both got with each other all the sudden. “Yea, yea you can. Come on.” Y/N got up from the couch, heading towards the door with James right behind her.

_________________

A comfortably silent walk later, the pair were in form of Lars’s dressing room. “She’s gonna like you.” Y/N saw how much James was shaking. It all seemed to be crashing down on him at once now. She had never seen him this nervous.

“What is she like?” James wanted a general picture.

Y/N laughed softly. “Shes you in the form of a 7 year old girl.” Y/N always did admire how much Julie was like her dad. She was an exact replica of him.

James relaxed a bit at the sound of her laugh. He really knew he missed the girl in front of him. “Ok…” James nodded, letting out a breath as Y/N made her way into Lars’s dressing room.

“Mom!” Julie grinned, jumping up from her spot on the floor, dropping her Barbie and running over to her mom.

“Hey baby.” Y/N knelt down to hug her, noting the concerned looks form Kirk and Lars. Y/N only nodded over to them. “I have someone I want you to meet.” Y/N spoke softly, nodded her head behind her at James.

“That’s the man from earlier!” Julie pointed out with a smile. “Hi!” Julie greeted again.

James gulped, “h-hey Julie…” James was in complete shock. She was beautiful. She looked so happy. Everything about Julie seemed perfect.

“Yea, it’s the man from earlier. This is James.” Y/N introduced the pair properly, smiling softly at the smile she saw appear on James’s face.

#james hetfield #metallica #lars ulrich #kirk hammett #jason newsted #james hetfield fiction #get me a james hetfield #james hetfield imagine

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allmoshnobrain · 4 days

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ok hear me out 7) possessive sex with 80s james where he's kinda inexperienced with his own feelings so he gets really jealous bc some other guy has been flirting with you and just gives you the most possessive sex ever with lots of love bites and hickeys instead of communicating and you end up having to ask what's gotten into him and reassuring him in the end

tysm for the request, lovely! hope you like it <3

from this prompt list │requests are open! send yours here

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

james hetfield x reader │ word count: 2,6k

But James was also freaked out — what if you found someone cooler than him? Someone who wasn't as awkwardly shy as he was — I mean, he had waited a whole year before he mustered up the guts to ask you out. Dwelling on this wasn't doing him any favors; he needed some way to convince himself you weren't gonna ditch him, not for some dumb sound tech, not for anybody.

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, james hefield x female!reader, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex, a bit of cockwarming at the end if you squint

Hanging out with Metallica had its perks, one of them being that you got to kick it backstage before and after their gigs. Those nights with the guys were always a blast, packed with music, drinks, and laughter. It was rad seeing how much they loved playing and watching their success grow in the Bay Area metal scene.

Another cool thing was getting to hang around your boyfriend, James. You hadn't been together for too long; after almost a year of crushing on each other, you had finally made it official just a month before. Of course, Lars, Kirk, and Cliff were already in the loop — they greeted the news with smiles and a playful "well, finally!" from Lars. But you weren't exactly shouting it from the rooftops, even though it wasn't hard to notice how James was always by your side, cracking silly jokes and flashing those easy smiles that showed just how much he adored you.

You grinned as the guys finished up yet another gig. The crowd that night had been wild, probably one of the craziest yet, leaving everyone pumped to celebrate. The band made their way backstage, chatting and laughing up a storm, and you trailed along, feeling James hook his pinkie with yours, a sweet gesture you were still getting used to.

"You good?" he asked, and you nodded. "Just gonna hop in the shower real quick, then we'll kick off the party, alright? Back in a jiffy."

You watched as James, Lars, Kirk, and Cliff headed towards the showers, a little smile dancing on your lips before you decided to snag a beer while you waited for them to return.

"Hey, can you grab one for me too?" you heard, glancing up to see one of the sound crew guys grinning at you as you fetched your beer from the fridge. You couldn't quite recall his name, but you remembered seeing him around backstage, always chatting mostly with Kirk and Cliff.

"Oh, sure thing. Here you go," you handed him the beer you were holding, reaching back into the fridge for another one for yourself.

"So, you liked the gig?" he asked with a grin.

"Absolutely, it was killer!" you replied, a smile spreading across your face. Metallica's shows always got you pumped; you just loved seeing your boyfriend and the boys tearing it up on stage. "How about you?"

"Yeah, yeah, it was cool. But I'm always more into the after-parties," he said, edging a bit closer with a smile, and you blinked, a bit confused. "Y'know, the drinks, the fun, the pretty girls..."

Oh. Was he hitting on you? Well, that was unexpected. You blushed, caught off guard, trying to figure out how to politely tell him that not only were you already taken — you were taken by James, and you knew he wouldn't be too thrilled to see someone from his crew making moves on his girl.

"Oh. I, uh, I'm sorry, but I'm..." you began, but your attention was quickly drawn elsewhere when you locked eyes with James, his blue gaze fixed on you from across the room. You smiled at him, unaware of the slight frown creasing his brow, a hint of annoyance in his expression. "Excuse me," you said, darting off to James.

"Hey, babe," he grumbled, pulling you close and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Having a good time?"

"Not really. It's kinda dull without you," you replied, giggling as he leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips.

James was usually pretty low-key about showing his affection, but seeing some other guy blatantly trying to hit on you had stirred up more insecurity than he cared to admit. He didn't really know how to handle it — everything was still so fresh, how you could make his heart skip a beat with just a grin, how he would always find himself wanting to be around you, but also how he'd feel that knot in his stomach whenever he caught someone else checking you out with that look in their eyes.

You were his. He'd wanted you to be his for so damn long, and now that he finally had you, he was determined not to let anything mess it up. But James was also freaked out — what if you found someone cooler than him? Someone who wasn't as awkwardly shy as he was — I mean, he had waited a whole year before he mustered up the guts to ask you out. Dwelling on this wasn't doing him any favors; he needed some way to convince himself you weren't gonna ditch him, not for some dumb sound tech, not for anybody.

"Come with me," he whispered against your lips, and you giggled as he took your hand, pulling you along through the backstage corridors.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, intrigued, but he didn’t answer. “James!” you laughed as he swung open a door to one of the dressing rooms, pulling you close against him, his lips eager for yours.

"Need you so bad," he groaned, his fingers eagerly tracing over your body. He lifted your shirt, and you gasped as he kissed you again, more fiercely this time, his tongue delving into your mouth, his teeth lightly nibbling at your lower lip. You moaned into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his long blonde hair.

"Jamie..." you breathed out, feeling your cheeks heat up as he unhooked your bra, cupping one of your breasts in his hand and giving your nipple a gentle pinch. He kissed you once more, this time trailing his lips along the tender skin of your neck, and you let out a gasp as he sucked on it, marking you with love bites all over your sensitive skin. You leaned back for a moment to tug his shirt off, giggling when he swooped in to kiss you again.

"Tell me you're mine," he grunted against your lips, lightly nipping at your lower lip before planting kisses on your cheek, your neck, your collarbones. You sighed contentedly, closing your eyes as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, gently sucking and nibbling while his hand caressed your other breast.

“I’m… I’m yours, James, oh…” you panted as he bit down on your nipple, kissing and sucking on your soft skin until he left yet another red mark. He'd never been this intense before, a wild possessiveness that made you shiver with excitement, but it also made you a little uneasy. Up until now, James had always been gentle with you, like he was afraid of hurting you if he wasn't careful enough. This wasn't his usual vibe; you knew something had to be up. "James," you moaned, trying to ease back a bit, but he just grunted, pulling you closer as he hungrily sought out your lips. "Jamie, hold on," you panted, and this time he paused, looking at you with somewhat unfocused eyes, his lips slightly swollen and his cheeks flushed. "Babe, what's going on?"

"What?" he frowned, a slight anxious smile quirking up his lips. You ran your fingers gently over his face, and he caught your wrist, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. "Do you want me to back off? Don’t you want me?" The way he posed that last question made your heart clench with concern.

"Why wouldn't I?" you whispered. "It's just... Don't get me wrong, I love it, but... You're usually... gentler with me," you blushed, averting your gaze.

“Oh, shit. Did I hurt you?” he asked, concern lacing his voice, and you shook your head no. He let out a relieved sigh.

"I just wanna know what's up," you pressed, and he sighed again, glancing away, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "Did I mess up?"

"Of course not. You're amazing," he assured you, cupping your face in his hands. You smiled, laying your hands on top of his. "It's just... I..." he bit his lip, and you gave his hands a gentle squeeze, urging him on. "I think I'm jealous."

“Jealous?” you echoed, surprised. He grunted.

"I know it sounds dumb. But when I saw Rick hitting on you after the show, I... I couldn't help but wonder if you'd prefer me more if I was just a bit more confident. Like he is," he whispered, avoiding your gaze. You blinked, caught off guard.

"Babe," you whispered, and he met your eyes again, his blue gaze clouded with worry. "You know I'm with you because I like you, right? I don't want anybody else."

He nodded, a wave of relief washing over his face as a small smile crept onto his lips. You returned the smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you leaned in to kiss him gently.

"I want you," you whispered, pressing yourself against him, and he let out a low groan, drawing you nearer. You blushed, releasing a soft sigh as he trailed kisses along your neck once more, this time with a gentleness that sent delightful shivers down your spine, his lips lingering over your love bites. "I'm all yours, James... Want me to show you?"

“Yes, please,” he mumbled against your neck, and you giggled as he guided you to the couch, settling down while you stood between his legs. You slipped off your skirt, kneeling down between his knees. He unzipped his jeans, lifting his hips a bit to slide off his pants and underwear. You blushed when you caught sight of his hard cock, the tip slick with precum as he wrapped his hand around the base, stroking it slowly.

You watched him touch himself for a bit, your lips parting slightly as you felt your anticipation building, warmth spreading between your legs. You looked up when he took hold of your chin, meeting his blue eyes as he pressed the tip against your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, sucking on him gently as he nudged his hips forward, easing his length inside your mouth. You moaned, tears welling in your eyes as you took a deep breath, doing your best to accommodate him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, and you gripped his thighs, your nails leaving little marks on his skin. You shut your eyes as he guided your head up and down, taking it slow. You knew James was trying to be gentle, but he was so big it was tough not to choke on his length. He groaned, his other hand finding its way into your hair, gripping it as he rocked his hips. You moaned, breathing through your nose as he thrust into your mouth, and gasped as he pulled back.

“Fuck,” he gasped, and you let out a soft giggle as he lifted your chin, locking eyes with you. You licked your lips slowly, trying to catch your breath as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "C’mere," he moaned, and you stood up, straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You let out a little moan as you felt his tip pressing against the damp fabric of your panties. James gripped your hips, guiding you in slow, circular motions, grinding his cock against your wetness. "You're so wet," he moaned.

"It's all your fault," you whispered, planting slow kisses along his neck. He gripped your ass with one hand, lifting it to slide your panties off. He took hold of his cock, pressing the tip against your clit and rubbing it gently, eliciting a moan from you against his skin.

"Tell me you want me," he whispered, and you moaned as he pressed his cock against your entrance, teasing it in small circles without pushing into you. He groaned your name, and you kissed him, your lips moving languidly against his.

“I want you. Only you, Jamie,” you whispered against his lips, and moaned as he eased into you slowly, guiding your hips down as he filled you up. You felt your pussy tighten around him, panting as you adjusted to his size. “James…”

"You're so gorgeous," he whispered, holding your chin as he kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth leisurely. You moaned before you started to move, slow at first as you felt him stretch you open, his cock filling you completely. He was so damn big you didn't know how you could handle it all, but it felt so, so good. James seemed to be feeling it too; he tilted his head back with a low groan, offering you access to his neck. You kissed him, taking your time as you left your own little marks on his fair skin; if he was gonna mark you as his, you damn well were gonna mark him as yours.

You moved a little faster, moaning as he matched your rhythm, thrusting up into you. Finding a steady pace, your breasts bounced a bit as you rode him, your arms locked around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his, locking eyes as you both moaned, moving as one. You kissed him again, passionately, as you sped up, gently nipping at his lower lip.

"James..." you whispered, and let out a sharp moan when he pressed his thumb against your clit, circling it fast and making your pussy tighten around him. "James, I'm so close..."

"I know. I can feel it," he whispered, a smug grin playing on his lips that made you groan, burying your face in his neck as you blushed. He gripped your hip with one hand while the other teased your clit, and you cried out softly as you rocked your hips faster. "That's it..." he moaned, and you knew he was close too by how tightly he held you, his hips moving against yours harder. "That's it, babe, fuck..."

You whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair while your other hand gripped his arm, his lips moving against yours as he moaned into your mouth. Bringing one hand down to your clit, you felt the slick wetness with your fingertips, gently massaging your sensitive bud in slow circles as you rode James' cock, bouncing up and down while the tension in your body built more and more.

