Metallica one shots and headcannons

Notes from mon coeur❤🖋 (James Hetfield one shot)

I've never been good at saying what I feel. It's easier to let my actions speak, or, in my case, my words—but not the ones spoken out loud. It's the little notes I leave for him that say everything I can't. Each morning, before heading to work, I slip a small message into his jacket pocket or tuck one under his coffee mug—tiny reminders of how much I love him, of how often he's on my mind.Today, it was simple yet profound: "Je t'aime. Always." I felt a flutter in my chest as I wrote it, a warmth spreading through me at the thought of his smile when he found it. After leaving it for him, I rushed out the door, my mind already swirling with the chaos of the day ahead.

The hours crawled by at work, each minute ticking slowly as I tried to focus. I couldn't help but think about him—wondering if he'd found the note, what he was doing, if he felt even a little of what I felt. I never asked him about the notes; he never mentioned them. As the days turned into weeks, I began to doubt if he even noticed them at all. Maybe they didn't matter as much to him as they did to me.Finally, the clock struck five, and I was free. I felt the familiar exhaustion wash over me as I made my way home. The weight of the day hung heavily on my shoulders, and all I craved was the comfort of our shared space. The moment I stepped through the door, I kicked off my shoes and headed straight for the bedroom, barely stopping to acknowledge anything else.

But as I entered, something caught my eye. His nightstand drawer was slightly ajar, and a flicker of curiosity ignited within me. Had he actually taken the time to look through my notes? I approached it cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest.I pulled the drawer open wider and gasped. There they were—my notes. Every single one I had written for him, lovingly tucked away. Neatly folded and crumpled in places, they told the story of my heart. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I realized he hadn't just read them—he had cherished them. I had thought he didn't care, thought he hadn't even noticed. But here they were, living proof that my words had reached him.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around, and there he stood at the door, watching me with an expression that was a mix of surprise and tenderness. My heart raced as he crossed the room and enveloped me in his arms."I always read them," he whispered into my hair, his breath warm against my skin. "Every time I miss you, I take one out. Mostly when I fall asleep after you've already drifted off."I pressed my face against his chest, overwhelmed by a rush of emotion. "I didn't know. I thought you didn't care."He pulled back slightly, tilting my chin up so I could meet his gaze. I felt the warmth of fresh tears rolling down my cheeks, and he gently kissed them away, his lips brushing softly against my skin where the tears had fallen. "I care more than you know. I've always known what you meant, even when you don't say it out loud. I love you for every word you've given me."

As his words sank in, I couldn't help but cry harder, feeling a mixture of relief and gratitude. He pulled me close to him, his strong arms wrapping around me, and I could feel the warmth of his body against mine."I've kept every single one of your notes," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I keep them safe because they're a part of you, and I want you to know how much you mean to me. You've captured my heart in ways you can't imagine."Just before our lips touched, he cupped my cheeks, his thumb brushing gently across my skin, grounding me in the moment. When we finally kissed, it was slow and deep, one that seemed to echo all the unspoken things between us.

When we broke apart, I rested my forehead against his, feeling a sense of peace wash over me."I know I don't say it enough," I murmured, brushing away the tears that lingered on my cheeks. "But I mean every word I write. I just don't always know how to say it out loud."He smiled, his eyes softening as he brushed a thumb across my cheek. "I know. And that's why I'll keep every one of those notes for as long as I can."We climbed into bed together, the world outside falling away as I curled up beside him. I reached for one of the notes from his drawer, unfolding it carefully, my fingers trembling with anticipation. With a soft smile, I began reading it aloud to him. It was one of the first ones I'd ever written, and each word held a weight of affection and longing that still felt true today.

As my voice trailed off, he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer. The comfort of his embrace and the warmth of our shared moments enveloped me, and soon enough, we both drifted off to sleep, surrounded by my words—both spoken and written—lingering in the air between us.