witchy-girly

Latest Posts by witchy-girly

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: “ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴀɪʀ”

Summary: Told through interviews with her, James, and the rest of the band - this is the untold story of James Hetfield and his first love, and the wreckage it left behind.

Warnings ⚠︎︎: This is not an actual interview with the band, this is completely made up!

[Interviewer] What was it like being apart?

[James] I did what ever stupid guy does after he loses the love of his life; drank more, slept around, told myself it didn’t matter.

[Kirk] He was a mess. Total blackouts every night, every city, every show - it was like he was punishing himself.

[James] There was women, obviously. I’d wake up in places I didn’t recognize, with women I didn’t recognize beside me. No matter what I did, who I did, I couldn’t get her out of my head.

[Jason] He wouldn’t talk about her. But every time we played ‘Nothing Else Matters’ he’d close his eyes and go somewhere else entirely.

[Interviewer] Did she know that song was about her?

[James] Absolutely not. No one was was supposed to hear that song, period.

[Lars] I think she knew.

[Her] I knew. Kirk told me.

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

[Interviewer] What about you, what was being apart like for you?

[Her] It was rough. Seattle was a new place, grunge was just starting up. I wasn’t used to it, I was used to the California look, but I didn’t want to remember Cali, so I changed to the Seattle look.

[Interviewer] What’s the “Seattle look”?

[Her] Complete opposite of the California look. I dyed my hair black. (Laughs)

[Interviewer] Did you find someone new?

[Her] Yeah, but it wasn’t like how it was with James… it was way worse.

[Kirk] We didn’t hear from her, not a single call. It was like she vanished. I think that scared James a little bit.

[Her] The guy I got with was charming at first, he said all the things I wanted to hear. But I learned, don’t get with someone while you’re still getting over someone else, it doesn’t go well for you.

[James] I heard about him later.

[Her] He started telling me what to wear. Then, who I could talk to. Then he’d get angry if I left the apartment too long. There were nights I locked myself in the bathroom just to get a minute alone, and when I’d open the door he would be sitting in front of the door, waiting. I kept thinking, ‘This is what I left James for?’

[Interviewer] Did you ever think about reaching out?

[Her] No. I think I was too ashamed. And maybe I didn’t want him to know how bad I’d let things get.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - Seattle, 1995

She’s sitting on the edge of a tub in the tiny apartment bathroom. Her boyfriend is asleep in the next room, passed out drunk after he yelled at her for answering a call from a friend.

She’s holding a pack of cigarettes she doesn’t smoke, she just got them because everyone else does. She stands up and walks to the mirror, she looks at her red rimmed eyes, then down at the bruise on her arm.

She whispers, “God I miss him.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[James] I thought she was doing better than me. Probably living her best life, y’know?

[Her] I thought he was probably out there screwing everything with a pulse.

[James] (Laughs) I was.

[Interviewer] So when did you see each other again?

[Her] New Years Eve, ‘96. I hadn’t seen him in over two years, I didn’t plan on ever seeing him again.

[Kirk] None of us knew she was coming. She just walked in, and James went white.

[James] I didn’t recognize her at first. She looked completely different from when I had last seen her.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - December 31st, 1996

She hadn’t planned on coming back to California, ever.

But three nights ago, her now ex had grabbed her hard enough to leave a mark - not the first time, but the worst. Her sister showed up with a suitcase and didn’t give her a choice.

Now she was in L.A., on a balcony, holding a plastic cup of champagne she wasn’t drinking, the city lights stretched out in a blur below. Music pulsed from inside the house. Laughter, yelling, fireworks already cracking.

She turned to go back in - and stopped.

He was there, James.

Leaning against the kitchen island, half-laughing at something Lars said, holding a beer in one hand. His hair was shorter now, his facial hair was more grown out, and he looked like a lumberjack.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

She froze. Her heart pounded. Her sister said something, but it didn’t register.

James looked up, and their eyes met.

The laughter faded from his face instantly.

The whole party kept moving around them, but for a second - it was just them.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[James] It was so weird… I couldn’t move when I saw her. I thought she turned me into stone, like Medusa. I thought she was gonna turn around and walk away.

[Her] I wanted to walk away, but my feet wouldn’t work. And then he started walking towards me.

[Lars] They didn’t even say anything at first. Just… looked at each other.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - Later that night.

He offered to drive her home. She agreed, even though she wasn’t sure why.

The inside of his car was mostly quiet. Some late night rock station played low through the speakers, the windows fogged slightly from the night air. The city lights fell behind them as they drove west, towards where she asked him to go instead, the water.

About ten minutes in, he spoke, his eyes still on the road.

“So… the black hair.”

She looked down at her lap, the ends of dyed hair brushed against her fingers. “You hate it?”

“No,” he said, too quickly. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Yeah, well. A lot’s changed.”

“I figured.” He paused, glanced at her. “Still looks good though.”

She huffed out a soft laugh, “You don’t have to say that.”

“I know I don’t”

Another mile of silence.

He took a turn off the main road, pulling into a quiet beach parking lot. The ocean was a low roar in the distance - the lot was mostly empty, one or two cars were on the other end of the lot, teenagers.

He killed the engine but left the music playing low, just the hum of guitar under the quiet.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then she said, “He didn’t like it when I dyed it.”

James looked at her, “Then I’m really glad you did it.”

Her throat tightened as she looked at him, “I wasn’t planning on seeing you tonight,” she said softly. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I’m not asking you to be.”

He noticed that her eyes had become glossy, and her bottom lip began to quiver. “I left because I had to. It got bad.’’ she whispered.

He didn’t ask for details, he didn’t need to.

“I know the feeling.” he said, voice low.

And then he reached over, slowly, like he was giving her time to pull away. But all he did was tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “You still feel like you.” he murmured.

That was all it took.

Her chest broke open and the tears came, hot and quiet. She leaned in, and he held her like something precious. No words, no pressure, just his arms around her, his hands in her hair, and her forehead pressed to his shoulder.

They sat like that for what felt like forever. The car, the night, the world - it all faded.

──────

Early 1997

It had been a few days since New Years.