You could feel your peak coming in slow waves, your pussy tightening around James as he moaned and whispered incoherent praises in your ear. Burying your face in his neck, you let out a little cry of pleasure as the tension in your body unraveled, causing you to shake and contract as James picked up the pace, thrusting eagerly as he chased his own release. You moaned shakily as you felt him release his warm load inside you with a grunt, kissing him softly as you gradually stopped moving.

“I’m all yours,” you whispered, running your fingers over his face gently, and he smiled at you, his gaze unfocused as he drew you in for another kiss. "Only yours," you murmured against his lips, and he smiled back.

"I love you so damn much," he said, his voice husky. You grinned, kissing him again and again, soft little kisses that made him sigh contentedly.

"I love you too," you replied, and let out a soft moan as you felt him grow harder, still deep inside you. "Are you seriously getting turned on by me saying I love you?" you giggled.

"Damn right, I am," James chuckled, gripping your hips and moving his own hips slowly. You laughed too, feeling your cheeks flush. "Say it again."

"I love you," you said, feeling a blush spread as you felt his cock grow even harder inside you. "Just you," you whispered, and James grunted as he thrust slowly. "Fuck, James..."

"You ready for round two?" he asked with a smug grin, and you nodded with a giggle before wrapping your arms around his neck, your lips finding his again as he began moving inside you, filling you with that same sense of love and warmth all over again.

#metallica #metallica imagines #metallica headcanon #james hetfield #james hetfield headcanon #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield x you #james hetfield smut #metallica x reader #metallica x you #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica fanfiction #ada writes fanfiction

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munsonsfairy · 11 months

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what it should’ve been ♡

you should’ve been laying on a quilt under a tree with eddie while he played guitar. you should’ve been spending his 21st birthday with his new founding family. you should’ve been listening to all his records that spring evening. you should’ve been making him breakfast while he refused to wake up early. you should’ve been dancing together in the trailer with wayne’s jazz record playing softly. you should’ve had the family the two of you wanted to have together.

instead you’re here staring at his name on the stone in front of you. edward munson. bouquet of flowers and cigarette packs litter his grave. the one thing you do love is that it always looks so colorful and lively. just like eddie.

at night you dream about his crazy antics and soft whispers. you always clutch his jacket and pray that his scent never fades away. you still buy his cologne just to imagine he’s still there. the day they discontinue is the day you’ll have to let go.

“you know i have more albums you can play right? i mean i love james hetfield as much as the next person but c’mon sweetheart.” you can hear his smile in his voice. it felt so real and you probably would’ve believed he came back if someone told you.

“yeah, but i know this one was your favorite.” you raise up the volume and silently say you’ll see him later.

#eddie munson #eddie munson moodboard #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson edit

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metallicaislife · 5 months

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My Nemesis, James Hetfield pt 2

A/N: My first draft had a Bill cameo and then I was like "Nah this isn't the vibe" but it was funny when I was first writing it out hahaha p.s I saved that draft if anyone wants the bloopers 🫣😂

Requested by: Anon

Genre: Fluff mini angst

Word Count: 676

Warnings: slightly tactless James, but it gets resolved real quick 😌

My Nemesis, James Hetfield

Metallica was playing tonight. I was front and center head banging and jamming along. James kept grinning at me, and I of course would grin back. I was absolutely smitten.

Since the party several months back, he was true to his word. Gone was the mean curmudgeon. James is the sweetest, funniest guy I’ve ever met.

After the show was over I made my way backstage. I showed my pass and got back to the dressing room with ease. I knocked on the door then twisted the knob.

“Everyone decent?” I asked through the crack. There was a chorus of affirmatives. I opened the door further and entered the room, closing the door behind me.

I squealed as I was immediately engulfed in a hug, James lifted me spinning me around. I giggled as he set me down. I grinned up at him and he kissed me.

“You did so good tonight.” I said after he pulled away.

“Always do when you’re in the crowd.” He smiled at me.

“Eugh I think I liked it better when he was mean to you.” Dave complained.

“You’re just upset you lost the bet.” Lars said, “I happen to think they’re cute. And my wallet is ten dollars heavier.” He joked.

“We have to finish packing up, after we take it all back to the house do you want to go get some food?” James asked as he caressed my hip with his thumb.

“Yeah that sounds good.” I smiled. He kissed me once more. I helped them pack their equipment and get it back to their place.

As James drove to the diner, the music played softly and he had his hand on my thigh. Just being around him made me so happy.

We got to the diner and he held the door open for me.

“Thank you.” I smiled. He teasingly slapped my butt as I passed. “James!” I giggled and he just smirked in return. We were led to a booth and slid in across from each other. We ordered our usual meals.

“So, I wanted to talk to you, it’s kinda serious.” James said as he played with the rings on my fingers.

“What’s up?” I asked. I couldn’t help the nervous pit forming in my tummy.

“I don’t know if Lars has talked to you at all about this, but Ron’s leaving the band. We’ve found a guy, he’s a perfect fit.” James started.

“Lars hasn’t said anything, I’m glad you already found Ron’s replacement though.” I replied. James continued fiddling with my rings and fingers.

“Well, there’s a catch. He’ll only join if we move up to the San Francisco area.” He said, his blue eyes staring into mine.

“Oh.” Was all I could say. I plastered a fake smile hoping he wouldn’t see through it as I tried to be supportive. I began to withdraw my hand from the table but he grabbed it and gave it a squeeze.

“I know we haven’t been dating long, but I want you to come with me. I know Lars would love that, I mean you already know he loves having you around. And I would love having you around because I love you.” He rushed out. His eyes widened as he realized what he said at the end. We haven’t said that yet. The feelings are definitely there though. The anxious feeling in my stomach stilled at the peace that came from his statement.

“I love you.” I said. His features softened and he smiled at me. “The emotional whiplash you gave me just now makes me want to hit you just a little.” I laughed softly. James chuckled. I paused even though as soon as he asked my mind shouted the answer. “Yes, I’ll go to San Francisco with you.” James' eyes lit up as his smile widened.

“Yeah?” He asked and I nodded.

“I’d follow you anywhere, Hetfield.” I grinned. His cheeks turned rosy.

Our food came, we ate while excitedly talking about what the future holds for us in San Francisco.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

#metallica #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica scenarios #metallica fluff #james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield fluff

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briyourmotherdown · 1 year

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cool water ★ part I

James Hetfield x fem!reader

★ everyone is running from something ★

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: i know nothing about arizona and it shows. VERY incorrect timeline. mentions of rehab and alcoholism. james is a moody prick. 18+ in the future but part I is PG minus some swearing.

A/N: so i'm asking you all, please, PLEASE be kind to me because this is the first fic i've written in well over a year and the first metallica one I've ever posted. this is so unbelievably self indulgent it's insane. title named after a marty robbins song because that's where this whole idea stemmed from. i tried not to use y/n because i know some people hate that jhskjfhkjhfthftdhftkj. also i really really hope the fact that rehab is in here isn't a trigger or upsetting to anyone!!! it just makes sense for the plot. it's also very inspired by the some kind of monster documentary. this will probably be a shorter fit made up of a few parts but it may take a while since i'm literally about to graduate uni and i'm drawing in assignments. anyways i hope you enjoy <3

parts: (1), (2)

★

A few states over, a little over a thousand miles and a few days long trek away, lies a life– packed crudely into a beat up Subaru with too many miles on the metre to go about adding another thousand. The air conditioning unit cracked out one state back, leaving only the rolled down windows to offer any sort of reprieve against the Western American summer heat. The unknown lies in the interstate ahead, yellow lines and road signs guiding you closer to your next destination. Only the front windows are open, the rear windows obstructed by precariously stacked belongings in unsealed cardboard boxes and garbage bags balanced against the glass. To roll them down would mean losing a good chunk of your clothing.

A map is sprawled out open on the passenger seat, red lines and circles marking the last stretch of your journey into Yuma County, Arizona. Golden light pours over countless acres of sprawling farmland ahead of you, the setting sun glaring into your eyes beneath your sin visor as you drive with one hand on the wheel and the other propping your head up against the open window. Your yellow Subaru is the only vehicle for miles, alone on the barren road as the sky fades into an inky blue. It’s eerie, being this alone. Eerie as you turn down yet another country lane, rolling the windows up. Eerie as you make sure the doors are locked and the gas tank full. Eerie for a girl who’d only left the city twenty-four hours prior, where such silence and solitude was such a rarity that you never stopped to consider what it felt like to actually be completely alone.

The night is still when you reach a stop sign, the hiss of crickets and cicadas audible even from inside the car. There’s no breeze that rustles the trees, nor a cloud to taint the clarity of the starry night sky. You feel as though you should be quiet and hold your breath, goosebumps raising on your skin. They only begin to subside when your headlights illuminate a sign reading Palo Verde Ranch.

Tires kick up dust as you roll down the tree-lined passage, inching closer and closer to where you will spend the next summer, checking the map one more time and breathing a sigh of relief when the trees part way to an opening. The ranch and lodgings look the same as the pictures in the brochure you were given, apart from being shrouded in a heavy darkness from the night. The porch lights are on, along with a few lamp posts circled by moths and mosquitoes. Pulling into an empty space next to a pick-up, you kill the engine and rest your head back against the headrest. The roar of the crickets seem even louder as you sit silently in the driver’s seat.

With a few final taps on your steering wheel with your fingers, you heave yourself from sitting position and stretch your aching legs, lifting your arms above your head before grabbing your suitcase from the backseat and forgoing the rest until tomorrow. It’s far too dark to go about it now. Boots crunch on gravelly dirt as you make your way to the lodging house, reading the brochure once more to check where the key is kept. It lays underneath a small terracotta pot, placed upside down and completely indiscrete. It makes you smile to yourself when you lift it up to examine it against the porch light– a small, metal cactus keychain hanging from it. You smack a mosquito from your arm as you unlock the door.

With a creak, the door opens up into the lodging house, though to you it seems more like a bungalow that had been converted into some sort of bed and breakfast. There’s a small kitchen to your left, under-cabinet lights casting an amber glow over the linoleum countertop and laminate floors. You take note of the humming refrigerator before turning to your right to examine a quaint sitting area, equipped with a floral printed sofa straight from the 1970s and a chestnut bookshelf housing a sparse assortment of books and magazines. It reminds you slightly of a waiting room– pretending to be lived in as to put you at ease.

Straight ahead lies the hallway, two doors on the left-hand side and three on the right, one of which has been left ajar. Upon further inspection, with slow, easy steps, you come to realise that it’s the bathroom, nose scrunching up slightly at the prospect of having to share one bathroom with multiple other people. On every door is a hand painted number, accented by flowers painted on in pastel colours. Very Bohemian, you note, eyeing the beaded curtain that hangs in the windowsill of the window at the end of the hall. Dim light spills from underneath doors three and four, but the other two remain dark.

Your room number is two.

Opening the door, you flick the light switch on before closing it behind you, a small puff of air escaping from between your lips as you take in the room. It’s cozy– genuinely, unlike the sitting room from before. It nearly reminds you of the room you’d grown up in, or, at least spent the earliest years of your childhood in. A golden oak bed sits against the wall in one corner of the room next to the window, fitted in cream and pale green floral patterned sheets. There’s a dresser-vanity and a wardrobe of the same golden oak, and a small nightstand next to the bed. On it beneath the small tiffany lamp lies an unopened note and a small plush teddy bear.

Tears fog your eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed and drop your suitcase at your feet. It feels so familiar– like a distant memory of a time in your life where things weren’t so turned upside down. A time when you weren’t running from something. Clutching the teddy bear against your chest, you open the note– a sweet, handwritten one from the owner of the land, welcoming you to your home for the summer. It tells you of breakfast in the main house at 10am, that there are fresh towels in the wardrobe, and that the vanity drawers tend to be a bit fiddly.

With a watery sigh, you blink up at the ceiling to clear your cloudy vision, flopping backwards onto the bed.

★

James knew that he needed a distraction.

He knew better than to be around all the same people and places from how he was before. Breathing the same California air he knew and once loved now feels too thick in his lungs, like some sort of poisonous gas.

He knew better than to be around reminders.

Due to his therapist’s orders, James was to go somewhere different for a little while. In his words, to “relax, be at one with nature”. He had spread a pile of pamphlets across his desk, closing his eyes and laying his pointer finger down on the first one it came in contact with. Arizona didn’t seem to appeal to James’ bandmates as much as it did to his therapist. They had a hard enough time communicating as is, too many alcohol-fueled yelling matches only worsened by the unmade upcoming album that loomed over their shoulders. James wasn’t sure how he could make the album to begin with, not while he was walking this tightrope. If he was constantly teetering on the edge, how could he be a productive member of the band?

Part of him didn’t want to go. Running away from it all felt cowardly, as though he’s weak for not being able to handle what once was so normal. A few drinks at the bar with friends turned into something else, something monumental. Gigs, rehearsals, afterparties, bar to bar to bar to bar. People who once gave him comfort now only serve as reminders of how he has ended up.

