#bub's writings

You smile as you sit beside James on the sofa, leaning into his side as he speaks goofily to your little bundle of joy, her back and head resting against the blonde’s long legs that had been propped against the coffee table.

“Did you miss Daddy while he was working today?” he asks with a wide smile, his fingers in the tiny grasp of Chloe’s hands.

The little girl smirks a little with a coo, her tongue sticking out slightly. You and James had long grown impatient to hear her tiny giggles as she reached three months of age, and every day both of you would try so hard to push that slight smirk to a tiny belly laugh.

“Yeah? You did?” he asks, acting as though she could understand him. “Daddy missed you and Mommy, too.” James leans forward slightly and plants a kiss on Chloe’s forehead before turning to you and pressing his lips to your own, leaving a chaste kiss on them. “The guys were asking about her today,” he chuckles a bit, his statement making you smile widely.

You bring a hand up to push a golden strand of his hair from his face, “Really?” you ask, tucking the locs behind his ear as he nods, “What’d they ask?”

James looks down at the still-grinning baby and smiles back, “They asked a whole lot. How she’s doing, if we’ll bring her back to the studio again to visit, if they could come to visit us.”

You giggle a bit as you snuggle into the blonde’s side, “Well, Lars is supposed to come by when you get the album covers, isn’t he?” you ask, gaining a nod from him.

A peaceful silence falls between you as you both watch Chloe look around the room with an infantile curiosity. You smile as you think about how James had stepped up to father her, his priorities set almost completely on the two of you. Quite honestly, you had worried your entire pregnancy that he wouldn’t have been able to do it. You worried that the dedication was too much for him and that he’d try to bury himself in work to try to stay away from it. You also worried his drinking would get in the way of his parenting, the same way it’d gotten in the way multiple times in your entire relationship. However, he had really attempted to cut down after you’d given birth.

You reach a hand out and rub Chloe’s tummy gently, “You wanna see your uncle Lars again?” you ask, pulling the little one’s eyes to you, bouts of curiosity beaming from them. You smile at her as you continue, “Well, maybe Daddy can bring you with him to work one day while Mommy cleans the house, hm? Then you can see Uncle Lars, and Uncle Jason, and even Uncle Kirk!” the names are drawn out as you list them, Chloe’s face once again turning to a wide smile at just the sound of your voice.

“Don’t forget about your Uncle Bob, too.” James coos at the little girl, earning a tiny coo back from her. James beams at her, “You wanna see your Uncle Bob?” he asks goofily, gaining yet another coo, this time louder.

Almost like a giggle.

You gasp slightly, trying to excite the little girl as you attempt to urge more coos from her, “Do you think that’s silly?” you ask her in a coo, causing a tiny bubbly laugh to erupt from her chest. The adorable sound sends joy and excitement bursting into the air, making James and yourself gasp ecstatically. “You think your Uncle Bob is funny, don’t you, honey?” you ask with your own laugh, watching as she giggles even more at the mention of the name.

James lets out a chuckle at the sight of the little girl being overtaken by her newfound laugh, “He’s definitely funny looking,” he says through his laugh, making you giggle, too. It isn’t long until there’s a circle of laughs going around between the three of you.

Between the family.

After a few moments, Chloe’s tiny giggles die down alongside yours and James’ and you’re back to smiling at the little girl in awe. Your heart blooms with love as you glance up at James, his smile wide with delight and love. It never ceased to amaze you just how tame a man as crazy as James Hetfield could be when it came to you. You and his family.

You sigh contentedly and press a kiss to the man’s cheek, his facial hair scratching you slightly. “I love you, James Hetfield.” you murmur as you pull away, pulling his attention toward you.

It wasn’t your choice, coming to this party. If you could even call it that. You just wanted to spend the night with Kirk for once, to have a relaxed evening where there was nothing there to distract you from one another, no one to get between you. But, of course, that just couldn’t happen, could it? He couldn’t just spare you one night without being clung to this new band, ‘Metallica’.