Since the car, since the tears, since the way he held her in his arms. They’d seen each other once after that, coffee in a diner. No pressure, no labels, he didn’t try to kiss her, and she didn’t try to run.

But today felt different.

The band was rehearsing at the studio in L.A. She hadn’t been there in years. Her palms were sweaty as she stood outside the door.

And then it opened.

Jason saw her first, he smiled widely, “Holy shit.” Before she could even say hi, she was pulled into a bear hug.

Then Kirk. Then Lars, who looked like he was pretending not to be thrilled.

And then James came out of the control room. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her for a long moment. Then, he walked over and pulled her into him.

“Hey.” he whispered into her hair.

“Hey.” she whispered back, smiling into his shoulder.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Kirk] I remember James walking into rehearsal that day, and saying “She’s coming.” That’s all he said. But we all knew what it meant.

[Lars] It was like the band got it’s balance back. She was always part of this, whether she knew it or not.

[Her] I didn’t plan on staying. I still had a flight booked back east. But that day, I walked into the studio and…I felt like I was home.

[Jason] She sat on the couch and just listened for a while. Didn’t say much. But James kept looking at her between takes, like he was checking that she was there, and real.

[James] I couldn’t believe she was there. I kept thinking I’d blink and she’d be gone.

[Her] I told my sister I wasn’t coming back with her. I hadn’t even packed my bags to leave in the first place.

[Interviewer] So what was it like then? After everything?

[Her] Strange. We were relearning each other, slowly and carefully.

[James] We weren’t the same people we were before, and thank god for that.

[Her] He was calmer. Still intense - but in a better way. I think him losing everything made him finally figure out what mattered.

Kirk Hammett guitar solo, Live in Mexico City 1993

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ: “ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀꜱ”

Summary: Told through interviews with her, James, and the rest of the band - this is the untold story of James Hetfield and his first love, and the wreckage it left behind.

Warnings ⚠︎︎: This is NOT an actual interview with the band, this completely made up!

[Interviewer] You stayed with him? Even after all of that?

[Her] I did. I know that probably sounds crazy. I think if it was anyone else, I wouldn’t have. But I still loved James.

[Her] We met up a few days after I caught him. I wanted to look him in the eye and see if he’d lie to me again. I just needed honesty I guess… even if it hurt.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - 1990

He looked rough. Unshaven, wrinkled t-shirt, his hands were shaking slightly.

She stirred her coffee and said nothing for a while. Finally, she spoke, her voice was calm but detached.

“Did you sleep with her?”

James didn’t look away. “Yeah. But… I was drunk, and it was stupid. I didn’t even know her name.”

She looked at him. Her eyes slowly filling with tears.

“You promised you wouldn’t James?”

“I know. But, I swear to god–”

“Don’t,” she cut in. “Don’t say that, you swore before.”

James leaned forward, “I know, and I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just asking you to not leave, please. Let me fix this, let me be better.”

She wiped the tear that slowly fell down her cheek. “I don’t trust you.” her voice trembled. “I’ll earn it back.” he said, gently placing his hand over hers.

She took a deep breath, “Okay. One more chance.”

James nodded.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Interviewer] How was it after that?

[Her] Hard. Weirdly beautiful too. He was recording the Black Album, and I’d be at the studio most nights, just sitting on the couch listening to them play.

[James] She kept me grounded.

[Jason] It was a weird time. The album blew up after it was released, and the tour was massive. And in the middle of it all, he was trying to be a better man.

[Her] He’d leave notes on the nightstand before he went to the studio, from what I heard he was always talking about me… bragging about me. He was trying.

[Interviewer] Did he tell you what he was gonna do that night?

[Lars] Nope.

[Kirk] No, he didn’t.

[Jason] Nah.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - Last day of the Black Album tour, 1992

The venue was huge. People everywhere - press, radio, execs, friends, managers, for some reason Van Halen was there.

She was standing near the bar in a black dress, sipping on a soda since she had decided to give up drinking.

Then someone tapped the mic.

“Sorry to interrupt,” a familiar voice echoed through the room. She turned around to see James on the stage holding the microphone, looking at her.

“I’ve done a lot of stupid things in my life. But this is the only thing I’ll ever mean without second guessing it.”

He pulled out a small, velvet box from his jacket and opened it. A simple, elegant ring. You could see it shine from across the room.

“Baby,” he said, his mouth forming a big smile. “Will you marry me?”

The whole room fell silent.

She was in shock - total, buzzing, heart thudding shock.

And then she smiled, walked right up on that stage, and said, “Yes.”

He picked her up in his arms, kissed her in front of everyone, placed her back down, and slid the ring on her finger.

She smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, smiling for the cameras as they flashed. The crowd lost it.

She looked up and smiled, it was perfect.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Her] It was the most romantic thing he’d ever done. I think I still have the newspaper with the picture of him kissing me somewhere in the house.

[James] She said yes, and I thought that meant everything would fall into place.

[Her] But, a ring doesn’t mean you’re ready.

[Interviewer] So things went downhill after that?

[Her] Yeah. Slowly, then all at once.

[Interviewer] What about leading up to the wedding.

[Her] Well… the wedding (Laughs) Uhm, things were good… until about ‘94.

[James] Wow, thinking about all of that is a little uh… it’s painful.

[Interviewer] So you didn’t get married?

[Her] No. I couldn’t. Not to the version of him that showed up.

[Kirk] They were at each others throats. We all felt it. The vibe during the break was just… tense.

[Jason] They both started to drink more. James would be out camping or shooting stuff. She went out partying. It was like they were avoiding being alone together.

[Her] We were fighting constantly. About stupid things. Eventually, I kicked him out one night. He went to the studio, didn’t call, didn’t come home. I think thats when I knew.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Flashback - 1994

She walked in wearing jeans and a faded Metallica hoodie she hadn’t worn in months, but it was finally cold outside and she needed something warm to wear. The studio was quiet except for the faint hum of a guitar. She walked into the room, everyone was there.

“Can you guys give me and James a minute?” she asked, her voice steady but low.

They nodded and left, no one asked any questions.

James looked up from the mixing board. His eyes were bloodshot, tired, defensive.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms.