His PA booked his flight and had his truck sent to meet him at the airport. His intentions were clear– he would spend a few months working on the ranch away from anything that might tempt him, and then he would return home in autumn and attempt to clean up the mess he had left behind. The mess in question haunted him on his flight, tension aching behind his eyes as he rubbed at them. Divorce papers. A band that might hate him, left hanging and waiting for him to get his shit together so that they can release another album. Loose ends, after loose ends. Mouth set in a straight line, he realises he’s clenching his fists, blunt nails pressing into his palms.

Settling in was fairly easy. There was only one suitcase to unpack, clothes folded neatly into the dresser and notebook placed haphazardly on the nightstand– blank paged and unopened. For a few days it was only him in the lodging house, resting and rising in silence, eating a bowl of cereal by the kitchen window before heading out to work on the ranch with Wayne, the owner’s husband. Wayne is a shorter man, or at least much shorter than James, with salt and pepper hair he keeps hidden beneath a straw hat, and a laugh that often turns into a smoker’s cough if your joke is good enough. Wayne is friendly and a hard-worker, unafraid to put James to work too.

A few days later, a couple more lodgers began filtering in, two men who based on their accents, come from the south. They didn't spare James a second glance, and James gratefully did the same in return. There was no need for making friends.

When you arrived it shook up his routine. He now had to wait for his morning showers, entering only after you had spent far longer than he would’ve liked, only to be met with fogged up mirrors and the scent of vanilla and jasmine. He could hear music playing gently through the thin walls, some shit from the 70s that he wasn’t into, and he’d have to put up with the way you’d softly hum along. Truthfully, he avoided bumping into you at all costs. There was no concern of seeing you at breakfast or dinner– he skipped them in favour of some cheap crappy microwave meal– and he worked more on the ranch with Wayne while you settled into tending the vegetable garden.

Avoiding you seemed like a waste of time, however, because you didn’t notice him anyway. You always seemed too lost in your own head, focussed entirely on pulling weeds to notice him walking back and forth by you, carrying bags of feed. He didn’t offer a greeting, or even his name, but then again neither did you, and he was more than happy to keep his distance.

Your name only came up one day as James was sitting with Wayne. They’d both spent hours of the morning tending to the stables in the intense heat, James doing most of the heavy-lifting, and took refuge under the shade of a large tree. After collecting a few random chopped logs and sticks, James took out his pocketknife and began carving. Wayne spoke of plans to make his wife a wooden sculpture of a cactus for their front porch, with James silently shucking away at the wood to bring it to a sharp point.

In the distance you’re harvesting crops from the vegetable garden, wearing denim cutoffs and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. From here James thinks he can spot the image of Garfield printed on the front. He stares for longer than he should, eyes trailing down the expanse of your bare legs, and admittedly, over your behind when you turn and lean down to grab a shovel.

Wayne breaks through the intensity of his gaze by saying a name, the glass shattering when James averts his eyes and returns to sharpening the wooden shiv with care. His finger slips against the grain and he winces, plucking the splinter from his thumb, “That girl. She’s here from Seattle.”

He remains silent, lip twitching with a hint of annoyance at the older man’s intrusion. Yet he lets your name settle in his mouth, silently testing the way it feels on his tongue. Aware that he was caught, he keeps his eyes trained intensely on his craft to avoid Wayne’s gaze.

“Pretty, ain’t she?” Wayne muses, stripping bark from an ash log and looking at you in the distance as you pick weeds from the cauliflower beds, “We don’t usually get people like her out here,” he turns to James, simpering, “Don’t usually get rockstars ‘neither.”

He turns away to continue stripping the log and James uses the moment to steal another look at you. The sun beats down on your back and you wipe sweat from your brow with your bare forearm, pushing a few loose hairs back that had fallen from your ponytail. There’s a half empty sack of compost on the ground by your feet that stains the tips of your gloved hands. You look tired, standing back from the garden bed to study your handiwork before tilting your head all the way back to soak up the sun, hands on your hips. When you turn and glance in James’ direction, squinting your eyes through the heat mirage, he averts his gaze, once again all too aware of Wayne and the way the man lifts his hand to wave dramatically at you.

He doesn’t look up to see if you wave back.

He sees you again that late afternoon, in the same way he always sees you— in small vignettes, in short scenes that make him think momentarily that you might just be a figment of his imagination. He sees you walking past him with a crate full of lettuce, too focused on not dropping any from the heaped pile to pay him any notice. He sees you when he walks by the wire fence, where you’re being walked through the steps of feeding the chickens in the coop. He sees you now, entering the same house he’s staying in, the same one he’s walking to, only a few paces behind.

But still, you seem to pay him no mind, as if he’s a ghost. He thinks he might be one if it weren’t for the acknowledgment of Wayne and his wife, Marie. The other workers don’t much like him, interpreting his silence as him being a stuck up rockstar. He wonders if it’s for any reason that you don’t notice him. Does he skulk around too quietly? Sure, he’s not been the most conversational since he’s been here, but he’s sure you would’ve at least noticed him.

It really bugs him.

For a man whose profession is to be seen and to be heard, he typically really likes fading into the shadows in his everyday life. There had been too many days of butting heads with Lars, too many arguments with his ex, too many paparazzi, too many expectations of him. He was only one man, and he knew he was too fucked up to be a role model for anyones kids. Before he entered rehab, he enjoyed the anonymity of a small town bar and the way no one knew who he was there. If they did, they didn’t care, clinking pints with him over the bar as if he was just another one of them. And even though Wayne and Marie do talk to him and put him to work, they still treat him like all the others staying on the farm for the season. And he does enjoy the fact that Wayne and Marie seem to pay him no mind, as well as the other workers.

But when he really thinks about it, he doesn’t like slipping into the shadows as much as he thought he did. Perhaps it’s his ego talking, but he at least likes being acknowledged.

It was as if you didn’t even know he was there.

It bugs him as he opens the door behind you after you’d let it close, watching you saunter down the hall and into the room only a door away from his own, not offering a glance as you shut it behind you. It bugs him as he makes his way into his own room, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing his hands over his tired face. It bugs him even more when he hears your door open and close again, squeaking on its hinges, followed by the click of the bathroom door and the rush of the shower turning on.

You claimed the shower before he could, as you always seem to do. Only today he had worked hard, back sore and legs aching with strain. Annoyance twitches at his lip but he tries to brush it off, taking deep breaths, groaning lowly as he lays back onto the bed. The day's work sits heavily in his bones and he shifts uncomfortably. He feels grimy, a layer of sweat having dried on his skin, sticking the Arizona desert sand to the hairs on his arms. He grimaces and tries to brush some off.

Minutes pass while he waits for you to finish in the bathroom, then more, and after thirty minutes he’s grown more and more impatient with you, rising from the bed and storming into the hallway. He doesn’t take any time to notice that the shower has stopped running, the blood rushing too loudly through his ears, and as he’s about to aggressively rap his knuckles against the door, it swings open. You jump back with a start when you see him, his fist raised and face twisted in irritation.

Momentarily, he’s stunned, face contorting into an expression that matches your own as his eyes trail over your form– wet hair against your shoulders and fresh skin dewey with what he assumes is lotion. You’re gripping your towel tightly in one hand, the other clutching a toiletry bag.

As he lowers his hand, he realises that this is the first time you’re noticing his existence. Wide eyes glimmer up at him shyly, lips parted from the shock of opening the door to a man standing angrily directly on the other side.

With that realisation comes another—actually, two realisations that took him possibly too long to register– the fact that you’re almost naked, and he’s blocking your way out of the bathroom. Embarrassment nips viciously at the back of his neck, tinting the tips of his ears pink as he takes a step back.

James has never been good with embarrassment. His ego always gets in the way or gets him into trouble. Sure, it has won him many arguments, much to the chagrin of his opponents, but it has also gained him the title of an egotistical asshole to many people. Whenever James becomes embarrassed, the outcome is always the same– confrontational, cruel, unnecessary words he doesn’t really intend to say bubble up in his throat before he has any chance to stop them.

“Knowing that there’s only one bathroom, you should be more aware of how fucking long you take.”

He snaps his mouth shut the second the words are out, lips pressing together in a firm line. You raise your eyebrows at him, taken aback at the gruff rudeness of his tone.

You want to say something. Some witty comeback or even something to match his hostility, but your tongue struggles to find any words. Words have never come easily to you in the first place, always choosing to be quiet unless you’re around people you know, but they especially don’t come when you’re half naked and an angry, 6’1” man is towering over you.

All you can muster is a small, “I’m sorry.” as you push past him and retreat to your room.

James is paralysed in his spot, the increasingly familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine wafting over him from the bathroom as you walk away, listening to the door slam behind you. He’s not sure how long he stays standing in place, fists clenched at his sides with frustration directed at both you and himself. With a defeated sigh, he locks himself into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Once he’s stepped in he wastes no time in pressing his forehead against the cool tile, cursing himself for not being able to hold his tongue.

James really wants to spend the evening the same way he’d been doing, skipping dinner and smoking a cigar out on the front steps, but Marie had taken notice and when she bumped into him earlier in the day, had all but forced him into promising to come to dinner tonight. It didn’t sound appealing at all. It felt like fucking summer camp, having to sit around a big table with everyone staying at the ranch and talk about your day and the work everyones’ been doing. He’d quite honestly rather starve.

It didn’t help that he assumed you would be there.

He had made up his mind that he disliked you. The annoyance of the way you’d practically ignored him for a week seems to only have increased with the duration of your shower. It was like you had no consideration for anyone else and didn’t look past the tip of your nose. He didn’t want to eat at the same table as you for that reason, is what he told himself. Not because he saw you in your towel and was so unnecessarily rude to you, no– James doesn’t do embarrassed.

He’s taken a nap directly after his shower, waking up even groggier and in an even worse mood, throwing on clean clothes and making his way down to the main house where Marie would be making dinner. The front door is already open when he gets there, and he takes an already exasperated breath before entering,

The smell that meets him is already mouthwatering, as much as he hates to admit it, and for a moment it makes him question why he’d skipped out on dinner for the past week. Wayne greets him as he walks in, already sitting around a large wooden table with a few men he recognises from around the ranch. Wayne has a cigar attached to his mouth, bobbing as he talks.

“James!” He exclaims, raising his hands in the air to greet him warmly, “Come on in, you should meet my guys.”

James nods curtly, having already met them in passing and discovered they didn’t much like him. But he puts up with it for Wayne’s sake, standing over the table but not sitting down, nodding in acknowledgment as he introduces everybody. They seem nice enough, greeting him with smiles, apart from two men at the end of the table who don’t so much as return James’ nod. They’re Dylan and Wes, the other two lodgers in the house. They offer him forced smiles, but James can see that the second Wayne turns his head to speak to someone else, they narrow their eyes in his direction. For a moment he wonders if you’d met them– if they treated you in the same way or if you hadn’t even noticed them in the same way you did him.

With that thought, Marie comes bounding in, wielding a wooden spoon in one hand, “James!” she grins, “I’m so pleased you came,”

She diverts her attention to Wayne, smacking him on the shoulder with the wooden spoon and scolding him in Spanish. The cigar between the man’s lips threatens to fall, but miraculously remains sturdy as he says something back, a sheepish expression on his face.

Marie rolls her eyes and turns back to James, “You, help me in the kitchen because my bum of a husband apparently has better things to do.”

Any other time James may have cringed at the idea– he’s not the best chef– but now, as he turns to glance at Dylan and Wes who stare at him with a look of contempt, he takes the out and follows Marie into the kitchen.

The moment he enters, his eyes land on you where you stand chopping vegetables at the butcher’s block island. You’re not looking at him yet, too focussed on dicing a tomato, and he takes a second to look at you. Your hair has dried, thrown back into a ponytail while you’re cooking, and you wear a white cotton sundress with thin straps that contrast against your skin. It’s different to how he’s seen you dressed, in denim cut-offs and cowboy boots, and for a moment he’s halted in the doorway to watch you.

“Could you shuck this corn?” Marie asks James, and your eyes finally snap up to look at him, trailing over his attire before you quickly go back to chopping.

He clears his throat with a small sure, taking his place across from you at the butcher’s block. You don’t dare to look up at him again, hoping that he doesn’t see the blush that tints the tops of your cheeks.

“You’re both very quiet, you know that?” Marie laughs, stirring a pot both metaphorically and literally, “Come on! Talk to each other.”

A short silence follows, painful and uncomfortable and it makes your skin crawl, clearing your throat and daring to glance at James. You break the silence by offering your name, extending some sort of peace offering.

He doesn’t seem to extend the olive branch in return. uttering a gruff, “James,” as he shucks another ear of corn.

