#Lars ulrich x you
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metalliixx · 3 days ago
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𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘫𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴
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𝘦𝘳𝘢: 𝘮𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 90'𝘴
. ╰──╮𝜗𝜚╭──╯ .
the second he found out you were pregnant, he started looking into moving your soon to be expanded family into the countryside, away from the noise of the city. he never neccesarily liked it, and now that you were to have kids, he wanted to raise them in the privacy and quietness of nature.
during your pregnancy he'd spend all the time he wasn't helping you on reading books about parenting, wanting to be as ready for the coming of the baby as he possibly could.
he'd feel really gulity if he had to leave you and go on tour while you were pregnant, and he'd try to call you as often as he could
you'd first child would be a girl, after finding out he'd be a little dissapointed, since he hoped for a boy. but the second he saw your baby girl for the first time all those thoughts left his head immidiately
you find him praying along with your daughter when you're done collecting the vegetables of your garden
if you had sons later on, he would teach them all the things he knew, he would take them hunting when they were older, teach them the chords to his favorite songs, play them the music he liked growing up
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reincarnationoftheparty · 2 months ago
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spot the differen-YEAH THATS RIGHT CUZ YOU CANT DUH
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nausicaamusiclover20 · 3 months ago
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Hey 🦐
Perchance uhhh slow passionate sex with ‘97 Lars… praise kink, switch Lar perchance…👅
I hope you like it!❤
Warnings: explicit sexual content, sensuality, passion, soft sex,
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Held in desire
The room was quiet, save for the sound of our breathing, the only witness to the delicate rhythm we were building together. Lars’s hands were gentle but firm as they rested on my hips, his fingers caressing the soft skin there, sending a rush of warmth through me. His eyes met mine, intense and filled with something deeper than I could name, and he leaned down, his lips brushing softly against my neck.
“I’ve wanted this,” he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. “Wanted you... for so long.” His voice was thick, a mix of desire and reverence.
I tilted my head, inviting him closer, feeling his breath hitch as his lips traced the line of my jaw. His kisses were slow, deliberate, each one lingering, like he wanted to savor the moment. I closed my eyes, letting myself melt into the sensation of his touch, his mouth, the warmth of his body pressing so intimately against mine.
I ran my fingers through his hair, tugging him back just slightly so I could meet his lips with my own. The kiss was soft at first, exploring, tasting. But as our bodies pressed together more closely, the kiss deepened—slow, languid, as if we had all the time in the world. His hands slid from my hips to the small of my back, pulling me against him, and I could feel the heat of his desire through the thin fabric of our clothes.
With a quick twist, I shifted the balance, rolling him onto his back. He let out a surprised laugh, his grin wide and unrestrained as he looked up at me.
“Taking charge now, huh?” he teased, though his voice was shaky, his chest rising and falling a little faster.
“Someone has to,” I replied, my tone playful but thick with emotion as I straddled him, my palms resting on his chest. “You’re not the only one who gets to have their way.”
His hands instinctively moved to my thighs, but I caught his wrists, pinning them to the bed. “No touching,” I said, arching an eyebrow at him.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. “You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Why don’t you tell me?” I murmured, leaning down so my lips hovered just above his.
“You’re driving me insane,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. His breath hitched when I trailed my fingers down his chest, feeling the way his body responded to every touch. “Every time you move, every time you touch me—it’s like I’m losing control.”
I paused, letting his words sink in, feeling the weight of his confession settle between us. “Good,” I whispered against his skin. “That’s exactly what I want.”
The way he trembled beneath me, the way his body softened, his eyes fluttering shut—it was intoxicating. For a moment, he was completely mine, undone by the way I whispered his name, by the slow, deliberate way I explored him.
But Lars was never one to stay on the bottom for long. With a sudden surge, he flipped us again, his body pressing into mine, his breath ragged as he pinned me down. His grin was sharp, but his eyes were soft, almost hesitant as he cupped my face in his hands.
“I need you,” His thumb traced the line of my jaw, his gaze locking with mine. “But not like this. I want to take my time with you.”
A shiver ran through me at his words. “Take your time,” I breathed, my hands tracing the lines of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles. “I’m yours.”
He exhaled sharply, his lips trailing down my neck, stopping to press soft kisses against the sensitive skin just beneath my ear. His hands moved lower, gently pushing my shirt over my shoulders, his fingers grazing the smoothness of my skin. I shivered at the feeling, my breath hitching, as he undressed me with such reverence, as though every inch of me was precious.
When he finally removed the last of my clothing, his gaze lingered on me for a moment, almost as if he were memorizing the sight. His hands roamed slowly over my body, the touch of his fingertips feather-light but leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with awe. His eyes never left mine as he trailed kisses down my chest, his lips warm against my skin. I let out a soft sigh, my hands slipping into his hair as I pulled him back to me.
“I want you too,” I whispered, my voice trembling with want, but also something deeper. “I need you...slow, like this.”
He responded with a soft groan, his lips brushing mine again, this time deeper, more insistent. His hands guided my legs apart, positioning himself between them with a tenderness that made my heart ache.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice raw with desire, but there was something more—something protective in his tone.
I nodded, my hands resting on his chest as I drew him closer. “Yes. Take your time. Just... don’t hold back.”
Lars’s eyes darkened with something deeper than lust—something that made me feel like he was connecting with me in a way I hadn’t expected. He moved slowly, pressing into me inch by inch, giving me space to adjust, making sure I was comfortable. His lips never left mine, even as our bodies began to move together in a steady rhythm, each thrust deliberate, each one deeper, slower than the last.
The world outside melted away, leaving only the feel of his body against mine, the sound of our breaths mixing as we moved together. His hands caressed me with reverence, as though he was afraid I might break, afraid that the intensity of what we were sharing might shatter the delicate bond we were building.
“I don’t want to rush this,” he murmured, his lips brushing against mine as he pulled back slightly to look into my eyes. “I want to feel everything. You.”
I held his gaze, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw, pulling him closer again. “I want that too,” I whispered. “I want to feel everything with you. Slowly... passionately.”
 He kissed me deeply then, his lips moving hungrily, but still with a tenderness that took my breath away. The pace was unhurried, every movement slow, deliberate, as though we were both trying to savor every single moment. His hands slid down my body again, gripping my hips as he pressed deeper into me, his movements slow and sure, like he was marking every inch of me as his own.
I responded in kind, my hands sliding over his shoulders, tracing the hard lines of his back. His body shuddered slightly as I pulled him closer, urging him on, feeling him fill me completely, over and over again. There was a soft, raw groan from him as the pressure built—slowly, but steadily, as we became lost in each other’s rhythm.
“Lars,” I breathed, my voice unsteady with the need growing inside me. My back arched, pressing even closer to him, every part of me desperate for more. “You feel... so perfect.”
His hands moved up to my back, his fingers pressing into my skin as if to anchor himself, as if he couldn’t get close enough. “God, you’re perfect... you’re everything,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly with the weight of his emotions. “And I need you... I need all of you.”
His lips crashed again against mine in a kiss so full of need and longing that it almost consumed us both. We moved  a bit faster now, the tension reaching its peak, the world around us fading completely. There was nothing but him, nothing but the way we were connected in every way, in every sense. I could feel myself getting closer, my body trembling under the pressure, his name escaping my lips in a breathless cry. 
And then, with one final, deep movement, I cried out as the wave of pleasure crashed over me, feeling him pulsing inside me, both of us shuddering together, caught in the intense wave of pleasure 
Lars’s body went rigid for a moment, his grip on me tightening as he reached his own release, groaning my name in a deep, broken sound. The intensity of it was overwhelming, and I clung to him as the world slowly returned to focus, the aftershocks of our release still rippling through our bodies.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, tangled together, breathing hard, both of us completely spent. Lars held me close, his arms wrapped around me tightly as if he couldn’t bear to let me go. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath me.
“I don’t ever want this to end,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”
I smiled softly, my fingers tracing the lines of his chest as I kissed his skin gently. “It doesn’t have to end,” I whispered back. “We’re here. Together. That’s all that matters.”
And in that moment, with his heart beating in time with mine, I knew that we had both found something rare and beautiful. Something we didn’t need to rush. Something we could savor, forever.
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sourbites · 4 months ago
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Bruise
"Stop messing with it," Lars smacked your hand away, giving you a glare out of the corner of his eye. Your brows furrowed defensively.
The atmosphere in the recording studio is wirily tense. It's late at night, quiet, and so overwhelmingly empty. There's so much tension weighing down on your temples. Your jaw clenches, a tightness of agitation against your teeth. Stubbornly, you keep your hand fixed to the mixer.
"Is that how you ask?" You sneer, shoving his hand away with your own.
Lars turned to you, "Wasn't asking." He gives your hand another shove with the side of his palm.
This back-and-forth has been going on for months now. Since you came onto the producing team, Lars has fought you (literally and figuratively) every step of the way. It's infuriating. Tonight taps a gun to your skull and demands you be everything you're not.
