Metallica one shots and headcannons

Through the Storm, Together- (Cliff Burton one shot)

The summer evening was sticky with heat, the kind that made everything feel heavier than usual. I stood in the front yard, my fingers nervously fiddling with the strap of my leather jacket. Cliff was on his way over, and I could already feel the tension building in my chest. My family had never approved of him, but tonight was different. Tonight, they were going to meet him for the first time—and I had a bad feeling about it.

"You ready?" my mom asked as she stepped onto the porch, her voice tight with that disapproving tone I knew all too well. "He's really coming over, then?"

I nodded, trying to ignore the nervous knot in my stomach. "Yes, Mom. He's coming."

"Just remember, Y/N, we want to make sure this boy is right for you," she added, her voice softer now but still tinged with concern. "Boys in bands—they drink, they party, and they don't make good boyfriends. They're not serious."

I felt my heart race. I hated when she said things like that, like she didn't trust my judgment. Cliff wasn't like that. Sure, he liked a drink now and then, but he wasn't reckless. He wasn't some stereotypical guy in a band. But how could I explain that to my mom without her dismissing it as naïve idealism? I opened my mouth to defend him, but my dad's voice cut through the air from inside.

"Y/N, is that the doorbell?" His tone was sharp, impatient. I took a deep breath and walked inside, trying to calm myself.

When Cliff arrived, his black leather jacket and messy hair were exactly what I had expected. He grinned at me the moment he saw me, the same crooked smile that made my heart race every time.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted, his voice warm with affection as he pulled me into a hug.

I let out a breath, trying to hide the nervousness that I could feel creeping back. "Hey," I said quietly, trying not to show how jittery I was.

"Don't worry," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "We'll get through this. They'll love me."

I forced a smile. "I don't know, Cliff. My parents... they're not thrilled about us."

He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything else as we walked inside together. The moment we entered the living room, I could practically feel the tension radiating from my parents. My mom was sitting stiffly at the kitchen table, and my dad's gaze was unreadable.

"Cliff," my dad said curtly, nodding toward him without offering a handshake. "You're Y/N's boyfriend?"

Cliff met his eyes and nodded. "Yes, sir. It's nice to meet you."

My dad didn't seem convinced, but he gave a polite grunt in response. "So, what is it exactly that you do, Cliff?"

Cliff smiled slightly, hands in his pockets, clearly unbothered by my dad's coldness. "I'm the bassist in Metallica," he said simply.

My dad blinked, surprised. It was obvious he didn't expect that answer. "Metallica?" My mom repeated with a slight frown, her voice high with disbelief. "That... band?"

"Yes, ma'am," Cliff said with a soft chuckle. "We've been around for a while now. We've been working on getting some more gigs, but we're still pushing to get noticed."

I could feel my mom's judgment hanging in the air, but she kept it to herself for now. She exchanged a look with my dad, her lips pinched. My dad shifted in his seat, clearly still unsure of what to make of this.

"So, you're in a rock band," my dad said after a beat, his tone carefully neutral. "I guess that means you've got... a certain lifestyle?"

Cliff's eyes darkened a little, but his smile didn't falter. "I drink sometimes, sure. But I'm not out there getting crazy. I know how to control myself."

My mom raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "And what about your... reputation? All the touring? The girls?"

"I'm not like that," Cliff replied firmly, his voice steady. "I'm not some rockstar who's going to sleep around while I'm on the road. I'm here with Y/N because I care about her. That's the only thing that matters."

I could see my mom trying to hide her concerns, but it was obvious she wasn't buying it. She shifted in her seat, glancing over at me. "Y/N, you deserve someone who's serious about you. Not someone who's out living that... wild lifestyle."

"Cliff's not like that, Mom," I interjected quickly, my voice defensive. "I've known him for months, and he's been nothing but kind, respectful, and honest with me. He's not the person you're thinking of."

Cliff squeezed my hand under the table, offering me a reassuring smile. "I'm not going to hurt her. I care about her more than anything. I'm not perfect, but I'm real. And I'll always be here for her."

My dad raised an eyebrow, clearly still unsure. "And what happens when you're on tour?" he asked. "You think she's just going to wait around? Alone? You think this will last?"

Cliff didn't hesitate. "Yes," he said simply. "I'm not asking her to wait around, but I'm asking her to trust me. I'm not going to cheat on her, and I'm not going to drag her down with me. We're in this together, no matter where I go."

The room fell into a tense silence. My mom finally exhaled through her nose, still unconvinced but clearly realizing she wasn't going to win this argument. My dad's expression softened just a little, but I could see he still wasn't sure.

The dinner that followed was quiet, and while we all ate, the conversation didn't flow as easily as it should have. My parents seemed to be holding their judgments close, while Cliff remained steady, answering their questions calmly and with patience.

Later that evening, after we said our goodbyes and walked out the back door to avoid more awkward moments, I let out a long breath.

"That wasn't so bad," Cliff said with a grin, though I could tell he wasn't completely convinced.

I shrugged, trying to hide my frustration. "I don't know. They still think you're this... wild guy who doesn't care about me."

"They'll come around," he said confidently, pulling me closer. "They just don't see it yet. But you know what I'm about, Y/N. That's what matters."

I smiled, leaning into him. "Yeah, I do."

"You deserve someone who treats you right," he said, his voice softening. "And I promise, that's what I'll always do. No matter what."

I could feel the weight of my parents' judgment slowly lifting. It wasn't perfect, and maybe they still had doubts. But for the first time, I realized it didn't matter. Cliff was mine, and I was his, and nothing they said could change that.