Metallica one shots and headcannons

The beast's bride- (James Hetfield one shot)

Warnings: mature content, light tender and rough smut, mature language, smut

The village's tradition has always been clear: one maiden, chosen to be the bride of the forest beast. The stories I grew up with told me of his power, his wildness, the way the town would offer up a girl to keep the peace. The rumors that followed him were as thick as the forest he roamed. They spoke of his endless stamina, his insatiable desires, his wild, animalistic nature. And the women? They whispered that to be chosen was the highest honor—the chance to be married to a creature of legend.

But I never bought into those stories.

I've heard it all before. The girls sigh over the rumors, the older women smirk knowingly about the things they never tell you. But none of it fazes me. I didn't care about the so-called protection the beast offered the village, nor the supposed pleasures of being his wife. Those whispers? They seemed ridiculous to me. If he was a man at all, he was only driven by his own instincts, not by any idea of affection or connection. It was a story made to scare us, to keep us in line.

So imagine my surprise when, on the day the elders called for the selection, I—of all people—was chosen.

It wasn't supposed to be me. Not Y/N, the girl who rolled her eyes at every mention of the werewolf, who scoffed at the idea of marriage being some form of fate, who had always felt her future was her own to decide. But there I was, standing before James, the werewolf himself, as the villagers murmured and stared.

The moment he laid eyes on me, I knew something was different. He had heard my words—the ones I had said in jest to my friends. "The rumors about his stamina are ridiculous. Just a way to make girls swoon," I had said, laughing it off. "As if a man's pleasure should matter more than anything else."

It was no secret I didn't believe in the so-called allure of the beast. And when James heard me, he made his decision: I was the one he wanted. Not because of some twisted destiny, but because he wanted to show me.

He wanted me to see that the rumors were not just tales told around fires, that there was truth in them. And that truth would be shown to me, personally.

The wedding was quick, as expected. No grand feast, no dancing. The ceremony was just the two of us, a quiet exchange of vows in front of the village elder, and then we were bound. I didn't even have time to protest, to question the strange pull I felt towards him despite my resistance. It was all happening too fast. Before I knew it, James was my husband, and the villagers were watching, waiting to see what would unfold.

When we're finally alone, I feel the weight of the night bear down on me. The tension in the air is thick, the room strangely silent, save for the sound of my heartbeat.

James stands by the window, looking out at the forest, his silhouette casting a shadow that seems almost... predatory. His eyes flick to me, and the intensity in his gaze is enough to make me shiver.

"You're quiet," he says, his voice low and controlled. It's not an accusation, but more of an observation, one that makes the room feel even smaller, as if the space between us is electric.

I swallow, trying to gather my thoughts. "I don't understand why you chose me," I confess, my voice shaky. "There are others who wanted this. Who believed in all the stories about you, about what you could do. But I..." I hesitate. "I never believed them."