You took a long drag from your cigarette, staring up at the moon and its surrounding speckles of light. The cratered rock was full as could be, the reflective light gleaming in the sky brightly. You couldn’t remember the last time the moon was so beautiful and bright. It made you wonder when the last time you really decided to observe the beauty around you.

Your mind was elsewhere as you continued to smoke, your knees tucked tightly against your chest. “Fuck, it’s cold.” you shivered, rubbing the trail of goosebumps up your arm in attempts to warm up. You really should’ve grabbed your jacket.

The sound of a zippo flicking open jerks you from your own thoughts, your neck twisting quickly to face the noise. Some part of you wished it was Kirk coming to apologize to you, to tell you that he was the dick, but you knew that wasn’t happening.

You sigh in relief when the flame of the lighter illuminates the identity of the rando behind you, his large hand cupped around the flame as he lights his cigarette.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dave.” you exhale, turning back to face forward, “You scared the shit out of me,”

The redhead chuckles drunkenly. You could smell the cheap beer and weed on his flannel from here.

“Sorry,” he smirks before taking a drag. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of She by Misfits bounding from the shitty speakers in the home behind you. Dave exhales before motioning to the seat beside you, “Mind if I sit?”

You carelessly motion back, signaling a ‘Whatever’ as you suck back the last of the smoke before stubbing it out on the ground below you, “As long as you won’t call me a selfish bitch, too.” you breathe, quoting a very, very drunk Lars after you had asked Kirk if you could simply go home.

“Never,” was all Dave said before taking a long sip from his beer and sinking down into the lawn chair beside you. His silence confused you a bit. From what you’ve known of Dave, he’s an aggressive, talkative drunk, always fighting with someone or doing something crazy. But right now he was neither, seemingly just needing a break from everyone, too.

There was a break of silence as you just sat together, enjoying the damp aroma and particularly bright light of the night individually. Over the past weeks you’d known Dave, you’d gotten on well with him. Cliff, too.

But there was something special about Dave.

Maybe it was that notorious grin of his whenever he told a funny story.

Or maybe it was the way he cared about his bandmates, how he’d do anything for them even if they wouldn’t do the same.

Or how he listened to you when you told a story, not interrupting you like James or Lars would.

How he’d listen when Kirk wouldn’t.

“You don’t deserve that,” Dave mutters suddenly, taking a short drag of his cigarette.

Your neck swivels towards him, cheeks reddening at the somewhat bold words.

“Sorry?” you ask dumbly.

Dave turns his head to look back at you, the moonlight casting perfectly against his profile. “You heard me,” he slurs slightly before turning his head away from you again, staring into the pale light above. “No real man would stand for his friends acting like that towards his girlfriend. Not if he cared about her, at least.”

A pain struck through your heart at the guitarist’s brutally honest words. Of course Kirk cared about you, at least he did before he got caught up in this whole musician thing. You bit your lip as you slowly turned to face forward again, too, your head slowly dropping to rest on your folded knees.

Dave continued, “Those guys in there, James, Cliff, Lars, they’re my brothers. Other than them, I’ve only got my mom.” he sighed, running his long fingers through his thick mane of hair, “I mean, I’d do anything for them, y’know? More than they’d probably do for me, honestly.” Dave huffed out a pained laugh before sipping his beer once more, crushing the can beneath his foot when the golden brown liquid was all gone.

“But I’d never, ever let any one of them talk to my girl like that.” Dave hissed, almost angry, “That would’ve been my breaking point.” he added, bringing his cigarette to his face and pausing his motion right before inserting the stick between his lips, murmuring, “Should’ve been Kirk’s, too.”

It felt like you were being stabbed in the chest repetitively as Dave went on. Sure, he was right, Kirk wasn’t being a good boyfriend as of late, and it really was pissing you off, but why did Dave have to be so upfront about it? What did he get out of giving you relationship advice?

