80's Band Oneshots/ Imagines

James Hetfield - You're My Calm

1990

I take a long drag of my cigarette as I stand solemnly on my terrace, overlooking what I could afford to see out of my LA condo. A few empty parking lots behind my building and busy streets beyond that. I had only moved in a few weeks prior, since the opening of my practice in town I needed to be closer to the city.

I chewed my lips as I basked in the hot evening air, thinking about the phone call I had with my father just a few minutes ago. He asked me if I had met anyone interesting in my new building. I wasn't sure how I responded. I felt like a child keeping a secret. I wasn't a student anymore, I was allowed to date, yet I felt as if he would still scold me if I told him about James. He was always so strict about my dating in med school, telling me I had to stay focused. But I was an adult now, and officially a doctor, as of a month ago that is.

So I didn't tell him about the tall blond stranger I met on my first day, how we bumped into each other as I carried mountains of heavy boxes up to my door, how he smiled at me and helped me carry them. I didn't tell him about the night at the bar we spent together, and when we almost kissed in the elevator. I didn't tell him how tempted I was when James invited me to his apartment, and instead vowed to take me to coffee the next day when I declined. I didn't tell him about our first date at the coffee shop, and the little book and record store we explored all afternoon, losing ourselves in the shelves of stories and each other. I definitely didn't tell him about our following two dates, and how James was yet to kiss me, or touch me, and how much I wanted him to.

And I absolutely didn't tell him about the night James knocked a stranger out cold for touching me on the street, how he broke down crying in my arms after too many drinks, talking about his parents. How big his eyes looked as he clung onto every word I said, soothing his anger and pain until he fell asleep in my lap.

I flicked my cigarette away and ran my hands through my hair. I didn't mean to attract the broken ones, the ones that needed me, it just happened. It weighed heavy on my chest.

My landline wrung and I tiptoed across the room to get it, hugging myself in my oversized sweater.

"Hello?" There was a jagged, sharp breathing on the other end. I heard a shuffle and thought I heard the sound of glass shards.

"Ari" James said weakly. His voice was hoarse, cracked. He sounded defeated, broken.

"James? Are you okay?"

"I..." he cut himself off with a shaky breath and there was more static as he moved on the other line.

"I'll be right there" I said calmly and set the phone down. I didn't bother changing my clothes as I darted for the door, still barefoot and still in my sleep shorts. I jogged down the hall to James's room and knocked. It was unlocked.

It was stone quiet as I pushed the door open, the apartment dark. I felt my heart in my throat

"James?" I said into the hollow space. When my eyes adjusted I saw the pieces. Paintings ripped off the walls, lamps thrown to the ground, chairs overturned.

His balcony was open too, the long white drapes flowing with the evening breeze. In the pale light from the moon that seeped through the open space I could see all the glass. Once a coffee table smashed to tiny pieces. James sat among the pieces, against the wall next to the balcony, his head between his knees.

I was scared to go further. As much as my body wanted to drive me to him, to hold him and make sure he was alright, part of me hesitated.

I swallowed and began to cross the floor to him, very aware of the fact I was barefoot and there were sharp shards everywhere. I knelt down in front of him a few feet away, trying to breath deep and slow. He raised his head, still keeping his eyes down. I could see the tears streaking his face.

"James?" he looked at me finally. I could hear the jaggedness of his breath as he struggled to breathe, the panic in his eyes, the way he was white knuckle gripping at his own hands. I was scared he was going to bite his lip so hard he would break it open. He was clearly holding back his sobs.

"Can I touch you?" He nodded. I inched forward until was between his knees. He watched me as I brought a hand up to his face, brushing my thumb over his cheek. He released a shaky breath and let himself fall into my touch, squeezing his eyes shut. I brought my other hand up and pulled his head into neck, holding him. He brought his arms up and wrapped them around me fiercely, reminding me how strong he was.

"I can't breathe" he said, muffled into my shoulder. With our bodily closeness I could feel the rise and fall of his chest and he could feel mine.

"Listen to mine. Can you feel it? Try to match me" I took deep breaths. I could feel him trying to cram more air into his lungs, still harsh and fearful. I ran my fingertips over his scalp and felt some of his muscles relax after a few moments.

"Breathe... you can breathe" I whispered softly. He was holding onto me for dear life, as if he thought he would fall if he let go.

His breaths started to become more even and I tried to get myself to relax now. I pulled away, still holding his head in between my hands, and wiped away his tears.

"You're safe, you're alright" I press his forehead against mine. He's lightly gripping at my sweater now, breathing through parted lips.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he just shook his head no, I probed no further. He reached up and stroked my hair a few times. My chest swirled as I stared at his lips. Flush with emotion, breathless, inviting. He opened his eyes and looked at me, locking his eyes into mine mercilessly. There was a sense of guilt and embarrassment in them, of desperation and exhaustion. I brushed my thumb over his skin again, he was burning against me, only strengthening my desire to pull into him. His eyes dropped to my own lips now. He dropped his hand to my chin and brushed his thumb over my lips slowly.

His touch pulled a muted whimper from me. He pushed his hands back into my hair as he finally locked his lips against mine. The way his body drove into mine conveyed a need for escape, a plea. Take me away from here. Make me forget.

I was too eager to comply, straightening myself to lift myself onto his lap, straddling him. We were both desperate, gnawing at each other's lips, begging for more. The low whine I drew from him sent shockwaves through my body.

Boldly, I slipped my hands under the hem of his shirt to roam the skin of his back. We parted lips for breath as he exhaled a groan, returning with a soft bite at my lower lip that swirled throughout my aching body.

He pulled my sweater over my head and raked his nails down the skin of my back. His mouth began to explore my skin, moving across my collar bone, to my throat and behind my ear. My eyes fluttered shut, my lips sore.

I threw his shirt behind me and grated my nails down the front of his chest to his pants buckle, admiring the way his muscles flexed around me. I grasped for his zipper and adjusted myself straighter so I could slip my hand into his pants, palming at his painfully hard erection. The honest to god growl that escaped him was nothing but primal and I felt my face flush hotter than it was. With his mouth still by my ear he let out a low whisper

"I want you so fucking bad" He said between gasps as I stroked my hand up and down his dick slowly, already dripping with precum. My head is so hazy with lust all I can do is moan a desperate "Fuck"

He suddenly grabbed the leg of my thin sleep shorts and snapped it, ripping it all the way up to the waist. Holy shit that was hot.

He pulled me up onto him and I gasped and gripped his shoulders as he began to slide into me.

I buried my face in his shoulder as he rocked back and forth, lowering me until he was all the way in. I hissed between my teeth, getting used to how big he was. He was covering my neck in kisses, setting my skin on fire.

"Why do I always pick the broken ones?" I thought to myself