Slash X Reader - Blog Posts

CHAPTER 1 | SHE TALKS TO ANGELS

w.c. 2.3k

tags. original female character, mentions of college, busy work environment, i don’t think there’s any more tags. first few chapters are pretty tame!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge. it you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, send me an ask!

pinned so fine masterlist last chapter

A few days had passed since his first shift, but Duff's gaze still lingered on the counter where Cynthia was standing, balancing a tray of drinks with one hand while adjusting the collar of her denim jacket with the other. The usual clatter of plates and the buzz of the busy kitchen faded into the background as he focused on the small detail that had caught his attention the last time he saw her: the Aerosmith pin on her jacket.

It had been harder to miss today, glinting silver under the fluorescent kitchen lights. Aerosmith. Duff recognized the logo instantly—it was a staple in his own music collection. The sight of it on her jacket stirred something unexpected inside him. It was just a small pin, but it felt like an invitation to know more, a thread he couldn't wait to pull on.

Cynthia set the tray down on the counter with a soft thud, and Duff cleared his throat, glancing at the stack of dirty plates in front of him. He was still trying to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do, but he couldn't shake the feeling that talking to her was going to be harder than washing dishes.

"Hey," Duff started, a little awkwardly. He wiped his wet hands on his apron. "I, uh... I saw the Aerosmith pin on your jacket. I didn't expect that. You, uh, into them?"

Cynthia didn't answer right away, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes as she glanced over at him. She set her hands on her hips and shrugged.

"I like them, yeah. Not really a huge deal or anything." Her voice was guarded, but not unfriendly. She didn't seem particularly eager to continue the conversation, but she didn't shut him down either. Maybe this was progress?

Duff shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how to keep the conversation going without making it weird. "Yeah? I've got a couple of their records," he said, nodding toward the kitchen's radio. "'Get Your Wings' and, uh, 'Toys in the Attic.' Those all-time classics."

Cynthia's mouth twitched at the mention of the albums, and for a moment, Duff thought he might've said something wrong. But then, she spoke again, her tone a little more relaxed this time.

"Yeah, 'Toys in the Attic' is a good one," she said, her voice softening just slightly. "I've got it at home. Honestly, I like their older stuff the most."

Duff grinned. She was starting to open up, just a little. "Same. There's just something about that early sound... rawer, you know?"

Cynthia nodded slowly, her fingers brushing over the edge of the tray. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, still cautious about letting him in. "Yeah. Raw. I can't stand all that... shitty pop ballad stuff. Aerosmith's real, you know?"

Duff chuckled, wiping his hands on his apron again. "I hear you. That's kind of the beauty of it, right?"

Cynthia didn't respond right away, but she gave a small shrug. The conversation, though brief, felt like a small step forward, a crack in the wall she'd built around herself.

After a beat of awkward, tense silence, Duff tried to push a little further, sensing an opening. "So, you've been working here for a while, huh?"

Cynthia's eyes flicked over to him, but she didn't meet his gaze directly. "Yeah," she said, almost dismissively. "Since I was sixteen. Two years. It's just... what I had to do, you know?"

Duff leaned against the counter, trying to make the conversation less forced. "I get that. Had to start somewhere, right?"

Cynthia nodded. "Yeah, exactly." Her voice didn't give much away, but Duff could tell there was something behind it. She'd been working here a lot longer than he had, and there was a weariness in the way she spoke, like she was tired of it. "It's been fine, but I'm ready for something else."

Duff's curiosity piqued. He had to know what she meant by "something else." He took a step closer, lowering his voice a little as if he was treading carefully. "Yeah? What's next for you?"

Cynthia hesitated, her hand lingering on the edge of the counter. "I'm leaving LA," she said, almost to herself. "I've been here long enough."

Duff raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're... leaving LA? Where are you going?"

Cynthia's eyes finally met his, and there was a fleeting, intense look in them. "Princeton," she said simply, like it was just a fact. "In the fall."

Duff blinked. Princeton? The Princeton University?

He didn't know why, but the thought of her going to such an Ivy League school threw him off for a second. She didn't seem the type. But he didn't say that. Instead, he tried to cover his surprise with a half-smile. "Princeton? That's, uh... that's a big deal. How... how'd that happen?"

Cynthia shrugged again, her eyes shifting to the side as if the conversation was starting to bore her. "I don't know. I worked hard for it, I guess. I'm finally done with high school. Ready to get out of here." Her gaze hardened as she looked at the restaurant, almost like she was staring straight through it. "This place is a hellhole, and I'm finally getting out. I don't have time or the patience for the strip anymore."

Duff blinked, the bluntness of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He'd heard people complain about LA before, but there was something about the way she said it that made him think there was more to it. More to her wanting to leave than just the usual complaints.

"Hellhole, huh?" he repeated, his voice softer now. "Funny, I said that about Seattle."

Cynthia turned her gaze back to him, her expression unreadable. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I've been stuck here for too long. I'm done."

There was a moment of silence, the kind that hung in the air and made Duff feel like he was intruding. He wasn't sure if he should push further. She'd given him a glimpse of something—something that felt personal—but she was still keeping a lot to herself.

"So... Princeton," he said after a beat, trying to lighten the mood. "That's gotta be exciting. You must be looking forward to it."

Cynthia gave a half-smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, I am. But it's not all... excitement, y'know? It's not exactly the escape I thought it would be."

Duff nodded, understanding that. He didn't know what her story was—what made her want to leave LA so badly—but he could see the weight behind her words. He didn't want to pry, but there was something there he couldn't ignore.

"Well, it's a big step. I'm sure you'll figure it out," he said quietly.

Cynthia looked at him for a moment, her gaze softening just a little. "Yeah, I guess." She paused, then added in a more casual tone, "Anyway... I gotta get back to work."

Duff gave a small nod. "Yeah, sure. Don't want to get you in trouble."

Cynthia gave him a brief, almost amused glance before she grabbed her tray again, walking back toward the restaurant floor. As she left, Duff couldn't help but watch her go. She was different from anyone he'd met. There was something tough about her, a kind of resilience that made her stand out. But there was also a vulnerability there—a feeling like she was running away from something.

And, for some reason, Duff wanted to know what it was.

The rest of the shift went by in a blur of clinking dishes, the muffled sound of people talking, and the steady rhythm of the restaurant. Duff worked in quiet concentration, trying to keep his mind on his duties, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Cynthia.

There was something about her, something raw and unspoken. He couldn't get her out of his head, even as he scrubbed the same damn plates over and over again. Her eyes—cool and guarded, but with flashes of something deeper. The way she'd shrugged off talking about Princeton like it was just another stop on the way out of LA. But he could tell it meant something to her, even if she wouldn't admit it.

He stole a glance at her across the room, watching as she moved through the dining area with a practiced ease. She was always busy, weaving between the tables, balancing trays in each hand like it was nothing. Every now and then, her eyes would flicker to him, but there was always a slight tension in her gaze, like she was unsure of how to look at him.

After about an hour, the dinner rush started to die down, and the staff began to clean up. Duff wiped his hands on his apron again and leaned back against the counter, feeling the exhaustion settle in. He didn't know how anyone could stand on their feet for hours like Cynthia did. But maybe it was easier when you didn't care about the job.

"Hey, Duff," Bruce's voice broke through his thoughts, and Duff turned to face his brother. "I'm gonna head out soon. Everything good?"

Duff nodded, glancing over to Cynthia for a moment, but she was busy talking to another waiter. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just, uh... figuring it out, you know?"

