Megadeth X Reader - Blog Posts

NEW WRITER — CARINASPOKEIN’s Intro! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

if you see me writing something unhinged..no u didn’t.

Hi guys, my name is rina! You can call me rina, duh. Or R. I run on an unhealthy amount of Pearl Jam & Metallica. 💘

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ REQUESTS: OPEN (for now..) 🧁 Be polite! Be specific! ✮

Who I write for —

METALLICA

James Hetfield (my first love).

Kirk Hammett.

Jason Newsted.

MEGADETH

Dave Mustaine.

David Ellefson.

PEARL JAM

Eddie Vedder.

Stone Gossard. (my baby)

Jeff ament.

SOUNDGARDEN

Chris Cornell.

ALICE IN CHAINS

Jerry Cantrell.

Sean Kinney. (My baby daddy duh.)

Layne Staley.

Mike Inez. (my shy king)

PANTERA

Phil anselmo (your honor— I love him, I’m sorry. 🙁)

Dimebag Darrell

Anyone else, you can PROBABLY — just ask..but I’m not sure, yet. 💟

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

WHAT I WILL WRITE

— Smut, angst, fluff.

— kinks n’ stuff, depends on it. Just ask!

WHAT I WONT WRITE.

— I don’t do PUBLIC sex (like in a broom closet or some shit is fine) but PUBLIC PUBLIC— I mean.

— I don’t write ddlg, or any variations of that, neither will I write HUGE age gaps, or age regression/etc.

— I will NOT write stepcest. 🙈 sorry.

— I won’t write anything with real families, scat, shit, piss, extreme bdsm😭😭 im sorry I can’t get into it..💔. I will CNC/Non-con, maybe dub-con.

— SA, SH, necrophilia, & heavy gore n stuff I WILL NOT write. 💘

— im REALLYY not that strict. I AM a 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴..you just gotta lmk.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

I tag all content warnings so check b4 you read! If you don’t like what I post..just scroll💔. Don’t b a weirdo.

Now, go forth— & sin responsibly.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Don't summon the devil

Dave buys a book about witchcraft just for fun. Once he's really getting into it, he decides to put a spell on someone he despises only for it to actually work and strange things keep happening, scaring the shit out of him until one night he wakes up from a nightmare, shaking him to the core and resulting in a panic attack. You are there to take care of Dave, him promising to get rid of the book.

Dave Mustaine x Reader ☆ Angst, Horror, black magic, panic attacks, nightmares

Dave had always been interested when it came to anything supernatural. So when he stumbled upon a book about witchcraft at a yard sale, he thought it would be a fun little read to pass the time.

He walked into the apartment, a mischievous grin on his face as he held up the dusty old book he had purchased. "Check it out, babe! I bought a book about witchcraft!" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his purchase. "Witchcraft, Dave? Really? What are you planning to do with that?"

Dave shrugged, still grinning. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe cast a spell or two, summon a demon, you know, the usual stuff."

You rolled your eyes, not buying into his playful act. "Come on, Dave. You don't actually believe in that stuff, do you?"

Dave chuckled, flipping through the pages of the book. "Of course not! I just thought it would be fun to mess around with. Plus, who knows? Maybe we'll discover some cool spells or something."

You sighed, shaking your head. "Fine, have your fun. Just don't go summoning any demons into this house, okay?"

Dave laughed, placing the book on the coffee table. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. But hey, who knows? Maybe we'll have a little Halloween fun with this book."

But as he delved deeper into the book, he found himself fascinated by the spells and rituals described within its pages. The idea of having the power to change his reality with just a few words and ingredients was intoxicating.

One day, after a particularly bad encounter with a bouncer at a bar, Dave decided to put one of the spells to the test. He gathered the necessary items and recited the incantation, not really expecting anything to happen.

But to his shock, strange things started happening. The bouncer he had targeted had been arrested the next time Dave visited the bar and he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his newfound power.

However, as the days went by, the incidents became more and more bizarre and Dave couldn't believe what was happening. Objects would move on their own, strange shadows would flicker in the corners of his vision and Dave would hear whispers in the dead of night.

He had always been skeptical of magic and the supernatural despite being fascinated by the topic, but now he was faced with the undeniable proof that his spell and witchcraft had worked.

As you sat in the dimly lit apartment one night, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach. The bouncer's arrest had been just the beginning. Strange accidents seemed to follow Dave wherever he went.