You push air from your cheeks in attempts to hold back the tears that had been there all night, but it was impossible. Kirk didn’t care anymore. He was all about the band, not seeming to care how you felt any longer. 

When he was in Exodus, Kirk would’ve followed you right outside when you stormed out, begging for your forgiveness and berating whatever “friend” had called you a bitch. But it wasn’t like that anymore. Metallica changed him.

The first tear trailed down your cheek as you clenched your eyes shut, hoping – praying – that this was just some sort of cruel nightmare. That you were going to wake up beside a loving, caring Kirk once again.

But you didn’t.

You pressed your burning eyes against your denim clad knees, the tears unable to be held back any longer. A light gasp for air turned Dave’s attention towards you, his eyebrows furrowing in pure concern.

“Y/N?” he questions softly, immediately dropping his cigarette to rub a hand up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you. His voice was soft and caring; very out of character for him. “Oh, don’t cry.”

Despite Dave’s gentle plea, you broke. The wails you’d been holding back for god knows how long were finally coughed up, salty tears staining your cheeks with dark eyeliner and mascara. Your head rose as you gasped for air, hiccuping up incoherent words that Dave couldn’t even start to decipher.

Dave gave you a pitiful, guilty look. He did this to you. It wasn’t his intention to make you upset, but it happened. God, he really should just keep his fucking mouth closed sometimes.

“Come here,” Dave whispered, pulling you up from your chair and back down into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you against him. His large frame warmed your much smaller one as you pressed your face against his broad chest, muffling your loud, breathless sobs. “I’m sorry, pretty.” he murmured against your ear, the pet name just slipping out on instinct before he pressed his lips against the top of your head. He smoothed a hand up and down your back, holding you tightly against himself. “It’s gonna be okay,”

Dave frowned at just how cold and sad you felt against him. He just wanted to make everything perfect for you, to make everything that’s bad in your life go away. He wanted to hold you like this forever, and to keep you safe and happy for as long as he could, safer and happier than Kirk ever could.

Ever since Lars and James hired Kirk, Dave was starting to get treated worse as the days went on. All of their attention was turned to this guitarist who, in Dave’s mind, really did not need to be there. They had a lead guitarist and rhythm guitarist and were fine as a four-piece. What did they need this random dude for all of a sudden? It wasn’t like he was filling an empty position, either.

However, when he realized that you came along with Kirk, things seemed to be just a bit better. You were smart, you were funny, extremely artistic, and absolutely beautiful. Whenever he could, he was sneaking a glance at you when you weren’t looking. Maybe from across the room during one of these stupid parties when someone made you giggle, or maybe during the band’s practice when you were sat in your own chair in the corner, drawing in that curious notebook of yours that no one but you was allowed to see. Not even Kirk.

So, when he began to notice how Kirk was treating you as the month went past, his resentment against him only grew. Most of the time, he’d stay out of it, just boring holes into the back of Kirk’s head after he’s, once again, sent you storming away for something he or one of the other guys have said. But on occasion, he’d follow you, ready to comfort you. Just like he had tonight.

Dave could feel your warm tears soaking through his shirt, and if it’d been anyone else, he probably would have shoved them off of himself in fears of ruining the shirt. But for you, he didn’t care. All he wanted was you being comfortable, and if that meant ruining his Aerosmith shirt, so be it.

Tears stream down your face when you pull away slightly, gasping to get words out, “It’s just- He wasn’t like this when he was in Exodus! And I don’t know if I did something, or- or-”

Dave shushed your teary rambles and shook his head, “You didn’t do anything, Y/N. It’s not your fault,” he assured you, resting his chin atop your head, “Kirk’s just an idiot,”

The sound of your sobs died down after that, your muscles relaxing as you let your body fully press against Dave’s. He was so warm, and so big, too. The way his long arms engulfed you against his chest made you feel so small, like his body could swallow yours whole and keep you warm inside and out. Like he could warm that empty cavity you felt within your chest right then.