She closed the door behind her, and took a deep breath. “I can’t do this anymore James.”

He scoffed, like it was a joke. “What, another fight? Come on. Say what you need to say so we can get it over with.”

“I don’t want to get married.” she said as she slid the ring off her finger.

James was silent.

“I’m serious,” she added. “I’m leaving.”

James stood slowly, “No you’re not.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice breaking. “I am.”

He walked towards her, arms out like he could reason it away. “We’ve been through worse baby, it’s just a rough patch–’’

“I can’t marry a man who disappears into a bottle whenever life gets hard.”

His jaw clenched at her words. “You think you’re perfect? You think you haven’t changed?”

“I have changed. I grew up, you didn’t.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, “You’ve been unbearable lately.”

That did it.

“I won’t raise a kid with a man like you,” she whispered. “I won’t bring a child into this mess.” James blinked. He couldn’t handle the sting, he threw the only thing he had left:

“Maybe it’s for the best. You’d be a shitty mom anyway.”

The slap came instantly. Loud and sharp and deserved.

His cheek stung, and slowly became red.

She stepped back, opened the door, and left.

This time, he didn’t chase her.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Her] I left L.A. and moved to Seattle to live with my sister the next day. I think I cried the whole plane ride.

[James] I still can’t believe I said that to her. I can’t take it back, I deserved the slap.

[Kirk] I remember seeing her hand print on his cheek when we walked back in.

[Lars] After that, he didn’t talk.

[Her] The engagement was over. For the first time in over a decade, we were really done.

[Interviewer] But you two are married now, how did that happen?

[Her] Well…

ᴛʜᴇ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ : “ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴍᴘ ɢɪʀʟ”

Summary: Told through interviews with her, James, and the rest of the band - this is the untold story of James Hetfield and his first love, and the wreckage it left behind.

Warnings ⚠︎︎: this is NOT an actual interview with the band, this is completely made up!

INTERVIEW - 2003

[Interviewer] So… how’d you and James meet?

[Her] God. That was in ‘82. I wasn’t really planning on being there that night, I was just helping out a friend who was running sound that night. He needed someone to help lift gear before the show, and I’d never lifted a damn amp in my life. But I said yes, cause the crew got free drinks.

[James] (Laughs) I remember it like it was yesterday. This girl walks in, wearing jean shorts and a Motörhead shirt, and she’s dragging this amp across the floor like it had personally insulted her.

[Her] It had insulted me. It was way heavier than he said it’d be.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FLASBACK - 1982

“You good with that?” a voice called from the side of the stage.

She glanced up. A tall guy with blond hair was standing a few feet away, beer in hand, watching her. “I’m fine.” she snapped, giving the amp one final tug. It didn’t budge.

He walked over slowly, his sneakers loud against the floor, and crouched beside her.

“You know that thing’s like ninety pounds, right?” he asked. “Yeah I figured that out five minutes ago.” He grinned at her reply, and it hit her all at once how annoyingly handsome he was - sharp cheekbones, warm eyes, a little too cocky.

“I’m James.” he said, reaching out a hand. She looked at it, then at him. “I didn’t ask.” she said, but shook his hand anyways. He laughed, “Okay. And you are…?”

She told him her name, and for a second he just kind of stood there like he was trying to memorize it.

“You gonna stare at me, or help me move this thing?” she said, raising an eyebrow. He grabbed the other side of the amp without saying anything, and with one good lift they got it into place.

“You come with the gear?” he asked, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Nope. Just helping a friend.” she said after she let out a breath. “Cool. You should stay for the show.”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

But she already knew she would. And he already knew he was going to be watching the crowd the whole time - just to see if she was still there.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[Interviewer] When did things actually… start between you two?“

[Lars] Oh, I remember the exact night. She came with us on the tour. We were somewhere in the midwest. Iowa? Indiana? One of those.

[Kirk] It was definitely Indiana. I remember because the air conditioner broke, and we were all miserable and arguing. I thought they were already together by then? They weren’t?

[Her] Of course Kirk thought we were already together. But, no. That night was… kind of the beginning.

[James] It was late, like two or three in the morning. Everyone else was asleep, or wandered off somewhere. And she was just… there. Sitting on the little couch we had in the tour bus, legs up, eating a bag of potato chips.

[Her] It was the only food on the bus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FLASHBACK - 1986

She sat cross-legged on the couch in the front of the bus, her hair was damp from a rushed post-show shower at the venue, wearing a baggy Metallica shirt James had tossed her a few nights earlier. She was cradling a family sized bag of potato chips, every few seconds she’d fish one out with two fingers and crunch dramatically.

James flopped down next to her, “You guarding those chips with your life, or can I get one?” She arched her brow and slid the bag an inch in his direction, then snatched it back the second he reached for one.

“You guys already wiped out the beef jerky, the trail mix, and MY cookies. This is all I have left. Let me have this.” she said. He let out a dramatic sigh. She popped another chip into her mouth and chewed slowly, purposefully loud. James snatched a chip when she wasn’t looking, but she quickly smacked it out of his hand so hard it flew and hit the window.

They both burst out laughing. She snorted, which made him laugh harder. At one point she had to cover her face with a pillow to keep from waking up the rest of the bus.

It was stupid, and loud, and perfect.

Then – quiet.

When she leaned back, breathless and flushed, James just watched her.

“You’ve got crumbs.” he said, tapping his bottom lip. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, “Better?” she asked. “Nope. Still there.” He leaned it, slow this time. She didn’t move.

Then he kissed her.

It was clumsy and quick, noses bumped, her leg knocked into the table, someone definitely elbowed someone else, but it didn’t matter. They were both smiling too much to care. He tasted like beer, she tasted like chips. It was ridiculous and perfect.

When they pulled apart, she kept her hand on his chest. “That was terrible.” she whispered, grinning. “I know,” he said “Wanna do it again?”

She nodded.

And they did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

INTERVIEW - 2003

[Interviewer] Was there ever a point where everything felt stable? Like it was really working out?

[Her] Yeah, before everything felt apart.

[Kirk] They were solid during the Justice tour. Like, really solid. She was with us for almost every show in the states, but she had to go back to California for something important. James was different when she was there, and when she wasn’t.