You nod, You’d hoped that he’d say more to make you feel less nervous, hands shaking slightly as you hold the knife. You knew his name already– Marie had told you a few days ago when she caught you staring at him while he repaired the broken gate near the stables– shirtless. He had been sweating, lugging planks of wood from the shed on the other side of the lot, tattoos and bare skin glowing. Marie had snorted at your pink cheeks and made a smart comment about how he could fix your gate– whatever that meant. You’d been stealing glances at him since, averting your gaze quickly whenever he would begin to turn his head.

You soon became aware of his dislike for you, and other than the earlier shower incident, you can’t think of why. You tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, which wasn't hard considering he hadn’t showed up to dinners so far, and always kept to himself except for when he was working with Wayne.

It really bugs you.

You sigh when he doesn’t say anything else, glancing at Marie who’s back is to you as she leans over a large pot of stew, hoping that the heat of your gaze might burn just enough for her to turn around and save you. No dice.

“I–” You begin, “The gate looks really good.”

Instant regret rushes over you as a look of confusion paints his features, brows furrowed. You rush to explain, “The- the one by the stables, I saw you fixing it. It looks really good. I haven’t had to scale the fence to get through since.”

You embellish your compliment with a breathy laugh, audibly nervous, cursing yourself at your ability to make things so much worse. He didn’t return the laugh, and in fact, it seems that somehow your compliment had soured his expression even further.

“Thanks.” He deadpans, averting his gaze from yours and back to the corn.

You sigh, chopping another tomato.

Meanwhile James is internally kicking his own ass, unsure of why he can’t be fucking normal, intending to say one thing and actually saying another. He watches you from his place across the counter, the concerned furrow of your brow, pinched in the middle, to your nimble fingers diligently doing what Marie had instructed you to do. He feels a flash of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he misunderstood you. After all, you had noticed him– the gate was proof of that. Maybe he wasn’t as invisible to you as he thought he was. But that still leaves one question unanswered– if you noticed him, why did you intentionally ignore him? It’s silly and it’s childish, but it’s enough for him to continue on with his negative opinion of you.

Time goes by wordlessly between you both, Marie instead taking the time to explain everything she was doing in detail, sure to send both of you home at the end of the night with the recipe for Birria engraved in your brains. Time passes this way until the table has been set and the food is ready, Marie ushering you both out of the kitchen and to the dining table.

The only three empty seats are lumped together, one of which is at Wayne’s side. It would be rude to sit where you know his wife would be sitting, so you take the next one with a small frown, waiting for James to take the one next to you. You’re aware that he’s not happy with the arrangement, and for a moment you wonder if he would take Marie’s chair, but he doesn’t and instead fills the vacant spot on your other side. The table is tightly packed, and due to James’ frame, he has to keep his shoulders pinched together slightly to avoid rubbing them against yours. It’s nearly insulting, watching the amount of effort the man puts into not touching you, rolling your eyes to yourself as you eat the food Marie (and you and James, but mostly Marie) had prepared.

“So…,”

The mention of your name has your head snapping up, paused with your fork halfway raised to your mouth to look around at who had said your name. Your eyes fall on Dylan, who’s sat at the table directly across from you. You’d only met him once before and hadn’t really been able to form much of an opinion on him. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger around twenty-three, with shaggy brown hair he let fall over his blue eyes and a smile that had a tinge of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He had helped you reach a pair of garden shears from the top shelf of the shed, and all you’d talked about within that span of two minutes was your names and where you were from.

“Hm?” You hum in acknowledgment.

“You mentioned you’d stayed in Europe for a while, what was that like?”

You recognise the invitation of small talk, and you’d be thankful for it if it were just the two of you, but as everyone’s eyes settle on you for your response, you feel a little put on the spot.

“Uh, yeah, it was really cool,” you swallow, “Beautiful architecture.”

It’s a lame comment, and you're aware of it, but you're not sure of what else to say at the moment. Dylan nods slowly, eying you up and down in a way that makes you squirm nervously.

Wayne comes to your rescue, “James, have you been to Europe? I imagine y’have.”

The man beside you freezes, and he’s close enough that you can feel the tension, shifting in his chair. His bicep rubs against yours for the first time and you inhale quietly.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, “Been a few times.”

“You been there on tour, I imagine?”

This piques your interest, eyes flitting to look at James profile. His jaw is clenched as he nods, “That’s correct.”

“On tour?” You ask.

He turns to you, and the intensity of his eyes this close up almost makes you regret asking. He nods, “My band tours here and there.”

“Ha! Understatement,” Wes snorts from across the table, southern accent strong through his laugh, “Mr. Big Shot over here has toured a whole lot more than just ‘here n’ there.”

He holds his fingers up in air quotes to emphasise his words, and you’re left confused. Mr. Big Shot? You thought James looked slightly familiar, but couldn’t place from where, so you’d just brushed it off as nothing. You turn to look at him again, studying his face and racking your brain to think of where you might have seen him before. It would make sense for him to be in a famous band, but which one? And why would someone in said famous band be out here in the middle of nowhere?

“What band?” You ask, ignoring Wes.

James looks uncomfortable, “Uh, Metallica.”

It’s as if bells go off in your head, piecing it all together and finally realising where you've seen him before. It wasn’t just one place you’d seen his face, but many. He’d been everywhere, on MTV, on the front covers of magazines on the newsstands back home, on billboards– dare you say Wes wasn’t too far off by calling him a Big Shot.

“Oh,” is all that comes out despite the revelation– despite the fact that you’re now painfully aware of how famous he is. Your pre-existing nerves have only worsened with this newfound information, struggling to get a bite of your food down, wincing.

James, however, takes your lack of response and pained expression the wrong way and gets on the defensive, scoffing into his glass of water before slamming it down. The entire table goes quiet, and he doesn’t miss the way you flinch at his action, momentarily pausing to meet your gaze. Your eyes are wide as they lock with his, confusion written all over your face.

He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up, “If you’ll excuse me.”

You watch his back as he retreats through the front door, letting it slam behind him. You flinch again and turn to look at Marie, who’s sitting next to her husband with a distraught look on her face. Sighing, you stand up and place your napkin on the table.

“Dinner was absolutely wonderful, Marie, please excuse me.”

Marie flashes you a sympathetic glance as you walk to the door, and despite their chittering you don’t care to look at the expressions worn by Dylan and Wes. Instead, you make your way out of the house and down the front steps. The evening has finally matured into darkness, the pathway to the lodge lit only by lamp posts and strings of fairy lights that Marie had just put up earlier today. You’re not sure where to look for James, or even if you should be looking in the first place. If you truly are the cause of his bad mood, surely you’d be the last person able to talk some sense into him; but curiosity eats away at you, the need to fix whatever you’ve done gnawing at your stomach.

It doesn't take too long to find him, sitting on the front steps of the lodge, mostly shrouded in shadows except for the orange cast of the fairy lights.

“Hey,” you offer carefully, slowing your pace as you near him.

You debate whether or not to sit next to him on the stairs, thinking it might piss him off if you do, but awkwardly rocking on your heels feels even worse. You take a seat next to him with a light huff, making sure to keep your arms from brushing against his like at the dinner table. He’s smoking a cigar, the burning tobacco lighting up his face ever so slightly on each inhale. Though he doesn’t verbally acknowledge your greeting, he doesn't leave either. As if he’s waiting for you to say something worth his while.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you offer softly, “I’m not quite sure what I did to upset you, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

He remains quiet, the sounds of the crickets and cicadas deafening. You exhale a sigh of defeat, tilting your head up to glance at the vast array of stars in the clear sky, counting the brightest stars until you lose your place.

James isn’t quite sure what to say. The longer he’s left to sit with his thoughts, the more he doesn’t understand what you’ve done to bug him so much. There’s been an explanation for every misunderstanding so far, leaving no reasons for his disdain, yet for some reason he just feels immensely frustrated by you. It’s something he feels under his skin, fizzing in his blood uncomfortably. He’s starting to wonder if it’s even got anything to do with you to begin with, or if this entire trip out to the desert has backfired and he’s got too much time and space to think about his life. Stress eats away at him, bubbling up slowly.

“I’m sorry about hogging the shower,” you ramble, “I didn’t realise you were waiting for it and I just got kinda…kinda lost in thought, I’ll hurry up next time.”

Nothing. It’s radio silence on his end, the air so thick that you feel it clouding your lungs along with the smoke from his cigar. You can’t stop your mouth from running, ”And it’s really cool that you’re in Metallica, I um, I don’t really know much about you guys but-”

“You can stop,” he interrupts, the stress bubbling over, your face flaring with heat you’re glad he can’t see in the lighting. ”I don’t really care, honestly.”

He looks at you for the first time in the last five minutes, emotions flat and guarded, and for the first time since you’d met him, you feel your own anger rise up in your stomach instead of nerves– frustration, annoyance, fatigued with his attitude.

“Look,” you stand up, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’d appreciate it if you'd stop being a total dick.”

He puts out his cigar, standing up to tower over you, not letting you have the upperhand of being taller than him. He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him.

“All day, you’ve been awful to me, and we just met. I don’t get it, what’s your problem?”

He scoffs, “I have a whole fuckin’ list of problems, sweetheart, don’t feel special.”

You stare, dumbfounded, arms crossed over your chest, “Yeah? And what about it?” you challenge, eyes narrowed, “Why do you think I’m here, huh? We’ve all got our shit, we’ve all got things we’re running away from, what makes you think you can treat me like shit for no reason? Because if this is how it’s going to be all summer then I’m already real fucking tired of it.”

Cicadas are the only thing you receieve in return, the chirping filling the empty space between you and James. There’s nothing. There’s no apology to speak of, not even any retaliation. His face is void of emotion, hands dug into his pockets as he stands and stares.

His stare is intense and unmoving, but there’s something hidden behind it. It’s almost a sort of hollowness, as if this is something he’s been through a billion times before. It almost makes you falter, trying your hardest to search his eyes for any clues as to what he may be thinking. But his eyes are still those of a stranger’s, and you can’t place exactly what it is that he’s thinking. Shaking your head, you finally back down, taking a step back.

“I came here to apologise, and I did. I have nothing else to say,” you turn to the lodge and step towards the stairs, “But Marie didn’t deserve that shit you pulled tonight. I think she at least deserves an apology.”

The words hang between you in the night, heavy and oppressive. There’s a moment where your fingertips hesitate over the doorknob, casting one last look in James’ direction in hopes that he would say something. But he’s remained stoic, gaze set hard towards where you’re standing, hands shoved into his pockets. Shaking your head again, you step inside, leaving him in the dark.

Only when you’re gone does he rub his hands over his face and swear under his breath. With a sigh that holds the weight of the world, he takes begrudging steps back towards Marie and Wayne’s house.

★

A/N: god pls bear with how slow and badly written this felt. anyways i hope you enjoyed jsdhgkjshdkjhgsdjg

#james hetfield x reader #james hetfield #metallica #metallica x reader #reader #x reader #fic #metallica fanfiction #i was supposed to be writing an essay #i did this instead #anyways stream marty robbins gunfighter ballads and trail songs

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llittletingoddess · 2 months

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WHERE THE WILD ROSES GROW 🥀

«When the night comes, the stars begin to shine and the greatest crimes begin to come into life»

part 2 of multiply

°•○ warnings: age gap, slow burn, original character, cursing, smoking, drinking, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of abduction, manipulation, abuse, national hate, politics mention, discrimination

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

II. Too Far Gone?

Moscow, Russia

Leah sat in the dark room, watching her boss playing with papers. What was interesting in lots of documents? She always thought it was pretty boring, like bureaucracy at all. Why do they need to make everything way more complicated than it actually was? Instead of just giving an answer, your application should’ve been passed through at least three different departments. She stared at the grey-haired man signing some papers, stamping others - and giving not a single word about what he wanted from her.

“Konstantin”, Leah finally went out of her patience, kicking his table with her boot to make him pay attention to her. “Ya zhe znayu, zachem ya zdes'. Zachem ty tyanesh vremya? (I know why I'm here. Why are you wasting time?)”, she asked him with a cold tone, looking under her brows. She was a beast in a cage and he knew it. He always made her wait. Konstantin Vasiliev was too much into his friends and money than in the people who did the dirty work. Especially that stubborn American that thought she was special. Pathetic little bitch that was getting too good and too dangerous. Konstantin looked at Leah under his brows and sighed loudly, his facial expression showing all the contempt he had for her. Even if she would support everything russian and speak their language - they would still treat her like an American - an enemy, Pentagon’s spy and obviously connected to LGBTQ+.

He left one more sign on the papers and leaned on his chair, crossing his arms and looking at Leah. “Ya ne obyazan otchytivatsya pered toboy, Leah. Tvoya zadacha - ubivat', a ne vmeshivatsya v dela tvoey kormyashchey ruki (I don't have to answer to you, Leah. Your task is to kill, not to interfere with the affairs of your feeding hand.)”, he said with a husky voice and reached for his table to take a pack of surprisingly cheap cigarettes for such a rich man - old-fashioned Soviet “Prima” in a red box. He lit it up with a way more expensive lighter - probably a gift - and leaned back on his squeaky chair, smirking to his guest. Leah hated him… she should have been obedient to a man with Soviet standards and a heavy hand.