"How about this," You clear your throat, hoping that sense of clarity will go to your scrambled, over-cooked brain. "You let me do my job?"
"I would if you could do it right," Lars immediately huffs out, his pink lips forming a little frown. He's not sad, though. Just smug. So stupidly smug.
This nasty bitterness in your stomach isn't from sleep deprivation or stress. "I guess we both need to work on stuff. My producing, your drumming." You say, bitingly. You know you're being snarky. And justifiably so— Lars deserves to be knocked down a peg or two.
"You don't appreciate good sound. That's obvious by the mess you've turned this song into."
You physically turn in your seat to actually, properly stare holes through Lars. Defensively, you wring your hands. "Ride The Lightning is the title track, dumbass, it needs to be memorable. And right now, there's nothing real about it to make it stick." You point out. Maybe you're being a bit blunt about it. But, like... are you wrong? No. No, you're not. Lars probably knows that. Deep down. That's probably why he's being so snooty with you right now. He's just looking for a fight. Like always.
"Real?" He echoes mockingly. Incredulously, Lars continues to run his stupid mouth. "You wouldn't know real sound if it hit you in that pretty face of yours. That's why you're stuck as a producer instead of actually making the song. Stop trying to commercialise what we stand for. Just do your job."
"Yeah? Well, I fucking quit."
You're not sure why you said it. As soon as the words left your mouth, you wanted to pluck them from the atmosphere and shred them up. It's just... it's late, and you're so, so tired. You're sick of fighting with Lars— not to be confused with intending to make peace with him. You loathe him with every drumstick flick. You loathe him with every breath you draw in your body. But constantly squabbling is certainly draining. Especially when it's so late at night, and all you truly want to do is wrap up in your cosy bed at home. Regardless of whether you meant it or not, you're too stubborn (and unwilling to be embarrassed) to take it back.
Hesitantly, like you're being controlled by someone else, you rise from your seat. You hear Lars scoff in disbelief behind you. The sight of the door gets closer and closer.
"What do you think you're doing?" Metal chair legs scrape against the floor. Lars catches you, barely quick enough to latch onto the side of your shirt.
"Leaving." You mutter, rendered monosyllabic from just how fast your heart writhes in your chest. Quitting shouldn't be this intimidating, should it? You'd find another job somewhere.
"You're such a fucking coward." He hisses, hooking his fingers into your shirt; the fabric pulled taut from the tension.
You twist around to face him, supercharged with irritation and frustration. And hatred. Mostly hatred. "You are the most difficult, stuck-up brat that I have ever worked with. You listen to nothing, absolutely nothing that I suggest to you. Why'd I stick around? For sleepless nights and insults? Fuck you, Lars. Fuck you!" You draw in a deep breath that goes smoothly down your chest. "You don't get to talk to me like that." You add, your voice a little more even, less manic than that episode of pure fury needling down your spine. Although, it still sounds like you're snarling.
Lars is still for a few moments. He blinks. Once, twice. A sick, sweet feeling of pride blooms within you. Finally, he listens. Finally, he shuts his mouth. Finally, he takes you seriously. In this strange purgatory of wordlessness, you get a good look at him. Your eyes search his. Are they blue or green? He looks tired. Maybe that's just because he's under the gory yellow lighting of the studio. Lars' mouth forms a line. He looks almost shell-shocked — is that because of you? What, never been yelled at before?
You give him a look.
"You want me to give you something real? Fine. Just don't fucking ruin it this time." He rasps, huffing, his tone biting.
At full tilt, Lars bee-lines into you, half dragging you into him and half scuffling his shoes on the floor to meet you. He rips you through the air towards him by your wrists. If your head wasn't spinning, maybe you'd realise that his hands tremble around you, his mouth watering. Your lips smack together, matching in a twistedly tender overlap of his top lip between yours, your bottom lip between his. Your hands fist into the collar of his dumb shirt, one of those ones where the neckline's gone in some botched DIY job. His nose bumps yours, teeth clashing in your mouth, and you find yourself allowing the kiss, letting your eyes close. Although he still makes you steam with rage.
You swallow awkwardly when the kiss is broken. You stare at him. "Well," You take in a breath, still feeling the warmth of him on your lips, "I suppose you think that makes up for your attitude?"
Lars scoffs again, glaring down his straight nose bridge at you. "Yeah, I wasn't apologising. Did nothing wrong." His hands slide up your wrists, up your arms, then slope down your sides, cupping you by the hips.
You don't like Lars. You truly don't. He's stubborn and blunt and argumentative and crass. You glare at him through your brows. But you'd be a fool to deny that he's pretty. "Yeah, you did," You laugh humourlessly. "You're always whining."
"Because you always ruin the songs." He snaps back, his hands tightening on your hips. He looks like a parent telling off a little kid: that condescending, patronising tone of voice. He's so fucking patronising. God, you want to strangle him.
You roll your eyes. Lars taps your cheek a few times, enough to feel it tingle on your skin. "Don't you give me that." His eyes burn like cigarettes, smoking with pure heat. His voice — his glare, hits something deep inside you, nothing but nerves. You've never seen him like this before. You chew your lower lip nervously. It excites you. It shouldn't excite you.
Stupefied, the only thing you manage is: "You're such a fucking dick." You meant it as some snarky zinger, but it comes out so breathless, so caramel, and so velvety.
God, you want him. You don't want to want him. It's been so long since someone's kissed you moon-struck, traced their palms down your sides, held you close...
You're staring. He's staring. Grinning, actually. You shift from foot to anxious foot. A quiet, dirty-minded smile softens up his pink lips. "Play nice, sweetheart." Lars hums, thumbing your hip through your shirt. Um.
Screw it. You shove both hands into Lars' shirt, twisting and tugging. He lands in a chair with a whoosh, gazing up at you wordlessly. Just a stupidly pleased grin and those perfect eyes. His hands squeeze you at the waist, yanking you into his lap, the air whuffed out of you.
"I can't fucking stand you," You mutter, yanking up his shirt. You hear the fabric crackle as it's stretched. You don't care. Lars dips his head down to your neck, kissing and mouthing at the delicate skin, unrelentless, your throat glosses with hickeys, spackled red and blooming blue. He bites, licks, sucks, mouthing at your pulse until it hurts, as if he's got you by the neck and he's desperate to bite until your pulse fizzes out.
"Shut the fuck up," Lars hisses into your neck, his fingers gauging into your sides, rattling your clothes around you as you're fighting to stay steady on his lap. God, can't he ever let anything be gentle? He forces his words out in choppy pieces, biting at your skin with his teeth, grazing over your thumping pulse, developing a taste for your flesh. You laugh dryly, winding your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, yanking it back, tugging his insatiable, watering mouth from your throat.
"What did you say to me earlier? Play nice, sweetheart. I could easily walk away from this right now." You threaten, your eyes glowering like steel into his ocean of irises. Lars' hand tugs at your jeans again, his knuckles prodding into the softness of your belly as his hand is half-shoved down into the waistband. All while you're staring at each other with so much intensity, so much heat, that your skin feels like it's on backwards. You think you've been gulping down his hate potion by the gallon. He controls your very mind, twisting in the lust-fog daze of your brain, swirling and coaxing you to be just as hard-edged, just as snappy.
His hands slowly, almost cautiously, undo you. If I'm going down, you're coming with me. You lean in, transfixed, and graze your own teeth over his lip. His jaw. Earlobe. You taste the good and the bad in his mouth, and you want both. Insatiably, you want him. He sighs quietly into your hair, straining and wrestling your jeans down. The petal-soft skin of your inner thighs grate against the denim of his own jeans. Your panties are rearranged across your hips awkwardly, thanks to the way Lars fleeced your jeans from you so aggressively. You eye the growing bulge nestled almost uncomfortably snugly between his legs. Fucking pervert.
"How do you want it?" Lars asks as he undoes his belt, with only a little meddling from you. He leans back in his seat. On your throne (his lap), you're pulled into him of your own accord this time, following him like a magnet, scraping your hands along the sharp angles of his shoulders. You feel your slit gush in your panties. It was like leaning into the sun with him. Just heat everywhere, fire licking at your tenderised flesh, stripping you down to the bone. Rational thoughts rise like steam, abandoning you.
You're manoeuvred around for a few moments while Lars pushes down his jeans just to reveal that perfectly tented bulge. He cups your thighs in gulpfulls, shoves your legs apart, and presses you down, so your hips carve against his, groping you into grinding on his hard cock. The weight in your chest intensifies. You stab your hooked fingers into the enragingly perfect sharp cut of his shoulders, anchoring yourself as he rocks you against him. Now you know how the Titanic felt. You're going down, deep into his cold ocean.
All fucking month Lars has been chipping away at you. Days of quips and jabs and nudges. You're half surprised he didn't try putting gum in your hair or something. Childish little fuck. "Just like this is fine," You say, maybe with too much teeth, gritting out the words as if you don't want to give him the satisfaction of a somewhat peaceful conversation. This earns a deep, rumbling chuckle from within his chest.