[Jason] He wasn’t drinking as hard when she was there. I only really saw him drink when she was drinking too. He smiled more too…I don’t know, he was lighter.

[James] It felt real, ya know. We’d been together for a couple of years by then. She knew all of my shit and still stayed. I thought that mean’t that I could get away with more than I could’ve.

[Her] I thought I knew him. I thought I had all of him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

FLASHBACK - 1989

She was curled up at the end of the hotel bed, her legs tangled in James’s. She flipped through a magazine she’d swiped from the lobby.

James why lying in a worn band tee, arms folded under his head, watching her like she was the best part of the room. “You know this thing says pineapple is like some magic anti-inflammatory?” she said, tilting the page toward him. “Interesting.” he said. She smiled and tossed the magazine aside and crawled up to James. He pulled her down beside him and wrapped his arms around her.

They talked about places they wanted to go, like Rome, Japan, Yosemite. She joked about getting married on a tour bus in Nevada. James had laughed, but then go quiet and touched her face gently.

She didn’t see it coming.

Not for a second.

It was two weeks later. Another show, another city. She’d flown out to surprise him - Jason had helped her plan it. She was going to sneak into the venue and be waiting in the dressing room when the band came offstage.

But the door was already opened when she got there.

The first thing she saw was a bra on the couch.

Then the girl.

Then James.

And she froze.

He was laying there in nothing but his underwear, and she was cuddled up next to him with her hand on his chest. He was in the middle of laughing at something, but his smile faded quickly when he saw her.

She didn’t say anything. She just turned and walked, fast. She didn’t even know where she was going, just away. James chased after her, calling her name, swearing it wasn’t what it looked like, but it was exactly what it looked like. And they both knew it.

That night, she stayed in a motel three miles from the venue, alone.

She didn’t cry until the morning.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

INTERVIEW - 2003

[Her] I still don’t remember walking out of the room. Like… I know I did obviously, but it’s all blank. I just remember the color of the walls, and the girls lipstick, bright red, like clown red.

[Lars] We stayed back on stage to interact with the crowd, James left because he said he had “Business to attend too.” and so as we were coming off the stage we saw her, she walked right past us. She didn’t even look at any of us, just down at the floor.

[Kirk] She looked…broken, I think is a good way to describe it. Not screaming, not crying, she just looked like the wind had been knocked out of her. I tried to call her name, but she didn’t stop.

[Jason] And James, man. He came running out two seconds letter in his boxers. He looked completely wrecked.

[Lars] He shoved past us, and said “Where did she go?” and I was like, “What the fuck did you do?”

[Her] I think what hurt the most is that he promised me he wouldn’t do anything like that. I knew he wasn’t perfect, I expected the drinking and stuff, but not that. I thought this, whatever we had was different.

[James] The second I saw her face…everything just collapsed. That look, like she didn’t even see me anymore, just some guy. I deserved that. I deserved worse than that.

[Kirk] We heard him screaming at the girl to get out. I mean screaming. She left crying, and then James just started throwing shit.

[Jason] He trashed the whole dressing room. Mirrors, bottles, the couch - everything. I’d never seen him like this before. Not even drunk.

[James] I wanted to hurt something. I remember looking around the room and thinking, “How the fuck could I do this to her?” I knew I was gonna lose her. And I knew it was my fault.

[Her] I stayed in some run down motel that night. I didn’t even bring a change of clothes, I just curled up in the same hoodie I’d worn on the plane. And I kept thinking, “He’s gonna call. He’s gonna fix this.”

He didn’t.

[Lars] She called the hotel that night, I think she called Jason.

[Jason] She told me what happened, she told me to tell James where she was, but not to say anything else to him.

[Lars] He didn’t talk to anyone for like, three days. Just locked himself in his hotel room after the shows and drank.

[James] I couldn’t call her. Even though Jason told me where she was, I just didn’t know what the hell I’d say. “Sorry” felt like a joke. I’d promised her, swore to her. And I still did it. I hurt the one person who saw through all my bullshit.

[Her] It didn’t feel like the end right away. It felt like dying in slow motion.

Hi everyone! I just finished reading Daisy Jones and the Six and i’m OBSESSED!! I’m planning on making a story that’s kind of like that, so expect that to be out sometime this week!

Omg!?😵‍💫🥴🤒😍

ꜰᴏɢɢᴇᴅ ɢʟᴀꜱꜱ 𖤐 1991 ᴋɪʀᴋ ʜᴀᴍᴍᴇᴛᴛ

★ Summary: When Kirk accidentally scares his girlfriend and almost gets attacked with a shoe, he finds the best way to make it up to her.

warnings ⚠︎︎: SMUT, shower sex, p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex

The room was quiet, except for the low hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of traffic outside. She sat curled up on the bed, knees to her chest, flipping through a magazine she’d already read twice. The television was on low, some late-night sitcom laugh track playing, but it wasn’t helping distract her from the fact that she was completely alone.

Kirk had said he’d be out late at some afterparty. He hadn’t been gone for that long, but the silence in the room was starting to feel heavier by the minute. It wasn’t like him to not call her if anything ran late. She turned off the TV, deciding to just go to sleep. As she stood up and made her way to the bathroom, she froze.

A faint creak.

Her heart jumped. She hadn’t heard the door open…had she? Then - another soft creak. Her breath hitched, her eyes scanned the room in a panic until they handed on Kirk’s pair of converse by the door. Without thinking, she grabbed one of the shoes and held it like a weapon. Wide-eyed and her heart pounding in her ear, she watch the bathroom doorknob turn and the door slowly creak open, before she could think she raised the shoe -

“Woah - shit!” Kirk’s voice broke the silence, both of his hands shooting up in the air like he was surrendering. “Don’t kill me with my own damn shoe!”

She blinked, stunned. “Kirk!?” He laughed, still slightly hunched from the near death experience. “Were you really gonna knock me out with that?” he pointed to the shoe. “You scared the hell out of me!” she shouted, dropping the shoe on the tile. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I thought you were asleep!” he grinned, stepping fully into the light. His hair was damp from the drizzle outside, and he was wearing one of his too big flannels over a black tank top. “I tried to be quiet.”