One day, as he walked down the street, a car swerved out of control and narrowly missed hitting him. Another time, a tree branch fell from above, missing him by mere inches. Each time, Dave couldn't help but wonder if it was just a coincidence or if his work with witchcraft was somehow responsible.

He tried to convince himself that it was all in his head, that he was just being paranoid. But deep down, he knew that something was wrong. The power he had unleashed was beyond his control, and he didn't know how to stop it.

As the incidents grew more frequent and more terrifying, Dave knew he had to do something. He gathered the necessary items once again and tried to reverse the spell, but it was too late. The darkness had already taken hold.

One fateful night, Dave lay in bed, paralyzed with fear, a dark figure materialized at the foot of his bed. Its eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and its voice echoed in Dave's mind like a sinister whisper.

"You have meddled in things you do not understand, mortal," the figure hissed. "Now, you will pay the price for your arrogance."

Dave felt a surge of terror wash over him as the figure reached out a hand towards him, its touch like ice against his skin. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst.

"Dave!" He felt the hand grab him, he woke up screaming in terror and shot up in bed, gasping for breath, feeling like the walls were closing in on him before his eyes found yours, you being the one who held onto his arm with a fearful look on your face. "Y/N..." Dave gasped, his voice trembling.

"Hey, it's me...it was just a nightmare." Dave's eyes darted around wildly as if searching for something. He slowly came back to his senses but his heart raced and his skin felt clammy with sweat. He turned to face you.

"I... I had the worst dream," Dave stammered, trying to catch his breath. "It felt so real."

"Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to get these things off your chest." You gently brushed a red lock from his forehead, your touch attempting to ground him.

Dave took a deep shuddering breath before whispering. "I should have never bought that book and got into black magic. These evil forces will even hunt me in my dreams..."

You reached out for his clammy hand. "Hey don't say that. I'm sure there must be a way to stop all this..."

Dave's hand trembled in your small one as he spoke, struggling to keep his words steady. "I...I thought so, too, but it's getting worse every day. Whatever spirits I unleashed, they're powerful. I don't know what to do..."

You could hear the crack in his voice at the last sentence before Dave looks away to avoid your eyes and hold back tears of desperation.

He clenched his jaw, fighting back a wave of despair. In a broken whisper, his true vulnerability slipped out. "I'm scared... I can't even sleep properly. The nightmares are relentless, and the fear just claws at me every waking moment. I feel like I'm losing control. What did I do?"

You watched your boyfriend with great concern until Dave found the courage to look at you, eyes watering, daring to spill over.

The tears finally escaped, rolling down his cheeks. In a quivering voice, he admitted his guilt. "I should've known better! I just wanted to explore what's possible. But I was a fool, and now it's tearing me apart from the inside out. I don't know how to make it stop..."

Your heart broke at the sight of Dave, realizing how serious the whole situation was. "Hey, baby...come here. We're gonna find a way out of this." You carefully wrapped your arms around him and just let him sob into your shoulder, tears streaming down his face.

His body clung to you as if you were the only thing keeping him from drowning in his despair. "I just want it to stop... I'll do anything... I can't live like this, I can't..."

"It's gonna be alright, I promise..." You held him tight and just listened to him cry, feeling how tense he was before his body started to shake in your arms as Dave quietly choked on his tears.

Dave could barely catch his breath between sobs, the weight of his fear and exhaustion crashing down on him. His words came out in disjointed fragments, raw with emotion. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have messed with things I didn't understand... I thought I was strong enough...that I could control it...but I was so wrong—"

"Dave, baby, breathe." You let go of him to clutch onto his hands, realizing Dave's cries turning into a panic attack, his chest heaving as tears streamed down his face. You could see the fear in his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Dave, it's okay. You're going to be okay," You said, trying to calm him down. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe," he gasped, his shoulders shaking.

"Yes you can. Look at me, focus on your breathing, baby. In and out, slowly," You instructed, holding onto his hands tightly as you tried to help him regulate his breath.

"I can't!" he repeated, his voice trembling.

"You can, Dave. You're strong, you can get through this," You reassured him, your heart racing with worry.

Dave tried to follow your instruction, struggling to regain control of his panicked breathing. His breaths were shallow and ragged as he fought unsuccessfully against each subsequent sob. He forced himself to speak, the words coming in halting gasps.

"I-I'm trying... I just can't..."

You could feel the anxiety and worry wash over you as you watched Dave struggle and reached out to take his face into your hands, staring into his tearing eyes. "Dave, baby, please breathe. We'll get through this, I'm here. Breathe with me, in and out."

