Metallica one shots and headcannons

Eyes of an Angel, cold heart as ice (James Hetfield one shot)

James Hetfield, the captivating frontman of Metallica who plays the part of the cold-hearted charmer. He enjoys the thrill of partying, flirting with women, and basking in the adoration of fans, all while keeping his emotions at a distance. But when a woman unexpectedly catches his eye, she challenges his detachment, making him question if he can really keep his heart locked away.

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The lights flash, the music thunders, and the energy of the party pulses all around me. I move through the crowd, people brushing against me, calling out my name, their excitement like an electric charge. It's all the same. I've been to enough of these parties to know how it goes. Women flirt, touch my arm, and shoot their best smiles my way. I know what they want, and I know how to give it to them without ever giving them anything real. I lean against the wall, holding a cold beer, the condensation running down the side. I take a sip, letting the bitter taste wash over my tongue, and glance around the room. My bandmates are somewhere in the mix, probably doing things they'll regret in the morning. Not me. I don't care much about my reputation; I thrive on it. But I also know that keeping it clean, at least somewhat, is part of the deal.

Dancing and laughter fill the air, and I can't help but notice the way some women look at me, their eyes sparkling with mischief. I play along, throwing out charming smiles, leaning in closer when they flirt. Most people are eager to fawn over me, to indulge in the whole rockstar fantasy. I know the game; I can play it well. A few laughs, a little teasing, and I always leave them wanting more. But I know I won't let it go anywhere. Nothing ever goes deep.But then I see her. She's out on the balcony, standing alone, staring out into the night like she couldn't care less about the chaos inside. No one's around her. She's not trying to get my attention, not doing anything to stand out. She's just... there.

I take another sip of my drink, curious. There's something about the way she holds herself—calm, collected, like she's not part of all this. Like she doesn't need to be. Most people at these parties are dying to be seen, to be noticed, but not her. I walk over, sliding past the last of the admirers hanging on my every move. I lean against the railing next to her, the cool night breeze hitting my skin, cutting through the heat of the party. "You're too calm for a party like this," I say, my voice smooth, like always. She doesn't even look at me at first. Her eyes stay on the sky, and for a second, I wonder if she's going to ignore me. But then she turns her head, and her gaze meets mine—steady, cool. "And you're too used to people fawning over you," she replies, her tone flat, like it's just a fact.

That catches me off guard. Most people are quick to flatter, to feed into the whole rockstar thing. Not her. She's not playing the game."What makes you think that?" I ask, leaning in a little closer, testing the waters. She finally glances back inside, at the crowd, at all the people who are still watching me. "It's obvious," she says, shrugging. "You've got the eyes of an angel." She pauses, and I can see the flicker of something deeper in her gaze. "But your heart? I bet it's cold." With that, she rests her hand over my heart, her fingers warm against my skin. For a second, I don't say anything. Her words hit harder than I expect, cutting right through the front I've perfected over the years. She's seeing me, seeing through the charm, and that's not something I'm used to. I smile, slipping back into the role I know best. "I think you've got me all wrong," I say, that easy confidence creeping back into my voice.

But she doesn't fall for it. "Do I?" she asks, turning to face me fully now, her eyes locking with mine. "Or maybe you've just made it easy to see." I don't know why, but that cuts deeper than I want to admit. It's like she's seeing something in me that no one else has bothered to look for. Everyone else is content with the surface—the charm, the flirtations, the smooth lines. But her? She's looking for something real, and that's dangerous. I lean a little closer, lowering my voice. "So, is this what you see?" She smiles, but it's not the kind of smile I'm used to. It's not seductive, not teasing—it's knowing. "I see someone who's too good at making people fall for something that isn't real."

Her words hang in the air between us, and for the first time in a long time, I feel exposed. The women I flirt with don't care about anything deeper; they're just looking for a taste of the rockstar life. They want the thrill, the moment, but nothing that lingers. I've built walls for a reason, and I'm not about to let someone like her in. We talk more, and it's not like the usual conversations I have at these parties. She doesn't care about my fame, doesn't care about the band or the lifestyle. She talks to me like I'm just another person, not Nathan Steele, rock star. And for some reason, I like it. It feels... real.

The night drags on, the music and laughter swirling around us, but I keep stealing glances at her. There's something about her that pulls me in, makes me want to break my own rules. I know I shouldn't, but the temptation is too strong. "Come on," I say suddenly, catching her off guard. "Let's get out of here." Her brows raise slightly, and a hint of a smile plays on her lips. "Where to?" I nod toward a door leading into the darkened hallway. "There's a bathroom down the hall. I promise it's not as gross as it sounds." She chuckles, but I can see the curiosity in her eyes. "And what exactly do you have in mind?" I shrug, a smirk tugging at my lips. "You'll see."

I lead the way, glancing over my shoulder to see if she's following. I can feel the thrill coursing through me, the wild energy of the night mixing with something more intense. We slip into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind us, muffling the party sounds.I lean against the sink, my heart racing with the thrill of breaking the rules. She stands a few feet away, her expression a mix of amusement and challenge. "What now, rock star?" she teases, crossing her arms. I step closer, closing the distance between us. "Now, I show you how wild this life can be," I say, my voice low and playful. The tension in the air thickens, and I can see the flicker of interest in her eyes. I don't care about my reputation; I'm too far gone at the moment. We flirt, our voices low, the air electric around us.

But just as I lean in closer, the reality of who I am crashes back. I can't let it go too far. I lean back slightly, putting some space between us. "But just so you know, this isn't going anywhere," I say, holding her gaze steady. "I don't do deep." She raises an eyebrow, a challenge sparking in her eyes. "I wouldn't expect anything less." As the night starts to wind down and the party fades, I stand back, watching her. I can feel the familiar pull to reach out, to keep her here, but I don't. Old habits, I guess. Before she goes, she turns back to me, her eyes soft but knowing. "You wear the role well," she says, her voice quiet but sure. "But one day, your mask will slip, and someone will see the real you." She walks away, disappearing into the night, leaving me standing there, staring after her.

I should shrug it off, let it go like I always do. But something's different this time. Her words linger, echoing in my head. Your mask will fall, and someone will see the real you. I take a deep breath, looking out at the emptying party, the laughter and music fading. I catch sight of a few women glancing my way, ready for the next round of flirtation, and I can't help but smirk. They want a piece of me, a taste of the thrill. But deep down, I know none of it will ever go deep. They'll get the charm, the laughs, and maybe a wild night, but nothing more. But for tonight, I'm still the same. Charming, cold-hearted, and untouchable, always ready to play the game without ever letting anyone in.

At least... that's the person I am.