“The Wild Rose..”, Konstantin chuckled. He did this all the time he saw Leah in his cabinet. She didn’t understand what was so funny about her nickname. Truthfully, she loved it - it perfectly described her. Bennett was loved by her soft appearance but she has thorns that could kill someone who will reach too close. That’s why she never had a real lover. She was afraid that she would hurt her loved one with skeletons in her closet and preferred to stay alone, never letting her feelings be victorious. “It’s time”, Konstantin continued, placing a Los Angeles postcard on his desk.

Leah gasped, looking at the colourful postcard of the west coast view. She can finally go home.. Breathe the salty air and see smiling people everywhere. She sighed in relief, pulling the postcard closer with her finger and turned it, looking for hints. In the right corner she saw a logo which made her hum. “Blackened LTD..”, she hummed, thinking what it could mean for her. Would the victim be some big boss or she’d need to destroy this business?

“My bosses want you to kill the president of this company”, Konstantin said with a strong russian accent, lazily smoking his cigarette. He didn’t care how she would do it at all. “His name is James Hetfield and he decided to play some tricks with us. But you will show him that he better not mess with russians”, Konstantin continued, getting up from his seat. He slowly walked around Leah, watching her looking at the postcard and grabbed her neck, slightly choking her. “And it affects you too. If you’ll try to do something against the plan you will be dead with him, american bitch”, he said with a harsh voice, letting Leah’s neck off.

Bennett coughed, rubbing her neck and stared at Konstantin with contempt. He’s not even her main boss and he hated her so much, then what The chain thought about her? If only she could’ve done something against them.. But what could she do? They stole everything from her to use her like a puppet - her documents, her life, her whole personality and they didn’t plan to stop. Leah travelled on her missions with a fake ID, each time it was different, but she couldn’t live like that. She didn’t want to have someone’s name or life, she wanted to be herself, she needed to be herself.

Konstantin hummed in her silence, exhaling a big cloud of smoke with a smell of cheap tobacco before he sat back on his seat. “You won’t even say a word?”, he asked curiously, staring at Leah. She sighed, turning the postcard in her hands and looked at her boss with a cold look. “How much?”, she asked, laying the postcard back on Konstantine’s desk. He smirked and nodded, definitely liking Leah’s cheeky question. “Five. If you will do everything quietly and clearly they are ready to double the price. Your main task is to kill him quickly-”, “..and make everything to make tabloids think it was an accident and there is no Russia’s hand”, Bennett ended quickly instead of Vasiliev, making him chuckle. “Yes, you know everything, Leah. Do the job - and money is yours. They are believing in you, better not lose such big support on your side”, he advised her, relaxing on his chair.

Deep inside Leah knew that Konstantin didn’t care. She was just pretty useful for him and his friends, and his “advice” is nothing more than a cheap lie. After years of working under his guidance Leah learned that man. All he ever cared about was his dog, a german shepherd named Rem. He had his photo on his desk, told about his achievements and how he would kill his enemies using them. Somehow Leah found it pretty cute. “Khorosho (Alright)”, she said, taking the postcard in her bag. “When is my flight?”, she asked, watching Konstantine throwing his cigarette in the ashtray. He exhaled the smoke and sighed, coughing from the nicotine in his lungs. “Tomorrow at 4AM. You’ll get your ID in your post box”, he said emotionlessly, watching Leah get up. “You have three days for your flights and the kill, The Wild Rose”, Konstantin said with a chuckle. Bennett kept her face; Will this ever end? She sighed and nodded. “Not a big deal”, she said, walking to the door. Vasiliev held the door closed for a moment, looking at Marie with a warning look. “And don’t forget, Leah.. you’re working on Russia. Every American deserves to die, every one of them. But you’re not like this. I can guarantee Russian citizenship after this kill if you’re gonna be an obedient girl”, he said seriously, taking his hand off the door. “Do vstrechy cherez tri dnya (See you in three days)”, Leah said reluctantly, leaving her boss’ office. She took a deep breath and sighed in relief, a short smile appearing on her face. It was her chance.. One last chance to break her chains and escape this russian nightmare she spent years in. She will kill that stupid businessman and disappear from Russian radar, once and forever. She had enough money to buy herself a villa somewhere on the quiet island, far away from criminal’s eyes and start to live her life like she always wanted to. She would probably change her name, appearance and body to make everyone forget about her existence. She will never be Leah Bennett anymore.. Leah Bennett will die as a stray dog in three days and someone new will be born instead.

She walked out of the office that was hidden in the mall and sighed. Leah was so excited.. Definitely not an option that she will miss.. She put on her headphones, turned on her favourite heavy metal album and hid her smile, walking out from the building. Russians didn’t like your smile. If you’re smiling it means that you’re most likely a psychopath or under the drugs, and society will bully you easily. Bennett switched her looks with an attractive guy in the crowd and put on her hood, making herself invisible in the crowd.

Who knows what all these people think of her.. Leah was curious - was at least one suggestion right? Probably they thought she was some hipster girl from the block or some shy girl walking from her workout? Maybe a hopeless romantic or a geek? If only they would know who Leah Bennett was.. a heartless killer who murdered her parents, hid from police, had some serious net connection with the government and was a slave for some big russian men.. Leah sighed from the thought but kept her head up. It will end in a few days.. She might not end the national hate but she will save herself from being the victim of russian nationalism. She walked down to the underground tunnel and leaned onto the wall, waiting for her train to come. Life has given her an opportunity to change something and Leah wanted to squeeze everything out of it. She was too far gone and she needed to be saved.

***

Los Angeles, California

James felt himself on cloud nine when he saw all his friends celebrating him. He was so confident after his little victory when he fooled everyone in the Russian monopoly, giving free access to their people secretly. Some promotion from russian bloggers, advertisements in the popular social networks and voila - his music platform got almost ten million new followers! And thankfully, most of them bought a premium subscription.

Of course he would’ve made it that far! Why would he do this one clean? It was obvious that he’d go another way. Business was all about the audience and this move made James get a confident and powerful position on the Russian market. He was so damn proud and he threw a party to celebrate his success. Whilst his partners read the contract - James already made money behind their backs, smiling them to their faces and shaking their hands.

And what surprised him the most - there was no reaction! His actions were rough and fast, so they most likely were caught by surprise. Was it bad? James didn’t think so. Instead, it was his chance to show them that Americans aren’t that dumb as they thought they were. Turns out, the real losers here were Russians who missed such a big hit in their balls. Scary Russians aren’t that scary anymore. They are dumb. Grumpy, dumb and have no critical mind to prevent such attacks on his industry. Maybe their president had, but not the ones that were responsible for the music market.

“Congratulations, buddy, it’s a big hit! Blackened rules the whole world now!”, Lars, his fellow buddy said. He was all the way there back in time. If it wasn’t Lars James might never make it in the business. They met each other in their teenage days, when James just tried his luck in music, teaching guitar playing and just thought about having a music market. Truthfully, it was Lars who pushed him to act. James smiled, hugging him and nodded. “It is. Ten million followers from Russia, this is incredible!”, he said, being visibly surprised by the results of his cheeky campaign. He looked around, looking for his wife and sighed, watching her flirting with some guy in the crowd. And who needs love when you have money? James made his choice and for now - he wasn’t too needy in being loved. Why would he? A couple of Benjamin’s can always solve this problem.

Lars sipped his drink, looking in the same way James did. He didn’t say a word about what he saw, giving James some space for his personal life. “And what if they will react?”, Lars asked him, watching James’ wife sitting on the lap of the guy. Hetfield hummed with a smirk. “They better think about how to get back their audience. Our conditions are too comfortable for such a poor country as Russia. We have every big star’s music catalogues, and what do they have? Some stolen songs and demos? It’s they who have problems, not us”, James said with a sassy tone, finishing his drink in one shot. Lars hummed, watching him with a judging look. Lars might be younger than James and he wasn’t such a big man like James (in all meanings), but there was something in this man that always surprised him - and that’s his ability to think two steps earlier.

“You’re too calm”, he said seriously, asking the waiter for another shot of whiskey. James looked at him with a questionable look whilst watching for the amber-coloured drink to be poured in the glass, covering the crystal clean ice cube. Lars grabbed his glass and turned to James, staring at him. “You might think that they are fools, but look at the political situation. They don’t hesitate to kill their own people, so you think they will stop because of a wealthy man from America?”, he asked, looking at Hetfield. “No money will save you if they will decide to have their revenge, James. Think about it”,

James hummed, looking at his buddy. Truthfully, his words made sense at some point. He sipped his drink, gently spinning it in his glass and sighed, watching his wife coming closer to them. She took off her wedding ring from her fingers and placed it in James’ glass. “Can you keep it for me please? Thank you”, she smiled, walking back to the guy she definitely enjoyed more than James’ company. He chuckled, looking at the shiny ring in his glass, taking it away and looked at Lars. “If they would have wanted to kill me, they would’ve done it ages ago. But as you see - I’m still alive, still with you all and still the owner of the biggest music heist in history”, he said with a grin, taking a cigar from his pocket to enjoy.

“But now - it makes zero sense”, James said confidently, lighting up his cigar. “First of all, this is gonna be too suspicious for them, don’t you think so? We will announce the increase of price on our stocks and then the next day they will do something with me? They are dumb, but even Russians are clever enough to avoid such suspicious actions”, James assured his buddy with a relaxing tone, enjoying how nicotine poisoned his lungs. “It’s gonna be a big scandal if they do it. We are all approaching the third World War.. and my neutralisation is gonna be one more step to the start. I bet my wife that they won’t do anything about it”, James said with a grin, watching his significant other being caressed by the guy in the crowd.

Lars frowned, definitely disliking his friend’s point of view. He shook his head, sipping his whiskey and tapped on the glass, thinking. He was sure that James wouldn't listen to him or even won’t take his words as advice, so he needed a plan B. Just in case he will be right and James’ ass will need some protection. It happened pretty rare but sometimes he needed help, though he never admitted it. James was from that type of man that would never admit their mistakes - just like it was happening with his wife on his own eyes. He watched her cheating with a stone cold look and joked that she looked better from the side. Lars didn’t understand why he acted so light-headed with important decisions, but he knew that deep inside, under this shell of a successful man James hid his feelings from the world.

Soon James took him back to reality with his sweet chuckle, making Lars look up at him and at the direction he looked at. “What’s up?”, he asked him with a confused tone, though he definitely was curious what could make a rich man laugh. Was he drunk? Did he meet a nice chick to spend his night with? His wife wasn’t made for this anyway.. “Have you seen how much Blackened raised in price after a new wave of customers?”, he said with a grin, pointing into the screen of his phone, on the little graph with a green line that rises up incredibly high. Lars whistled, looking at the price. “Wow. Is it after Russia?”, he questioned, making James nod. “I think we need to celebrate it. Remind me to call my assistant and organise a meeting in honour of our success. Maybe in three days? Gonna be nice”, James thought with a corporate grin he used for his diplomatic meetings. He was so damn proud of himself.. Finally, after years of hard work it took a big risky step to reach the top of this monopoly game. Was he too far gone? Oh damn he was, but how good it felt to watch everyone fail in their attempts to get as high as he was. “We need to announce the new Russian department and increase the salary of that SMM guy. He did his job really well”, James said with a happy smirk, texting his assistant.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

#🥀#james hetfield fanfiction #james hetfield fanfic #where the wild roses grow #vicky's writings

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cantstoptheimagines · 2 years

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Pretty in Pink (Eddie Munson | Stranger Things)

Summary — You just might be Eddie Munson’s soulmate, whether you realize it or not.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Just a fluffy meet-cute; mentions of bars; a few curse words; Eddie being a total fanboy; sudden love confession; kissing; Upside Down doesn’t exist here because Eddie deserves to be happy.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 1,398. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her), who is described as very “girly”. She is also mentioned to have a brother. ➳ Metallica members include those who were in the band during March 1986 (James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, Lars Ulrich, and Cliff Burton). ➳ “You’ll really go out with some guy you don’t know?” “Well, you can’t be worse than the guys I do know.” ➳ Based on this post by @eddiemunsonfix. Thank you for letting me use your idea as inspiration! I hope you like this! ➳ This is my 200th work posted on this blog! 🎉

If there was one thing Eddie wasn’t used to seeing in The Hideout, it was the color pink. And you were covered in it from head to toe.

You stood out among the sea of black-clad older men who regularly attended the bar’s open mic sessions. Striking his guitar, he couldn’t stop watching as you tapped along to the beat of his band’s latest cover. A few people cheered as the room echoed loudly with Metallica’s ‘Creeping Death’.

It was a normal Tuesday night for Eddie and his friends, aside from your presence, of course. As they wrapped up the song and the bar patrons let out another round of cheers, Eddie’s attention was focused solely on you.

