#axl rose head cannon

[lesmislettersdaily]

One Mother Meets Another Mother

Volume 1: Fantine; Book 4: To Confide Is Sometimes To Deliver Into A Person's Power; Chapter 1: One Mother Meets Another Mother

There was, at Montfermeil, near Paris, during the first quarter of this century, a sort of cook-shop which no longer exists. This cook-shop was kept by some people named Thénardier, husband and wife. It was situated in Boulanger Lane. Over the door there was a board nailed flat against the wall. Upon this board was painted something which resembled a man carrying another man on his back, the latter wearing the big gilt epaulettes of a general, with large silver stars; red spots represented blood; the rest of the picture consisted of smoke, and probably represented a battle. Below ran this inscription: AT THE SIGN OF SERGEANT OF WATERLOO (Au Sargent de Waterloo).

Nothing is more common than a cart or a truck at the door of a hostelry. Nevertheless, the vehicle, or, to speak more accurately, the fragment of a vehicle, which encumbered the street in front of the cook-shop of the Sergeant of Waterloo, one evening in the spring of 1818, would certainly have attracted, by its mass, the attention of any painter who had passed that way.

It was the fore-carriage of one of those trucks which are used in wooded tracts of country, and which serve to transport thick planks and the trunks of trees. This fore-carriage was composed of a massive iron axle-tree with a pivot, into which was fitted a heavy shaft, and which was supported by two huge wheels. The whole thing was compact, overwhelming, and misshapen. It seemed like the gun-carriage of an enormous cannon. The ruts of the road had bestowed on the wheels, the fellies, the hub, the axle, and the shaft, a layer of mud, a hideous yellowish daubing hue, tolerably like that with which people are fond of ornamenting cathedrals. The wood was disappearing under mud, and the iron beneath rust. Under the axle-tree hung, like drapery, a huge chain, worthy of some Goliath of a convict. This chain suggested, not the beams, which it was its office to transport, but the mastodons and mammoths which it might have served to harness; it had the air of the galleys, but of cyclopean and superhuman galleys, and it seemed to have been detached from some monster. Homer would have bound Polyphemus with it, and Shakespeare, Caliban.

Why was that fore-carriage of a truck in that place in the street? In the first place, to encumber the street; next, in order that it might finish the process of rusting. There is a throng of institutions in the old social order, which one comes across in this fashion as one walks about outdoors, and which have no other reasons for existence than the above.

The centre of the chain swung very near the ground in the middle, and in the loop, as in the rope of a swing, there were seated and grouped, on that particular evening, in exquisite interlacement, two little girls; one about two years and a half old, the other, eighteen months; the younger in the arms of the other. A handkerchief, cleverly knotted about them, prevented their falling out. A mother had caught sight of that frightful chain, and had said, “Come! there’s a plaything for my children.”

The two children, who were dressed prettily and with some elegance, were radiant with pleasure; one would have said that they were two roses amid old iron; their eyes were a triumph; their fresh cheeks were full of laughter. One had chestnut hair; the other, brown. Their innocent faces were two delighted surprises; a blossoming shrub which grew near wafted to the passers-by perfumes which seemed to emanate from them; the child of eighteen months displayed her pretty little bare stomach with the chaste indecency of childhood. Above and around these two delicate heads, all made of happiness and steeped in light, the gigantic fore-carriage, black with rust, almost terrible, all entangled in curves and wild angles, rose in a vault, like the entrance of a cavern. A few paces apart, crouching down upon the threshold of the hostelry, the mother, not a very prepossessing woman, by the way, though touching at that moment, was swinging the two children by means of a long cord, watching them carefully, for fear of accidents, with that animal and celestial expression which is peculiar to maternity. At every backward and forward swing the hideous links emitted a strident sound, which resembled a cry of rage; the little girls were in ecstasies; the setting sun mingled in this joy, and nothing could be more charming than this caprice of chance which had made of a chain of Titans the swing of cherubim.

As she rocked her little ones, the mother hummed in a discordant voice a romance then celebrated:—

“It must be, said a warrior.”

Her song, and the contemplation of her daughters, prevented her hearing and seeing what was going on in the street.

In the meantime, some one had approached her, as she was beginning the first couplet of the romance, and suddenly she heard a voice saying very near her ear:—

“You have two beautiful children there, Madame.”

“To the fair and tender Imogene—”

replied the mother, continuing her romance; then she turned her head.

A woman stood before her, a few paces distant. This woman also had a child, which she carried in her arms.

She was carrying, in addition, a large carpet-bag, which seemed very heavy.