Dave's eyes locked onto yours, finding a brief moment of clarity. His breaths were still shaky as he struggled to match yours, the sheer effort of focusing on something so simple proving difficult under the weight of his anxiety.

"I-I'm trying..." He tried to match your breathing, but it was still ragged and irregular, the fear and despair making it difficult to keep a steady rhythm. But bit by bit, he managed to slowly draw deeper, more stable breaths.

Dave's breathing slowly begun to steady under your calm, steady pace. His shoulders slumped slightly in relief as he finally felt his heart rate began to calm.

He nodded shakily, his words coming out in broken spurts between deep, steadying breaths.

"You got this. Just like that." A small and relieved smile crept onto your face as you saw him calm down slowly before you wrapped your arms around his exhausted body.

Dave's body slumped against you, the exhaustion suddenly hitting him hard. He clung to you tightly, his head resting heavily on your shoulder. He didn't speak for a long while, just focused on his breathing and the soothing comfort of your embrace.

The fear and despair haven't disappeared, but the overwhelming panic seemed to have subsided, leaving him feeling wrung out and emotionally drained. "Fuck, what was that?"

You soothingly rubbed his back as you answered. "You just had a panic attack." Dave nodded weakly, the reality of what just happened slowly sinking in. When he found his voice again, it was quiet and filled with embarrassment.

"I've never had one like that before..." He let out a shaky sigh, burying his face further into your shoulder. "I feel like such a mess."

As you cradled Dave, you stroked his hair soothingly, whispering reassurances meant to calm his racing heart. The warmth of your embrace seeped into his bones, gradually easing the tremors wracking his body.

"You're not a mess, Dave," you murmured gently, your breath tickling his ear. "Panic attacks can be terrifying and overwhelming, especially when they happen for the first time. But you're safe now, and I'm right here with you."

You pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, your own eyes shining with empathy and understanding. "There's no need to feel embarrassed. This wasn't your fault, anxiety and panic have their own way of taking over sometimes."

Dave's cheeks flushed with gratitude as he looked up at you, his fingers curling around yours instinctively. In that moment, the weight of his anxiety lifted, replaced by a profound sense of comfort and security in your presence.

"How do I stop what I started? There has to be a way." Dave whispered, desperate for an answer to his actions with black magic and the book he brought into his life.

"You need to get rid of that book. Maybe burn it, I don't know. We can ask your sister for help maybe, she's got experience with the occult."

The color drained from Dave's face as he considered your suggestion. The idea of confronting his sister about his dark misdeeds filled him with dread, but he knew deep down, that she may be their only hope to fix this.

He exhaled heavily, shoulders slumping in resignation."You're right. As much as I hate to admit it, she might be the only one who can help us undo the damage I've caused."

Tentatively, he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your cheek. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this mess I created. You deserve better than being dragged into my twisted mistakes." You placed your hand over Dave's, holding it firmly against your skin.

"Hey don't apologize for what you can't change. We'll find a way, I promise." You said as you stared at each other, seeing the relief and gratitude on Dave's face.

The next day, you wasted no time in reaching out to his sister. She was surprised to see both Dave and you at her doorstep, but once you explained the situation and asked for help, she was determined to offer her assistance.

After looking in her books, she requested a returning spell to fight off dark spirits. Dave and you exchanged nervous glances, but you both knew that you had to do whatever it took to help him find peace. You agreed to try the spell, no matter how crazy or scary it seemed.

In a blinding flash of light, the spell was cast. You held your breath, waiting to see if it had worked. Slowly, the darkness that had been haunting Dave began to recede.

A sense of peace washed over him as you stood there, bathed in the warm glow of the candles before you finished the ritual by burning the book that brought dark clouds over Dave's life.

The darkness may have tried to consume Dave, but with your help, he's found a way out. And as you throw your arms around him to hold him close, you know that you'll always be there to guide him, to keep him safe from the shadows that lurk in the corners of his mind.

I'LL GET EVEN, dave mustaine.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing; modern!dave mustaine x fem!reader

summary; dave is angry at a producer and comes home, just wanting to see you. you have other plans, deciding to join in on a couple tiktok trend—he doesn’t find it as funny as you do.

warnings; very fluffy, modern era but with 1980s dave, slight cussing, no use of y/n, mentions of toxic masculinity, dave gets butthurt, tough boy isn’t so tough anymore. if im missing anything else let me know!

word count; 750

requests open, not proofread, based on this ask.