"Fine," He echoes, rolling the word around in his mouth. "Not for long. You'll be singing my praises soon."
God, you wish you could take him down a peg or two. The vicious volcanic lava bubbling with hate in your gut quickly swaps with this aching emptiness, this vacuum of space that's yearning to be filled with heat again. Lars presses a tingling-with-heat palm flat to your belly, slowly sliding down, plucking the waistband of your panties as if it's a string, before releasing. He's smirking. You flinch, and those whittled-down shards of loathing come back tenfold. To break even, you shove a hand into his boxers and tug, his blushing cockhead springing out to smack against his happy trail.
The pair of you sit there, watching his cock stand proudly, leaky and snug between your pelvises. Your chest heaves. Lars peels your panties off to the side, tracing the pad of his thumb along your slicked, puffy slit. The breaths in your belly ripples. Your head is spinning. You fist Lars' dick, white-knuckled, handling him with all the bruising tenderness you need just to get it out of your system. His big eyes glisten over with lust. You squirm in your seat on his thighs. He scrapes you up closer, steering you by the hips. His palms smother into your hipbones until it hurts. Everything within you tightens at his touch, your breath hitching.
Lars' whispering is whiskey-warm as you swing your hips forward, pelvis-first, impaling yourself on his thick cock. It pushes a noise out of you. Eyelids drooping, lashes fluttering, you look almost drunk. Your arousal rolls down his shaft, slow and molasses-thick. You take a fistful of Lars' hair, ruining how he styled it in that seventies-esque look. Your sopping wet slit engulfs him, choking him down. Through his despising you, his hands settle on the small of your back and splay at the angled juncture where hip meets thigh, encouraging you — more eager to bottom out in your cunt more than anything else.
Your hole splits raw on him, a cry rippling through you. Embarrassed, you quickly hiss out: "Fuckin' hate you." Just for good measure. Just to remind him. Your flesh burns, sticky with sweat. The rippling squeeze of you around him is too close to paradise to be real. The gnawing in your head never ceases. As he entered you, he became your intense hunger. Lars rocks you across his lap at a vicious pace, in an animal tempo that makes you suspect he's bringing you to the slaughter. You almost want to close your legs as his tip bites into your cervix again and again and again, rolling and rippling as your cunt squelches in cries around him, slick bleeding out between you.
He sinks between your legs again and again, your tits bouncing in your shirt with each salacious stroke and hip bump upwards. Cries and insults die on your tongue, thoughts fuzzing away like angry bees trapped in their sticky beehives. "Spoilt," Lars hisses, the bluntness of his nails digging into the swell of your hips. He shoves his head into your neck and loses it. "Getting the best fuck of your life and you're still complaining." His breath scalds your clammy skin. You squirm. His hair rasps against the underside of your chin.
Lars leans back to fuck you in powerfully furious strokes, your skin hot and tingling with every slapping-sounding impact. He gathers you up in gently bulging biceps and veined forearms. You're folded into his chest, his breaths coming out in frantic puffs that warm you through your shirt. You absorb every pump helplessly, clinging to his shoulders and clawing at his skin until your nails leave red-hot roadmaps over every dip of muscle and bone.
"God," You cry hoarsely, curling your back into him and shuddering as the heavy, coiled knots in your guts settle and rattle against your slit. "Do you ever shut up?" You smoosh a flushed cheek into his soft hair, leaning on him for support. Your skin is beaded in sweat. You jolt, pelvis cramping as he finds your poor, swollen clit, and presses a burning fingertip into it. You feel the brush of his lips in a smirk against your throat. Your hair sticks to the back of your neck.
You want to tear him apart. He wants to split you open. He stuffs you with bullets. You burn with gunsmoke. Lars prods his knuckles into your arched back, keeping you there. He kisses your pulse surprisingly tenderly. Then, he remedies it with a bite. Does that hurt, too?
"Could ask you the same thing," Lars grunts, pawing and palming at your flesh until it aches. He is a fever you are learning to coexist with. He stains you with every touch. He drives his hips forward, feeling your slicked sex tear apart and split open on his hilt. He licks his lips, hungry — remembering how sweet your mouth tasted when it was too busy spilling out insults.
"Shut up shut up shut up." You hiss, squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel your cunt stretched around him, your flesh sizzling. The tissue in your body pulls taut. Lars plants sloppy, wet kisses down your neck. It's delicious agony. Who knew heaven was a place for sinners — because you're certain that the flashes of white behind your eyes are salvation. You brace yourself, shoes creased as you push the tip-toed soles into the floor. Lars smooshes a groan between his lips and your collarbone, soaking up every sharp, wild clamp of your pussy as he drags his cock deep and slows within your battered, tender walls.
Your orgasm comes jagged and spiked, pouring out and squelching between the both of you, skin slick with you. When does a war end? When the spoils are irrelevant? Lars, the evil fucker he is, fucks you through your orgasm. He steers you to sink onto him in long strokes. He rolls his hips and coos condescendingly, "That feel good?"
In frenzied sobs and manic pulses of your cunt, wet heat pools and lingers and feels so disgustingly good that you shudder, your spine still forced into that deep arch. Lars' knuckles have just enough room to fit against the shape of your vertebrae that lie beneath your singeing skin. The dull, happy throb of your orgasm hasn't died down yet, and Lars is spilling into you with vicious, vehement whacks of his hips that even manage to rip a shaky groan from his own throat.
Then, you're smooshed to his chest, your skin sticking together like wet sugar that caramelises in the grooves of your fingertips.
"Two stars," You mutter pridefully, breathless, as if that wasn't the best lay of your life. Lars gives a warning smack to the globe of your ass.
"Then I suppose we'll have to keep practising."
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jessybarnes · 1 year ago
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Al Min Kærlighed
Chapter Title - Nothing Else Matters
Pairing - Single!Lars x Reader
Other Characters - James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, and Robert Trujillo
Tags - Angst, fluff, flashbacks of an abusive relationship, mentions of drinking, mentions of physical violence, crying, nightmares, hospitals, doctors, nurses, explicit language, and I think that's it.
Word Count - 1.7k
Unbeta’d - All mistakes are my own Y'all.
Fic Aesthetic - Yours Truly
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Sleep wasn't something you thought would come easy for you, but with the help of the medicine and Lars, it came rather quickly. You were soon jolted awake by a loud noise.  
What was that? Scraping? Banging? You opened your eyes to see if it was coming from your hospital room, but you soon realized that you weren't there. It was too dark to see anything, but the smell of stale beer and sweat filled your nostrils.
Oh God...you were home and the noises were probably Cole looking for you. Panic seized you and you prayed that this was a dream. Lars and James had been real right? They had to be. This couldn't be happening.
Even though it was too dark to see anything, you ran.  
The noises became louder as your heart thundered in your chest. Soon you heard him. Cole's cold icy voice yelling for you.
“Y/N!!!! C'mon Y/N. You know I was only kidding with you, right? I love you. Stop hiding and come out so we can have that talk you wanted.”
You kept running, trying to get away from him. It felt like the hallway was never-ending. This had to be a dream.  
Suddenly, you ran into something hard, and when you realized what it was you began to hyperventilate. Looking up with fearful eyes you saw his evil smile as he reached out and shook you.
“There you are my sweet. Let's go have that talk now shall we?”
“No... no please Cole... please just let me go....”
You felt around for something, anything, to grab so you could get away. Nothing was there. All you saw was blackness and Cole. The shaking continued as tears started to streak down your face.
“Y/N c'mon now. You know you can't escape me. I'll always be there. Everywhere you look, everything you hear, see, feel... it'll be me. Forever and always remember?”
You shook your head as tears kept streaming down your face. Finally, you opened your eyes again and saw Lars leaning over you with worried frantic eyes.
“Hey, sweetheart c'mere. Everything's okay now. It was just a dream. Shhhh just breathe. Take deep breaths in through your nose and out your mouth. That's it.”
Lars soothed you by pulling you to his chest and rubbing small circles on your back. You breathed in deep. His smelled so nice. You were used to smelling beer and smoke from Cole, but Lars smelled of...what was that...spices? Cinnamon?. You clutched his shirt with your left hand to keep yourself grounded. To make your mind see that it was only a dream.
You pulled back and finally looked into his eyes. He smoothed your hair away from your wet cheeks and wiped away your tears with his thumbs.
“There we go. See everything's alright. I'm right here. You're safe.”
He gently laid you back down on the sheets and got up from the chair to walk across the room. He came back a moment later with a pad of paper and a pen. He smiled as he passed them to you.
“Now can I finally put a name to your pretty face?"
Your cheeks flushed as you took the pen in your left hand and shakily placed it against the paper. He called you pretty! That couldn't be right though. You sure didn't feel pretty, let alone look it. Slowly you began to write your name as well as a thank you note and passed it over to him.