This woman’s child was one of the most divine creatures that it is possible to behold. It was a girl, two or three years of age. She could have entered into competition with the two other little ones, so far as the coquetry of her dress was concerned; she wore a cap of fine linen, ribbons on her bodice, and Valenciennes lace on her cap. The folds of her skirt were raised so as to permit a view of her white, firm, and dimpled leg. She was admirably rosy and healthy. The little beauty inspired a desire to take a bite from the apples of her cheeks. Of her eyes nothing could be known, except that they must be very large, and that they had magnificent lashes. She was asleep.

She slept with that slumber of absolute confidence peculiar to her age. The arms of mothers are made of tenderness; in them children sleep profoundly.

As for the mother, her appearance was sad and poverty-stricken. She was dressed like a working-woman who is inclined to turn into a peasant again. She was young. Was she handsome? Perhaps; but in that attire it was not apparent. Her hair, a golden lock of which had escaped, seemed very thick, but was severely concealed beneath an ugly, tight, close, nun-like cap, tied under the chin. A smile displays beautiful teeth when one has them; but she did not smile. Her eyes did not seem to have been dry for a very long time. She was pale; she had a very weary and rather sickly appearance. She gazed upon her daughter asleep in her arms with the air peculiar to a mother who has nursed her own child. A large blue handkerchief, such as the Invalides use, was folded into a fichu, and concealed her figure clumsily. Her hands were sunburnt and all dotted with freckles, her forefinger was hardened and lacerated with the needle; she wore a cloak of coarse brown woollen stuff, a linen gown, and coarse shoes. It was Fantine.

It was Fantine, but difficult to recognize. Nevertheless, on scrutinizing her attentively, it was evident that she still retained her beauty. A melancholy fold, which resembled the beginning of irony, wrinkled her right cheek. As for her toilette, that aerial toilette of muslin and ribbons, which seemed made of mirth, of folly, and of music, full of bells, and perfumed with lilacs had vanished like that beautiful and dazzling hoar-frost which is mistaken for diamonds in the sunlight; it melts and leaves the branch quite black.

Ten months had elapsed since the “pretty farce.”

What had taken place during those ten months? It can be divined.

After abandonment, straightened circumstances. Fantine had immediately lost sight of Favourite, Zéphine and Dahlia; the bond once broken on the side of the men, it was loosed between the women; they would have been greatly astonished had any one told them a fortnight later, that they had been friends; there no longer existed any reason for such a thing. Fantine had remained alone. The father of her child gone,—alas! such ruptures are irrevocable,—she found herself absolutely isolated, minus the habit of work and plus the taste for pleasure. Drawn away by her liaison with Tholomyès to disdain the pretty trade which she knew, she had neglected to keep her market open; it was now closed to her. She had no resource. Fantine barely knew how to read, and did not know how to write; in her childhood she had only been taught to sign her name; she had a public letter-writer indite an epistle to Tholomyès, then a second, then a third. Tholomyès replied to none of them. Fantine heard the gossips say, as they looked at her child: “Who takes those children seriously! One only shrugs one’s shoulders over such children!” Then she thought of Tholomyès, who had shrugged his shoulders over his child, and who did not take that innocent being seriously; and her heart grew gloomy toward that man. But what was she to do?

She no longer knew to whom to apply. She had committed a fault, but the foundation of her nature, as will be remembered, was modesty and virtue. She was vaguely conscious that she was on the verge of falling into distress, and of gliding into a worse state. Courage was necessary; she possessed it, and held herself firm. The idea of returning to her native town of M. sur M. occurred to her. There, some one might possibly know her and give her work; yes, but it would be necessary to conceal her fault. In a confused way she perceived the necessity of a separation which would be more painful than the first one. Her heart contracted, but she took her resolution. Fantine, as we shall see, had the fierce bravery of life. She had already valiantly renounced finery, had dressed herself in linen, and had put all her silks, all her ornaments, all her ribbons, and all her laces on her daughter, the only vanity which was left to her, and a holy one it was. She sold all that she had, which produced for her two hundred francs; her little debts paid, she had only about eighty francs left. At the age of twenty-two, on a beautiful spring morning, she quitted Paris, bearing her child on her back. Any one who had seen these two pass would have had pity on them. This woman had, in all the world, nothing but her child, and the child had, in all the world, no one but this woman. Fantine had nursed her child, and this had tired her chest, and she coughed a little.

We shall have no further occasion to speak of M. Félix Tholomyès. Let us confine ourselves to saying, that, twenty years later, under King Louis Philippe, he was a great provincial lawyer, wealthy and influential, a wise elector, and a very severe juryman; he was still a man of pleasure.

Towards the middle of the day, after having, from time to time, for the sake of resting herself, travelled, for three or four sous a league, in what was then known as the Petites Voitures des Environs de Paris, the “little suburban coach service,” Fantine found herself at Montfermeil, in the alley Boulanger.