You never thought you’d see the day when Dave Mustaine—the snarling, sharp-tongued leader of Megadeth, the same man who wrote lyrics about death and betrayal—would be curled up in your arms like an overgrown cat. But here he was, his spiralling, copper curls a mess against your chest, his breath warm against your collarbone, completely unaware that he was currently being recorded, despite your quiet, hushed giggles that left your soft lips. He was so fucking tired he didn't even think anything of it: his first mistake.

It had started out as an innocent cuddle session. He’d come home after hours in the studio, grumbling about producers who didn’t “get” his sound, and immediately toppled onto you like a weighted blanket. You knew better than to say anything at first—Dave was a like cat in human form; if you pointed out that he was being affectionate, he’d immediately "hiss" and pretend he wasn’t. So you just let him rest, lazily running your fingers through his hair while his arm draped possessively over your waist, his strong, calloused thumb stroking the hem of your pants.

That’s when the idea struck.

With your phone angled just right, you hit record, keeping your voice soft, teasing. This will fucking get him. You knew he wasn't active on social media, let alone TikTok. And you loved your pranks—rather, you loved to push your boyfriend’s buttons.

“Who's my good boy?” you cooed, fingers tracing light patterns on his back.

A sleepy mumble; “...Me.”

Your grin nearly split your face into two. Got him.

“Yeah? My bestest boy?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, nuzzling closer into your warm neck.

You held back a laugh, heart melting at how completely relaxed he was. This was the Dave most people didn’t get to see—the one who craved softness, who would willingly tangle his limbs with yours just to feel safe for a while. The one that just yearned for intimacy and love, and admiration. Even if he didn't admit it. His gentleness with you proved it right—despite what the people had to say in the media. It was all bullshit.

Then, as if some internal alarm sounded, his whole body suddenly stiffened against you. Uh-oh…

“Wait,” he muttered. You felt the pause; the slow, tired wheels turning in his brain. He lifted his head slightly, hazel eyes squinting in suspicion. “The fuck did you just say?”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle. “I said, ‘Who’s my good boy?’”

His brows furrowed. Then his eyes flickered to your hand—manicured nails clasped around your phone. His domestic, exhausted eyes met his own within your phone. What the fuck was wrong with you—on every level. Mentally, emotionally, physically—hell, spiritually. You don’t do that shit to thee Dave Mustaine!

“…Are you recording this?”

“Maybe.”

Dave shot up faster than a rocket and you barely had time to react before his tall frame was towering over you, his expression caught somewhere between betrayal and damage control. No, no, no, no—fuck no!

“Delete it.” His voice was gruff now, like you’d just walked in on him playing with kittens and he was scrambling to reassert dominance. He had an image to uphold—both with the fans and you. “Right fucking now.”

You pouted. “But you were soooo cute.”

"I’m not cute,” he grumbled, already crawling back into his toxic masculinity shell. He ran a hand through his thick golden hair, shoulders straightening, jaw clenching. “I’m fucking dangerous."

You tilted your head, still recording. Your phone shook as you held back a laugh. “Oh? Who’s my big, strong, dangerous boy?”

A muscle twitched in his cheek as a vein popped in his forehead. Dave pointed at your phone. “I swear to God—”

But before he could finish, you gave him the look. The one that said, I’ll stop recording if you just play along for two more seconds, pretty, pretty please sweetheart.

Dave groaned, rubbing his face. You could tell he was so done with your antics. And then, with the deepest, most reluctant sigh you'd probably had ever heard from his lips, he muttered under his breath:

“…Me.”

You burst out laughing, nearly dropping your phone in the process—but you relentlessly gripped it for dear life. Gotcha!

Dave, realizing what he just did, let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a feral growl before launching himself at you, trying to snatch your phone from your iron grip.

“You’re fucking dead,” he grumbled, burying his face in your neck, but the warmth of his arms tightening around you told you otherwise. Dave even shocked himself sometimes, it's like his heart reacts before his head. The little things made him realize that he truly was infatuated with you. Inside and out, no matter how cruel you may be. You took to him when no one else did.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mind being your "good" boy after all.

© lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved.

Helloo, how are you? :)

I wanted to ask you if you can write something random that i just saw in tiktok haha please if you want

idk if you saw those videos where a girl is recording her boyfriend being a soft baby like "who's my good boy?" and he says "me", and they're cuddling and she's babying and praising him without him knowing and when he notices he gets all manly again lmao

i wanted you to write that with Dave Mustaine. like 80s Dave but at the present time

sorry for my bad english. i hope you can write it. thanks!! <3

p.s: i love your writing, you're so funny🤧

THANK YOU SM!!!!! love you. anyway, here’s the fic, i hope it’s alright! i whipped it up in a hour instead of doing my reflection papers.