My name is Y/N, and I would like to say thank you for everything. You really didn't have to stay with me. I don't want to be a burden to you and James as well as the rest of your band. I am so grateful.
You could hear the ticking of the clock as Lars read your note. You pulled a string on the blanket nervously as you awaited his reply. He set the notepad and pen at the foot of the bed and gently grasped your hand. He looked into your Y/E/C eyes as he spoke seriously and truthfully to you.
“Y/N huh? What a pretty name for a pretty face. I must tell you that you are not a bother to James or myself, nor are you hindering our band in any way. My concern is with you and what happened to you. I don't know, it's like I feel responsible for you in some way. Like, I know you can probably take care of yourself, but for right now you need someone there. I feel compelled to be that someone."
Lars smiled softly at you, his eyes shining with affection.
"How would you like to come with us when you leave here? You won't have to worry about anything. Money won't be an issue, and neither will transportation. Unless you have something or someone keeping you here? Is there someone here that you need to stay for Y/N?”
Your eyes watered as you reached for the notepad. Lars handed it to you and you began to write a response.
You want me to go with you? I... I don't know what to say. Wouldn't I be in the way? I have no one left here that cares about me. I have no ties to this place. I planned to move to California once I saved up $200 more dollars, but now that won't happen because of the bill from this hospital visit. I truly want to go with you, but I also don't want your invitation to be out of pity.
You wiped the tears that escaped your eyes and passed the notepad back to Lars. Your bottom lip quivered and he rubbed your leg gently as he read what you wrote.
“Y/N, I can promise you there is no pity behind my invitation. Like I said, I feel the need to help you. I won't push, but when you're ready I need to know what happened to you. As far as your hospital bill being too costly, there is no bill. James and I have that covered for you. The way we see it is, you need help, and we make enough as it is. You stumbled into our dressing room beat up and barely alive, and we brought you back from that edge. We've said it before and I will say it for us again, we are glad you pulled through.”
You couldn't hold back your cries then. You put your head in your hands and began to sob. There was no bill, and you had been asked to go with the greatest heavy metal band on tour? This was just too good to be true. These men were angels in disguise. You felt strong arms envelope you in a hug, and you knew it was safe. He let you cry while whispering to you that it was going to be okay. You pulled back and licked your lips again and cleared your throat. You were going to try to talk. You needed to properly thank him.
“Th-Thank you, Lars. I can't...thank you enough... for... for what you've done for me...”
You saw Lars' eyes water then and he brought your hand up to his lips. He pressed a feather-light kiss to your knuckles and smoothed his thumb over them.
“You're most welcome Y/N. Now let me get the doctor and call James so we can make arrangements to get your stuff from your house. Unless you don't want us to? I mean we can always just get you new things. Is there anything you need that's sentimental to you? I think we can whip you into being a great assistant to Metallica. Lord knows we need one!”
You shook your head and gave a short reply.
"Nothing sentimental. I want to go with you."
He winked at you and stood up to grab his phone. Punching in what had to be James' number he placed his free hand on his hip and stalked toward the window of your room. You weren't paying any attention to what he was saying, but you were checking him out.
He had this assertiveness about him, this confidant stance that made your knees weak. You were always a sucker for the confident ones. His accent was something else that made your pulse a little higher than it should be. He had solid muscles on his arms and calloused fingers. Definitely the arms of a drummer.
You loved percussion and wished you knew how to play, but you ended up in Orchestra and the Viola was your baby back in the day. You noticed that he wasn't talking to James anymore, but was staring at you. Crap! How long had you been staring and when did he notice? He smiled at you and moved to sit down next to you again. You hoped he wouldn't notice the blush creeping up the side of your neck.
“James is on his way up here to discuss how we are gonna do this. Now let's get Dr. Anderson in here to see when you can be released.”
He pressed the nurse call button on your little hand-held device and the little red light came on. A few moments later Amanda came in. You really like her. She had been a great nurse.
“Hey there, how are you feeling?”
You went to say that you needed Dr. Anderson, but Lars jumped in before you could so you let him take control.
“She seems better Amanda, could we by chance see Dr. Anderson? I believe Y/N is feeling like she could go home.”
“Sure thing! Let me give him a call and he should be in to see you shortly to discuss what happened as well as when you can be discharged.”
With that, Amanda left the room, and you turned your attention back to Lars. You knew that you needed to tell him what happened, but you were afraid. Not because you thought that he would change his mind, but because you knew that he would want to confront Cole. You didn't want to see Lars or James get hurt. Not because of you.
You sighed and made your decision. Despite what you thought about them getting hurt, you told Lars everything. Told him how you kept a private savings account, worked overtime, took care of the house you and Cole shared, and put up with his threats and abuse. You laid everything out on the table. He watched you with sad angry eyes. It was only a matter of time before he told James, and you knew they would go see Cole.
It was inevitable.
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weirdgenetic-fuckup · 8 months ago
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No Nut November
A/n: Did anyone ask for this? No, will I still rewrite this because I didn't like this the first time and came up with what I think is a better trope? Yes. I only meant to make Guns N' Roses and I panicked when people asked for Metallica but I don't want to come out bad so I hope people like this version better than the first :'3
Link to the original
Kirk Lars James Cliff
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Metallica was making a new album but they'd barely worked on it at all and it was getting closer and closer to the date they'd set for it to come out, normally they'd just push it back but they'd already done that twice.
Their manager decided to stick them in a house together, thinking if they didn't have a moment apart they'd actually get work done.
You were their managers daughter and were definitely a fan, when you heard he would be moving in with them you had to come up with an excuse to move with him, you knew he couldn't say no to you with a good enough reason.
You were going to University and you said since it was almost summer break you wanted to visit him so you'd be coming down once school was out.
He hesitated, not wanting your summer to be spent in such an environment, but eventually let you because he'd found a place where you could have your own room. He wanted to let you have your privacy.
You couldn't be more thrilled.
And so, you packed up your clothes and some other essentials, said goodbye to your roommates, you had a flat off campus, and made a quick road trip down to L.A. where your dad was staying with the one and only Metallica.
Your dad welcomed you with open arms and gave you a tour of the house, showing you to your room so you could drop your bags before he introduced you to the guys.
They were all sitting in the living room in the back of the house, there was a wall of windows with a matching glass door leading out to the backyard, a beautiful green lawn with an underground pool all of it fenced in and overlooking a cliff. It was gorgeous but you were more focused on the four men all ogling you as you came down the stairs with their manager.
"I thought you said you were bringing your daughter?" The short one asked, you of course knew him as Lars Ulrich, the drummer.
You dad nodded. "Yeah, this is my daughter, Y/n." He said, gesturing to you. You gave a small wave, biting your lip to prevent the ear to ear grin that was waiting to break out.
"By daughter you meant, like, grown woman?" The blond, James, asked.
"Yeah, it's summer vacation and she wanted to spend some time with dad before she had to go back to University." He explained. They all took in his words, exchanging whispers.
The phone rang, a landline on a table not far from you. Your dad answered it, uttering a few words before he set it down. "Right, I gotta go, all of you be nice." He said, giving you a quick hug and apologizing for having to leave so soon.
He left and you waved the boys goodbye before heading upstairs to unpack some more.
They waited until they heard your door close before they started talking. "Jesus, who would've guessed." Kirk asked, keeping his voice low just to be sure you couldn't hear.
"Who the fuck cares, what the hell do we do?" James asked, keeping his eyes on the stairs where you'd just gone.
"Fuck do you mean 'what do we do'? What do you think we do?" Lars whisper yelled, looking like he just wanted to slap him.
"We can't fuck the managers daughter." Cliff said, fumbling with his hands in his lap.
They kept discussing it, all agreeing that nothing could happen.
Then you came back downstairs in a bikini, holding a towel and a bottle of sunscreen, ready to sit by the pool. You didn't look at them as you walked past but you could feel all their eyes on you as you swayed your hips.
"Twenty bucks goes to whoever can last the longest." James blurted, still watching you through the windows as you rubbed sunscreen up your arms.
And thus the bet began, whoever could last the longest without giving into temptation got twenty bucks, the four men throwing down five dollars each.
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accihoe · 4 months ago
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Still The Most Beautiful to me
Pairing: Current!James Hetfield x fem!reader
Summary: Cheering him up when he feels that you're too young and good for him.
Warnings: Two swear words.
A/n: He makes me want to rip all my hair out and scream he's so beautiful.
Also in this story Y/N is a virgin. You can decide on the age gap in your mind, but be conscious that as I write this I am talking about two adults, well over 25. If you'd like to imagine a younger Y/N, that's on you.
Xxxx
She could see it from where she sat across from him in the hotel room's lounge; James's thoughts were getting the better of him.
He sat in the white loveseat, left ankle resting over his right knee, knuckles of his right hand pressed under his chin as said elbow rested on his thigh.
His lips pouted, along with a deep crease between his brows. As sexy as he looked in that pose dressed in all black, Y/N could see the worry etched into his frown, the droop of his shoulders.
