Metallica one shots and headcannons

The cowboy and the rose🌹(James Hetfield one shot)

Warnings: Soft smut, age gap, loss of virginity

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The summer air was thick with the scent of hay and wildflowers, a lazy breeze carrying the hum of cicadas across the ranch. I sat on the porch swing, the wooden slats creaking beneath me, as I watched James work in the fading light. There was something magnetic about the way he moved, his sun-kissed skin glistening under the weight of hard labor. My father had hired him months ago, but from the moment James set foot on our land, I knew he was trouble—the kind of trouble that pulled at me in ways I couldn't explain.

James wasn't like the other ranch hands. There was an air about him, a quiet confidence, the hint of a smirk beneath his dusty cowboy hat. He'd catch my eye now and then, his gaze lingering just long enough to make my heart race. It wasn't long before my father noticed the way I looked at him—and the way James looked at me.

"You stay away from that man, Y/N," my father had warned one evening, his voice firm as we sat around the dinner table. "He's not good for you. Too old, too wild. He'll bring nothing but heartache."

I didn't argue. There was no point when my father had made up his mind, but his words only fueled the fire inside me. James wasn't reckless; he was kind. He'd stop to help mend a fence or comfort a scared horse, his touch gentle despite the strength in his hands. And when he looked at me, I felt seen—not as the rancher's daughter, but as a woman.

We'd stolen moments where we could. A whispered conversation in the barn, our hands brushing as we worked side by side. Once, late at night, I'd snuck out to meet him by the river. He'd pulled me close under the stars, his arms wrapped around me as if to shield me from the world.

But my father's disapproval loomed over us like a storm cloud. He'd started keeping a closer eye on me, his sharp gaze following me wherever I went.That night, everything changed.

I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of my father's rules pressing down on me. Then I heard it—the soft tap of pebbles against my window. My heart leapt as I peered outside. There he was, James, standing in the moonlight, his truck parked at the edge of the property."Y/N," he whispered, his voice barely carrying through the night. "Come with me."

I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my boots and slipped out the window, my heart pounding as I crept across the yard. When I reached him, he took my hand, his grip firm but warm."Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.He looked at me, his dark eyes steady. "I've never been more sure of anything."

We drove to his small ranch house on the edge of town, the truck rumbling through the quiet night. When we arrived, he helped me out of the cab, his hand lingering on my waist. The house was modest, but it felt like a sanctuary. Inside, the scent of leather and cedar enveloped me, the warm glow of lamplight casting shadows on the walls.

James turned to me, his expression serious. "I know this is a lot," he said, his voice soft. "If you want to go back, I'll take you. But if you stay... I need you to know how much you mean to me."My breath caught in my throat as I stepped closer. "I'm not going anywhere."His lips met mine, the kiss slow and tender, as if he was savoring every moment. He led me to his bedroom, the simplicity of the space reflecting the man himself. There, in the quiet of the night, we came together for the first time.