“Clearly.” she muttered, her heart still thudding as her adrenaline started to crash. “I was two seconds away from launching that thing at your face.” He walked toward her slowly, hands still raised in fake defense. “Noted. Next time, I’ll knock.”

“You’re not supposed to be back yet,” she said, trying to sound mad but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “You said you were gonna be out late.” He gave her that soft look - the one that always melted her. “I was. I tried to stay, I swear, but halfway through the party, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” his hands lowered, he placed them on the sides of her arms and gently rubbed up and down.

“Kirk…” she whispered, “I missed you.” he said simply. He closed the gap between them, hands sliding around her waist, pulling her into his chest. His fingers were warm against the small of her back, and when he pressed his forehead against hers all the tension in the room slipped away. “I didn’t want to fall asleep without you, not tonight.” he murmured.

She reached up and ran her fingers through the damp strands of hair near his neck. “You came all the way back for that?” she asked. He smirked, “Well…that, and maybe something else.” His lips brushed against hers, and when she kissed him back his hands started to roam, slow and sure, tugging her closer.

But then he pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against hers again. “I should probably shower.” he muttered. She tilted her head, “Oh?” she asked. He glanced down at her, “You’re welcome to join me. I can tell you worked up a sweat…you almost took a man’s head off.”

She laughed, “I was defending myself!” Kirk grinned, “Sure, baby. Self defense with a converse.” He let go of her, pushing his flannel off and grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head in one swift motion. She stared, he knew what he was doing. “You coming?” he asked as he threw his shirt on the ground next to his flannel. She raised a brow. “Don’t know.. might have to think about it.” He smirked, turning the faucet handle until the sound of running water filled the air. “Think fast. I’m not planning on being in there alone.”

She walked over to the bathroom door and shut it, a soft click echoed off the walls.

The steam hit her first, thick and heavy clinging to her skin. Kirk stood under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, eyes closed. His curls stuck to his jaw and shoulders, his chest rising and falling slowly. The muscles in his back flexed as he ran a hand through his hair, he looked like a statue. He opened his eyes, his gaze slid to her, and a half smile pulled at his lips - the kind that said that he had been waiting for her. “Well,” he said, “Took you long enough.”

She didn’t speak, she let the clothes fall from her skin piece by piece, never taking her eyes off of him. She stepped into the shower, and his hands were on her instantly. One slid up the back of her neck and tangled in her damp hair, tugging gently, forcing her to look up at him. The other roamed low, around her hips, fingers dipping between the curse of her ass and her thigh like he owned her already.

“You really tried to kill me with a shoe tonight?” he muttered, his voice vibrating against her lips. “You broke into our hotel room like in a horror movie.” she shot back, but her breath caught when he leaned down, his lips brushing against her throat. “You think I was gonna spend the whole night drinking with the band when I could be here, with you, like this?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed her back until her spine met the cold tile wall of the shower and then dropped to his knees in the steam. The heat of his mouth met her thigh, open kisses pressed against skin already slick from water and arousal. He hooked her leg over his shoulder, spreading her open for him with no hesitation. When his tongue finally touched her, she gasped - sharp and sudden, hands flying to his hair, grabbing fistfuls of soaked curls.

He moaned against her like he was the one getting off. Kirk didn’t tease, he devoured. Tongue slow at first, dragging along her clit, then faster, tighter, fucking her with his mouth like it was his last chance. He groaned as she bucked against his face, and she felt it everywhere - the vibration shot straight up her spine.

“You taste so good.” he muttered, barely breaking contact. “I could stay here all night.” And it felt like he might, until her whole body seized, back arching hard as her orgasm hit her like a crashing wave. She cried out, head tipping back against the wall. Kirk held her through it, still licking, still hungry, like he wanted every drop of her.

When he stood again, his face was flushed, lips wet with her, eyes dark and glassy. He didn’t say anything, just kissed her deep letting her taste herself on his tongue and he lifted her like she weighed nothing, her legs locking around his waist.

Then, one hard thrust. She gasped, nails digging into his back as he filled her in one smooth, slow motion. There was nothing rushed in the way he fucked her, each roll of his hips was slow and deep. He held her like she was breakable, “You feel that?” he gritted against her ear, “You feel how much I need you?”

She nodded, breathless. “Kirk–please–”

“Beg for it,” he said, teeth grazing her neck. “Fuck–don’t stop–just please–I want it–I want you–” He slammed into her harder, faster, her back scraping gently against the tile as her moans grew louder, shameless now. Every thrust punched the air from her lungs. She felt herself unraveling, again, on the edge of another orgasm she couldn’t hold back. “Come for me.” he whispered.

And she did, every muscle locking up as she clung on his neck, whimpering his name like it was the only words she knew. Kirk groaned loud, deeper than before, and when she pulsed around him, he spilled into her with a shuddering thrust, his forehead buried in her shoulder.

He set her down gently, both of them still catching their breath, her hands still resting on his chest.

They stepped out of the shower breathless, skin flushed, and lips swollen. The bathroom mirror was fogged over, beads of condensation sliding down the glass in slow trails. Kirk grabbed a towel and gently draped it around her shoulders. His hands were slower now, soft rubs over her arms, thumb brushing across her collarbone. Still dazed, she watched him in the mirror.

The way his dark curls hung soaked around his cheekbones, the way water dripped from his jaw down his chest in thin, glistening lines, the way his eyes followed her reflection. She caught his gaze in the mirror, that little half smirk forming. “What?” he asked, she turned slowly, her towel slipping from her shoulders and hitting the floor with a soft thud. “I was just thinking…” she sank to her knees in front of him, Kirk’s brow raised. “I didn’t get my turn.” she whispered.

Kirk’s breath caught - visibly. His stomach flexed under her palms as she dragged her hands down, fingers tracing the line of hair that led below his hips. His cock was already starting t harden again, twitching slightly as she brushed her lips above it, teasingly. He groaned, head tipping back slightly, one hand bracing the counter behind him, “Shit, baby…”

She wrapped her hand around the base, slow, twisting her wrist just enough to make him twitch again. Then her tongue flicked the tip, he looked down at her, eyes hooded, mouth parted. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.” he groaned, “Good.”