Unable to watch a moment longer of her man in despair, Y/N crossed the lounge and went to him, joining him on the loveseat. She rested her hand on his thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze to draw his attention.
"Hey, you alright?"
She whispered. He exhaled, nodding his head, seemingly dazed. It was as if her presence snapped him out of a trance. Y/N gave James a worried glance, wondering what could be bothering him. Was it to do with the tour? Was it to do with the missing luggage? Were his children alright?
"Jamie, talk to me."
She pleaded, and he rubbed a hand across his face before turning to her with a tired smile.
"I'm alright,"
His voice was hoarse from the little use and the morning's cigar. He moved his hand to rest across hers, sparks igniting within his stomach at the feeling if her skin. Those sparks, however, were drained with the dreadful feeling of guilt. His eyes raked across her face, observing her features, taking them in as if for the last time.
"Hey,"
She brought her hand up to his face, cupping his jaw, a frown now carved into her face as well. James put his free hand over hers, stroking her skin with his thumb. '
"You're so beautiful."
He whispered, barely audible. A smile took over Y/N's face, but it did little to deter the worry.
"James."
She gave his cheek a little pinch, dragging him from the hole his mind was creeping into. His eyes glanced over her again, taking in every detail of her figure. Y/N's pulse started to increase, worried about whatever she could see he was about to say.
"I need to talk to you about something."
His eyes met hers again, and he pulled away, shifting back a bit as if to get a better view of her. Y/N's stomach dropped and her mouth went dry, she leaned her hand on the loveseat, nodding. He inhaled sharply, eyes darting to her left hand that he so yearned to adorn with a band and a ring.
"I-... I don't..."
He sighed once again, hand reaching out to hold hers lightly, she gave his hand a light squeeze.
"Y/N you're so, so beautiful. Inside and out. You're an amazing woman. Smart, kind, caring, funny, fun to be around, and did I mention beautiful?"
He chuckled lightly at his joke, and Y/N squeezed a small smile.
"And me... I'm not what I used to be. Not by a long shot. I'm old, and fading. I know that no matter what age I was, or will be, you'd have been and will always be the most beautiful to me. You'd always have been and always will be the one I adore the most."
Hope started to flicker within her chest as he spoke. Was he going to propose? His next statement, however, shattered her heart.
"But Y/N... I'm ran through. I'm old and dilapidated. You being with me, is the best gift I could've been given, especially at this age. But I can't continue to hold you back anymore. You've got a whole life ahead of you to live, and I don't want to be the old meat weighing you down. You deserve someone young and vibrant, someone closer to your age. I love you, I love you so much. I always will. And shit it's killing me to have to do this... But... I-I think it's time I let you go. Let you live your life."
She knew better than to interrupt him and tell him how utterly wrong he was, she knew that he needed to get what was inside his head off his chest. Toward the end, the last two sentences, his voice dropped to below a whisper, throat straining as he fought back tears. Her silence cracked him inside, and he withdrew his hand, wanting to get up.
"James,"
She eventually breathed, moving on the loveseat to sit right up against him, hands reaching up to cup his face. Delicate and beautiful. She gently turned his face to look at her, eyes searching across his face.
"I love you. And there is nothing you can say or do to change that. I chose you, remember? I was the one who influenced this relationship. If I thought that you'd hold me back, I never would've went to you at the wine tasting in the first place-"
"You may not see it or feel that way, but I know that I am. I'm dragging you down. I'm ripening you before your age, Y/N/N. With me you're going to settle down soon, you'll be a mother even before you've lost your virginity, well step mother, but still a mother. You're closer in age to my kids. So with me, you'll just about be fulfilling grandmother duties. Instead of partying on the weekends you'll be stuck at home, or out hunting with me, or something boring to you-"
"James Alan Hetfield. Shut your mouth. Who ever said that I didn't enjoy 'grandma duties'? And who ever said that I want to be out partying on the weekends? I enjoy the life that we have, James. I enjoy being domesticated. And most of all, I enjoy doing it with you."
"But even if you do enjoy all that it doesn't defeat the object of my physical being. I'm not who or what I used to be. I don't look the same. You're a fresh and beautiful ripe grape, and I'm a raisin-"
"Hey, you listen here to me. You are still the most beautiful man in the whole wide world to me. You are the most beautiful man I have laid my eyes on. You are so much more handsome than you realize, James. You are divine, inside and out. You, James Hetfield, have aged like that expensive wine that prompted us to meet. With every year added to your age you just get more and more attractive and delicious. I promise. Shoot me dead right now if I'm lying. You truly are so, so beautiful."
His eyes had begun to gloss over with tears, relieved by her words, and his hands came up to gently clasp around her wrists.
"And I know that you feeling this way was most likely influenced by the media. But I want you to remember this, James. I am not in a relationship with the media, the press, the public, tabloids, Instagram or anything. I'm in a relationship with you. So I frankly could not care less about their opinions. All I care about is you, James. So if you feel the need to let me go, and it is entirely your own decision, then I will respect that. Otherwise, I'm staying put."
By the end of what she had to say he gave up on holding in the tears, by the end of all that he was sure he could be comfortable around her. A soft smile broke out over Y/N's face and she leaned closer, nudging James' nose with hers. She kissed him gently, and his eyes fluttered shut. For the first time in years, he fully allowed himself to accept and embrace the love given to him. He no longer feared a potential breakup when things don't go as planned, when a hurdle comes to path. He knew that together, they'd jumped over the hurdle together, hand in hand.
She was the first to pull away, stroking his tears away with her thumbs.
"Please come to me when you need me, I promise I'll be there to the best of my abilities. I love you."
She sealed her promise with a kiss between his brows, ironing out the crease. James smiled, brighter than he had in a while and took her hand, kissing her left knuckles. She got up, taking her phone, he frowned in confusion with a tentative smile.
"Sit like you were just now, with your ankle over your knee and your chin on your fist- yes, just like that."
James shifted, sniffing and fixing his hair when he realized what she was doing, and put on his 'handsome thinking expression'. She took a photo before joining him on the loveseat.
"Look at you, model. You're hotter than all of those Victoria's Secret chicks combined."
She grinned, showing him the photo. James took the phone, holding it far enough to see, and a smile spread across his features.
"Send that to me, please."
She put her phone aside, moving to sit on his lap, and draped her arms across his shoulders.
"We're not done with this topic yet, sweetheart."
She'd adapted to using his pet names. His hands moved to lightly rest on the base of her spine.
"I love you. I love everything about you. I want you to always be aware of that. And please don't ever think that you are weighing me down, or keeping me from things. If I want to do something, I will. But I'll have you as my partner. That's the only difference. And obviously I don't expect you to go along with everything, but I expect you to know that not once have you ever held me back from doing something I wanted to do. Alright?"
James nodded, gazing up at her with a gentle smile. Her hands moved to cradle his neck and the back of his head as he pulled her into a tight hug, face tucked into the crook of her neck.
"I love you so damn much."
"I love you too, more than you'll ever know."
xxxx
Fin. If I'm correct I think this is my first publicly posted James fic. Hope it was good :)
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vaginalsauce · 2 years ago
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Caught
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warnings;
smut, fingering, unprotected, cockwarming?, mentions of being high, nicknames, semipublic, exhibition
a/n;
just a funny lil smut drabble, kirk is so yummy fr
summary;
You, Kirk, James, Cliff, and Lars have a movie night on tour, and it leads to you and Kirk doin some naughty naughty.
...............................................
The movie was nearing the halfway mark, but your head was too fogged up to pay attention. Kirk had his hand on your thigh, and was progressively sliding it higher and higher. You were positive he could feel the heat radiating from your cunt, hear your heartbeat, hear your breathing stagger.
The group had scattered around the hotel room, focused intently on the movie playing from the VHS.
You carefully spread your thighs, as Lars was laying at the foot of the bed. Kirk smirked to himself, leaning into your ear and pressing a kiss to the skin right below your earlobe. "Be quiet, baby."
His whisper sent shivers down your spine, and you almost lurched forward when he cupped your cunt, rubbing you through your shorts. "Think you can take these off for me?" He mumbled, tracing the hem. You nodded subtly, glancing around for a moment.
Never before have you been so grateful for a blanket in your life.
You let out a shaky breath as you gently lifted your hips, slipping the shorts down your thighs. No one even glanced, just assumed you were getting comfortable. Of course, even if they knew, it wasn't like they'd care much.
Kirk grinned, pushing your underwear to the side and immediately tracing a finger through your slick folds. You let out a shaky moan, to which you covered up with a cough, but with the glance you saw James and Kirk exchange, James was catching on.
It wasn't long before Kirk easily slid a finger into you, watching you closely out if the corner if his eye as your face threatened to twist into pleasure.
Your thighs almost closed, but Kirk caught your leg with his, keeping it pulled wide as he slowly began to pump his finger in and out of you, watching as you threw your head back. "Focus, pretty girl, gotta focus." He mumbled, just low enough as to not alert the others.