LOVED TO DETH, dave mustaine.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing; dave mustaine x fem!reader

summary; a very fatigued dave mustaine finally gets home after a very lengthy megadeth tour and all he wants to be is with you but you have other plans.

warnings; veryy fluffy, 1990s/countdown to extinction dave, slight cussing, no use of y/n, vague mention of drowning (unserious), bathing(??), dave is so fucking clingy you’d have to pry him off with a crowbar, & dave is really smelly. if im missing anything else let me know!

word count; 1.4k

requests open, not proofread, based on this ask.

Dave couldn't be happier to be back home. It felt like he aged twenty years on the road. Don't get his words twisted, he loved what he did. He was eternally grateful that he was able to make a living off of what he loved most. Well, maybe not most. But he really couldn't figure out an ethical way to make money off of doing you—so the music would have to do. 

Three years ago Dave would have never dreamt that he could be in a healthy, loving relationship that wasn’t all about lust. Sure, he had great times with other girlfriends, but the lack of stability and his ever-growing dependency on various drugs truly put the nail in the coffin for anything he had going for him. And he was tough according to the press, anyhow. Rude, rough, abrasive, an asshole; all adjectives used to describe Dave. And none that could describe you.

Your pure love and innocence were sweet enough to rot all of his teeth out. The way you smiled at him—the skin around your eyes would crinkle as they dazzled in the light that guided him to sanctuary. The way your voice was ever so smooth and gentle whenever you spoke to him, almost like you were cooing at a child was like a melody to his ears he never grew tired of. The way your lips were so soft and inviting when you’d pout when you were mad at him. The way you cared for him like nobody ever had before—cooking his meals, ironing his clothes, cleaning the house—the whole nine yards.

A younger Dave would’ve gagged at the thought that he had fallen into a routine with someone that was so.. mundane and domestic. He was Dave Mustaine for God’s sake!

Yet, fate had different plans.

You had spent all day cleaning up the house and doing laundry that you had forgotten all about Dave coming home today. Not that you’d necessarily forgotten, but you had collapsed in Dave’s armchair in the living room. That was a problem. He forbade you from sitting in his chair when he was home, something about not wanting to wear out the cushion. However, you couldn't help but nestle into a little ball in it. It was so comfortable and soft, and it smelt just like him. It smelt just like home.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” A soft chuckle from above stirred you out of your sleep. For a second you believed you hallucinated his voice. Maybe your sleepy eyes deceived you as they landed on the tall ginger standing before you. The moment his eyes met yours, the slight furrow of his brow faded away and it felt like his hard, deep hazel eyes softened just for a moment.

“Hi,” you breathed out with a smile, looking up at him as his hands rested on your cheeks, calloused palms gently pressed down on your soft skin. “You’re home..,” It was almost adorable how endearing your tone of voice was whenever you spoke—like you missed him. And you truly did.

“I’m home.”

The subtle submission and admiration he had for you made your heart flutter in your chest and your stomach flip and churn as you giggled at him. I mean, who else gets to see Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine all domestic and loving like this? You wanted to take a photo of this moment and frame it in the Louvre—No. You wanted to keep this moment to yourself forever. Your special secret.

“I’ve missed you, so much..,” Dave hushed tiredly, but the gleam in his eyes only lightened up, his smile widening so far that his cheeks ached. His hands scaled down your face to reach your arms as he clutched your palms. His grip was firm but gentle—as if he were to let go you’d vanish.

“I think you’ve got it the other way around, honey. C’mere,” you beckoned him to lay beside you in the armchair. He immediately complied, snuggling up protectively to your side. Dave wrapped his girthy arm over your shoulder while his other arm rested on your thigh, hands playing with the hem of your shirt innocently.

A small, gentle laugh left his lips. Dave just couldn’t help but feel so joyful around you, the love blooming in his chest just made him want to jump up and down with you in his arms and squeeze you til you turned blue. You were the light of his life that shined bright, even in his darkest hour. His sin, his soul. He was undoubtedly and unconditionally in love with you.

Suddenly, his eyes shot up as your head recoiled back, your cute nose scrunching up in disgust and your lips pursing.

“My God Dave. When was the last time you showered? You smell terrible!”

“Uhh… Well..,” Dave awkwardly cleared his throat and chuckled. There goes sappy, sentimental Dave, I guess. To be frank—he hated it when he got that way. It made him feel so weak and vulnerable.