As she passed the Thénardier hostelry, the two little girls, blissful in the monster swing, had dazzled her in a manner, and she had halted in front of that vision of joy.

Charms exist. These two little girls were a charm to this mother.

She gazed at them in much emotion. The presence of angels is an announcement of Paradise. She thought that, above this inn, she beheld the mysterious HERE of Providence. These two little creatures were evidently happy. She gazed at them, she admired them, in such emotion that at the moment when their mother was recovering her breath between two couplets of her song, she could not refrain from addressing to her the remark which we have just read:—

“You have two pretty children, Madame.”

The most ferocious creatures are disarmed by caresses bestowed on their young.

The mother raised her head and thanked her, and bade the wayfarer sit down on the bench at the door, she herself being seated on the threshold. The two women began to chat.

“My name is Madame Thénardier,” said the mother of the two little girls. “We keep this inn.”

Then, her mind still running on her romance, she resumed humming between her teeth:—

“It must be so; I am a knight,

And I am off to Palestine.”

This Madame Thénardier was a sandy-complexioned woman, thin and angular—the type of the soldier’s wife in all its unpleasantness; and what was odd, with a languishing air, which she owed to her perusal of romances. She was a simpering, but masculine creature. Old romances produce that effect when rubbed against the imagination of cook-shop woman. She was still young; she was barely thirty. If this crouching woman had stood upright, her lofty stature and her frame of a perambulating colossus suitable for fairs, might have frightened the traveller at the outset, troubled her confidence, and disturbed what caused what we have to relate to vanish. A person who is seated instead of standing erect—destinies hang upon such a thing as that.

The traveller told her story, with slight modifications.

That she was a working-woman; that her husband was dead; that her work in Paris had failed her, and that she was on her way to seek it elsewhere, in her own native parts; that she had left Paris that morning on foot; that, as she was carrying her child, and felt fatigued, she had got into the Villemomble coach when she met it; that from Villemomble she had come to Montfermeil on foot; that the little one had walked a little, but not much, because she was so young, and that she had been obliged to take her up, and the jewel had fallen asleep.

At this word she bestowed on her daughter a passionate kiss, which woke her. The child opened her eyes, great blue eyes like her mother’s, and looked at—what? Nothing; with that serious and sometimes severe air of little children, which is a mystery of their luminous innocence in the presence of our twilight of virtue. One would say that they feel themselves to be angels, and that they know us to be men. Then the child began to laugh; and although the mother held fast to her, she slipped to the ground with the unconquerable energy of a little being which wished to run. All at once she caught sight of the two others in the swing, stopped short, and put out her tongue, in sign of admiration.

Mother Thénardier released her daughters, made them descend from the swing, and said:—

“Now amuse yourselves, all three of you.”

Children become acquainted quickly at that age, and at the expiration of a minute the little Thénardiers were playing with the newcomer at making holes in the ground, which was an immense pleasure.

The newcomer was very gay; the goodness of the mother is written in the gayety of the child; she had seized a scrap of wood which served her for a shovel, and energetically dug a cavity big enough for a fly. The grave-digger’s business becomes a subject for laughter when performed by a child.

The two women pursued their chat.

“What is your little one’s name?”

“Cosette.”

For Cosette, read Euphrasie. The child’s name was Euphrasie. But out of Euphrasie the mother had made Cosette by that sweet and graceful instinct of mothers and of the populace which changes Josepha into Pepita, and Françoise into Sillette. It is a sort of derivative which disarranges and disconcerts the whole science of etymologists. We have known a grandmother who succeeded in turning Theodore into Gnon.

“How old is she?”

“She is going on three.”

“That is the age of my eldest.”

In the meantime, the three little girls were grouped in an attitude of profound anxiety and blissfulness; an event had happened; a big worm had emerged from the ground, and they were afraid; and they were in ecstasies over it.

Their radiant brows touched each other; one would have said that there were three heads in one aureole.

“How easily children get acquainted at once!” exclaimed Mother Thénardier; “one would swear that they were three sisters!”

This remark was probably the spark which the other mother had been waiting for. She seized the Thénardier’s hand, looked at her fixedly, and said:—

“Will you keep my child for me?”

The Thénardier made one of those movements of surprise which signify neither assent nor refusal.

Cosette’s mother continued:—

“You see, I cannot take my daughter to the country. My work will not permit it. With a child one can find no situation. People are ridiculous in the country. It was the good God who caused me to pass your inn. When I caught sight of your little ones, so pretty, so clean, and so happy, it overwhelmed me. I said: ‘Here is a good mother. That is just the thing; that will make three sisters.’ And then, it will not be long before I return. Will you keep my child for me?”

“I must see about it,” replied the Thénardier.