After a moment, you noticed the volume of the music coming from inside dying down a bit, only faint notes breaking through the air occasionally. You wondered what time it was, and whether Kirk and the rest of the boys had decided to crash for the night, or if they were still up drinking whatever shitty liquor they had left.

“I dunno what I’m gonna do,” you sigh, subconsciously snuggling into Dave, just trying your hardest to warm up as you thought.

Obviously, you weren’t happy in your relationship with Kirk, but that could be fixed, right? Maybe, if you told him how you were feeling, he would take a step back and realize that he wasn’t being the boyfriend he should be, and that he should take you more into consideration. Or maybe, he just wouldn’t care. Maybe, he wouldn’t realize your worth at all and would just break up with you. Maybe, he just didn’t care anymore.

Your thoughts felt like punches as they banged around inside your head, questioning your entire relationship. You needed a break, that you knew.

You bit your lip, holding back more tears that threatened to pour from your eyes. “I don’t have a car, I don’t have much money, I don’t have anywhere to stay-”

“Sure you do,” Dave drunkenly chimed, his lips tugged into a smirk, “I have a couch,”

You sniffle and look up at him, “Yeah, but I really don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Pfft-” the redhead sputters, shaking his head dismissively, “The last thing you’d be is a bother, Y/N. I’m not a very busy guy.” He assures, “Plus, it’d be kind of nice to have someone other than the dog to talk to. She's a good listener, but she's shit at giving advice.”

You giggle and pull away from Dave, sitting yourself up on his knees. You peak over your shoulder at him, a cheeky grin plastered across your tear-stained face, “So that’s why you make such shitty decisions!”

Dave pushes your shoulder lightly with a scoff, “Says you,” he rebuts, watching intently as you slowly rise to your feet. The jeans you wore showed your shape off perfectly, hugging you in all the right places, and Dave cursed himself for letting his eyes linger for as long as they did.

“Whatever,” you laugh as you run your fingers through your hair, attempting to look at least halfway decent before having to face Kirk for the last time tonight. All you had to do was go into that god forsaken living room, maybe give Kirk a short explanation or just leave a simple note as to where you were going, grab your jacket, and then leave with Dave. It was as simple as that.

“Here, turn around.” Dave instructed, though before you had a chance to react, he was gently pulling you around by your elbow. “Let me get some of this shit off your face,” he mumbled as he took your cheek into his hand, cocking your head up towards him.

God, he’s tall. You thought to yourself, a smile playing at your lips as he furrowed his brows and attempted to rub the stains off with the pad of his thumb. After a bit of struggle, the redhead ran his thumb along his tongue before bringing it back up to your face, continuing to rub the black blotches from your cheeks. The pungent scent of the beer and marijuana ridden saliva hardly bothered you, your mind too busy secretly swooning over the six-foot redhead before you.

“There,” he smiled proudly, giving your cheeks one final rub with the sleeve of his flannel. You gazed up at him for a moment longer than you would have liked, your eyes flickering from his beautiful greenish-brown eyes to his plump lips as your mind wandered into uncharted territory.

How could someone be such a soft, caring person one moment, and then a gruff brute the next? It almost felt like an honor, being exposed to such a sweet, soft side of Dave like this. Especially when he was drunk. Of course, he wasn’t as drunk as usual, but still, it was such a difference that you were sure barely anyone ever got to see.

You took one last glance at his pretty mouth before finally looking away, your head turned to the side. You knew you shouldn’t feel like this about him, especially with what you were going through right then, but you just could never help yourself. It’d been that way the entire month and a half you’d known him, too.

If you watched them practice, your eyes were on Dave the entire time, watching those long, thick fingers of his work up and down his guitar. Maybe Kirk played better, but Dave always looked better. At first, you felt bad about it. Bad about how you’d “accidentally” fantasize about Dave instead of Kirk in your daydreams. Bad about how you couldn’t help but wonder what that light happy trail of his led to whenever he wore one of those cropped shirts. Bad about how you started to have to think about Dave during sex with Kirk, the feeling of it otherwise loveless and rough.