You quickly scrambled out of his lap, walking away to your shared bedroom. He watched your frame trudge up the stairs, the way your legs swished back and forth. Dave half considered jogging up to catch up with you, but he was honestly too exhausted. The road took a lot of energy out of him and the last thing he needed was a stupid argument the moment he went inside his own house.

Then the bedroom door slammed shut. Seriously?

He waited a minute for you to come down. Maybe you had to use the bathroom. He knew you hated the downstairs one. He knew everything. Then he waited two. Dave yawned sleepily and with a dramatic huff, he stood up from the chair.

Only when he arrived upstairs into your shared bedroom he could hear the light whispering of water running, but no lights seemed to creep from under the door. Oh God, were you drowning yourself because he stunk that badly?!

Dave slowly crept the door open, peeking into the bathroom. His hazel eyes adjusted to the darkness—the only light being a few vanilla candles surrounding the bathtub that you had placed down previously. Your “spa day” candles, as you say. Two towels lay on the counter—one for his hair and the other for his body.

“Did I really smell that bad—?”

“No. It's your spa day, babe. Now I want you to lie down and relax, okay?”

Dave chuckled and sent you one of his iconic smirks you often saw on his band’s posters, “If you wanted me naked you could’ve just asked—”

“Mustaine. Bath. Now.”

How could he argue with such a pretty face?

The next morning, you could hear birds chirping outside, a domestic tune that often greeted you in the morning, a natural alarm clock. Your face scrunches up as the sun’s blinding rays peeked from the curtains. You roll over with a groan, eyes still shut as your hand feels around the side of the bed for your (now clean) companion. Instead, you were greeted with coldness.

The door to your bedroom gently opened and your eyes slowly adjusted to the sight before you, blinking ever so often. A ginger figure approached you, holding out a TV tray with a hot plate of chocolate chip pancakes and sizzling crispy bacon. Wait—what?

“Good morning… I thought I'd make you a little treat since you were—y’know, nice, Yesterday..,” Dave’s voice came out in a mumble and if it weren't for having a visual before you, you would’ve thought it was a little schoolboy this. His cheeks flushed a soft red, almost rivalling the color of the messy locks that framed his face. He looked ethereal. A Greek God, if you will.

His large, calloused hands carefully placed the tray on your lap, careful not to spill a single drop of syrup on your lap. Dave’s sharp eyes scanned the meal before he noticed the lack of a drink on your tray. Goddamnit!

“Damnit, I forgot your orange juice. Stay here,” Dave demanded and pointed a stern finger at you. His brows furrowed in concentration: the man was on a mission.

And right there, on that random Tuesday morning, with the sun in your eyes and the hot pancakes melting the butter Dave scraped on top, the (not so) quiet banging of unfamiliar cabinets opening and shutting in the kitchen, you knew that you had made it in life.

a/n; i had so much fun writing this! please give me feedback, this is my first fanfiction LOL.

© lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved.

rules & writing list.

hiya everyone! I just wanted to post some rules & general guidelines for my blog. i want you all to enjoy my work. if you are ever confused if a certain request is against my rules, don't be afraid to ask! i also upload my chapter(s) long fics on wattpad & AO3, which are linked below.

wattpad pinned AO3

✬ my most recent work; n/a.

✬ currently working on; n/a.

✬ my request box is currently; open.

✬ i am partial to writing smut, i can and will deny your request if i think i cannot write it properly or if it's illegal, non-con, unethical, etc.

✬ i do not write ship fics (character x character.)

✬ please do not spam my inbox with your request, i'll get to it as soon as possible!

i currently write for;

✧ twist and shout! the beatles

john lennon. paul mccartney. george harrison.

✧ used to love her... guns n' roses

axl rose. slash. duff mckagan. izzy stradlin.

✧ girls, girls, girls! mötley crüe

vince neil. nikki sixx. tommy lee.

✧ a tout le monde… megadeth

dave mustaine. david ellefson. nick menza.

✧ whiskey in the jar! metallica

james hetfield. kirk hammett. lars ulrich. cliff burton. jason newsted.

✧ we're fated to pretend… musicians

chris cornell. tracii guns. kelly nickels. robert plant. jimmy page. mick jagger. brian jones. kurt cobain. dave grohl. alex turner. johnny marr. jeff buckley. elvis presley.

if there is a musician you dont see on here, thats fine! shoot me a request and i can probably write something. don’t be afraid to request.

thank you all! lots of love, © lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved. 💋