Metallica one shots and headcannons

Stay with me-(Dave Mustaine one shot)

It started like most nights did back then: music too loud, beer bottles scattered around, and the tang of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. I had always felt a little out of place in their world, like I was straddling some invisible line between awe and mischief. But there I was, caught between Dave and James, two titans of rock, and two men who couldn't be more different if they tried.

James had that easy confidence, the kind of swagger that came naturally to someone who'd been worshipped since his early twenties. He was charming, quick-witted, and devastatingly handsome in a rugged, all-American way. He made flirting seem effortless. Meanwhile, Dave... he was more of an enigma. There was a darkness to him, an edge that could either cut you or pull you in closer. He was magnetic, yes, but also a little volatile. And God, did he know how to brood.

I hadn't planned on becoming a point of contention between them. Hell, when I first met them, I thought I was invisible in their eyes, just another face in the crowd. But something shifted over time. The way James' hand would linger on my back when he told a joke. The way Dave's piercing eyes would track my movements when he thought no one was looking. It was like walking a tightrope between two storms, each one threatening to pull me under in its own way.

It all came to a head one night after a show. The afterparty was winding down, the crowd thinning out until it was just the three of us in the dimly lit living room of some rented house. I was perched on the arm of the couch, nursing the last of my drink, when James sat down beside me, his arm slinging casually over my shoulders. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the lingering smoke in the air, making my head spin slightly.

"You know," he drawled, his breath warm against my ear, "Dave's been staring at you all night. I don't blame him."

I glanced over at Dave, who was leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before he looked away, his jaw clenching so hard I thought he might crack a tooth.

"I think you're imagining things," I replied, trying to keep my voice light, even as my pulse quickened. James' thumb traced absent circles on my shoulder, and I could feel the weight of Dave's silence pressing against my chest. The air felt thick with tension, and I wasn't sure if it was intoxicating or suffocating—maybe both.

"Am I?" James smirked, leaning in closer. His lips brushed against my cheek, dangerously close to crossing a line. My heart was pounding, but before I could decide how to react, Dave's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Alright, that's enough."

I looked up to see him striding across the room, his movements sharp and deliberate. He grabbed James' wrist, pulling it away from me with more force than necessary.

"She's not some prize to fight over," Dave snapped, his voice low and taut with barely restrained anger. His face was flushed, his eyes blazing with something raw and unguarded.

James raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Dave's reaction. "Calm down, man. Just having a little fun."

"Yeah? Well, maybe you should find someone else to have fun with," Dave shot back, his eyes flicking to me before quickly darting away.