You were now pretty sure you were about to cry. Fuck, you just loved his fingers, but without the ability to vocalize your enjoyment, it was surprisingly frustrating. You raised your hips a bit to match with his hand movements, letting out a gasp as he curled his finger.
That got their attention.
"What was that, Y/N?" James chuckled, teasing. He knew for sure what was happening, but he wasn't gonna say anything. As for Cliff and Lars, they were clueless.
Kirk turned to look at you, his eyes big and focused on your face, tilting his head as if to act confused. "U-Uh, just thought I f...forgot to lock the door wh... uh.. when we left."
Kirk was making it so hard for you to talk. If it wasn't for the fact you usually talked slow when you were stoned, they would've been extremely concerned.
Lars shrugged, turning back to the TV.
"So wet for me, baby. Does this turn you on? Getting off on my fingers, just feet away from our friends?" Kirk's whispers were low and raspy, his mouth hanging open slightly as you arched your back against his chest, and your ass rubbing against the very prominent bulge in his pants.
"Kirk, baby, they're gonna know--" Kirk cut you off with a nip to your neck, kissing the marks softly right after. His fingers moved in and out of you slowly, before Kirk removed them completely.
Kirk lifted his hips up and unbuttoned his pants, tugging them and his boxers down as far down as he could without being noticed.
He pulled you back up to sit on him again, his pretty cock nestled perfectly between your lips.
"Feel how hard I am for you, honey? Need to be in this pretty pussy, 'kay? Gotta be quiet f'me. Can you do that?" Kirk muttered, hand reaching around you again to slowly grope at your tits from under your shirt. He pulled and tugged on your nipples, before releasing them and just running his fingers over the swollen buds.
"Kirk, I--" You were cut off by a loud shushing noise from Lars, earning a piece of popcorn being launched at him from James.
"You're literally being louder than them by doing that, you idiot."
While the bickering between James and Lars ensued, Kirk took the chance to lift you up and pull you down onto his cock, letting his head fall back. He bit the insides of his cheeks, and you let out a loud moan. All the heads in the room snapped to look at you, including Kirk's.
"No. No no no no no-- you are not--" Lars jumped up quickly, yelling loudly. James let out a loud cackle, and you just watched in horror as Lars began to yell.
You felt Kirk give a small thrust, just chuckling.
"Dude, I was going to sleep on that bed! I was two fucking feet away from You! Are you still-- Get out of her, dude, at least go somewhere else--!"
Kirk pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapping you in it after he pulled out. Not bothering to fix his pants, he picked you up bridal style, and packed you into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
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This is the first smut I've written in a literal year I am so sorry
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90shetfield · 1 month ago
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Lessons - Jason Newsted x f!Y/N
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When Y/N gets the opportunity to learn bass from Jason Newsted she takes it, excited to be learning from her literal idol. Is it only lessons though? Or is there something more to it as soon as she sets eyes on him..
Genre: Fluff W/ some suggestive themes at the end!
Word Count: 1376
Lessons
1991
You’ve always wanted to learn an instrument just not sure which one you would see. All these guitarists melting peoples faces off with their earth shattering distorted noise as they rip through a solo. Sure that was cool, but it just wasn't for you. The guitar is always an instrument that everyone wants to play. You much prefer being in the background focusing on laying down the rhythm section
Then the Bass came to mind. The bass could be one of those show off instruments or it can just be a foundation and you loved that. The low tones as you pluck the E string with your finger still not calloused yet from inexperience. Everything about this instrument made you more and more obsessed by the day. The all black matte body with a mahogany fretboard, every time you saw your bass in the corner of the room you would smile at how pretty it is.
Just one problem… You didn't know how to play it.
At all…
Sure you know that you can use your fingers as a walking pattern or even a pick, but you’re especially starting from nothing. None of your family members play instruments or even listen to that much music so you couldn't ask any of them. The next step was to find someone to help you learn the basics or even more to the instrument.
That's why you’re sitting in a random room in this guy's house while he gets something you can't even remember what he was getting. The room was filled with band posters and had a few stands for his basses. Some papers were scattered around leaving your eyes to gaze. One of the papers had a title on it called “my friend of misery”
Now you knew he was in Metallica trying so hard not to fangirl over THEE Jason Newsted but every time you saw his long curly locks or his grayish blue eyes you’d remember that the whole reason you’re learning this instrument was seeing how he played it. When you would watch their videos or interviews on MTV your eyes would be locked on the quiet and reserved bassist.
You heard the sound of the door opening, there he was flipping his hair out of the way handing you a bottle of water. You take it, cracking it open and sipping a little before placing it down on the floor.
“Sorry the rooms a little messy” He sighs trying to make it look a little presentable for you. He runs a hand through his hair letting out a soft grunt realizing he's not gonna get it all cleaned in 30 seconds. He sits down in front of you giving you a small smile.
“Oh don't worry about it Mr. Newsted!” you respond a little nervous, not even a little you were really nervous. From what you’ve heard he doesn't want anybody in his house for lessons. Somehow he still let you come though. Just the thought of that made you blush a tiny bit.
“You don't have to call me that, you can just call me Jason” He lets out a small laugh, grabbing one of his basses from the stand. Both you and Jason’s basses look almost identical, whether you did that on purpose or not, we’ll never know.
“Okay, so how much do you know about the bass?” His soft voice gives you reassurance, that it's okay that you don't know anything. “I-i- actually don't really know anything, I know you usually don't take people for lessons due to how you're a famous rockstar and everything but im really struggling. I decided to learn this really late” You look to the side avoiding his promising gaze. It's embarrassing to be such a beginner in front of a literal bass god!
He holds your chin in his hands lifting your face up. He smiles at you again immediately making all the thoughts of not being good enough disappear with one touch. Your cheeks flush up a slight hint of a dusty pink. God you hope he doesn't see how his touch is making you feel.
“Listen, I don't normally take people in general. Fame or not, but you have potential. I can see it. You’ve got connections how else would you have contacted me, you went for me instead of all the other bassists in the world I like you” He releases your chin from his grasp softly not wanting to hurt you. Your cheeks flush up even more. “Shit he can totally see it now” you tell yourself.
That was true, Your good friend used to work with Metallica actually and recommended Jason. She asked and he agreed on it surprisingly. Jason Newsted always just likes to sit back and be his own shoulder. You can tell that bothers him a lot though, being so alone at times.
“Okay enough of that let's get started!” Jason inched his chair closer to you resting his hand on his thigh.
“Do you know what an e string is?” You nod hitting the first string, The lowest one. His face lights up already looking so proud for such a little thing. He runs through the rest of the open notes with you doing little mannerisms that you pick up on. Everything he does is cute, the way he would guide your fingers to a string or when he would bite his lip in anticipation yelling out joyfully when you did get it.
----
Finally as the clock struck 8 pm he wanted to teach you a simple scale but you couldn't get it no matter what you did. Probably because your fingers hurt really bad being sore and aching from the non stop playing they’ve endured.
“Shit! Sorry Jason, I don't know whats getting over me” You answer honestly feeling scared that you couldn't get it.
“Here let me just show you” He gets up, gets behind you and kneels down. You feel his hot breath on the side of your neck as you tense up. Not because you were weirded out but because you were in such a close position with Jason. He took your hand in his placing your fingers on every single fret guiding you towards it. With every note change the air would get thicker and thicker.
His face turned to look at you. His eyes looking down at your lips then back up at your eyes. The grey tint in them almost makes them look mysterious. His lips part not wanting to look away from you. Your eyes flutter, taking your hand and wrapping it around his long hair.
“Y/N..” he muttered, clearly feeling this too.
“J-Jason” You inch your face closer to his seeing if he’ll take the bait.
He trails your jawline with his rough calloused finger looking at you deviously. He gripped your arm tightly probably leaving marks later  but you really didn't care. All you could think about was how he tasted
What are you doing though Y/N!? Yeah he's cute and he's just your type, but he's your mentor, the man you looked up too. You’re his student and he's the teacher. You guys might be the same age but it just doesn't feel right.
At the same time it feels so right… Like you’ve wanted this ever since you saw them live a couple of months ago.
You needed this, and clearly so did he because his lips crashed into yours pushing your bass out of the way he climbed on top of you still kissing you needily. Your bass ended up somewhere on the floor as you and Jason made out. He pulled away panting. His cheeks red and flustered with his soft pink lips. He looked like a mess and god was it hot.
“I'll see you next week then huh?” he giggled still catching his breath, he pecked your cheek before getting up from off of you running a hand through his hair again. The pink on both our cheeks is not going away anytime.
“Yeah next week” You respond tilting your head back trying to hide how happy you were.
Sorry if this is short or just not up to expectations!! I might make a part two depending how this goes!! I have a lot of other fics to finish and post so I'll be back for a little while but I'll probably be taking a break again just this fic was already finished so I thought I'd post it.
tysm for reading I love you all!! </3
-Maxine
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princessofdorkness · 1 year ago
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Me: Nah I try not to judge people too much.