It was almost like destiny. His friends called out for him when he left them behind to pack up their instruments so the next group could go on. He ignored them, leaning against the bar, where you sat alone.

Realizing someone was next to you, your eyes turned. Eddie inhaled sharply when a smile graced your lips, and then he muttered, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you said, eyes wandering over his leather-clad figure.

Eddie cleared his throat, and then repeated, “Hey.”

Your smile widened, glancing down at your lap in amusement, “Hi.”

“I’m Eddie,” he said.

You introduced yourself, gently shaking his outstretched hand before gesturing to his guitar, “Nice axe. Your set was really good.”

Eddie looked at the instrument, which was still in his hands, and quickly took up the seat next to you at the bar. The bartender, who he knew pretty well, immediately passed him a bottle of water. Eddie usually liked to ask for one after he and his friends performed. He could feel his friends’ curious eyes drilling into the back of his head.

“Thanks! We’ve been working on that cover for a long time!” he grinned. “I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new?”

“In Hawkins?” you asked, and then continued when he nodded. “Not exactly. Just sort of... passing through, I guess. I’m staying with my brother for a few months.”

“Oh,” he muttered, unsure as to why he felt so disappointed, “so you won’t be here long then?”

“Not sure yet,” you shrugged. “Maybe you can convince me? Wanna pick me up tomorrow night? Around eight o’clock?”

Eddie blinked. His eyes examined, searching for any sign that you might be messing with him, but you seemed completely serious. You raised your eyebrows expectantly as you waited for an answer.

Eddie wasn’t sure why he found himself gravitating towards you. Dolled up in pink clothes, long and brightly painted nails, and soft makeup, he didn’t expect you to be his “type”. But then again, you also didn’t seem like someone who would hang out at dingy bars like The Hideout, so what did he know?

He chucked, shaking his head and biting his lip in surprise, “You’ll really go out with some guy you don’t know?”

Eddie waited for you to respond. As he watched you mull over your answer, he opened the bottle of water after situating his guitar between his knees.

Finally, you shrugged, “Well, you can’t be worse than the guys I do know.”

Now he was definitely curious. Eddie’s eyes flickered over you, slowly bringing the bottle in his hands up to take a sip as he asked, “And who would that be?”

“I mean,” you huffed with a nonchalant grin, “Kirk Hammett likes to pull pranks on me all the time, so—! Oh! Are you okay?!”

Eddie coughed loudly, nearly spilling his water on the bar. He leaned forward, not only struggling to breathe but also to fully comprehend what you had just said.

“You know—?!” he stuttered, allowing you to roughly pat his back as he looked at your concerned expression. “You know Kirk Hammett?! The Kirk Hammett?!”

You furrowed your eyebrows, and replied, “Yeah. He’s, like, best friends with my brother.”

Eddie reached out, placing his hands on your shoulders. You leaned back in surprise and gave him an unsure smile as you glanced around the bar.

“Is that where you wanted to go tomorrow night?” he asked, eyes wide. “They’re having a concert in the city, aren’t they?”

“I mean, you did play one of their songs, and I have an extra ticket, so I thought it’d be fun,” you shrugged. “So... is that yes? You wanna go?”

Eddie felt as though he might faint. He lightly shook your shoulders, making you grasp onto his wrists. With an excited grin, he practically shouted, “Of course it’s a yes!”

Before you could respond, he stood from his place at the bar. He quickly closed his bottle of water and shoved it into his back pocket. He then grabbed the neck of his guitar in one hand. With the other, he intertwined your fingers, eagerly tugging you in the direction of his bandmates.

“You guys are never gonna believe this!”

You laughed quietly as Eddie’s doe-eyed expression. His mouth had fallen open in awe. When you told him that you had an extra ticket to Metallica’s concert, this wasn’t what he had expected.

Still staring at the sight in front of him, one of his hands arose from his side. He tapped your arm repeatedly before finally grabbing your wrist and shaking it excitedly.

Turning to you with an astonished gleam, he dramatically whispered, “That’s Metallica!”

You smiled, giving him a slow nod, “I know. Do you wanna meet ‘em?”

He whimpered, which caused you to let out another laugh. The backstage crew milled about, doing final checks on everything that would be needed for the show. Meanwhile, only feet away, the members of Eddie’s favorite band were preparing themselves for their performance.

He bent slightly at the knees, placed his hands on your cheeks, and muttered, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Your smile widened as you glanced down at your shoes. You then returned your eyes to stare into his own, and said, “Didn’t expect you to say that.”

“I’m being serious!” exclaimed Eddie. “I need you to marry me right now! Will you?”

“And let her miss our set?” a voice asked. “That’s not gonna fly with us.”

Eddie’s eyes were impossibly wide. Glancing over his shoulder, his jaw fell. He quickly turned back to you, and tried to whisper, “That’s Lars Ulrich!”

You raised your eyebrows, removed his hands from your cheeks, and said, “I know... and he’s waiting for you to talk to him instead of me.”

When Eddie simply stared at you in surprise, pointing to himself, you placed your hands on his shoulders and spun him around, “This is Eddie. He’s a big fan, in case you couldn’t tell.”

Eddie almost collapsed when the band’s drummer reached out to shake his hand. Suddenly, he was being greeted by the other members as well. When he got to the band’s lead vocalist, he looked at you with starry eyes, “I just touched James Hetfield! Gareth is gonna shit his pants!”

Kirk, the band’s lead guitarist, laughed, “Where’d you pick this one up? He’s hilarious!”

You rolled your eyes, but smiled, “I went to some bar in Hawkins. He’s got a band named Corroded Coffin. They played ‘Creeping Death’ last night, and it was great!”

“Sick name,” grinned Cliff, the bassist. “Maybe we can have a session some time. Have you listened to ‘Master of Puppets’ yet?”

You grinned, running your hand over Eddie’s back as he praised the band’s recent song. You’d definitely have to thank Kirk later for giving you an extra pass to the concert.

“It was good to meet you, Eddie,” said James, shaking your date’s hand once more. “We hope you like the show!”

“Keep an eye on her,” said Kirk, giving you a fake glare. “She’ll dive into the crowd before you can stop her!”

“Oh, whatever,” you laughed. “Get out there! The crowd’s waiting!”

As the band turned to finally go onstage, Eddie turned his attention back to you. He jumped happily, almost reminding you of an excited puppy as he exclaimed, “I’m gonna ask you to marry me every day until you agree because you are so fucking awesome!”

Before you could respond, he placed his hands on the back of your neck and pulled into a searing kiss just as the band’s opening song began to echo loudly throughout the cheering stadium.

#2022 #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #pretty in pink

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sunburnacoustic · 7 months

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Muse - Absolution (2003)

After years of waiting, loaded with trials and experimentation, apocalypse finally has a soundtrack. No, it’s not the angsty, heady crooning of yet another musician in love, it’s not the introspective Beatle having seen the Truth, it is not Johnny Rotten tearing down the Establishment (again), and it isn’t the self-destruction a James Hetfield would growl about.

Apocalypse as a genre has been claimed and made a natural home in, and by a seemingly unassuming young band hailing from the idyllic seaside Middle Of Nowhere, Teignmouth, Devonshire in England: alt-prog rockers Muse.

Muse’s 3rd studio album Absolution (released in 2003) picks up on the big sounds and potential the band had been showing throughout their second album and takes it twenty notches higher. The instrumentation is solid, the rhythms are tight, the guitars loud, the sound, bombastic in moments and delicate, vulnerable and beautiful in the next, the lyrical themes are exploratory, and the band themselves seem to find their feet and lay down the foundations of what even today makes up their signature ‘Musey’ sound.

Yet that little summary couldn’t begin to do justice to the grandiose and power this album packs. At it’s finest, Muse take you on a fifty-two minute trip out of the world (quite literally, as the titular track ‘Sing For Absolution’s music video features the band jetting off into outer space to escape the planet only to have their spaceship crash down into a burning, post-apocalyptical London), charming and haunting you with dark, sustained Rachmaninoff-esque piano breakdowns and blowing you away with larger-than-life drums, distorted guitar and bass working in perfect synch to build up a rising tide-wall of sound that may make it hard at times to remember that there are but three musicians in the recording rooms shaking up your world, as singer Matt Bellamy wails, sings and warbles on about facing death (‘Thoughts of a Dying Atheist’), running out of time (‘Time Is Running Out’), meeting up with the Devil himself (‘The Small Print’), and changing the world (‘Butterflies and Hurricanes’), amongst other things, with each song bearing as Muse-like a name as there comes.

And Matt Bellamy, contrasting this album with their previous efforts, said in an interview that Absolution “is more about us being personable, about us being normal people at home”.

Well, normal Matt Bellamy at home, that is.

The album is introduced with a stomping, twenty second intro, the sound of boots getting closer and heavier, culminating in a single phrase: “Siege heil… marsche!” Twenty seconds in, the apocalyptical themes have already begun kicking in.

But before you have the time to breathe, the first song of the album, ‘Apocalypse Please’ begins, coming right at you with all of Bellamy’s pensiveness and despair, heavy ‘apocalyptical’ piano chords and drums crashing down on you as Matt declares that Earth needs a miracle and that “this is the end of the world”, layering the chorus as multiple Bellamy’s seal humanity’s fate.

The song’s mid/low tempo (around 80bpm) and loud vocals—almost cries of despair, really—and the closing bars with amplified, sustained single bass notes under forceful piano run-up chords, work quite well in conjuring up quite the image the band is looking to build and set the scene for the rest of the album to come.

Following this is one of the singles off the album, ‘Time Is Running Out’, starting with a low, almost choking yet flowing bassline with Bellamy almost breathing out lines like ‘I think I’m drowning/Asphyxiated/I want to break this spell that you created’, a song that starts out soft, restrained, then building up to the chorus as a tormented Bellamy tries to break free and realises that their time is running out, again employing the signature Muse technique of layering multiple guitars and vocals to build up a wall of sound, amplifying Matt’s thoughts, as does its twin later on the album, ‘Hysteria’.

On the titular track, ‘Sing for Absolution’, Bellamy seems to find a Muse of his own, turning inwards to a much more relaxed tempo. The band makes effective use of bassist Chris Wolstenholme’s staccato bass, offset and complemented by the almost dreamlike delayed, echoing guitars and pianos, to cook up an image of a lonely, reflective singer up alone in a room on the top floor of a house, sitting in the faint blue gleam of starlight, gazing out the window into space, thinking about his own life (‘Tiptoe to your room/A starlight in the gloom/I only dream of you/And you never knew’).

On ‘Stockholm Syndrome’, Matthew Bellamy takes the tried and tested ‘captor-and-captive-fall-in-love’ narrative, a darling of writers and musicians everywhere, and breathes new life into it by adding a new dimension of emotions to it, playing on the presumed captor-narrator’s guilt, confusion and sense of hopelessness (‘And she’ll scream and she’ll shout, and she’ll pray/And she had a name’; ‘We’ll love and we’ll hate and we’ll die/All to no avail…’; ‘This is the last time I’ll forget you… I wish I could’)

Muse use drummer Dominic Howard’s drums; pounding, loud and noticeable as a heartbeat in a quiet room; and Bellamy’s trembling vibratos to effectively paint the brutality and vulnerability; indeed, in the last chorus, behind the brute forces crashing on the guitars, bass and drums, one can hear the almost fragile, delicate piano arpeggios in the background, swallowed up by the guitars, almost hidden, protected, in a story that extends beyond the words.

Muse’s ability to switch from a light-hearted, fast-paced tone to a brooding, dark, haunting wail with effortless ease and grace stands out throughout the album and particularly on the sixth track on the album, ‘Falling Away With You’. The song, almost a hidden gem tucked away snugly in the middle of the album, is one of the few times the man who would go on to sing about conspiracy theories, the second law of thermodynamics and uprisings, turns inward and reflects on the people in his life and his relationships with them.

The song’s opening is slightly similar to Blackbird by the Beatles, with a quiet, reverberating guitar over a near-silent backdrop as Bellamy sings about his fears of forgetting a loved one and how relationships change, slowly building up and letting his bandmates catch up in a sort of relay-race, to a chorus that bursts to life with a screaming Matt falsetto-ing to a climax as the band fades to make space for Bellamy to calm down again, and the cycle continues.

It would be fair to say that the bass line drives the next track off the album, ‘Hysteria’. The song opens with a booming bass riff and all the straight faced extravagance that is both the band’s signature and legacy. A three-way harmonic melody solo rages on in the upper octaves that run in the background of the last chorus as a tormented Matthew tries to break free of his inner demons and Muse bring the song to a close in a manner worthy of a stadium closure.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Muse album without experimentation, and while Muse aren’t recording in zero gravity (for now), the band takes to string arrangements in search of new sounds and avenues on ‘Blackout’, dishing up a slow lament, complemented by fuzzy single note tremolos, and it only gets better on the next track, ‘Butterflies and Hurricanes’, as Bellamy sounds off a call to arms to get up and change the world, and “use this chance to be heard”. The strings create a dystopian air, with a terse, fuzzy bass running underground and Wolstenholme’s backing vocals playing in the open skies as Bellamy commands his summoned army to action. His emotions seem to spill out of his fingers onto the piano in sudden gushes in a beautiful, flying, sustained solo that stands even today as a testament to Bellamy’s superior skills on the keys.