Bruce gave him a once-over, his eyes flicking toward Cynthia before settling back on Duff. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Uh-huh. Right. Well, don't be shy. You're doing just fine." He clapped him on the back. "If you need anything, just ask Cynthia, alright?"

Duff swallowed a grin, wondering if his brother had noticed anything he didn't realize he'd been giving off. "Yeah, I'm good," Duff said, trying to play it cool. "Thanks, Bruce."

Bruce gave a quick nod and started heading toward the door, but just before he left, he threw over his shoulder, "Don't forget. You're supposed to pick me up from the bar tonight, right? I don't trust the boys to get me home."

Duff's eyes widened as he realized he'd forgotten. "Right. Shit, I almost forgot. I'll be there."

"Great. See you later," Bruce called as he slipped out of the restaurant.

Left in the quiet of the backroom, Duff took a moment to lean against the counter. His thoughts drifted back to Cynthia. He had a million questions about her. Why was she so... distant? And why did it seem like she was carrying some heavy weight? She couldn't just be running from LA; there had to be more to it.

Suddenly, the sound of a tray crashing to the floor broke through his musings.

He spun around to see Cynthia standing near the dining room entrance, her face flushed with frustration. She'd dropped a tray of drinks—ice and soda splashed everywhere, the glasses broken on the floor.

Duff moved before he even realized it, his instincts kicking in. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice a little sharper than he meant.

Cynthia stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide. She exhaled a shaky breath, then bent down to begin picking up the glass shards.

"I'm fine. Just... a stupid mistake," she muttered under her breath, her hands shaking slightly.

Duff stepped forward, crouching next to her and reaching for a piece of broken glass. "You sure? You don't have to do clean this by yourself."

Cynthia looked at him for a long beat before giving him a tight smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "I think I can handle it."

The sharp edge of her words stung, but Duff couldn't help but feel that there was more to her snapping than just a little mishap with the tray.

He set the glass down and backed off a little, letting her take control of the situation. "Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to step in—I mean—Just... wanted to help, y'know?"

Cynthia gave him a quick nod but didn't say anything else. The air between them was thick with unspoken words. He could feel her walls creeping back up, and it was clear that she wasn't interested in opening up just yet.

Duff watched her work in silence, taking in the small details—the way her hands moved deftly despite her apparent frustration, the slight furrow in her brow that always seemed to be there when she wasn't smiling. It was like she was trying to hide something, but no matter how hard she tried, he saw it.

After a moment, she stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans, and finally met his gaze. Her expression was softer now, but there was still something guarded in her eyes.

"You don't have to keep offering help, okay?" she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm fine. It's just a little mess. No big deal."

Duff nodded, taking a step back. "Right. Got it." He felt that familiar awkwardness hanging in the air again, but he wasn't sure how to fill it. He didn't want to push her, but something told him that the more he tried to reach out, the further she would pull away.

Cynthia straightened up, giving him a brief glance before she picked up the broken pieces one last time. "I'm going to finish cleaning this up. Don't worry about it."

Duff was about to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he simply nodded and turned toward the backroom, his mind buzzing. There was more to Cynthia than she let on, and something told him that getting to know her wasn't going to be easy. But he was starting to realize that he didn't mind.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

PROLOGUE

w.c 1.2k

tags. original female character, mentions of smoking, busy work environment, i don't think theres any more warnings. this chapter is pretty tame but duff is smitten.

a/n. once again thank you all for the support and encouragement on my works! i put in a lot of time and effort and i hope you all enjoy them as much as i do writing them. feedback is always appreciated!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge. if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, send me an ask!

pinned so fine masterlist next chapter

Los Angeles smelled different.

Back in Seattle, the air was damp with rain, laced with the sharp bite of gasoline and coffee. Here, everything was drier, hotter—like a sunbaked concrete jungle mixed with car exhaust, grilled meat, and something vaguely metallic from the kitchen vents.

Duff McKagan had only been in LA for a few weeks, and the reality of it was setting in fast: dreams didn't pay rent. He needed money, and fast, which was why he was standing in front of a steakhouse instead of playing bass in some dingy club.

Black Angus wasn't exactly where he pictured himself when he decided to move here, but his brother, Bruce McKagan, had a job lined up for him—but not on the dining room floor. Oh no, his day-glo blue hair was too distracting. Duff's new job: dishwasher. It wasn't glamorous, but neither was being homeless.

With a long, deep breath, Duff pushed open the heavy wooden double doors and stepped inside.

The noise hit him first—forks clinking against plates, the low murmur of conversation, waitresses calling out orders. The kitchen, partially visible from where he stood, was alive with movement: flames flaring up from the grill, line cooks moving in a well-rehearsed dance, the clatter of pans slamming onto burners.

And then—

"Look who finally showed up," a familiar voice called.

Duff turned as Bruce emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. His older brother was dressed in the standard manager get-up: button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled, hair slightly disheveled, expression hovering between amused and vaguely exasperated.

"You look a bit lost," Bruce smirked.

"Just taking it all in," Duff said, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

Bruce clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to the glamorous world of dishwashing, little brother."

Duff snorted. "Yeah, can't fuckin' wait."

Bruce grinned and jerked his head toward the back. "Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone."

The kitchen was hotter than the front of the restaurant, thick with the smell of butter, charred meat, and something greasy sizzling in the fryer. Steam curled from the dish pit where another worker was elbow-deep in sudsy water, stacking plates onto a drying rack.

"Alright," Bruce said, steering Duff past the prep station where a guy with a cigarette hanging from his lips was aggressively chopping onions. "That's Tony—he preps in the afternoons and works the line at night. Don't piss him off."

Tony didn't even glance up from his cutting board, but he grunted in acknowledgment.

Bruce continued walking. "That's Manny on grill, Paula on fryers—"

The introductions blurred together, a mix of names, faces, and brief nods. The kitchen was a well-oiled machine, and Duff was pretty sure he was about to be the next wrench thrown into it.

And then—

"This is Cynthia."

Duff turned, and for a second, the noise of the kitchen faded into the background.

She was leaning against the counter near the order window, flipping through a notepad, her pen tapping absently against the stainless steel. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She had a sharpness to her—something about the way she carried herself, like she had everything handled and didn't need anyone's help.

When Bruce said her name, she glanced up, her brown eyes flicking toward Duff for the briefest moment before dropping back to her notepad.

"Cynthia," Bruce said, "this is my brother, Duff. He's the new dishwasher."

She gave a small, barely interested nod. "Cool."

Duff felt like he should say something—anything. "Uh, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." She didn't look up.

Bruce smirked. "If you have any questions, ask me or Cynthia."

At that, Cynthia finally looked at Duff properly. Her gaze wasn't unkind, just assessing—like she was trying to determine if he was worth acknowledging.

"Just don't get in my way, and we'll get on fine," she retorted.

Then she was gone, striding toward the dining area, already focused on something else.

Duff exhaled. "She's... efficient."

Bruce snorted. "Don't take it personal. She's been here a while—knows this place inside and out. You? You're just another new guy."

"Right. Another dishwasher she won't remember by next week."

Bruce clapped him on the back. "That's up to you, kid."

Dishwashing was exactly as awful as Duff expected.

The sink water was too hot, the plates were crusted with food that had no business existing, and the steam from the dish machine made everything feel soggy. His fingers were already bright red and pruny, his arms sore from scrubbing.

Still, it wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was Cynthia.

