Metallica one shots and headcannons

Open wounds-(Kirk Hammett one shot)

"I've been thinking," Kirk said, his tone almost too casual. He leaned against the couch, his guitar resting beside him. "Maybe we should try an open relationship."

I froze, unsure if I'd heard him correctly. "What?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. "You know, it'd make things easier. No guilt if something happens on tour. And you'd have the same freedom."

Freedom? That's what he called it? My stomach twisted as the meaning sank in. I could already picture the groupies—backstage, in hotel rooms, on his lap—laughing and clinking drinks while I sat at home, trying to convince myself it didn't mean anything.

"You don't think this is going to hurt me?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

His brow furrowed, like he hadn't even considered it. "It's not like I love you any less," he added quickly, as if that made it better.

The betrayal stung, sharp and hot. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. "Fine," I said, my voice cold.

His face lit up with relief. "Really? Thanks for understanding. You're amazing."

I sat there, silent, as he kissed my forehead and disappeared to pack for the tour. The moment the door closed, I let the tears fall.

The first few months were agony. Every magazine rack was a minefield. There he was on the glossy covers, headlines like "Kirk Hammett's Wild Nights on Tour!" and "Metallica Guitarist Spotted With Mystery Blonde!" screaming at me. The photos were worse—his arms around some fan, laughing like he didn't have a care in the world.

It was humiliating. But after weeks of stewing, I came to a decision. If Kirk wanted an open relationship, it worked both ways. I wasn't going to sit at home playing the fool while he had all the fun.

The afterparty was packed, smoky, and loud. The energy was electric, the high from the night's show still buzzing through the room. Kirk was somewhere in the mix, but I wasn't there for him.

"Here, like this," Slash murmured, his gravelly voice close to my ear as he adjusted my fingers on his guitar. He was perched on a couch, and I was sitting sideways on his lap, my legs draped casually over his.

"Am I getting it?" I asked, letting my voice sound light and teasing.

"You're a quick learner," he said with a grin, his fingers brushing mine as he helped me form the chords. "Maybe I'll write you a song someday."

I laughed, tossing my hair over my shoulder. That's when I saw Kirk.

He stood in the doorway, drink in hand, his dark eyes locked on me. His expression shifted—from confusion, to anger, to something more vulnerable.

"Having fun?" he asked, his voice sharp as he walked toward us.

I looked up, feigning surprise. "Oh, hey, Kirk. Didn't see you there."

"What's going on here?"

Slash leaned back, his smirk as relaxed as ever. "Just teaching her a few chords. She's got talent."

Kirk's jaw clenched. "You're sitting on his lap."

"And?" I asked, standing up and handing the guitar back to Slash, who gave me a playful wink. "This is what you wanted, remember?"

"That's not—" he started, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, but it is," I said, crossing my arms. "You get to hook up with whoever you want, and so do I. Fair is fair, right?"

His face softened as the reality of his choices hit him. For the first time, I saw guilt in his eyes. "I didn't think..."

"No, you didn't," I interrupted, my voice sharp. "You didn't think about how much this would hurt me. About how humiliating it is to see you on magazine covers with some random woman. About how it would feel to be treated like I don't matter."

"I was selfish," he admitted, his voice low. "I thought I could handle it. I thought it'd be easy, but... seeing you with someone else—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I hate it. I hate that I made you feel this way. I'm sorry. I was wrong."

I raised an eyebrow, letting his words hang in the air. "You can't just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal, Kirk."

"I know," he said, stepping closer. "I'll do whatever it takes to fix this. I'll stop—everything. No more open relationships, no more groupies. I just want you."

For a moment, I stared at him, my emotions warring inside me. Anger, sadness, and a flicker of hope.

"You're going to have to prove it," I said finally, my voice softer. "No more taking me for granted."

"I will," he promised, his eyes steady on mine. "I'll prove it to you."

I gave him a small smile, brushing past him. "Good. Because Slash promised me a song, and I'd hate to miss out."

As I disappeared back into the crowd, I felt his eyes on me. For the first time in months, Kirk wasn't the carefree rockstar surrounded by adoring fans—he was just a man who finally understood what he stood to lose.