Metallica one shots and headcannons

A haunted mind- (Kirk Hammett one shot)

I sat down next to Kirk on the couch, trying to act like everything was fine, but my mind was already spiraling. He grinned at me, patting the seat beside him, clearly excited for the horror movie we had planned. But my stomach twisted with anxiety. The room was dim, the TV screen casting eerie shadows on the walls, and it felt like the shadows were growing, closing in.

He clicked play, and the opening credits rolled across the screen, the chilling music creeping into my mind. It wasn't the movie itself that had me on edge—it was everything else. The house felt too quiet, the kind of silence that makes you aware of every little creak and groan the walls make. I kept glancing at the windows, at the hallway, at the dark corners of the room. Every inch felt too still, too empty, like something—or someone—was lurking just out of sight.

I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat wouldn't go away. "I think I'll go get a drink," I said, standing up too quickly. My heart was racing, but I didn't want to stay here, not with all those thoughts crowding in. I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen if I stayed too still for too long.

Kirk gave me a strange look. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, trying to force a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thirsty."

He didn't seem convinced but didn't stop me. As I walked to the kitchen, the house felt even larger in the silence. Every creak of the floorboards under my feet felt like a warning. The kitchen light was too bright, making the shadows even darker once I stepped into the living room again. The door was closed, the window was shut, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching me from the other side of that glass. My chest tightened, and I quickly turned my back to the window.

I had to get away. I had to get back to Kirk. But every time I stepped further into the house, the air felt heavier. Every reflection in the windows, every shadow seemed to grow bigger, and the thought of being alone in the dark hallway made my skin crawl. My mind wouldn't stop. What if someone was out there, just waiting for me to turn my back? What if they were already inside, watching from the shadows?

I turned back toward the living room, trying to calm my breathing, but it was hard. My hands were shaking as I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, even though I wasn't thirsty. I just needed something to hold, something to keep my hands busy.

And then Kirk was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me. His brow furrowed. "Hey, everything okay?"

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. My breath caught in my throat. I didn't know how to explain what was happening in my head. The racing thoughts. The panic. The way the windows seemed to be closing in on me.

"Yeah," I forced out, though it didn't feel real. "I'm fine."

But the way he looked at me told me he didn't believe it. "No, you're not. What's going on?"

I sighed, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "I—I just... I don't think I can watch this." I gestured to the living room, but I couldn't make myself meet his eyes. "I can't. I keep thinking someone's going to break in, or that... that something's watching us from outside the window, or..."

I trailed off, unable to put the rest of it into words. It felt so stupid. It felt so insane—but it was there, pressing down on my chest, a constant weight.

Kirk took a few steps toward me, his voice soft but firm. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe. No one's breaking in. No one's out there."

But even his words didn't feel like enough to chase the shadows away. "I can't even go to the bathroom alone," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I just feel like... like if I turn my back for a second, something's going to happen."

Kirk's eyes softened, and before I knew it, he was pulling me into his arms. I buried my face in his chest, my breath shaky. "You're not alone," he said, his voice calm and steady, as though trying to anchor me to the present. "I'm right here. No one's getting in."

I felt his arms tighten around me, and for a moment, the racing thoughts slowed down. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at me. "We don't have to watch the movie. You don't have to be alone in this. Let's just hang out, okay?"

I nodded, still feeling fragile but somehow lighter with him there, with him reassuring me. "But the movie..." I hesitated.

"Forget the movie," he said gently. "Your peace of mind matters more. We'll turn on the lights, close the windows, lock the door. We'll be safe, together."

A breath I didn't realize I was holding escaped me, and I allowed myself to relax, just a little. He wasn't going anywhere. We didn't need the movie to have a good night. "Okay," I whispered. "Okay. Just... stay with me."

"Always," he replied, his arms pulling me closer as we sat back down on the couch. The TV sat idle, no movie playing, but it didn't matter. I wasn't alone. Not anymore.

But even as we sat together in the quiet, the fear didn't fully disappear. It was like a shadow that followed me, lingering just beyond the edges of my mind, always there, just waiting to slip back in. But in that moment, with Kirk beside me, I felt something stronger than the fear. His warmth. His reassurance. The knowledge that no matter what, I didn't have to face it alone.

I leaned into him, letting the silence comfort me. "Thank you," I whispered. "For staying. For understanding."

He kissed the top of my head softly. "There's nothing to thank me for. I'm here, and I always will be."

And for the first time that night, I allowed myself to believe him.