Not in a bad way—just in a distracting way.

Duff caught himself watching her more than once, though he tried to be subtle about it. She was quick on her feet, moving between tables and the kitchen with practiced ease. Her voice cut through the noise whenever she called out an order or shot back a sarcastic remark at the cooks.

Cynthia was confident. Unshakable. Completely at home in the chaos.

Duff, on the other hand, was struggling to keep up with the never-ending pile of dishes.

At one point, Cynthia came back to the kitchen to grab a refill. On impulse, Duff decided to try and talk to her.

"So, uh... Cynthia, do you like working here?" Duff liked the way her name felt in his mouth—soft but steady, like a melody that stuck even after the song was over.

She barely glanced at him as she filled a glass with Coke. "It's a job."

"Right." He scrubbed at a stubborn stain on a plate. "Seems kinda crazy."

She let out a dry laugh. "You should see weekends."

Duff smiled, encouraged. "Guessing it's not your dream job either?"

"Dreams don't pay rent."

He hesitated. "Yeah, but if you could do anything else, what would it be?"

For a second, Cynthia looked at him like she might actually answer.

Instead, she grabbed the drink and walked off.

Duff sighed. Strike one.

By closing time, Duff was exhausted. His back ached, his arms were sore, and his shirt was damp from the heat of the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Cynthia, looked as composed as ever. She was leaning against the counter, talking to another waitress, her laughter carrying over the low hum of the closing shift.

Duff didn't realize he was staring until Bruce walked up beside him.

"You survived," Bruce said.

"Barely."

Bruce halfheartedly chuckled. "You'll get the hang of it."

Duff rubbed the back of his neck. "Place is busier than I expected."

"You should see Saturdays." Bruce glanced over at Cynthia, then back at Duff. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

Bruce raised a confused eyebrow. "The job."

"Oh. Uh—yeah. It's fine." Duff paused. "It's work."

Bruce studied him for a second, then shook his head, amused. "Right."

Duff wasn't sure what Bruce was implying, but he didn't ask. Instead, he stretched, rolling out his sore shoulders.

Across the room, Cynthia grabbed her denim jacket, slinging it over one shoulder effortlessly. As she turned, the dim dining room light shined a few pins fastened to the fabric—one of them the unmistakable winged logo of Aerosmith. The red and white design was a little faded, edges worn like it had been there for years.

Duff's lips quirked slightly. Aerosmith. He wouldn't have pegged her as a fan, but then again, he didn't know much about her—not yet.

She disappeared through the door without a second glance.

But he had a feeling he'd be learning soon enough.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

SO FINE, a duff mckagan story.

pairing. duff mckagan x original female character

synopsis. it's 1984, and duff mckagan, a 20-year-old punk rocker from seattle, moves to los angeles to chase his rockstar dreams. but reality hits hard—he needs a job. thanks to his brother, he lands a gig as a dishwasher at black angus, a steakhouse.

enter: cynthia atkins, an 18-year-old waitress who's been working there since she was 16. she's tough, smart, and has zero patience for wannabe rockstars. when duff sees her for the first time, he's instantly smitten, almost knocked over by how perfect she is.

despite his awkward attempts to get her attention, cynthia isn't impressed by his punk rocker hair or measly music dreams. but as the two spend more time together, they start to see there's more to each other than they thought. can duff balance trying to get a band together and his growing feelings for cynthia? or will they pull away before they get started?

status. on-going, updates every monday.

tags. female original character, a lot of cussing (gnr-typical), heavy depictions of mental health issues (post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, bipolar, anxiety), depictions of childhood trauma, period typical misogyny, drug & alcohol abuse (seriously, it's a duff fic), slow burn, NSFW themes (eventual smut? who knows..) references to past abuse and assault (physical, mental, sexual in reference to children and adults), depictions of panic attacks due to anxiety and substance abuse.

additional warnings will be marked at the beginning of each chapter—please be mindful! also i have decided i will post 'so fine' here on tumblr as well as AO3 and wattpad, which are linked below.

links. AO3, wattpad.

: ̗̀➛ 00. prologue.

: ̗̀➛ 01. she talks to angels.

CHAPTER 3 | KILL 'EM ALL.

w.c. 3.8k

tags. original female character, mild period-typical misogyny (it’s the late 1980s), some cussing, slowburn, arguing, possessive/slight controlling behavior via mc’s boyfriend, toxic masculinity/insecurity, manipulative behavior via mc’s boyfriend, smoking, if there’s anything else to be added let me know!

a/n. hey all! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. you’ll have to bear with me for the first few chapters in the beginning, as i’m trying to naturally and realistically flesh out everyone’s story while writing the real life people “in character.” i’m expecting to start the legit drama SOON just.. let me enjoy my slowburn.

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge

you can find chapter three on wattpad and AO3, linked under the respective platforms aforementioned.

last two previous chapters:

chapter one: welcome to the jungle - wattpad and AO3.

chapter two: terror 'n tinseltown - wattpad and AO3.

hey all! i have had a few other ideas for another GNR fanfic for about three weeks now and I can’t seem to get it out of my head. I was wondering if I do end up writing it, which plot sounds more interesting/who would be the romantic lead?

DUFF: it’s 1984, and duff mckagan, a 20-year-old musician from seattle, moves to LA to chase his rockstar dreams. but reality hits hard—he needs a job. thanks to his brother, he lands a gig as a dishwasher at black angus, a steakhouse.

enter: claudia atkins, an 18-year-old waitress who’s been working there since she was 16. she’s tough, smart, and has zero patience for wannabe rockstars. when duff sees her for the first time, he’s instantly smitten, almost knocked over by how perfect she is.

despite his awkward attempts to get her attention, claudia isn’t impressed by his punk hair or measly rock dreams. but as the two spend more time together, they start to see there’s more to each other than they thought. can duff balance trying to get a band together and his growing feelings for claudia? or will they pull away before they get started?

AXL: it’s 1979, and axl rose, a 17-year-old with a lot of anger and a broken home, is acting out—skipping school, getting into fights, and causing trouble at every turn. his life feels like one big mess, made worse by the recent discovery of his real father, william rose sr.

then, heather clayton moves in next door.

heather is sweet, smart, and has the perfect family—everything axl never had. but despite their differences, heather sees through axl’s tough exterior and slowly starts to crack his walls. as the summer goes on, the two form an unlikely bond—one that challenges axl to confront his anger and maybe even open his heart.

CHAPTER 2 | TERROR 'N TINSELTOWN.

w.c. 1.6k

tags. original female character, mild period-typical misogyny (it’s the late 1980s), some cussing, mentions of alcohol/cocaine consumption but no depictions of it, this chapter is pretty mild so not many tags are necessary ig?

a/n. thank you to everyone who's shown excitement for this series so far! i see you all, and i appreciate each and every one of you ^_^ and i’d love to hear from you as we go through this process together! silent readers scare me and i fear i’m going to need to motivation to keep going on this long, slowburn journey. also i apologize for the short chapter this week, i’m trying to realistically write and develop each characters’ relationships without making it too OOC while keeping a natural pace to it all. next week’s chapter is wayy longer—about 3k/4k words. bear with me!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge

you can find chapter two on wattpad and AO3, linked under the respective platforms aforementioned.

last two previous chapters:

prologue - wattpad and AO3.

chapter one: welcome to the jungle - wattpad and AO3.

