Metallica one shots and headcannons

Decorating with Metallica: Chaos Ensues🎄

When James Hetfield calls you at eight in the morning, it's rarely a good sign.

"Y/N! What's up?" he boomed, his voice far too energetic for the hour.

"What do you want, James?" I asked groggily, already suspicious.

"Why do you always assume I want something?"

"Because the last time you didn't want something, Lars ended up stuck in a snowbank while Kirk claimed the sled 'needed testing.'"

James burst out laughing. "Okay, fair. But this is different! We're decorating the house for Christmas. We need your expert touch."

"You're decorating? You, crazy, are decorating for Christmas? On purpose?"

"Yeah! Come on, it'll be fun. We've got everything: lights, ornaments, tinsel. It's gonna be killer. We just need you to tie it all together."

Against my better judgment, I agreed. Spoiler alert: I shouldn't have.

When I arrived, the scene was pure chaos.

Kirk was practically cocooned in a massive tangle of Christmas lights, Lars was rummaging through a box of decorations like a squirrel looking for nuts, Cliff was sitting cross-legged on the floor eating cookies, and James—James was holding a hammer. 

"Why do you have that?" I asked immediately, pointing at the hammer like it was a dangerous animal.

"Creative vision," James said, waving it around with glee."Please don't destroy the house," I pleaded.

"No promises!" he shot back, grinning like a mischievous kid.

I took a deep breath and rolled up my sleeves. "Alright, what's the plan?"

We started with the tree, which had potential until Lars declared that the traditional tree stand was "boring."

"I've got an idea!" he said, dragging an empty beer keg out of the corner.

"You're not serious..." I started, but it was already happening. They wedged the trunk into the keg, and Lars stepped back, arms outstretched like a proud sculptor.

"It's metal!" he declared.

"No, it's unstable," I corrected, watching the tree sway precariously. "This thing is one sneeze away from disaster."

Meanwhile, Kirk was valiantly trying to untangle the lights, though his progress was questionable. "It's like the lights don't want to cooperate," he muttered, twisting them into knots even tighter than before.

"Just throw them on the tree," James said, grabbing a handful of tinsel. "We'll make it work."

"Throw them?!" I protested. "You can't just—"

Too late. Kirk chucked the tangled ball of lights onto the tree in one go. "Ta-da!"