My face in public:
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ghostbustting · 7 months ago
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so, i lost the req, but basically someone asked for "take a pic" and "picture us" to be a full on series.. so i might have did something..
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જ⁀➴ ⌞ 𝑭𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑯 𝑶𝑭 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 ⌝ 𖦹๋࣭⭑
90s!James Hetfield x Reader
Chapters May Contain Smut.
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“At first, I wouldn't have believed in what they call as 'Fate'. The only thing I ever belived in was to work and get money and feed myself. Silly hook ups, maybe. There wasn't much to expect from men these days anyways.
That is until that night I saw him in that damn dressing room.
He was a charmer, famous, rich, talented. Everything every girl wished for. If it was lucky enough for me to be hired to photograph for his band, I don't know what made me give in to be wrapped around his finger ever since that night. And I don't know how, but it seemed as if he was wrapped around my own finger as well.
Since that moment, his guitar seemed to strum love melodies to my heart.
And my camera seemed to shutter with a flash of love for him.„
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖.ᐟ ⤵
📷 𝐈 : ⌞ 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐈𝐂 ⌝
📸 𝐈𝐈 : ⌞ 𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐒 ⌝
More flashes of love to come..
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metalliixx · 3 days ago
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woww he looks SO dark in these pics!
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reincarnationoftheparty · 3 months ago
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Such a slut
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nausicaamusiclover20 · 3 months ago
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Hi)) I’m not sure I have a proper story but I have a dialog?)))
‘If you’re so unhappy just go - there a hundred girls who will be happy to take your place, I’m a rockstar, everyone wants me’
‘I will leave if that’s what you really want’
‘Great, just get lost, don’t worry I’ll find another like you ’
And maybe the morning after when he wakes up with a few groupies and empty liquor bottles he can’t find her anywhere but then someone tells him that he told her to leave? I’m thinking either Lars or Kirk, maybe more Lars cause of ego - but up to you))
I hope you like it! ❤
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She's gone
The party was as chaotic as usual—loud music, clinking glasses, and bodies pressing together, swaying to the beat. Everyone was here for Lars. Hell, they always were. He was the center of attention, the rockstar everyone loved to love.
I was just standing there, on the edge of the room, trying to make myself invisible. There were a few girls laughing too loud, the guys with their hands all over whatever woman was closest, but I didn’t care about them. I was tired of all of this. Tired of him.
Lars caught my eye from across the room, and a smirk spread across his face. He started making his way toward me, weaving through the crowd, looking like he owned the place—because he did.
“What’s your problem now?” His voice was loud enough to cut through the chaos, drawing attention, the same way it always did.
My chest tightened, and I took a long sip of my drink, not answering right away. I didn’t want to let him have the satisfaction of seeing me react.
“Lars,” I finally said, my voice just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m tired. Tired of all this. Tired of you.”
He snorted, like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Tired?” He glanced around, motioning to the group of people hanging off him, the room full of people who probably only knew his name because of the fame, not the man he was. “You’re tired of what? Of living the dream?”
“This isn’t a dream,” I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s a nightmare.”
His eyes flashed with something sharp, but he just leaned back with a cocky grin. “Well, maybe it’s not your dream, but it’s mine. And if you don’t like it, leave.”
My heart sank. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, his voice cold, almost casual.  "If you’re so unhappy just go - there are a hundred girls who will be happy to take your place, I’m a rockstar, everyone wants me’.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis, the arrogance in his eyes burning like fire.
I didn’t even look around to see if anyone was watching. The room could’ve been empty, or it could’ve been full of a hundred people—I didn’t care anymore. “I will leave if that’s what you really want” I whispered, a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow.
His eyes didn’t soften. If anything, the look he gave me was colder. “Great,” he said. Just get lost, don’t worry I’ll find another like you.
I wanted to scream at him. To shake him until he realized what he was saying. But instead, I did the only thing I could: I turned and walked out.
The hotel lobby was quiet, just the soft hum of early morning air conditioning and the faint sound of footsteps echoing on the tile. I stepped out of the elevator, dragging my suitcase behind me, feeling the weight of everything—of the words, the silence, the shattered pieces of something I had tried so damn hard to hold together. But now, I am done.
I didn’t look back as I made my way through the lobby. The world outside was still dark, but the city lights flickered, hinting at the life waiting beyond this empty space. I didn’t have a plan—just a ticket. I hadn’t even thought about it much. I’d booked a flight on impulse, when the words had stung so badly I couldn't think straight, just knowing I had to get out of here.
I was tired. Tired of living in his shadow. Tired of being just another name in the crowd, just another face that came and went like the tide. In his eyes, I wasn’t special—I was replaceable. And that, more than anything, hurt.
The taxi ride to the airport was too quiet, just the sound of the wheels on the pavement and the low murmur of the radio. The driver didn’t ask any questions; he didn’t care. It was probably just another fare to him. But for me, it was the start of something new—something I had been afraid to begin for too long.
I didn’t want to cry. Not yet. Not in the back of a taxi, not while everything was still raw. So I buried it down, deep inside. I let the numbness take over, and with it, came a strange kind of peace. The silence around me was comforting, almost soothing. It was like I could finally breathe again, after holding my breath for far too long.
The airport was busy, but it felt like I was moving through it in a daze. I didn’t notice much—the signs, the crowds, the noise—it was all background to the thoughts swirling in my head. I checked in, went through security, found my gate, and waited.
I glanced around the terminal, watching families and groups of friends and solo travelers go about their lives. None of them knew what had just happened. None of them knew the part of me that had just shattered in silence.
I couldn’t be just one of a hundred faces anymore. I wasn’t going to be a memory he’d forget the second I was gone.
And yet, there was no going back. He’d made it clear. He didn’t need me. And if I was going to survive this, I had to stop thinking of him as the center of my world. It was time to be my own person.
I let the numbness wash over me again, and I boarded the plane, staring out the window as the city shrank below me. As the engines roared to life, lifting us into the sky, I couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the last time I thought about him.
I was done.
Lars POV
The first thing I felt when I woke up was the headache. The kind that slammed into your skull like a freight train, like your brain had been run over. I groaned, squinting at the sunlight slashing through the blinds. Fuck, the light felt like a weapon. I buried my face in the pillow, trying to escape it, but there was no chance in hell. I could feel my pulse throbbing through my temples, each beat a reminder of how much I’d overdone it last night.
I rolled over, letting my feet hit the floor with a dull thud. My balance was off as I tried to stand, but I barely cared. My eyes roamed the room, the familiar chaos of a night gone too long. Bottles—mostly empty, some still half-full—littered the floor. Glasses, discarded clothes, ashtrays overflowing. The usual mess. Two girls were still passed out on the couch, tangled in sheets, their clothes half-done up, not that it mattered to me.
I ran my hand through my hair, trying to push through the fog. I felt off. Something was... different. There was a hollowness in the air, like a missing piece to the puzzle that was my life.
And then it hit me.
I looked around, half-expecting to see her on the edge of the bed, or curled up in the chair across the room, or maybe even still standing by the door like she had been when she’d stormed off last night. But no. She wasn’t here.
Y/N.
My chest tightened at the thought. Where the hell was she?
I glanced around again, searching for any sign of her—anything. Her bag? Her shoes? The little things she’d leave lying around when she was here. But nothing.
I stood up, dizziness hitting me, and stumbled toward the bathroom, hoping I could shake off the fog in my brain. I caught my reflection in the mirror for a second, squinting at the face staring back at me. I looked like hell. My hair was a mess, eyes bloodshot from too much booze, too little sleep.
I splashed cold water on my face, trying to snap myself out of it. But the more I tried to focus, the more my mind wandered back to her. That argument. Her steady, calm voice saying she was done.
‘I will leave if that’s what you really want’ Her words echoed in my head. ‘Great, just get lost, don’t worry I’ll find another like you ’ 
Jesus.
I rubbed my face, a bitter laugh escaping me. I’d said it. I fucking said it. And I had no idea how much it would sting until the silence hit me. I hadn’t thought she’d actually leave.
I shuffled back into the main room, the empty space around me feeling colder, quieter. It was like she’d taken all the warmth with her.
I reached the phone, my fingers numb as I tried to dial her number. I knew it was pointless. She wasn’t going to answer. I’d shoved her away too hard.
I hit the call anyway, desperate for something—anything. But it went straight to voicemail. I cursed, slamming my phone down on the table.
That’s when James came in.
He didn’t look surprised, just tired. He probably hadn’t gotten any sleep either.
“Where’s Y/N?” I asked, my voice coming out rough. My mind was still reeling. I needed answers.
James didn’t meet my eyes. He just sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She left last night.”
My stomach dropped. “What do you mean, ‘left’?”
“She left. Said you told her to get lost.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “No... no, I didn’t—”
James just raised an eyebrow, like I was a fucking idiot. “You said it, Lars. She heard you loud and clear. You told her to go. And now she’s gone.”