PATIENCE

pairing. izzy stradlin x original female character

synopsis. lethality: one of the most popular rising bands to come out of the sunset strip since the great days of early mötley crüe and van halen. but get this—a woman is the leader! lethality frontwoman, singer-songwriter jackie riot, guitarist-songwriter sean carnegie, and drummer dennis knight are on the brink of international superstardom. with a fresh deal from elektra records and a coveted spot opening for guns n’ fuckin’ roses on the appetite for destruction tour, their dreams are finally becoming reality.

but the road to fame is a long, dangerous one. jackie is already struggling to balance her ambition with the tensions in lethality—especially with sean, her boyfriend and bandmate. then there’s guns n’ roses’ rhythm guitarist izzy stradlin—mysterious, magnetic, and drowning in excess. jackie knows getting close to him is reckless, idiotic, unfathomable even, but on the road, temptation is everywhere.

while sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll crash together, jackie must decide what she’s willing to risk—for love, for music, and for a place in musical history. will jackie and izzy get their happily ever after they desperately yearn after?

status. on-going

tags. female original character, a lot of cussing (gnr-typical), religious trauma, mentions of physical and mental health issues, depictions of childhood trauma, unhealthy romantic relationship(s), period typical homophobia, period typical misogyny, mentions of AIDS crisis, drug & alcohol abuse (seriously, it’s a gnr fic), slow burn, NSFW themes (eventual smut? who knows.. only i do ;)) mentions of eating disorders, lastly, again, its a fucking guns n roses fanfic, please be aware of the triggers that come along with that group.

links. AO3, wattpad.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ prologue on AO3 and wattpad

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ chapter one: welcome to the jungle on AO3 and wattpad

izzy finally getting the love he deserves… 🥹🥹 i’m not crying, you are. also.. 67 votes is crazy!!! thank you all for the support as is. i’ll be getting to work on the fic ASAP and i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do writing it for you guys.

if you wish to be added to my taglist for my new fanfic, PATIENCE, shoot me an ask with your username or comment under this post <3

hey all. working on the outline of guns n’ roses fanfic (based on the oneshot i wrote here) and i wanted to ask if y’all would rather me make it a duff/axl/izzy/slash story? i’ve also decided i’m not writing for steven anymore because my dad knows him & and i’ve known him since i was a baby and it weirds me out.)

additionally when i end up publishing, as previously mentioned, it will be promoted on tumblr but posted AO3 & wattpad for convince reasons. if you would like to join my taglist, send me an ask w/ your username and i’ll add you. 💗

Hii! I wanna request a Slash fic but was wondering if you’d want free reign or for me to specify a scenario?

hey anon! thank you for asking. i’d be more than happy to write for slash, but i does help me out a lot as a writer (and i suppose for you as a reader, in a way) if you request a specific scenario so a) i have a rough plot idea b) you get something you want that is tailored to YOU! 💝 either works though, i just love making people happy with their requests.

hey all. working on the outline of guns n’ roses fanfic (based on the oneshot i wrote here) and i wanted to ask if y’all would rather me make it a duff/axl/izzy/slash story? i’ve also decided i’m not writing for steven anymore because my dad knows him & and i’ve known him since i was a baby and it weirds me out.)

additionally when i end up publishing, as previously mentioned, it will be promoted on tumblr but posted AO3 & wattpad for convince reasons. if you would like to join my taglist, send me an ask w/ your username and i’ll add you. 💗

IT'S SO EASY, guns n' roses.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing; guns n' roses x fem!reader

summary; your band, lethality, is the hottest thing that’s hit the sunset strip since mötley crüe and the notorious guns n' roses. after a sensational night playing the whisky a go-go, you to meet a very interesting group of men that take a peculiar liking to you.

warnings; cussing, no use of y/n, alcohol & cigarettes mentioned, veryy dialogue heavy, nothing really happens because i didn’t know if anon wanted it to be romantic/romantic encounter with a band member(s), steven is having fun somewhere else.

word count; 1.6k

a/n; i honestly loved writing this. i had a hard time starting it, but when i got it going i couldn’t stop. i was even considering making this a full fledged fanfic, if anyone would be interested.

requests open, not proofread, based on this ask.

The Whisky was packed, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of sweat. The crowd of people blended into one the further you looked out—was jumping around, their energy feeding into yours as you gripped the mic stand, swinging it around erratically. Your heart pounded with adrenaline as the house lights dim for dramatic effect, and with a deep, intentional breath, you launched into the final chorus of your band, Lethality's, set. Your voice was raw, passionate, and uniquely fresh. The audience erupted, fists pounding in the air, whistling and clapping being heard.

This is what made every sleepless hour, every shitty bar gig worth it. The feeling of the audience, the bass vibrating your core, the drums pounding hard and intentional, the guitar wailing along to your voice. You were in your element. This was everything.

With one last powerful belt, you let the song ring out, clutching the microphone as the sound of your heavy breath mixed with the cheers. A slow, sexy smirk tugged at your lips. They loved you.

You turned, locking eyes with your guitarist, tossing your damp, messy hairy over your shoulder and stepping back from the microphone stand. The applause and whistles followed you offstage, still roaring in your ears as you grabbed a towel and wiped your damp face.

You were shocked that Los Angeles had loved Lethality that much, given that they didn't take to women-led bands very kindly. They often watered them down to being a "woman in Rock" and not a "rockstar." You loathed it, and you be damned if it happened to you. You deserved to be on the same playing field as the rest of these young, dumb, and full of cum men. Not that you honestly wanted to be compared to that, though.

"You really know how to work a crowd," a voice called out.

Your eyes shot up to see an older, chubbier man leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking at you in thought. He nodded towards the dressing rooms. "You've got some serious fans wanting to meet you."

You raise an eyebrow in uncertainty, "Fans?"

The man sends you a shit-eating grin and sniggered, "Yeah. Ever heard of Guns N' Roses?"

For a brief second, your heart skipped a beat as you felt your hands get clammy—but you played it cool, tossing the wet towel onto a nearby beer crate. You exhaled through your nose and ran a hand through your hair. You knew Guns regularly went to the Whisky and other clubs you and your band frequented, and you were bound to run into them, but you still felt extremely nervous. You absolutely adored their newest album, Appetite for Destruction.

"Well," you eventually muttered, rolling your shoulders, "guess I better not keep them waiting, huh?"

With that, you strode down the hall, your heart beating so loudly you could feel it having a concert in your head. The hallway was dimly lit the further you walked down, the sounds of the Whisky still thrumming in the distance. Your heeled boots echoed against the floor as you approached the dressing rooms. Guns N' fucking Roses wanted to see you. You weren't one to get starstruck, you had met some of the best musicians to come out of the strip, but you weren't oblivious either. Part of you was curious, another part cautious. You knew how these men were. Hungry for sex, drugs, and dabbled in Rock 'n' Roll when the job called for it. You also weren't one to get caught up in the rock mystique. Yet, if they had something to say, you were damn sure going to hear it.

You reached the dressing room door and took a steadying breath. You took a second to smooth your hair and shake out the last of your post-show adrenaline. Then, you pushed it open.

The room was buzzing with soft conversation. The scent of fresh leather, whiskey, and cigarette smoke hung in the air. The ginger lead singer, Axl Rose, was the first of the four to look up, reclining in his chair, a drink idly dangling from his fingers. His sharp hazel eyes flickered with something unreadable as he took your figure in. Slash was perched on the couch, lazily tapping ash from his cigarette, while Duff and Izzy leaned back in conversation, their laughter cutting off the second you entered. Instantly, you noticed the lack of their drummer, Steven Adler. Huh.