She opened her mouth and took him in, slow and deep, letting him feel every inch of it - the heat of her tongue, the tight, wet pull of her throat. Her eyes didn’t leave his once, not even when his hips bucked forward a little bit, not when his hand threaded into her hair and gripped.

“Fuck–” he growled, hips jerking slightly before he caught himself. “Jesus, you feel–goddamn–” She moaned around him, just enough to make him shutter. Her hands pressed to his thighs, keeping him steady while she worked him slow, then faster, then back again, watching him unravel. Kirk’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest heaving, jaw locked. “I’m–baby, I’m not gonna last–” But she didn’t stop.

A sharp curse ripped from his throat, his thighs tensed, and he came with a groan so deep it vibrated off the walls. His fingers tightened in her hair, hips twitching as she swallowed every drop.

When she finally pulled off of him with a slow, wet pop, he looked down at her. “Holy shit,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You’re a menace”

She stood, wiped her corner of her mouth with her thumb, and grinned. “Told you. I owed you one.” she said. He didn’t even hesitate, he pulled her into a messy, breathless kiss - all teeth and tongue, hands roaming her still damp skin like he couldn’t not touch her.

Then, finally, he wrapped the towel around both of them and led her to the bed. The sheets were still a little cool against her skin, but Kirk climbed in right after, pulling her to his chest, arm around her waist, lips pressing a slow kiss to her temple. She fit against him perfectly - back to his chest, her legs tangled with his, his hand resting against her stomach.

“Still mad I scared you?” he murmured, his voice clearly tired. She laughed softly, “You show up like a serial killer and then eat me alive in the shower? I think I’ll forgive you.”

“Mmm.” He kissed her shoulder, “Guess I should scare you more often.” his finger rubbed gently on her stomach. “Don’t push your luck Kirk.” Kirk chuckled, “I could stay like this forever.” he whispered. And just like that, she melted all over again.

ᴏɴᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ 𖤐 1991 ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴛꜰɪᴇʟᴅ

★ Summary: When she walks into the studio just doing her job, James is forced to confront the one-night mistake he never stopped thinking about—and this time, he doesn’t let her walk away.

warnings ⚠︎︎: SMUT (finally…), unprotected p in v, creampie, a little dirty talk 🤭

James sat hunched over his guitar in the isolation booth, fingers frozen on the fretboard. The song was there, burning in the back of his mind, but his hands wouldn’t move. His thoughts were too loud, his skin itched with frustration, and he hadn’t slept right in days.

The booth was dim, lit only by a bulb buzzing overhead. Outside, the control room was empty - Lars had bailed mid-take, pissed about something stupid, again. Bob Rock had followed him out, muttering something about “cooling off.” James didn’t even bother to argue, he was tired of yelling.

He rested the guitar against the wall, his jaw clenched as he rubbed a hand down his face. Nothing Else Matters had been too much - too close. Recording it felt like someone had cracked his chest open and started digging.

The thoughts in his head were too loud that he didn’t even hear the door open behind him. It was the quiet shuffle of someone trying not to be noticed that caught his attention. He turned his head sharply, and there she was - halfway through the door, freezing the moment she realized he was still in the booth. She hadn’t expected anyone to be in the studio, not at this hour, and especially after the yelling she heard earlier.

She just needed her clipboard - she left it by the couch on accident after the last chaotic round of note passing between producers and engineers, that was it, in and out.

But the second she stepped inside and saw him, everything in her body froze.

His eyes met hers, his brows furrowed.

“The fuck do you want?” His voice was low, he definitely remembered her.

She cleared her throat, “I left something.” she said as she grabbed the clipboard and held it by her chest. “You work here now?” he asked, “Been working here,” she replied, “You just didn’t notice.” He turned fully, facing her with his arms crossed. He looked her up and down; he noticed the shoes she was wearing, the jeans she had on, and the black shirt with ‘Studio Crew’ written in bold white words across the top.

She looked him up and down too; she remembered the dim bar lights, his hand gripping her hip, the whiskey on his breath, and her mouth crashing onto his in the dark. One night, one kiss, one near-mistake neither of them talked about to anyone, or each other, until now.

He had noticed that she worked there, he’d just chosen to ignore it. Their eyes locked - like two guns cocked and loaded, waiting to see who’d pull first.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again.” he muttered. She gave a quick, humorless smile, “Didn’t think you remembered.” James stepped forward once, slow and deliberate. “I remember everything.”

She swallowed hard, fingers tightening on the clipboard. This wasn’t how she wanted to see him again. But that part of her, the reckless part - the one that had kissed him first in the bar she never should’ve been in, didn’t care.

She tried to move, “I’ll go-” but he stepped towards her again, “Don’t.” One word, sharp, clipped, but not angry. It sounded like a plea - so she stopped. He moved another step closer, he wasn’t touching her, but she could feel him - heat, tension, all of it pressing in like the room was too damn small. “You walked out before,” he said, his voice rasped. “You gonna do that again?” She looked up at him, heart pounding. “That night wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”

“Bullshit.”

And then he took the clipboard from her hands and let it drop, and this time she didn’t stop him. Suddenly his hands were on her. Big, calloused palms sliding around her sides, gripping her hips like he needed the contact to stay grounded. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, “You think I haven’t been thinking about you since that night?” She sucked in a breath at his words, her hands hovered at his chest, like she couldn’t decide whether to shove him away or pull him closer. “Don’t do that.” she whispered.

“Do what?” he asked, eyes boring into hers.

“Say shit you don’t mean.” she replied quietly. James laughed - quiet and bitter. “You think I’m lyin?” His grip tightened, dragging her flush against him. “I’ve tried like hell not to think about you.”

She didn’t pull away. Not this time. Her fingers finally settled against his chest, curled into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve tried not to either.”

The rough breath he exhaled sounded almost like relief, their foreheads nearly touched now, and when he spoke again, it was softer, honest. “Every time I see you walking down that hall like you don’t even remember, like that night didn’t happen, I want to loose my fucking mind.” She shook her head slowly, “I remembered, I just didn’t think you wanted me too.”