But you realized that Kirk deserved it.

Because maybe, just maybe, if he knew about those thoughts of yours, he’d realize the mistakes he made. Maybe he’d be reminded of what you were worth.

“Thanks,” you mumble, giving Dave a quick, flustered smile before turning around and slowly starting to head into the house, Dave following shortly behind you. He moves up beside you, placing a warm hand on the small of your back. You barely notice the vague touch, his essence very gentle and light against your own as you walk towards the sliding glass door of the kitchen. His presence made you feel much more comfortable walking back into the house. You knew that if any of the guys sent you some mumbly insult, Dave was there to defend you, with words or a fist.

You pull the door’s handle and step through the opening, the strong scent of weed immediately lingering to your nostrils as your body is finally engulfed in warm air. The sound of Lars’s obnoxious Danish accent hit your ears as well, immediately churning a feeling of nausea in your stomach.

Dave must’ve noticed your hesitation as he bent down and mumbled in your ear, not wanting to alert the hostile Dane with his voice, “It’ll be okay, he’s all bark, no bite. You know that,”

You blushed as you looked back at the redhead, “Y-Yeah, I know.” you stutter before gingerly stepping towards the living room, preparing yourself for a messy confrontation.

As you step into the living room, Lars’s drunken rant dies down, all eyes slowly turning to you when you make your way over to the couch. Everyone watched quietly as you picked up your coat and pulled it on before looking up at a very stoned Kirk, “Are you spending the night here?” you ask, very mild mannered while you hook the zipper on the leather coat.

Kirk looks over at Lars for approval, gaining a quick nod. He looks back at you, his gaze suspicious, “Yeah, we can stay. Why?” he asks dumbly, watching you zip your jacket closed.

You stick your hands in your pockets and look up, poking your tongue against your cheek as you quickly question your decisions one last time. You need a break. No exceptions.

“You can stay, Kirk. I’m staying at Dave’s place tonight-”

“What?!” Kirk practically shouts, making everyone else in the room jump before glancing between you and Dave, all thinking the same thing. All thinking that you were a cheating whore.

“I said, I’m staying at Dave’s place tonight. I’ll call you in the morning, and we can figure shit out, but right now, I just need a break.” you sounded exhausted, and you felt it too. You were so ready to take a shower and put on fresh, clean clothes that didn’t smell like sweat and weed, and just sleep for hours.

Kirk gave you an exasperated look before you turned tail and walked up right beside Dave, “Baby, let’s talk about this-”

“No, Kirk. We can talk in the morning when you’re sober,” your voice was stern as you began to walk out, Dave trailing closely behind you almost protectively, as if someone was going to lunge at you at any given moment. Which, honestly, felt possible with the way Lars glared at you, his eyes chanting every demeaning name in the book. But he knew better than to verbalize any of it, being practically half the size of Dave.

Kirk followed after you, pleading helplessly for you to turn back and give him yet another chance, but somehow, you stood your ground. You had no clue how, but you did. Maybe it was the fact you had someone on your side, someone right there to defend you and put that wall up between you and everyone else.

As you stepped through the front door, you took one last glance back at Kirk. He looked sad, but most of all angry. You were surprised he hadn’t attempted to attack Dave in an attempt to get your attention, but he must’ve been wise enough to know that the redhead was too big and strong  for him to take on. The look you shared with him only lasted a moment, though, as Dave slammed the door shut in Kirk’s face, the sound echoing throughout the midnight air.

You were both silent for a bit as you followed Dave along the sidewalk, beginning the trek to his apartment. Seemingly thousands of emotions ran through your entire body, some good, some bad. It felt as though you had a mixture of excitement and dread pulling your stomach in all different directions while adrenaline coursed through your veins, making your legs feel like a ball of rubber bands.

You sigh and look up at Dave, “How far is the walk?” you ask softly, subconsciously drifting closer to his side as you walk.

“Like ten minutes,” he answers, “Why?”

