Why Did Summer Pass So Quickly? I Don't Want Autumn, Please Don't. Eh

Homemade soap in the form of flamingos, with the scent of lemon and rose with bergamot

Every girl has a day when she has a choice, James Hatfield or Dave Mustaine

Friendly fight

Дай тг

In the profile description, I have already indicated inst

This is all my childhood

something like this situation between them recently came to my mind and I drew it

right

"There came when recording the album in New York that he (Lars Ulrich) though he was having heart palpitations. I'd tell him it's just stress. But at any given time in the morning, he'd come to my room at the hotel and say, "Hey man, can I sleep with you?" He though he was having a heart attack. He was afraid of sleeping alone. He'd crash on the couch but around mine, he'd wake me up by crawling into my bed. We'd sleep together. And we both sleep naked. - Naked? Kirk shrugged, "It's not a big issue. I've known the guy going on fourteen years. We're very open with each other."

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Well, hello friends! I was inspired by Kirk's words, so I made a whole animation based on them :D Yeah, I wouldn't say it's detailed, and it's partly done in a sketch style. But making this animation brought me pleasure, I hope no one will be mad at me for this! And I also love Mother Mother

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.

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