His hand slid from her hip to the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. “I wanted everything.”

She didn’t even think, she just kissed him first.

Deeply, passionately, the same way she kissed him at that bar months ago. His hands slid down her back, cupping the bottom of her ass, one of his hands tapped the side of her thigh. She understood what he meant, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his torso. He carried her to the couch, turning so he sat and she straddled him.

Her knees pressed into the worn leather of the couch, her lips were becoming swollen from kissing him like it was the only thing keeping her sane. His fingers hooked beneath the fabric of her shirt, pushing it up, dragging it over her skin inch by inch. Her stomach, her ribs, the soft dip right before her bra - he took in all of it like he was mesmerized by her in real time. When the shirt finally cleared her head he tossed it to the ground without a second thought.

She didn’t give him time to admire. Her hands were already sliding under his shirt with urgency she hadn’t let show before. She gripped the hem, tugging it up and over, leaving him bare beneath her. “You haven’t changed,” he said quietly, gaze locked on hers. “Still don’t play fair.”

She smirked, breath catching. “Neither do you.” His hands were back on her, his fingertips traced over the skin just above her waistband like he couldn’t decide where to touch first. His mouth followed, leaving her lips and trailing a slow, open kiss down her throat to the top of her chest, tongue dragging and teeth grazing.

She gasped when he reached behind her, unclasping her bra with one practiced flick of his finger. It slid from her shoulder like silk. “Fuck,” he muttered, sliding his hands up her ribs to cup her breasts. She moaned at the contact, hips instinctively grinding against his lap. And she felt it beneath her, thick and hot through the denim of his jeans, and very real.

James groaned, thrusting up enough to meet her movement. “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna last.” he growled against her neck. His hands slid down, undoing the button on her jeans with quick, rough fingers. She bit her lip, watching him with blown pupils and flushed cheeks, lifting herself up just enough to help him drag the denim down her hips, then off completely. She was in nothing but her underwear now, straddling him in the middle of the studio couch.

“You’re still dressed.” she whispered, her hands moving down his chest. James smirked, “Fix that.” and she did. Her hands were on his belt in seconds, undoing the buckle, dragging the zipper down until she could finally push the denim past his hips. He kicked them off with a grunt, breath stuttering as she palmed him through his jeans.

He hissed through his teeth, grabbing her by the waist, and in one rough motion he pulled her down against him - skin to skin now, barely anything between them. “You want this?” he asked, she nodded, breath catching. “Yes.”

That was all he needed. He hooked a finger under the waistband of her underwear and slid them off in one fluid motion, tossing them aside. Then he freed himself, cock hard and flushed. His hand stroked himself - once - twice - before finally guiding her down onto him, inch by inch.

They both moaned at the contact.

She sank onto him fully, thighs trembling, hands digging into his shoulders, head falling back as he filled her completely. “Fuck,” he groaned, gripping her hips tight. “You feel so good - so tight–”

She rolled her hips, setting a rhythm, and he met her every movement with rough, hungry thrusts. Their bodies moved together hard and fast, all tension and heat, the couch creaked under them as she studio walls held their moans like a secret. Every thrust, every grind, every breathless kiss was months of tension unraveling all at once. And neither of them held back.

“Look at you,” he growled, watching her ride him like she was made for it. He slid his hands up her back, fingers digging in, keeping her close. “Such a fuckin’ slut.” He thrusted up harder, “Yes. God, yes.” she moaned, her head tipping forward, lips brushing his jaw. Her nails scraped down his chest, “You’re mine right now,” he growled, “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she gasped. “All yours.”

“Fuck yeah you are.”

He slammed into her harder now, one hand gripping the back of her neck, the other one splayed across her ass, guiding her movement, pushing her down onto him with every thrust like he couldn’t get deep enough. “You gonna come for me?” he whispered, she broke at that - legs trembling, body arching, and moan spilling from her lips so loud it echoed off the studio walls. “Fuck - yes, fuck.” he growled, slamming into her one more time as he spilled inside of her, jaw clenched, eyes locked on hers like he needed to see her fall apart.

They stayed like that; tangled, sweaty, and breathless.

The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. He didn’t move right away, and neither did she. Her head rested on James’ shoulder, his hand lazily stroked up and down her spine, their clothes were scattered across the floor in a trail of impulse decisions. She let out a soft laugh, “What?” he murmured. She shrugged, cheeks still flushed. “You’re different when you’re not yelling at everyone.” James snorted, “Don’t get used to it.”

Just then, a voice - unmistakably Lars filtered in from the hallway just outside the studio door. “Dude… are they still in there?” A second voice - clearly Bob’s answered, “I told you to give him space, not have-sex-on-the-couch-we-all-sit-on space.” his voice was clearly annoyed.

Her eyes widened, James just grinned. “Shit.” she whispered, laughing into her hand. He didn’t even flinch, just pulled her closer and tossed his arm around her shoulder. “They’ll live.”

First smut story coming tonight!!

(James looks down, then looks back up at Lars)

Lars: What?

James: Where’s your shoes man?

𝐐𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𖤐 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐤 𝐇𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐭

Ahh I’m posting my first story!! How exciting!!

★ Summary: What started as needing a quote for her job, leads to an interaction with Kirk Hammett that has some undeniable tension.

Warnings ⚠︎︎: None really, just some flirting!

The hotel lobby was nearly empty - just two security guards by the doors and a worker behind the desk flipping through the newest issue of Vogue. I should’ve been chasing Lars or James but both had disappeared somewhere, leaving me with nothing but a cigarette in my hand and an empty journal. I tapped my pen on the top of my journal, contemplating whether I should just leave and accept the fact that I was probably gonna get fired or wait around and see if someone showed up.

The clock on the wall behind me ticked, the only noise in the lobby was interrupted by two men coming out of the elevator. One of the men, dressed in very official attire rubbed his forehead, “Tell them they need to be ready to go to the airport by ten a.m. tomorrow. Let them know I’m fed up with their bullshit.” he said angrily, the other man just nodded, “I know where Jason, James, and Lars are, but I have no idea where Kirk is.” the other man replied. “Check the roof, he’s probably sitting up there with his guitar. But, Kirk will listen - make sure James and Lars get the memo.” the fancy dressed man said. My head shot up, Kirk was on the roof - I could get up there and get my story.

