Classic 70s/80s rock/metal imagines

Lars Ulrich - not yet

Context - Your james sister but majorly shy and lars is very.. out going.

1982
---- Girls Name - Stephanie Hetfield

I ALWAYS HATED TALKING to strangers or people in public. It made me physically ill.

My brother, James Hetfield, was the exact same way.

Even with the number of times he's stepped on stage- Dave has had to talk for him.

Now, here we are in lars Room - being forced to write lyrics even if I refuse to try to speak to the others in the room.

"Isn't that right, Stephanie?"

I look at lars confused at the sound of my name, I wasn't paying attention to the words being said till this moment.

Lars rolled his eyes at the lack of words being said, "I said, if it's right that those words rhyme."

He was pointing to the piece of paper laying out in front of the boys.

I shurg in response, putting my hand out as I hint that I want the paper.

"Talk Stephanie."

I give James a look, signaling I won't do it.

He just sighed, handing me the paper that was in front of him - now scanning over the words to see what they were talking about.

The two words - or should I say one; it just was Whiplash - that was it.

I give lars a look; a look like he's an idiot for thinking this word doesn't rhyme.

"Does it not rhyme?"

I nod, "IT does."

Dave shoots me a confused look, "it? Whadda mean it?"

Now, I wasn't that comfortable with Dave yet. He hung around James a lot but never as much as lars.

It still wasn't easy talking to lars, since I had a fat fuckin' crush on him.

Forgot to mention- there's more than just me, dave, James, and lars in here. There's also Jame's girlfriend - Dave's buddy and girlfriend and buddy's girlfriend, all in one room.

"It's one word."

Again, Dave looks at me werid, but so does James, "What?"

I groan in annoyance, "it's one-"

"She means it's one word, not whip AND lash," lars states, thankfully cutting me off.

"Thank you, lars! Talk for you, why don't ya?" Dave hits the back of his head, earning a painful hiss from lars.

"She doesn't like fockin' talking, why force her to talk fockin' more?"

"She needs her self asteam up."

I shoot James an 'Don't you go there' look, getting an offended look back.

"Do you not?"

I roll my eyes, "You do too."

He huffs annoyance, throwing his pen down on the table, "I've got self fuckin' asteam, Stephanie."

I shoot my eyebrows up and down, "not much of it, it seems."

"You're to bold, you'll regret that one day," James points at me, a slight laugh leaving his lips.

"You come near me, James, You'll fuckin' regret it, remember summer of 78?"

James stayed quiet, clutching his side with a pained look on his face.

Lars looked between us, Dave looked visually confused at what I said.