Four pairs of beady eyes locked onto you.

"Well, well," Duff spoke up, giving a slow, acknowleding nod. "The woman of the hour."

You smirked, stepping inside with your arms crossed. "Didn't realize I was on your schedule."

Axl's lips curled into something between amusement and intrigue. "You weren't. But we couldn't ignore what we just saw out there," he tilted his head, studying you. "You don't just perform—you own that stage."

The way Axl said it wasn't flattery. On the contrary, it was a statement. A challenge, maybe. You couldn’t tell. Not yet, anyway.

You met his gaze without flinching, a newfound confidence overtaking you. "That's the job, isn't it?"

To your right, Slash chuckled, flicking his cigarette once more. "Yeah, but most people don't do it like that." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his leathered knees. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

You shrugged, "Same story as everyone else. Small-town band, a lot of shitty gigs, and too much cheap beer."

Axl smirked at that you noticed. He must've liked that reply, you thought.

"Not everyone makes it out of that."

Something about the way he said it made the air feel heavier, just for a beat. You could feel them sizing you up, trying to figure out if you were just another wannabe act, or something more. Maybe they were checking you out, who fucking knows?

You glanced around, then raised an amused brow. "So, you dragged me in here just to stroke my ego, or is there something else?"

Axl took a swig of his liquor, sliding his arm onto the armrest. "Maybe both."

Axl's words hung in the air, stretching the moment just long enough for you to feel the weight of their attention. You didn't mind it—if anything, you were used to being watched, analyzed, judged. But this? This was different.

Slash took a slow, tentative drag off of his cigarette, exhaling a thin breath of smoke before speaking again. "How long have you been playing as a band?"

You walked over to the other side of the couch he sat on, your eyes not leaving his hidden ones. "Long enough to know what I'm doing."

That earned a chuckle from Duff. "Yeah, we picked up on that, Susie-Q."

Izzy, who had been quiet until now, studied you with that easy, unreadable gaze. "Your sound's different. It's not just your voice—it's the way you hold a crowd. Who are your influences?"

You shrugged, "A little of everyone."

Axl chuckled and swirled the whiskey in his glass. "That's the safe answer," he retorted, clicking his tongue in amusement.

"Safe," you echoed with a knowing, smug smile, "or just true?"

That got a reaction—albeit a small one—a flicker of something behind Axl's eyes. The kind of interest that wasn't politeness. He wasn't just shooting the shit with you. None of them were. They had intentions—intentions you were unsure of.

Slash tilted his head softly, "You got a label yet?"

"Not one worth signing to," you replied smoothly as you shook your head.

Izzy and Duff exchanged what felt like their tenth glance of the night. Axl's smirk deepened as you quietly let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You were very nervous, after all.

"Good," Axl clicked his tongue, "means you're not an idiot."

You huffed a quiet laugh, "I try."

This whole conversation had your mind reeling: panic mode on. This was going nowhere, and you didn't really come here to get drilled about your music. They didn't even ask to see the rest of Lethality, just you. You weren't sure what to expect when walking backstage, but being rallied up by Guns wasn't it. Their gaze was still on you, making you feel small. You look at Axl from across the room—the gears in his head were moving. You soon realized that never meant anything good.

Axl turned his head to look at you dead on. "So, what's next for you?"

You met his gaze without hesitation, your eyebrows furrowing. "Why? You planning to keep tabs on me?"

Slash grinned, putting out his cigarette in the steel ashtray on the coffee table. "Wouldn't be the worst idea. Not every night we someone actually own the stage instead of just.. standing on it."

Duff gestured towards you with his beer bottle. "Crowd was losing their fucking minds. You got 'em wrapped around your pretty little finger."

You shrugged. “Like I said, that’s the job.”

“And like Slash said, most people don’t get that. They think it’s just about playing the songs.” Izzy eyed you, like he was still trying to figure you out. He motioned towards you as he pulled out a Marlboro from his pack. “You’ve got something else.”

Axl let out a low chuckle and cleared his throat while shaking his head slightly. Then, he raised his glass. “Right. Here’s to whatever the fuck happens next.”

Your eyes flicked to the band’s whiskey bottle on the table. Without a word, you picked it up, twisted off the cap, and took a deep gulp before setting it back down on the coffee table with a quiet, gentle clink.

“You’ll be seeing more of Lethality,” you said simply.

Slash huffed a quiet laugh. “Good. Scene’s getting boring.”

Duff nodded in agreement. “Listen—If you keep playing like that, you won’t be stuck in clubs forever.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, just gave a small, knowing smirk.

Axl’s gaze lingered for a second longer before he set his now empty glass down. “Guess we’ll have to just wait and fucking see.”

The conversation shifted, drinks flowed, and the night stretched on. Whatever this was—whatever had started here—you had a small feeling burning deep inside that this was just the beginning.

© 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. 💋

request by @being-worthy 💙

Short Fic:

After a bad night out and some nightmares, Slash plays the part as your defender

࣪ ˖☆ ࣪⭑┆ ݁˖ .☆ . ݁ ˖

☆⊹ ࣪ ┆ ˖ ࣪　⊹ ࣪ ★ ⋆.˚ ⊹ ࣪

࣪ ˖⋆˚★ ₊ ⊹　 ࣪˖ ࣪ ₊ ࣪ ˖　

. ݁　⊹ ࣪ ˖　　　 ࣪ ˖

　　. ݁　　　 ݁

　　.

This night had to have been one of your worst yet. You’d got hoping for a relaxing evening with Slash. Get a couple drinks and all that, a bit of a date night. But then guys kept approaching you, making all too suggestive comments, trying to sneak touches. It only served to make you more and more uncomfortable and Slash more pissed off. You tried to tell him that it was okay, but he could see right through that.

After a while, it got Slash riled up enough that he punched the guy, square in the nose. The result of that was the two of you getting escorted out of the building. Slash was rather proud of himself- and still seething because of the sheer audacity of those men- who you were just happy it was over.

The walk home was uneventful, Slash wrapped his arm around your waist, “Y’ alright babe?” He asked, concern evident in his tone of voice. You gave a half shrug in return.

“Yeah… I’ll be fine.” Slash knew you were lying, but he decided not to push. He only held you tighter and would occasionally press a kiss to the side of your head.

Once you were back at home, Slash was treating you with the utmost kindness. He put on one of your favorite movies while going to the kitchen to get the two of you some snacks. While waiting, one of your cats came up and jumped on your lap. Absentmindedly, you scratched behind her ears as you waited on your boyfriend.

Slash came back to the living room holding two bowls of ice cream, fixed with all your favorite toppings. You couldn’t help the big grin that fell upon your face as you gladly took the bowl. As the movie went on, you found yourself getting sleepier and sleepier. Eventually you fell asleep on the couch.

-

Next thing you know you’re waking up in a cold sweat. Your heart is thudding and for a moment you don’t know where you are as the memories of your terrible nightmare keep running through your mind. You’re sitting there on the couch, frozen in fear. It’s dark, you can’t see anything, and you’re terrified.

With the ferocity that you shot up, it also woke up Slash who had dozed off next to you, not wanted to go to bed without you. It took him a moment before he saw you, sitting up and breathing hard- a terrified look on your face. He immediately felt worried as he took in your expression.

“Baby? What’s wrong, honey what happened?” He asked softly, leaning in to you. You only shook your head and sniffled, trying to hold back tears. Slash understood what was going on.