I didn’t even hesitate, I grabbed all my stuff and walked over to the elevator. I pressed the button to call the elevator down, once the doors opened I stepped inside and pressed the button to take me to the roof. The elevator was slow, like it didn’t care that I was in a hurry. Once the doors opened, the smell of rain hit me first. The roof was mostly covered, but a small part was opened, where chairs and tables were now soaked.

Kirk was exactly where I thought he would be, sitting on one of the couches with a cigar in his hand. “You lost?” he asked, his voice cracking from him clearly being tired. I stepped out of the elevator and slowly made my way over to him, my bag on my shoulder, my journal tucked into it. “I thought maybe you’d talk?” I asked, not a lot of confidence in my voice. He chuckled, “Not much to talk about up here.” The rain had picked up, fat droplets hit the shelter over the roof, and thunder rumbled in the distance. I just stood there, wondering who was going to break the awkward silence first. “I liked the show.” I said finally, not sure if I meant it. “It felt heavier than I expected.”

“Thats ‘Load’ for you.” he muttered, taking a small drag from the cigar. “Everyone thinks it’s some sellout thing. Doesn’t matter. We needed it.” he finished. “You sound like you’re defending it.” I said, he replied quickly, “I am.” His tone wasn’t defensive, just honest - plain in the way that most people aren’t when they know you’re here to write about them. I liked that. We stayed in the silence for a while before he finally glanced over at me.“

“You got a recorder, or a notebook?” he asked, I grabbed my journal from my bag. He motioned for me to come sit down. “I figured you weren’t in a talking mood.” I said as I sat on the other end of the couch. The corner of his mouth twitched - not a smile but close enough. “You always chase musicians onto rooftops for stories?” he asked, “Only the interesting ones.” I responded.

That got a real smile - “Alright,” he said, nodding to the notebook. “Hit me.” I placed my journal in front of me and grabbed my recorder from my bag, placing it between me and Kirk before clicking it on. “How are you feeling about the tour so far?” I asked, “Tired. But…not bad. It’s strange being in this new version of the band. It feels like we’re wearing new skin and everyone’s still waiting to see if it fits.” he replied. “You think it does?”, he shrugged “Some days. Depends on how honest I feel.”

I tilted my head, “And how honest do you feel right now?”

He looked at me then - really looked - and I felt it low in my stomach. That pause. That something.

“Honest enough to admit that I don’t care if anyone likes it, as long as it’s real.” I swallowed, suddenly aware that Kirk had turned his body and he was now closer to me than he was before. I pressed on, “Do you ever miss how things used to be? The old sound, the old image?” Kirk exhaled smoke through his nose, slow and thoughtful. “Sometimes, but theres only so much you can do before you start wanting something softer.”

There was a beat in that word - softer - like he knew exactly what he was saying. “You mean…musically?” I asked. His smile curved again, almost wicked, “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

I clicked off the recorder, unsure if that was the end of the interview or the beginning of something else. The air between us was different now - warmer. I put the recorder back in my bag and tried to not look like my heart had picked up pace. “I don’t think thats a quote I can actually use.” I said, smiling enough to keep it casual. “That’s the problem with honesty” he murmured, “It usually makes shit complicated.”

The wind picked up, tossing a strand of hair across my face. Before I could fix it, Kirk reached out and gently tucked the piece of hair behind my ear, like it was nothing, like we’d known each other longer than a few minutes. His hand lingered for half a second too long. Just long enough.

I breathed in - smoke, rain, and something else that felt like static.

“You ever get tired of being followed around?” I asked softer now, “By people like me?” “Depends,” he said, watching me. “Most of them want noise. You… you’re quiet.” He said in a soft tone, “Is that a good thing?” I asked, he shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

We sat like that for a moment, the sky above us grumbling low and distant, the kind of storm that doesn’t let go all at once. Kirk took one last drag, then placed the cigar in the ashtray in front of him on the table. He looked back at me - really looked back at me, his eyes were dark and steady. “You’ve got that look,” he said.

“What look?”

“Like you want to say something but you haven’t figured out if it’s worth the risk.” he leaned back against the couch cushion, putting his hands together and resting them in between his legs. I didn’t answer right away. Maybe he was right, maybe I did want to say something.

But before I could say anything, Kirk’s lips turned into that smile I had only seen once before. “If you want more… insights,” he said his voice low, “there’s a quieter room I know.” The invitation hung between us. I glanced back at the elevator, then towards him. I smirked, “You’ve got a plane to catch tomorrow.” I said, he raised an eyebrow, amused. “Will I be seeing you on that plane?” I shook my head and folded my arms, “Nope. I’ve got to stay here and work.” I replied. “Won’t you be working if you’re interviewing me tomorrow… just in other city?” His voice dropped a little, I caught his gaze and held it. “Guess you’ll find out.”

He smirked and reached into his back pocket, pulling out what looked like a crumbled piece of paper. “You got a pen?” he asked, I reached into my journal and pulled out my pen and handed it to him. He wrote something on the paper before placing it into my hand along with my pen. “My number. Incase you need me to tell you where to go tomorrow.” Kirk stood up from the couch and began to walk toward the elevator, I stood up behind him, staying by the couch.

He pressed the call button for the elevator, “Even if you don’t show up tomorrow, even though I’m hoping you do.. call me if you want anymore quotes, or maybe something else.”

“Smooth.” I said and let out a small laugh, Kirk smirked once more before stepping into the elevator and waving goodbye to me before the doors closed, leaving the night - and all of it’s possibilities - waiting.

𖤐 Hello everyone! 𖤐

My name is Elise and I’m new to Tumblr!!

A lot of my friends recommended this app as a way to put myself out there and get better at writing — so that’s exactly what I’m here for!

I mainly write for my favorite band of all time:

Metallica 🤘

Expect a mix of angst, fluff, and probably smut.

That being said:

This blog is 18+ only — MDNI!! ⚠︎︎

Feel free to send in story ideas or requests — I’ll write them if I can ❤︎