Metallica one shots and headcannons

A night at the bar... (James Hetfield one shot)

The bar is alive with chatter, a mix of dim lighting and neon signs casting colorful glows across the room. It's packed, as usual for a Saturday night in the '90s. The faint smell of cigarette smoke hangs in the air, and I tap my fingers on the bar, waiting for the bartender to bring over the drinks.James and the guys-Kirk, Jason, and Lars, are a few feet away, laughing and exchanging stories over their beers. I catch glimpses of him glancing over at me with that charming smile of his, the one that always makes my heart skip a beat. But for now, he's engaged in whatever debate they're having, so I focus on getting the drinks back to our table.

Just as I'm about to collect them, someone slides onto the stool beside me. Instantly, the atmosphere around me shifts, and I can feel his eyes on me."You look lonely," the man says, his voice dripping with a sleazy undertone.I barely look at him. "I'm not."Ignoring the obvious cue, he leans closer, the smell of beer and cheap cologne wafting off him. "What's a pretty thing like you doing alone at the bar? Waiting for someone better?"

I take a breath, refusing to engage. "I'm here with my boyfriend," I say coolly, hoping that would be enough to shut him down."Boyfriend, huh?" he says, clearly not caring. He inches closer, his arm brushing mine. "He doesn't seem to care much about you if he's letting you sit here all alone. Why don't you let me take care of you tonight?"I stiffen, pulling my arm away. "I said no."

But he doesn't stop. "Don't be like that, sweetheart," he purrs, his fingers grazing the back of my hand as he speaks. "I can show you a real good time. Better than some guy who leaves you at the bar."Disgusted, I jerk my hand away and glare at him. "I told you to back off."His grin widens, as if he enjoys seeing me uncomfortable. "Feisty. I like that in a girl."

I push my stool back, trying to put some space between us. My heart is pounding now, my skin crawling at how relentless he is. I glance over at James, hoping he'll notice, but he's still engrossed in conversation.The man, sensing my discomfort, smirks. His hand moves toward my thigh, and I freeze for a moment, the shock of it making me unable to react right away. His fingers are just about to touch me when a familiar voice cuts through the noise."What the hell do you think you're doing?" James' voice is low, but there's no mistaking the anger in it.

Relief floods through me as I see him stepping up beside me, his eyes locked on the man beside me. James' face is a mix of calm fury, the kind that's even more terrifying because of how controlled it is. He stands tall, squaring his shoulders, and I can feel the tension radiating off him.The guy glances at James, clearly unimpressed. "What's your problem, man? Just talking to your girl. She didn't seem to mind."

James' jaw clenches, and his voice comes out dangerously quiet. "I saw exactly what you were doing. Now, get your hands off her before I break them. The guy laughs, a low, mocking sound, and doesn't move. "What, you gonna hit me? Over a little flirting?" "Flirting?" James' voice is ice cold. "You call grabbing my girlfriend flirting?"The guy shrugs, but the cocky smirk remains. "She wasn't complaining."

That's when James' fist flies through the air, connecting with the man's jaw so fast I barely have time to react. The sound of the punch echoes in the bar, cutting through the music and chatter. The guy stumbles backward, crashing into the stools behind him, knocking over glasses in the process.My heart races as the bar goes silent, all eyes turning to the scene. James steps back, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched at his sides, and the guy on the floor groans, clutching his face in shock.