Metallica one shots and headcannons

Tangled up in trouble-(Dave Mustaine one shot)

It all started with a look.

Dave had been giving me that maddeningly smug grin all day—the one that made my stomach flutter no matter how long we'd been together. It started during dinner, where he kept brushing his knee against mine under the table, and it only escalated as we cleaned up. His hand lingered on my waist a second too long; his lips brushed the shell of my ear when he whispered, "Need help?"

By the time we finally crawled into bed, I was done playing coy.

"Do you always have to be such a menace?" I teased as I slipped under the covers.

Dave smirked, climbing in after me and pulling me close. "You love it."

"Do I?"

He didn't answer with words, just a kiss that stole my breath. His hands roamed my body, sliding under my shirt to find bare skin. I sighed, melting into him as his lips trailed down my neck.

"Been thinking about this all day," he murmured against my skin.

I laughed softly, tangling my fingers in his hair. "Between all the chaos with the kids?"

"All of it," he said, his voice low and heated.

His kisses grew more insistent, his hands working with a practiced ease to tug my shirt off, followed by the rest of my clothes. He hovered over me, his gaze dark with affection and desire.

"You're perfect," he whispered, his lips brushing against mine.

I arched into him, breathless as his touch ignited every nerve ending. "Less talking, more action," I managed to gasp.

He chuckled but obeyed, trailing kisses down my body as his hands coaxed soft moans from my lips. Every movement was deliberate, his focus solely on me, and it wasn't long before I was trembling beneath him, his name spilling from my lips like a prayer.

When he kissed his way back up, his grin was both tender and smug. "You okay?"

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't hide the smile tugging at my lips. "You're insufferable."

"And you love it," he repeated, leaning down for another kiss.

But just as things were heating up again, the door creaked open.

"Mom? Dad?"

The sound of her voice was like a bucket of cold water.

Dave froze, his head snapping toward the door like a deer caught in headlights. I barely had time to yank the blanket up to cover us before our six-year-old daughter shuffled into the room, clutching her stuffed bunny.

"What are you doing?" she asked, blinking sleepily.

"Uh—" My brain flatlined.

"Wrestling!" Dave blurted out, sitting up carefully to keep the blanket in place.

I turned to glare at him. Wrestling? That was the best he could come up with?

"Wrestling?" she repeated, tilting her head.

"Y-Yeah!" I said, nodding like a lunatic. "Daddy's really bad at it, so I was winning."

Dave shot me a look that screamed Are you serious?, but I ignored him.

Our daughter frowned, clutching her bunny tighter. "Why was Mommy saying your name like that?"

My face burned, and I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Dave cleared his throat, scrambling for an answer. "Uh... because I was losing! And, uh, begging for mercy!"

Her frown deepened. "Mommy sounded mad. Was she mad at you?"

"No!" I said quickly, laughing nervously. "Not mad. Just... frustrated! Because I was winning. Right, Dave?"

"Right," he agreed, nodding too quickly.

She looked between us, clearly skeptical, before sighing. "If you're not mad, why were you making all that noise?"

Dave's eyes went wide, and I buried my face in my hands, praying for the earth to swallow me whole.

"I—uh—we're just loud wrestlers!" Dave said, his voice a little too cheerful. "It's very competitive."

Our daughter stared at us for a moment longer before shrugging. "Okay. But you woke me up. Next time, wrestle quieter."

With that, she turned and padded back to her room, leaving the door wide open behind her.

The second she was out of sight, I collapsed onto the bed, covering my face with a groan.

"Loud wrestlers?" I repeated, my voice muffled by my hands.

"Hey, I panicked!" Dave shot back, flopping onto his back beside me.

"You panicked? You're the one who said we were wrestling! Who even says that?"

Dave grinned, turning to face me. "Well, it worked, didn't it?"

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn't stop the smile tugging at my lips. "We're never living this down."

"Definitely not." He pulled me into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. "But for the record, you were winning."

"Damn right I was."

As I nestled against him, I sighed, exhaustion creeping in. Parenthood had its challenges, and interruptions like this were just part of the chaos. But moments like this—messy, awkward, and hilarious—reminded me why I wouldn't trade our life for anything.

Next time, though, the door would be locked.