I felt the air leave my lungs. The room seemed to spin, my mind racing as the reality of it all sunk in. I’d pushed her too far. I’d let my ego and my stupid words tear everything apart.
And now she's gone.
I wanted to chase after her, to beg her to come back, but I didn’t even know what to say. I couldn’t fix it. Not now.
For the first time in years, I didn’t feel like a fucking rockstar. I felt like a goddamn fool.
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welikevitamins · 2 months ago
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!METALLICA FANS!
so we recently have stumbled upon a fairly new metallica writer here on tumblr, @mustainegf, which is great because people giving the rest of the fandom media to consume and enjoy is always nice, but we have noticed a few things about their writing that just seem.. off
well, to say it simply we suspecting that they might be using AI to either write their fanfiction or help with it, which is highly unethical, since they don't even disclose it anywhere if that's the case.
not to mention how her discord server is full of minors, and she knowingly keeps exposing them to the content she creates on her platform. the fact that she is allowing minors and non minors and people with undisclosed age to make sexual jokes between eachother since the moderation is basically nonexistent is nothing but shameful, they should have a way of checking the age.
here are some things were are the most suspicious about and evidence regarding her use of ai:
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the first thing is the sheer amount of fanfiction she managed to write since her first post in march of this year. well, after adding up all of the fanfics from each of her master lists for the people she writes for + the chapters of her series, we've concluded that she managed to write roughly 312 fanfictions this year. and sure, while some of those are headcanons and shorter formats, most of her work are full on stories. which seems simply impossible, since even short stories require a bit of a thought behind them. also Elena is supposed to be an adult since she writes NSFW stories, so we assume she has some things in her life that she does outside of writing all the time.
so the second that makes us suspicious about Elena's use of AI are her character ai bots.
its surprising that her, a pretty good writer would write such vague and simple intro messages, one would think she would make them more detailed since she possesses the skill to do so, same with her coding, the bots clearly don't know who they are and are just making up stuff like badly written ai's tend to do.
here's an example.
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well, If you know a thing or two about kirk, you know this is simply not true. Kirk was born in 1962, which in 1989 made him 27, he is also not half-African American. mistakes like that could be prevented by simple coding, which is very simple if you put any kind or effort into it, it's basically just using a template and putting in information about the character, along with example messages to make the bot better, which a writer shouldn't struggle with.
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here's an example of the short introduction messages she tends to make for her bots, it's quite unusual for someone experienced in writing to something like this. with no backstory or any additional context whatsoever.
moving forward since we already have discussed all of the ai points, we can move on to the situation going on with Elena's discord server.
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those conversations are happening between minors, which the fact that they are saying stuff like this in public discord servers is just inappropriate on its own, but this server is also accessible to adults. users upon joining can choose a role of either 18- or 18+, and yes, most people there are minors, but there are also some adults. and the fact that adults and people of undisclosed age can engage in NSFW conversations about grown men with minors, is just highly dangerous and irresponsible, since the adults are free to chat with the minors anytime, they aren't separated in anyway.
moderation isn't exactly doing anything to stop that, since most of them are minors.
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to close it out, we think that Elena herself is probably a minor, since she is very secretive about her life, which well, isn't necessarily wrong but it's very weird that we basically only know her name. And being a minor doesn't make the situation on her discord server excusable, she should take responsibility like a grown up if she wants to start grown up things.
to elena: you can either sort this out with us in private or come out and admit to what you're doing.
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jessybarnes · 2 years ago
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Al Min Kærlighed
Fandom - Metallica
Chapter Two - Until It Sleeps
Pairing - Single!Lars x Reader
Other Characters - James Hetfield, Kirk Hammett, and Robert Trujillo
Tags - Angst, fluff, hospitals, stitches, injury, mentions of past physical abuse, explicit language, and I think that's it.
Word Count - 1.2k
Unbeta’d - Just me and Grammarly
Fic Aesthetic - Yours Truly
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When you came to you became aware of a number of things. You heard the beeping of machines and the murmuring of voices somewhere in the distance. You smelled disinfectant, and you knew you were probably in a hospital. Which meant bills... Oh man, you couldn't afford this.
Something else that caught your attention was the feel of someone else's hand in yours. You feared it was Cole and was about to jerk your hand back while trying your best to scream for a nurse, but then you remembered. Last night's events came flooding back into your mind. Flash after flash of what happened. Escaping Cole, the adrenaline of driving to find help, the music, the smell of sweat, and.... eyes. Those piercing frightful green eyes.
Slowly you opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light and to clear your blurry vision. You noticed two men in your room. They looked familiar, but you couldn't quite place them.
The taller one was asleep on the couch in the room. He looked pretty uncomfortable all folded up wearing his black jeans that were painted on... you were sure of that. He had a white tank top with a black cut-off leather vest with numerous patches. His blonde hair was tousled messily into a mini mohawk.
The shorter one was grasping your uninjured left hand with his other one supporting his head like a pillow. He had looser-fitting jeans on with a form-fitting black t-shirt that had some writing on it. He didn't look any more comfortable than the other man.
Why were they so familiar? You racked your brain trying to place them as you felt the shorter one shift his movement in the chair. Noticing you were awake he yelled over his shoulder to wake the taller man.
“James! Hey, James, she's awake! Get a nurse.”
James startled awake and sat up to rub his eyes with the heel of his hands.
“Shit man, you scared me. I'll go grab a nurse and get us some coffee. You want your usual Uli?”
“Yeah, that sounds great thanks Het.”
The man called James left the room then and disappeared down the hall. You were still digging in your mind to place them when the other one spoke to you while rubbing light circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.
“Hey there, you gave us quite a scare back at the concert. We almost lost you.”
You smiled and licked your lips so you could try and speak, but he placed his index finger over your lips to stop you.
“Shhh it's okay, don't try to talk. Don't wanna split your stitches open. Just relax and we can talk about what happened later. Well, we will talk, you, on the other hand, should probably refrain from that for the time being. I have a pad of paper and a pen. Can you squeeze my hand if you are able to write?"
You felt a jolt of electricity go through you at his touch. You shivered as you gave his hand a firm squeeze and he smiled. He had a genuine smile with trusting green eyes.
“You cold? Here let me get you another blanket.”
He must have noticed your shiver. He returned a moment later and tucked a blanket around you.
“There that should do it. Ah Hell, where are my manners? I didn't even introduce myself! Well, wait, you probably already know who we are huh?”
He looked at you expectantly, and you tried your best to shake your head no while giving a sheepish look. He grasped your hand again and chuckled a little at your embarrassment.
“It's okay, you've been through a lot. No need to be embarrassed. My name is Lars, Lars Ulrich, and the giant that is getting a nurse for you and coffee for me is James Hetfield. We play in a band called Metallica.”
You were sure you had died and this was some sort of Heaven. A joke maybe? You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them again trying to wake up, but nothing was changing. This was real. The founders of the greatest heavy metal band in existence had come to your rescue. You made eye contact with Lars then, and you were sure your eyes were as big as saucers.
He beamed at you and smoothed his thumb over your hand again. James returned then with a nurse and some coffee. Oooo that smelled delicious. Your mouth watered as the smell wafted in your direction. The nurse was at your side and was checking your IV line and your bandages.
“Hi there, my name is Amanda, and I'll be your nurse. Let me just have a look at your neck there... everything looks great. Doctor Anderson will be in to see you soon. In the meantime are you in any pain?”
You winced hoping that was an indication that you had some, and you noticed James looking at you with sad eyes. You focused on the wallpaper behind him so your emotions didn't get the best of you.
“I'm gonna get you something for the pain honey. I'll be back as quick as I can.”
With that Amanda left the room and you were now alone again with James and Lars. Metallica. You couldn't wrap your head around any of this. It sounded insane.
James was at your side then. He smoothed the hair out of your face and knelt down so you didn't have to crane your neck to look at him.
“We're glad you're okay. Gave us quite the scare back there. Do you remember what happened?”
You couldn't hold your tears in anymore. Not with them looking at you like this. You felt like a burden to them, but at the same time, you were so glad they were there. You felt safe for once. Something you haven't felt in a very long time.
“Ah, honey don't cry! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried. Do you want us to go?”
You gripped onto Lars' hand like a vice and looked at James with pleading terrified eyes. Silently begging them not to leave you.
“Jesus James, this girl has a grip on her! I'm gonna take that as a no. Call Kirk and Rob, and tell them we are gonna postpone the show tonight. We can't just leave her. We gotta know what happened.”
Lars looked at you then and brought his free hand up to your face. Your first instinct was to recoil, but you held that back letting him lightly caress your cheek.
“You should get some rest. I promise we won't leave. Well, one of us might have to go to the studio, but I promise at least one of us will be here when you wake up.”
You didn't want to sleep, but you were overcome with exhaustion. Leaning into his touch, you let your eyes droop and soon the beeping of the machines and the gentle touch of Lars' fingers lulled you to sleep.
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