“Nightmare?” Your nod conformed his suspicions. Slash wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his warm embrace as you tried your hardest not to break into sobs. He didn’t say anything, only rubbing soothing circles onto your back and playing with the ends of your hair.

Eventually you calmed down, but you were still shaken up. Slash’s warmth comforting you. After a long handful of minutes, he spoke up again.

“Wanna go to bed?” You gave a stiff nod, not really wanting to leave him, “We can grab the cats, and all the blankets… make like a lil’ cuddle pile?”

That brought a smile to your face, it sounded silly, “Yeah… I’d like that.”

And there the two of you wound up, cuddled up in bed with all of your cats- busy making biscuits in the fluffier blankets. You felt safe and protected, as silly as it seemed. With your boyfriend and your cats, you were able to easily fall back asleep, nightmare free.

Could you write hc for slash dating a reader with a bump leg like she has to walk with a can and stuff :)

𝚒 𝚊𝚖 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 "𝚋𝚞𝚖" 𝚊𝚗𝚍 "𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚎" 𝚒𝚏 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐- 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚡𝚘𝚡𝚘

Tags: @tranquilitybasegrunge

Headcanons:

Slash being the most accommodating boyfriend to all your needs

⋆꙳❅*̩̩͙‧͙ *̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ *̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

You’d always had a bit of a “trick leg” as you liked to call it. Sometimes you were able to walk on your own, sometimes you needed a cane to get around

When you first met Slash you were on one of your better days, not relying on your aid much. You were too embarrassed about it to mention it to the rocker

Soon enough, Slash kept asking you out on dates and you kept attempting to mask your needs in order to keep Slash around

However, he ended up noticing how you’d favor one leg, walk slower, limp a bit. He found you out

At first you were embarrassed, but Slash was quick to assure you that you were perfect no matter what

He was incredibly accommodating to all your needs, he’d help you in and out of his cars, carry you up long flights of stairs

He was the perfect boyfriend

Slash was able to turn your embarrassment about needing a cane into a fashion statement. He’d help you decorate it in all sorts of fun ways that matched your outfits

When the cold weather came, which always caused your bad leg pain, Slash was by your side, providing all the comfort you needed and more

He was supportive of you in private and public. He wouldn’t allow people to make ableist jabs at you.

You were his perfect girlfriend and nothing would change that

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

I do take requests <3

Go to my pinned under my masterlist for more info

Imagine:

Soft, tender moments between you and Slash on a lazy morning

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Taglist: @being-worthy @tranquilitybasegrunge

A/N: a short drabble(ish) written for @being-worthy because who doesn’t want to give slash some tlc?

⋆⋅

You yawned and stretched awake, the late morning sun shining through the blinds. After the tour ended, it was just pure peace. No more running around, late nights, early morning. You and Slash could just kick back and relax. Being home with the cats and Slash’s collection of snakes made everything all the more comforting

You look over to Slash’s sleeping form and smile softly to yourself. He really was one of the sweetest guys you’d ever met- even if he had a bad habit of being downright raunchy. You carefully got up, crawling on top of Slash and leaning down to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

“Slash.” You whisper quietly to him, trying to get him up, “Slashy… Slash.”

You litter his face with a few more kisses, his eyebrows on furrow slightly at your attacks, “Slasher… Splish-Splash-Slash~” You coo a little louder, giggling to yourself at the silly variations of his name that you were making.

After a few more stray kisses and a bit of teasing, Slash’s eyes flutter open. It takes him a minute to realize his surroundings- to see you on top of him with an endearing look on your face.

“Mornin’ sleepy-Slash.” You tease, laying down to rest your head on his chest. He brings his arms up around your waist, he leaned his head just enough to place a kiss on top of your head.

“Mm yeah. Mornin’” He said, his voice gruff with sleep, “You ain’t sneaky y’know.” He mumbled, kissing your head again, “All your damn nicknames.”

You couldn’t help a little snicker at that, “Awh? You heard me?” You leaned up just enough to kiss his jawline, “Did you sleep good?”

“Good as ever- cause you’re right next to me.” He responded with the cheesiest grin. You had to roll your eyes, deciding to shut his mouth with another smooch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I do take requests, it might take me a bit to get to them, but they will be done eventually

axl and slash with a s/o who has a resting bitch face hcs?

Thanks for the ask!xo

A/N: I took a bit of creative liberty

Tags: @tranquilitybasegrunge

Headcanons:

Axl and Slash with their significant other who has resting bitch face

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When first meeting, Slash was genuinely a little scared about talking to you because you looked mean

was absolutely flabbergasted to realize you were super friendly

Axl was quick to advance, making teasing comments about you being tough and rude which only confused you

he was incredibly embarrassed to realize that you weren’t actually some rough n’ tough badass chick like he thought

Slash has a really bad habit of thinking that you were mad at him or that you didn’t like the gifts he’d buy you

axl was a lot better about reading how you were actually feeling- he helped slash out more than once

occasionally they’d both be wrong, you found it amusing… sometimes

You never liked the paparazzi positing pictures of you three because several people commented about how “you’re only with them for the money” and “she doesn’t actually love them, look at her expression. She’s not happy”

they always remedied your worries either lots of passionate sex and tender cuddles

axl was never shy about telling the media to stick it where the sun don’t shine when it came to you

slash was better at physically consoling you

Once you were confronted in public by someone who claimed you were manipulating the boys for their money and fame

axl may or may not have thrown a punch that day

safe to say no one tried to steer anything in public again

Slash loved making you smile, be it by telling dumb jokes or impressing you with a new riff. It gave him confirmation that you really were happy, even if he knew better

you tried to make visible efforts to make yourself seem more welcoming

but you were always assured that you were perfect just the way you were

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

I do take requests xoxo

a fic where slash and reader join the band around the same time, are rivals for a while but slash starts to fall for reader and gets jealous when axl hits on reader and that night is his last straw and confesses

Short Fic:

Despite being rivals since knowing each other, Slash begins to slowly build feelings towards you. His feeling grow until he sees Axl flirting with you

𖦹 `ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 .ೃ࿔☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ `ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 .ೃ࿔‧₊˚ 𖦹 `ˑ 𓂃 .ೃ࿔₊

Slash typically never had an issues with people. Got along with most everyone, made friends easily. That was you came along. Ever since you joined the band he kept feeling like he had to one up everything you did. Slash didn’t really know why, but you just ticked him off. And you, seeing that Slash had something against you for whatever reason, built up resentment towards him as well.

The little scuffles between you two were never enough to really cause much of an issue within the band. Snarky comments here and there, eye rolls, just about anything petty to make each other annoyed. More than once you hid Slash’s top hat and smoked his cigarettes. In return he’d hide all your picks in the most inconvenient places.

As the weeks drug on into months, Slash began noticing a change. A change within himself. In the days you weren’t at practice, he found himself missing your presence. He started to feel guilty when he pulled little pranks on you. He began to be a little nicer, buying you coffee unprompted, helping you move your stuff. It made Slash feel conflicted, why was he feeling so differently? You seemed to be doing just the same.

One morning, while halfway through his third cup of his JD/coffee mix, Slash accepted the fact that he’d developed feeling for you. A crush, if you will. He stared down into the cup, he felt like he was the awkward little kid in middle school again. There was no goddamn way that he was going to tell you- there was absolutely no sign that you even tolerated him, let alone liking him romantically. Plus, rejection would just make things… weird… within the band.