Absolution marks a sonic departure from Origin of Symmetry (2001) in that the production seems a lot more refined and cleaner. The band favours richer, fuller sounds: more gain-heavy guitars and bigger drums that would feel home in arena, as opposed to the “dirtier”, more grungey, piercing sounds used on their previous endeavours.

However, there is tons for fans of the band to savour (in addition to a very musically accomplished record) on the track ‘The Small Print’. Bellamy returns to one of his pet themes as he takes on the role of the apathetic Devil (‘I’m a priest God never paid’), watching the world and its happenings with an omniscient eye (‘I hope you’ve seen the light/because no one really cares/They’re just pretending’), a nod back to Origin-era songs like ‘Hyper Music’. The band’s commendable execution, both with the lyrics as well as the rough, almost lo-fi edge in the production on this piece make it astonishingly powerful for a song with a niche theme and a simple guitar riff repeating over shifting root bass notes.

There really is never an uneventful moment on the fifty-two minute, thirteen-second record. The band throw familiarity to the winds on their next track, ‘Endlessly’, a song both very predictably Muse-like, yet something quite unlike anything the band had done before. Trading in the guitar for dampened, “muddy” synths, Muse give you the feeling of sitting underwater, drowned in the waterfalls of sound. Synth chords fall silently around you and ripple under the layers of arpeggiated synths that build up the wall of—excuse the pun—endless sound and lock you into Bellamy’s greyness as he promises a loved one the he’ll do anything for them but won’t leave them– until finally deciding that that moment never comes and calming down to a finish, internal turmoil now at rest.

Bellamy, mind wandering like a child, turns to more existential ideas soon after on ‘Thoughts Of A Dying Atheist’, a fast-paced, energetic and curiously happy-sounding piece, musically, for a song that is about an atheist at the end of their life, knowing that what lies ahead of them is nothingness (‘It scares the hell out of me/And the end is all I can see’) and seems to create an ironic contrast between the energy of the song and the narrator’s nervousness that works to the band’s credit.

Muse continue to shock and awe, haunt and bewitch you right up to the very last song on the album, ‘Ruled By Secrecy’. Lyrically perhaps the most quotidian song on the album, this track deals with the pressures in life and realising that you’ll never be on top. Lyrically and musically, it’s one of the darkest pieces in the band’s repertoire, beginning with low, quiet pianos. A ghostly, whispering Matt, sings with sustain and echo, recreating an almost surprisingly gothic, medieval church-like sound reminiscent of the Middle Ages, bringing to mind fear, uncertainty and mistrust (‘they’ll hide everywhere/no one knows who’s in control’), gathering force and building up to the signature piano crashing chord work that defines this album throughout.

The song, and consequently the album, ends with a final touch to the cymbals, a subtle finish to an album with so much grandiose, its power and assertion leaving the listener reeling and the band flying high on yet another tasteful record successfully polished off.

Watch out Martians, Muse are coming.

------------------------------

A review for Absolution I wrote back in first year in 2018. Happy 20 years of Absolution! I'm happy to note that this time around, with the reissue, Fury will not be left off the album anymore, and my review will (happily) be out of date come November.

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30-3am · 10 months

Text

G R O U P I E • L O V E

✰ James Hetfield ✰

part ten of ten

groupie love contents

warnings: angst, drug use

word count: 3.2k

˚ · • . °

Chapter Ten - For Her

She hadn’t ever been a smart woman. She could never understand the math problems they gave her in class, could never understand what they were talking about in physics or chemistry. She was always the one sat with a strained look on her face and tears lining her eyes, wishing she could just grow up and understand like the rest of them. She wasn’t ever terrible or a cause for concern but she wasn’t anything special. Merely mediocre.

She’d come home with a C: a shout from her mother, a hug from her dad for trying her best and that would be it.

Her dad had always been the one to comfort her, to tell her that he didn’t mind if her grades were low because his were never perfect either. He’d just call her “his princess” and go get her ice cream. Until she was 16 and he wasn’t there to do that anymore.

She wasn’t sure if she hated her father. She didn’t know if she could ever hate him. But the pain she felt when he’d left, a sad look on his face and a “sorry, princess” falling from his lips was unlike any other.

“I have to get away.” He’d said. “I can’t take you, princess. I’m so sorry. I’ll always love you.”

She’d been searching for him since - the love he’d given her.

She found it in James.

And just like all those years ago, it had been taken from her.

Painfully and unbearably.

“I’ll see when the next flights are.” That was the only promise he’d managed to keep.

She’d packed hastily after that, shoving things into her bag - the same bag she’d packed everything in when she was escaping her mother, the person she hated most. A person she would inevitably have to go back to because of him and his inability to maintain a good thing.

They could’ve been something, she was certain of that. What a fucking waste.

The only contact he’d had with her since the balcony was the awkward exchange they shared in the hallway when he’d told her that the next flight was in two days.

It had hit her then and she forced herself not to cry in front of him, however overpowering the urge was. She’d cried when daddy had left and she had learnt since then that to cry would be to show weakness.

If she could thank James for anything it would be that he had helped her see that she was not weak. Nor was she piteous.

She said no to him, right? That was progress enough for her. She was able to say no. After years of wanting to please, of placing herself in situations both awkward and dangerous for the benefit of others, she finally was able to say no. She allowed herself that victory, however small it may seem.

No: a powerful two-letter word.

˚ · • . °

He felt sick to his stomach. Nausea covered him and he was unable to wash it off.

He’d tried everything he knew - the drink, a fight, another woman. That was the most painful of all. He’d acquired a nasty black eye (thanks to the man he’d left bleeding outside the bar) and yet, when he lay next to someone that wasn’t her, it was a fatal shot: a stab to the heart, a bullet to the head. It killed him and he continually feared that no one would compare to her, that if he let her go he would never find the same feeling again - the euphoria. The high.

Addiction had never led to anything good, he knew that all too well. So, he’d have to leave her behind if he wanted to be sober. She was his unfortunate drug. A nicotine addict has to get rid of cigarettes to stop being addicted. A coke addict wants the coke like they need to breathe but to get better they have to get rid of the blow. To stop his obsession with her, he has to get rid of her.

And it made him sick.

He hadn’t run after her when she’d left the balcony, however much he’d wanted to because he wasn’t strong enough. He’d heard the slam of the door, jumped as it clicked shut and began to cry.

He hadn’t allowed himself to cry, really cry, in a long time. And their parting seemed a perfect reason to sob until he was choking and begging to die. So, he did. He sat, in that shitty garden chair and cried till his eyes were sore and his head throbbed.

It had been two days since then.

He probably should’ve gone to her, should’ve told her that he was really fucking sorry, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t built up the courage to do such a thing. All he was left with was nausea and aches that had sent him hurtling headfirst into a pit so deep he wasn’t sure he could claw himself out this time.

She hadn’t come to him either like he’d hoped she had.

And it was time. Two agonizing days had passed and he’d told her that the flight was at 7:00 pm. It was currently 4:00 and she’d have to be leaving soon.

“You want some.” Her voice made him cringe, made his whole body seize up. He regretted her deeply.

“No.” He said plainly as he gazed at the lines of white powder she’d created on the bedside table.

“Suit yourself.” She snorted loudly then exhaled and giggled.

Another mistake he’d have to live with.

He averted his gaze to the clock, staring at its face, the different lengths of its hands. 4:07.

Move James. His mind begged. Fucking move before she’s gone.

His head pounded roughly, fingernails scratching at his skull and screaming in his ears. And Valerie (at least he thought that’s what her name was) snorted again, so obnoxiously and so loud that he couldn’t handle it anymore.

He was on his feet before he could think and was grabbing at his clothes, hastily putting them on.

If she was gone, he’d never forgive himself.

“Where ya going?”

“Out.”

“Yeah, no shit, but where exactly?”

“It doesn’t fucking concern you.” He snapped.

“You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Yeah, and you’re a junkie cunt.”

He didn’t register her protests, the names she was screaming at him, his only focus was her. He missed her lips, her voice, the way it always went up an octave when she started talking about something she liked. He missed the widening of her eyes when he said something a little too dirty too casually and the flush of her cheeks that followed. He missed her little idiosyncrasies, her bad habits he’d picked up on from staring and studying her for too long.

She didn’t laugh as often as he should’ve made her, but he missed that too. She’d cover her mouth with her hand and tears would collect in the corners of her eyes and the sweetness of her laughter was parallel to the sound emanating from heaven's door.

He missed her completely. He missed her wholely.

He was striding down the corridor, looking entirely unlike himself. His hair was dishevelled, the dark bags under his eyes displaying the insomnia he’d been experiencing. His skin was pasty and the bruise on his face made him even more unapproachable. He’d lost it without her. Well and truly lost it. It was pathetic really but he’d accepted at this point that he was nothing without the constant love and attention from others. From her specifically.

He could see the door to her room from where she stood and the outline of a housekeeper carrying sheets to the laundry basket outside.

Fuck.

He stood frozen for a moment and he could’ve sworn he was going to pass out any minute. But reality smacked him in the face sooner than he expected it to and he turned on his heel and ran towards the elevator. He pressed desperately at the down button, unrelenting in the movement of his index finger until his passage to her finally arrived and he transferred his actions to the ground floor button instead.

“C’mon.” He groaned, aggressively pounding at the button. “Fucking come on.” He wasn’t sure what he was trying to achieve but he grew maddened at the thought of her leaving without the chance of a goodbye.

When the doors finally opened again he almost sobbed in relief, stepping out of the elevator and looking left, then right, then left again.

He kept striding around the reception area, hoping to find her and her pouty little lips.

“Are you okay, sir?” He glanced once at the lady behind the desk before waving a hand and dismissing her.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“Are you looking for someone?”

Yes. Yes, he was and he needed to find her as soon as possible.

“Yeah,” he walked up to the reception desk and placed his hands on the top of the veneer. “Yeah, I’m looking for this girl. She should’ve checked out not long ago.” He began to describe her to the woman.

The lady just smiled and nodded her head, eyes showing nothing but concern and perhaps a little fear.

Then, she pointed.

“Just out there. I think that’s her.” He followed the direction of her index finger and swallowed hard.

He had been desperate to find her, ravenous for it, but now that he’d completed his mission, he wasn’t sure how to continue.

He didn’t take his eyes off the back of her head. A single pane of glass separated the two of them and he felt his chest constrict and his throat close.

“Is she not the one you were looking for?” He managed to peel his eyes away for just a moment to glance at the receptionist.

“No…” he shook his head and tried to collect his thoughts, thinking about what he said before he said it. “No, she is, that’s- that’s her.”

It had always been her.

“Glad I could help.”

His eyes are back on her again as he mutters a thank you and takes shaky steps towards the exit.

Each click of his boot echoed in his head, taking him closer to her. Each short breath he emitted reminded him that it was almost time.

Until he was there and the reality was too strong to cope with.

His hand gripped the cool metal of the door and he pulled it open. She glanced briefly upwards at the sound and the look she gave him when their eyes met was close to unbearable. He felt like he was being torn apart by a pack of rabid dogs, each limb being ripped from his body.

He continued to advance, attempting to stop his legs from shaking.

She was sat just outside the hotel, her luggage seated next to her on the bench. She moved it to the floor as he got closer.

“Hi.” She was the first to speak.

“Hey.”

She looked at him softly, almost sympathetic and it made the food in his stomach churn.

“What happened to your face?”

She’d moved her bags out of the way so he could sit but he didn’t have the heart to accept the offer.

“Nothing.” He hated the soft lilt of her voice, the genuine concern laced between the sickening sweetness. So he dismissed her - the way he’d always done before. “Just a fight. Wasn’t anything big.”

“Well…” She smiled softly. He hated it. “I’m glad you came.” It was genuine. She hadn’t ever been a very good liar - he could always tell when she was being truthful and this was one of those times.

He didn’t know how to respond so he just nodded.

She laughed softly and it broke something inside him; he knew it couldn’t ever be fixed.

“You know, I never really saw this ending.” She smiled up at him, full lips stretched across her face. “I knew it would but I could never picture it.”

Shut up. It’s hard enough already.

She sighs contentedly and looks at the sky. She was uncharacteristically casual about the situation and it scared him because he saw himself in the blacks of her eyes. He reflected her, mirrored her. And after all the time he’d spent with her, he realised how much he’d corrupted her. She would leave but he would still be everywhere, crawling underneath her skin.