You shrug, looking back down at the sidewalk as you mumble, “‘Cause I’m cold,”

Dave thinks for a moment, looking down at you in contemplation before quickly hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. The feeling of his much larger body pushed flush against your own makes you blush, heating you from the inside out as your belly flutters nervously.

He smiles down at your crimson cheeks, “Is that better?”

You nod slowly, not quite sure how to feel about the affection. In your head, it didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right to be so up close and personal with your possibly-ex-boyfriend’s bandmate, practically cuddling like you were a couple.

But to your body, it felt perfect.

You spoke up after a moment, ignoring your internal battle, “Way better,”

"Y/N?" Gareth practically whispered into the dark room, his fingers searching the wall for the light switch, "You still awake, baby?" He waited a few moments for your response before switching on the light, revealing you in all your glory.

You lay on your side, a pillow wedged between your belly and the mattress in an attempt to not have horrible side and back pains in the morning. As Gareth paced closer to you, he smiled at how adorable you looked. Your plump lips were ever-so-slightly parted, your breaths flowing in and out with a relaxed ease with your hair spread messily across the soft pillow that would usually belong to Gareth.

The boy smiled fondly before placing a warm hand on your tummy, his eyes moving to the protruding bump.

"Must've made your mommy real tired, huh?" Gareth whispered, his thumb rubbing against your thinly clothed skin. He could feel a tiny poke beneath his hand, making his smile grow into a wide beam before he turned away to change into a band tee and a pair of loose sweatpants.

Your eyes gently blinked themselves open as he had his back turned. You hummed quietly with a deep breath, watching how the boy's back muscles flexed while he reached out for a shirt.

You nestled the side of your face into the pillow below your head, "How'd it go?" you rasped out, your voice ridden with sleep.

Gareth pulled his The Number Of The Beast shirt over his head before turning around and answering, "Like usual," he sighs, making his way to the side of his bed, "5 drunks,"

You snort out a laugh as you move farther to 'your side' of Gareth's bed, giving him room to lay beside you, "Well, if you would've let me come, it could've been 5 drunks and a pregnant 18-year-old."

Gareth shuffles himself onto the mattress, "Yeah, and those 5 drunks would've harassed that pregnant 18-year-old." he reminded with raised eyebrows, settling into his spot.

As lighthearted as the comment came off, there was a lot of truth to it. Up until your 20-week mark, you were going to Corroded Coffin's shows every week without issue. Most people didn't even realize your bump under your band tee and leather jacket, and if they did, they would just assume you had gained weight since they had last seen you. It wasn't until you really started to round out that you became the town pariah.

Those '5 drunks' had called you all kinds of names that twenty-first Tuesday of your pregnancy. Whore, slut, skank, any sort of name that would point to you having sex, they called you. Which, when you had mumbled to Gareth the situation that had ensued during their performance, he was fuming.

Needless to say, Eddie and himself were bruised and bloodied as they walked out of the alley behind the Hideout that night.

You didn't say anything in response, knowing there was nothing to say. You just watched as one of his hands settled on your tummy, a faint, drowsy smile painted upon his face.

"Don't need either of my girls getting hurt," he hummed fondly, looking up into your eyes after a moment. His beauftiful blue eyes were filled with so much love for you as he leaned closer to you, your faces just inches apart now.

You pressed a hand against his warm cheek, brushing your thumb beneath his eye. You didn't notice just how large your smile was until Gareth spoke just above a whisper, "What?" he asked fondly with a tiny laugh, making you blush.

"Nothin'," you answer, moving your forehead to press against the boy's, "I just love you,"

Gareth's cheeks must've burned with how wide his smile was, your sweet words soaking through his skin right to his heart. He leaned in to plant a warm, loose-llipped kiss on your lips, one that sent an everlasting heat through your chest.

"I love you too," he whispered against your lips, his thumb rubbing circles on the skin of your belly. He nuzzled his nose further against yours, angling his head downwards slightly, "Both of you."

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