Sighing, while running his hand across his face, he decided he would just do nothing. After all, he was probably just confused. There was no way he actually caught feelings for someone as annoying as you. No way at all… He’d keep messing with your stuff, even if it made him feel bad to watch you frantically look around for whatever it was he hid.

Standing up with a groan, Slash was going to get some more coffee and a lot more Jack Daniels when he heard Axl’s voice in the room over. He furrowed his brows- that bastard was never up this early. Hell, he wasn’t usually ever up this early either- but here they were. Curiosity took over, as far he knew, he was the only one here… besides Axl apparently.

Slash peered around the corner and felt his blood run… cold? Axl was there in the kitchen, but so were you. Being this close, he could tell what was going on. Axl was blatantly flirting with you. He was getting up in your personal space, buttering you up. Praising your skills as musician, commenting on your hard work, mentioning how beautiful you looked that night. And worst of all? You were smiling, a light blush dusted your cheeks as Axl continued to flatter you.

Jealousy coiled in his gut. He realized, a bit belatedly, that he probably had more than just a little crush on you. Slash knew that he should be in Axl’s place. He should be the one calling you beautiful, using god-awful pickup lines. He wanted you to be the one smiling at him. You should be- Slash stopped himself. Maybe he was getting a little too carried away. Drunk- he was probably drunk. But staring at the scene e of you and Axl in the kitchen almost made him feel sick. He was going to regret this. He pushed away from the doorway and turned away.

Yup. He was already regretting it. He turned around again, making his way into the kitchen. Both you and Axl looked up. He was about to greet Slash when he grabbed your arm.

“We’ve gotta talk.” He said, voice more strained than he hoped. Pulling you up from where you were, he practically drug you out of the kitchen- leaving behind a very confused Axl. Your questions went unanswered as Slash pulled you into the next nearest room… which happened to be the bathroom.

“Hey?! What the hell are you doin’?” You asked, utterly confused. What sorta bullshit prank was he trying to pull on you this time? But ask you looked at him, Slash was very obviously averting his gaze, “Slash..? Uhm?”

“Uhh” Slash repeated. He felt awkward… why the did he go into the bathroom of all places?! He licked his lips anxiously, “I gotta talk to you.”

You looked at him skeptically, “Yeah… you told me that. About what though?”

“About…” Slash couldn’t bring himself to say the words. His palms were getting sweaty- he was to to nervous, “Er… uh about you..?”

He didn’t even sound like he was here about what he was saying. You have him a flat look, “About me, huh?”

He nodded, a bit too quickly, “Yeah… mhm. Uhm. Yeah, I’m just, y’know, sorry? For everything.” Slash swallowed a bit harshly, internally cursing himself for acting like a damn twelve year old.

“Sorry?” Your defensive demeanor fell. Sorry? Was he really apologizing for being a jackass?

He nodded again, “Sorry. You’re pretty cool, y’know? I like jammin’ with you… and you’re pretty funny- and pretty in general” He added.

You looked around, expecting some kinda joke. For something to happen. But nope, it was just you, Slash, and the bathroom, “You’re sorry… like really sorry.”

“Really damn sorry. I like you. A lot.” He looked at you, “I mean it… you’re funny. You’re hot, like really fuckin’ hot. I just- I wanna stop actin’ like I don’t like you when I really do, y’know?”

You couldn’t stop that smile that fell upon your lips… this guy, “Yeah? I guess I think you’re pretty cool too.”

Slash seemed surprised to hear that, “Yeah..?- uhm well anyways. I just was gonna tell you-”

You cut him off, “You were jealous weren’t you?” You said with a cheeky grin, “You like me so you didn’t like seen Ax talk o’ with me? Right?”

He felt embarrassed, “I guess you could say that…”

“You aren’t the most observant… are you?” You said slyly, leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the lips, “I think I noticed it before you did.”

Slash was confused, but relief flooded his chest as you leaned up to kiss him, “I didn’t notice what..?”

You only rolled your eyes, “I love you, you damn moron” You gave him another kiss, a bit longer than time. Slash was still confused, but he accepted it.

“Yeah… I love you too.”

The rest of that, whatever went down in that bathroom is history. Axl vowed to never use that bathroom again.

𖦹 `ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 .ೃ࿔☁︎‎‎‧₊˚ `ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 .ೃ࿔‧₊˚ 𖦹 `ˑ 𓂃 .ೃ࿔₊

i do take requests- go to my pinned and looked under my masterlist for more info xoxo

slash with a very affectionate reader? hcs or a short fic, whatever you want :3

Thanks very much for the ask dear 💙

Imagine:

After coming home from a long, stressful tour to his girlfriend who had more than enough love to give

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

To say the very least, Slash had a pretty shitty time. The tour went shitty, his bandmates were shitty, he felt shitty. Everything was shitty shitty shitty. He wanted nothing more than to be back home. Away from all the chaos, late nights, the surplus of drugs and alcohol being thrown his way. He was pretty much done with most everything at that point. His flight being delayed was the cherry on-fucking-top.

Usually Slash liked to be on the road, traveling from place to place. He liked to go with the flow, wherever it’d take him. He hated it anymore. It felt more like a chore than anything. Stepping back foot in LA felt like a weight that had been lifted off his shoulders. Finally, fucking finally, it was over. That was until he’d be back in the studio, but for now…? Bliss.

Home couldn’t come fast enough. Slash all but ran up to the door, digging in his bag for the house keys he somehow (thankfully) didn’t lose. He had expected the house to be dark and quiet, it was late. Instead he was greeted with the dim kitchen light and the smell of food- which made him realize how hungry he’d been.

The door clicked softly behind him as he dropped his luggage, a bit ungracefully, and wandered further into the apartment. And there he saw you, sitting on the counter with the biggest smile ever and two plates of some hot food.

“Hi babe! Welcome home!” You said, hopping off the counter and giving Slash a big hug, “I missed you so much! And so did that cats, they know who gives the extra treats…” You gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

Slash was surprised, he had anticipated that he’d be finding you in bed, fast asleep, especially considering the hour. He returned your hug, breathing in the smell of your shampoo. He was so beyond happy to see his favorite person.

“Hey honey…” He greeted back, “You’re up really late. You didn’t need to stay up for me, y’know.” In actuality, he couldn’t have been more happy with this outcome.

“Ohh don’t be silly!” You stuck your tongue out at him teasingly, grabbing his hand and leading him to the table, “I uhm… well I made supper! Or is it early breakfast now..? Regardless-” Slash cut your little ramble off with a kiss.

“It looks delicious, but… how’d you know I’d be home by this time? My flight kept getting delayed.” Slash asked, puzzled at the steaming hot food in front of him.

“It’s just my intuition.” You bluffed, giving him another kiss, “Just kidding- this was my third attempt at making this so… that’s why.”

He couldn’t help but snort out a laugh, he wrapped his arms around you and spun you around, “Fuck, I love you. You’re so perfect, you know that?” He loved you so much. You were the only person out there who could’ve turned his shitty, shitty attitude around just like that.

“Aww… aren’t you the sweetest ever?!” You wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing his face all over. His lips, cheeks, nose, corners of his eyes. You made sure every bit of him got some love, “but I think you should keep declarations like that to yourself until after you’ve tried my meal.” You said with a wink. After all, you were a very mediocre cook.

⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊ ⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊

Feel free to send asks, more info can be found on my pinned post under my masterlist xoxo

love your slash stuff! can i request a scenario where slash confesses his love (a second time) to his ex while being drunk over phone? something like the song “whyd you only call me when youre high” by the arctic monkeys :3

thanks for the ask 💙 xoxo

Imagine:

Slash drunkenly calls you to profess his love a second time



⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎

You hadn’t been keeping track of the clock, the TV noiselessly played in the background, a half empty cup of wine was held limply in your hand. You used to have a few wineglasses, key words: used to. They all got shattered after you, in a fury, practically destroyed your apartment after catching your ex-boyfriend in bed with the same bitch he told you not to worry about. So wine in a cup it was for you. It wasn’t even good wine. It was cheap and tasted like shit. It really reflected how you were feeling at the moment. Shitty.

Every little goddamn thing reminded you of him. You weren’t even together that long. But that didn’t change the fact about how you felt, it was a big factor that played into you destroying your apartment. The old landlord was pissed, repairs were expensive. Which… that explained the cheap wine. Couldn’t afford anything else.

Staring blankly at the wall, it was so easy to recall everything about him, what remained of him. His smell lingered- not really, but you did pick up smoking because of him. You didn’t think you were going to stop, not anytime soon at least. There was definitely at least three guitar picks laying around somewhere. Long, curly, black hairs would still pop up from time-to-time. The cat you two picked up off the street which he named “Angus” who had gone missing- two nights after the breakup. You’d searched endlessly for that cat, but to no avail. Angus’ food and water dish remained untouched. The deep, ugly, wrenching feel of betrayal that-

The phone rang.

One.

Twice.

You picked it up before the third.

“Hello?” If you were in a better state of mind, you would’ve realized it was 2:53am. And you would’ve known who was on the other end of the line. You would’ve ignored it.

“Hey… hey” The voice was all too familiar. You hadn’t heard it in weeks- the emotional turmoil it sent throughout your body was unbearable, “Hey… don’t hang up, please.”

Against your better judgement, you stay on the line, quiet. And you listen.

“I- I’ve jus’ been thinkin’ y’know..? Thinkin’ ‘bout us.” He was drunk, his words slurred together. To most anyone, it would have been difficult to understand- but not for you.

You still didn’t reply.

“We… we were- are… a good thing. It was dumb, I was dumb. Let- let’s jus’ put this all behind us babe…” The pet name fell short on you. You felt an ugly feeling begin to coil in the depths of your gut.

You still kept your silence.

“I jus’ just… we’re perfect together. I love you, babe. I love ya… so fuckin’ much. I love your eyes, your hair, your tits… fuck I love yer tits… but I love you.” He says it pleadingly. I love you. Does he mean it? It wouldn’t have been the first time he’s said it. And lied. You knew better, this Warner the first time he called. It wouldn’t be the last. This was the first time you answered.

Finally, you spoke back.

“Do you always do this..? Call me when you’re drunk off your balls?” You could feel that anger creeping up, “If you really cared, if you really do love me- you’d call me sober. No… no you wouldn’t even call! You’d show up to my doorstep like a real man!”

Slash was silent for a moment, “Wait- no… babe please. Fuck, shit- I do mean it. I do love you… babe-” He was desperate, clinging on to what he could.

“You’re goddamn pathetic, Saul Hudson. Fuck off and fuck you!” Before you slammed the phone back on the receiver, you heard a faint, “Wait- babe no! I will I p-” The line got chopped off as you put the phone down.

You leaned your head back, fuming. Looking at the cup of wine in your hand, you really debated about throwing it across the room. Ultimately, you decided to take the last of it in one big swallow.

You sat there for a few long minutes- maybe it was a couple hours, still staring at the wall, but with no thoughts this time.

You hear a meow outside your door.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊☠︎︎

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　

Guns N’ Roses

Main Masterlist

𝕊𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕙

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟚

𝕃𝕒𝕥𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 - 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖

𝔼𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 - 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖

𝕄𝕚𝕕𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 ℂ𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕤 - 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖

ℍ𝕠𝕥 𝕄𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕤 - 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖

𝕁𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕪 - 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕔

𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 - 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

𝔸𝕔𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 - 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕤 - 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕔

𝔸𝕩𝕝 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟙

𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 - 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

𝔻𝕦𝕗𝕗 𝕄𝕔𝕂𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕟

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤:

𝕀𝕫𝕫𝕪 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕚𝕟

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟙

ℂ𝕚𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕊𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥 - 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖

𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕤 - 𝕘𝕚𝕗𝕥 𝕗𝕚𝕔

𝕊𝕥𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝔸𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕣

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤:

Imagine:

Slash comes home to you after a performance

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚡𝚘𝚡𝚘

It was quite late in the night, you were still awake, sitting in bed with a magazine in your lap and the TV running in the background. Your cat was curled up around the foot of the bed, sleeping soundly. The sound of the lock on the door being fumbled with brought a smile to your face. Slash, your boyfriend, was finally back from a performance at the Troubadour.

He stumbled throughout the apartment, cursing at himself when he ran into the table and chairs. Something toppled over, not that he paid much heed to it. Slash peeked his head through the bedroom door. Seeing you sitting there had him all but throw himself into your embrace.

The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat cling to him as he nuzzled into your chest. A small smile graced your face as you pet his snarly mess off curls.

“Mm… Missed ya” he mumbled softly.

“Yeah, me too.” You responded, “but don’t you think you’re due for a shower, hm?”

Slash made a half-sleepy half-annoyed noise, “Noo… ‘M too tired. Plus- you like my smell.”

Just as you were thinking of a retort, you felt his body go lax on top of yours. He really was tired them. You couldn’t help the small laugh that left you as you took in the scene. Clicking off the lamp and wrapping your arms around Slash, returning his embrace, you knew you wouldn’t want Slash to be any other way than himself.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Slash x reader

Based in real life

Reader gender: Any

"Saul?" You said with a hushed tone, peaking your head round the door and stepping inside the hotel room there was the Guitarist you were after. The guy was sprawled out across the hotel double bed clearly knocked out. Your head shot down when the noise of you accidently kicking something startled you.

Turns out you had kicked a half empty Jack Daniels bottle. "Your kidding?" You said with a chuckle, sitting on the side of the bed you traced his spine ever so gently with your fingertip. Saul (or Slash as others called him) was your Boyfriend of two years and you had come here to surprise him by request of Axl - but this was how you found him: face down on the bed, passed out sober.

"Darling, wake up." Gently shaking his shoulder his slowly but surely woke up. "Wha-." He rubbed his cloudy eyes and looked through his hazed vision at whoever had just woken him up, "Morning Handsome." Came your low voice in order to not startle him. "Mmm- my partner will get annoyed if some stranger calls me Handsome." Ohh he was definetly sobering up after whatever happend the night before.

It was quiet sweet to hear that that was his mindset about you, even in this state, "Saul I am your partner." He squinted at you and pouted his lips slightly. Then his eyes widened and a clumsy smile crossed his face, "Y/N!" With that his arms wrapped around you and pulled you onto the bed next to him. You yelped as he did this but your shock turned to joy when he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"I've missed you." Came his muffled voice, "I missed you too, Darling, thanks to Axl you have me for a week." "Mmm, that's the only good thing he's done for me in a while." You laughed but stopped when you got some of his curly hair in your mouth. As you struggled to spit it out he giggled and held you tighter, "what time is it?" Asked he "10:43, you've got a while yet before Guns needs you."

"That means I have you all to myself." Gently swatting his shoulder blade at the suggestive comment he giggled again, ohh how you missed these intimate moments with him.