It took everything in him not to throw up.

“You know my dad always used to say that nothing lasts forever.” He stilled in his position, jaw clenching and eyes involuntarily widening. She hadn’t ever mentioned her dad before. She was always giving herself to him, even during the most profound of situations.

There was a smile on her face as she recalled him.

“He said that he thought it was unfair that humans are given things to look after, things to love and then they’re just…taken away. They don’t last forever. Nothing does.” She turns away from the sky to look into his eyes - absorbing him.

“But he’d always say that that was a part of life. That it’s something we should embrace because if we don’t, where would we be?” Her gaze is intense, piercing him with feelings so cold, the sun beating down on his back was not enough to warm him back up. “I’ve managed to do a lot of thinking without you around to distract me.” He couldn’t look at her anymore and his eyes were on his feet within seconds, staring at the tops of his boots - the cracks in the concrete.

“I don’t think you’re perfect, nobody is. But I think you’re decent. Decent enough to feel sickeningly guilty about this whole situation.”

He pushed away the lump in his throat and blinked at his eyes, squeezing them tightly shut before opening them again. When he did, another pair of shoes were in his eye line and he trailed his gaze upwards to her. She was smiling.

“I’m willing to forgive you.” Her gaze was on his bruised eye and he fluttered his eyes shut as she dragged a finger along the injury. “I still think you’re beautiful. Even with this.” She continued to trace circles onto the skin and a tear slipped past his unsullied eye. “I think you’re beautiful even with everything you think is ugly.”

He opened his eyes again, desperate for the feel of her, for the wire that stuck to the both of them and connected in the middle, holding them in place. He wasn’t willing to cut it just yet.

He pressed his forehead against hers, holding her by the back of her neck.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed in her scent, her aura, her being.

How to leave behind something so perfect and damaging?

“Too late for that now.” There was no malice to her tone, only understanding. “Nothing lasts forever right? And like you said this is what's best.” She stroked his cheeks, not attempting to break away. “I gave you a chance and I don’t exactly wanna leave but…you need to get yourself sorted out.”

“I know.” “And I know you know.”

He wished he could go back to when he first met her, to do things differently, to actually get to know her as he told her he wanted to. Either that or warn her to stay the fuck away.

“It’ll hurt for a bit.” She continued to stroke the skin of his face, the softness of her hands grounding him in the moment. “It already hurts me, but, it’ll get better after a while. You’ll get back to yourself, everyone always does.”

He didn’t believe her. But he didn’t know how to verbalise that thought. The words were caught in the back of his throat and he didn’t have the heart to say them.

“I know.”

His heart cracked when she pulled away from him and he was cold all over. She’d always balanced him out and made him feel stable. Now she was going. His fault.

A car pulled up to the curb behind him and he didn’t dare look at it; the transporter of his heart.

She was pulling her bag over her shoulder, brushing her hair away from her face. Then, she reached into her pocket, rustling around before acquiring a small strip of paper.

She handed it to him.

“If you ever figure things out in that head of yours, call me. It’s the number for my mom’s house but just ask for me and I’ll get there if I can.”

“You’re going back to her?” He takes the paper from her hands and holds it tight in his fist. It’s the last bit of her he had left to cherish and fuck would he cherish it with everything he had.

“Yeah.” She shrugs. “But It’s not so bad anymore.” Her lips stretch into a smile, her eyes bright and full of adoration. “I’ve learnt a lot from you.”

They both laugh this time, James unable to stop himself.

Then the laughter dissipates and they’re left with the lingering stench of goodbye.

“Well…” she gestures behind him. “This is me.”

He steps aside so she can get by, doing everything he possibly can to stop the threat of tears.

“Thanks for getting me the flight by the way.”

He nods softly as she opens the door and throws her bag on the seat.

“No problem.”

Their eyes catch as she stays put in the door and he thinks, for a stupidly irrational moment, that maybe she’s staying. But she just shakes her head and clambers into the seat, reaching for the seatbelt and strapping herself in.

He wants to say something hopeful, a sentiment of appreciation, of love, of enjoyment for her but he comes up empty.

And he grips the car door, forcing it to stay open as he holds his breath, thinking of what to say. Only three words form on his tongue and they tumble from his lips in one whisper.

“I love you.”

She smiles - a beat of silence.

“I know.”

She grips the handle of the door and slams it shut behind her, completely locking him away.

When the engine comes to life and when the wheels begin to roll over the concrete, he allows himself a second to cry - to contemplate.

Denial laced his bones and poisoned his mind with the hope that when he got back to the hotel room, she would be there and waiting. She would be there, arms outstretched for him to crawl into and cry whilst she comforted him.

He always used to appreciate his realism, but, as he sat down on the bench she occupied minutes before him, he cursed its plague.

She was not coming back.

Not soon anyway.

He uncurled his fist to find the single piece of paper she’d gifted him. He brushed out the creases with the pad of his finger and gazed at the numbers.

“If you ever figure things out in that head of yours, call me.”

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to figure things out, if he would ever be able to understand his actions and his intentions. But the mere prospect of seeing her smile again, seeing her eyes that had bewitched him, body and soul, was enough for him to try.

To at least try.

If not for himself, then for her and the promise that he would see her again.

˚ · • . °

A/N: this ending was very reminiscent of unrequited but like...deal with it. maybe i'm just unoriginal 🤗 i'm sorry, i'm trying to joke cause i'm really sad this is over and i don't even know if i like the ending and life is just so sad why do i do this shit? either way, thank you, for everything with this fic. it's taken me a long time to get to this place and i'm very grateful for the kind comments as they're the things that really do keep my writing going. i am very grateful.

if you're sad about the ending...do not worry. i've got more coming. shameless plug of barefoot which is gonna be the most whirlwindy fucking shit you've ever read. with a good ending this time so don't complain.

anyways, thank you. i love you all sm. the support you've given me is actually insane and i can't thank you enough.

love ya,

alana.

#james hetfield #metallica #groupie love #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield smut #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica smut #metallica x reader #metallica fanfiction #james hetfield x oc

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klirk-hammurton · 2 years

Text

Exploring A Haunted House With Your Favorite Metallica Member(s)

James Hetfield

Is against the idea at first, but relents and joins you

Has a duffel bag full of shit. We're talking flashlights, matches, snacks, probably has a pair of brass knuckles because he'd totally fight a ghost for you

Yells "I swear to fucking fuck if anyone fucks with me I will fuck you up!" He likes to be a big tough guy

Is low key scared but refuses to admit it

Will enter every room first just to make sure that its safe for you

Knocks down any spiderwebs from doorways for you. He's such a gentleman

Throws a flash light at any moving shadow. Takes. No. Chances. PISS OFF GHOST!

He's a screamer. Don't laugh at him. He startles easily but will play it off by laughing to cover up that he got spooked.

DON'T TOUCH THE DUSTY BOOKS! He won't let you touch anything. Horror movie logic. Bad spirits live in the books. No touchy.

Once he's comfortable he'd want to explore more abandoned houses

Kirk Hammett

Will straight up ask you to marry him because he loves spooky shit. You're forever his favorite human

Packs sleeping bags, snacks flashlights, candles, you name it. The man is ready for this.

He'd do research on the place and basically be your tour guide. He's obsessed with horror. Bless his little horror nerd heart

Would crack jokes like "if you're an evil spirit trying to kill me clap your hands".

Throws a candle stick at the first shadow figure he sees and then runs. Forgets you're standing there and runs back to grab you then makes another break for it.

Wants to explore a haunted house for every Halloween with you

Isn't scared at all. Boasts about how brave he is. Gets the shit scared out of him anyway

Would find some type of creepy souvenir to take home with him. "PUT THAT THING DOWN!" "......but it would go great in my horror collection....."

Buys ghost hunting equipment. He's now a self proclaimed professional at this.

When you get scared, he'll hold you close against his chest. He smells heavenly.

Cliff Burton

Looks at you like you're crazy but decides to go anyway because he loves you

He's completely against the idea but doesn't want you going alone. He's a protective boyfriend.

Refuses to let you enter the building or any room first. He's ready to kick anyone's ass if they want to be stupid

Forgets to pack extra batteries. Relieved that you planned ahead.

Packs extra cigarettes. "Of course you brought those and not batteries!" ..."in my defense, I'm not a ghost hunter...."

Finds exploring this haunted house to be pretty cool. Finds an empty room to tell spooky stories in. He's such a dork.

Acts tough as nails. Is low key scared af but too prideful to admit it. Winds up throwing his flashlight at something moving.

"I swear to God if anything or anyone jumps out, I will knock your fucking head off." He's such a tough guy. Look at him puffing out his chest and showing off for you.

Will not let go of your hand for nothing. Is he scared or just being protective? Plays it off as being protective. He doesn't want you running off and getting hurt

Bumps his head on the low doorframes. Bless his heart for being so tall. Freaks out because of the spiderwebs. Instant kung-fu master.

Lars Ulrich

Is absolutely against it. Not no. But HELL NO!

Relents at your pouting and refuses to let you go exploring with Kirk. "If he can do it then fine I'll do it too." Such a chaotic little Gremlin.

Over packs too much shit. Water and snacks for days. "Lars.....this is alcohol....." ....."if we're playing with ghosts, we mine as well have a good time."

Is instantly intimidated by how huge this house is. Would probably get lost in the labyrinth of halls.

Definitely throws his bag of supplies at a shadow figure and bolts the other way. Its his own shadow. "Look, I can explain. It was like, 7 feet tall okay?"

Is very unwilling to split up. Let's you go exploring by yourself. Is high key freaked out by every single little noise. Has watched too many horror movies with Kirk.

Gets too confident in himself. Scribbles a tiny "Lars was here" on a wall. Instantly regrets it when something growls at him.

Even freaked out he's very observant of you. Will pull you close to him if you get scared or something looks dangerous. He's a professional at this. He's had one too many horror flick marathons with Kirk

Would definitely punch out somebody if they tried scaring you. Would feel bad if it was kid. "I'm sorry but you deserve it you little shit!"

Brings a small vile of holy water. You can never be too safe. Threatens to use it on everything that moves.

Jason Newsted

Is really on the fence about it at first but starts to dig the idea because he gets to be a big tough guy.

Packs everything you'll need. Flashlights, candles, matches, snacks, water bottles, batteries. He's coming prepared. He was born for this.

He'll walk in front of you while holdiyour hand to make sure everything is safe. Knocks down the spiderwebs for you.

Probably finds some amateur ghost equipment to bring just to be a show off. Gets freaked out when he hears a spirit talk. Tries to play it off.

Touching walls and bookcases. "There's gotta be secret passages somewhere." Looks like a total dork rubbing the walls for the secret door that may or may not exist.

Gets distracted by some of the paintings hanging on the walls. "Absolutely not." ...."but it's such a rarity...." pouts a little but he'll get over it. Gets creeped out when the eyes start following you.

Holds you close if you get scared. His heart is racing too but he stays calm for you. He has a vile of holy water and a vile of salt for those pesky demons. If it works in Hollywood, it'll work here too

Probably gets lost finding that mythical hidden door. Instant regret when he can't find you. "This isn't how trap doors are supposed to work...."

Would stare suspiciously at a shadow and shine a light at it. Looks at you then back to the shadow "has that always been there?" ...."sweetie, that's YOUR shadow." Then it moves and he chucks a book or candle stick at it.

Finds a hole in the roof of the attic and finds it to be the perfect spot to watch the stars and full moon. Not everything has to be spooky.

Robert Trujillo

"You're joking right?" He's very skeptical about it. Between his Hispanic and native heritage, there's too many things that could go wrong. "We don't say the W name" ..."Wendigo?" ..."I SAID DON'T SAY IT!!!!"

You're confident that nothing can go wrong. Since your heart is set on it, he pushes his superstitions aside and joins you. Don't be surprised if he has blessed white sage, holy water, salt, probably a crucifix too.

He's on high alert. Can't tell if he's in a predatory or Prey state. Every noise is a threat. Tries to keep a brave face even though he's ready to throw you over his shoulder and bolt.

Low key digs the gargoyles decorating each peak of the dilapidated roof. Tries to keep himself from touching one by the stairs. Touches it anyway.

Has a bag full of supplies. Packs extra of everything. "Robbie....we're only going for a few hours. This bag could last a week...." hes he's over achiever. Better safe than sorry

Gets a little too into the spooky vibes. Starts to tell you spooky ghost stories from his Native heritage. Accidentally freaks himself out. Plays it off as part of the story. "I could be a Grade A actor."

Doesn't trust any of the animals harboring in the house. "THAT IS NOT A RAT! NO DON'T TRY TO TOUCH IT!"

When shot gets real, he'll protect you with his life. Stands in front you if a shadow figure moves. Nobody and nothing hurts his baby girl.

Holds your hand like a lifeline. You aren't going anywhere. You're sticking by his side no matter what.

He would want to do it again even he got the shit scared out of him

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