“I will give you six francs a month.”

Here a man’s voice called from the depths of the cook-shop:—

“Not for less than seven francs. And six months paid in advance.”

“Six times seven makes forty-two,” said the Thénardier.

“I will give it,” said the mother.

“And fifteen francs in addition for preliminary expenses,” added the man’s voice.

“Total, fifty-seven francs,” said Madame Thénardier. And she hummed vaguely, with these figures:—

“It must be, said a warrior.”

“I will pay it,” said the mother. “I have eighty francs. I shall have enough left to reach the country, by travelling on foot. I shall earn money there, and as soon as I have a little I will return for my darling.”

The man’s voice resumed:—

“The little one has an outfit?”

“That is my husband,” said the Thénardier.

“Of course she has an outfit, the poor treasure.—I understood perfectly that it was your husband.—And a beautiful outfit, too! a senseless outfit, everything by the dozen, and silk gowns like a lady. It is here, in my carpet-bag.”

“You must hand it over,” struck in the man’s voice again.

“Of course I shall give it to you,” said the mother. “It would be very queer if I were to leave my daughter quite naked!”

The master’s face appeared.

“That’s good,” said he.

The bargain was concluded. The mother passed the night at the inn, gave up her money and left her child, fastened her carpet-bag once more, now reduced in volume by the removal of the outfit, and light henceforth and set out on the following morning, intending to return soon. People arrange such departures tranquilly; but they are despairs!

A neighbor of the Thénardiers met this mother as she was setting out, and came back with the remark:—

“I have just seen a woman crying in the street so that it was enough to rend your heart.”

When Cosette’s mother had taken her departure, the man said to the woman:—

“That will serve to pay my note for one hundred and ten francs which falls due to-morrow; I lacked fifty francs. Do you know that I should have had a bailiff and a protest after me? You played the mouse-trap nicely with your young ones.”

“Without suspecting it,” said the woman.

#les mis #les mis letters #volume 1: fantine #book 4: to confide is sometimes to deliver into a person's power #chapter 1

[niksixx]

Number 73

Requested: Anonymously 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader 

Description: “Hi it’s Tuesday so can I request a smut oneshot where reader is harsh to Axl cuz she thinks of him as a selfish womanizer, and he thinks she’s cold and pretentious so they’re basically enemies, but deep inside she’s unable to resist his hotness so when she’s with her friend she blurts our that she wants him to f*** her or sth, but actually axl accidentally overhears it and next day becomes her worst(best) day?” 

Warning: Smuuuut 

A/N: Reblog please !

*GIF is NOT mine, found on Google. Credit to the owner!* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My God, have they come up for air yet?” Y/B/F asks, eyes bugging out of her head.

Without looking, you already know who Y/B/F is talking about. “Let me guess. Blonde. Skinny. Around 5’6, 5’7. Tits squeezed into a shirt that’s too tight.”

“Holy shit,” Duff grins. “Spot on.”

Rolling your eyes, you look over your shoulder, scoffing at how disgustingly accurate your prediction was. The blonde is leaned against the bar, arms wrapped loosely around Axl’s neck as their tongues clash in a heated kiss. Soon, he’d ditch her though, and find the next best thing. That’s just how Axl operated.

“He’s a pig,” you whisper, but Slash hears every word.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say someone is jealous.”

You scoff. “Please. I have respect for myself, you know.”

Just as you suspected, Blondie trickled back to her friends, and Axl was on the prowl. You watch as he sidles up next to a brunette this time, turning on his charm. Their tongues are down each other's throats less than a minute later.

“Man, he’s good,” Izzy pipes up for the first time that night, earning a laugh from his friends and a death stare from his fiance.

Well, at least Axl’s friends weren’t despicable, womanizing assholes. All were dating, engaged, or married. None of them ever felt the need to sleep around, even though they’ve had plenty of chances. But Axl? It sent him on some sort of power trip.

Swirling the straw in your rum and coke, you turn your eyes down at the drink, leaning a cheek on your palm. It’s a shame Axl’s personality was shitty. He was an attractive man who knew how to please a woman. Not that you’d know, but damn if you wouldn’t love to find out.

Twenty minutes later, a drunk Axl falls clumsily into the chair beside you, earning stifled laughs from his bandmates. You roll your eyes and scoot away from him, only to be stopped by his hand gripping the back of your chair.

“Where’re you going?” He smiles lazily at you.

Conveniently, you notice your empty glass and you stand. “Anywhere you’re not.”

Steven hollers loudly as Axl’s jaw immediately tenses up. Shooting him a smirk, you find yourself heading over to the bar, turning in your empty glass and ordering three tequila shots.

“Rough night?” The bartender asks as she places the shot glasses in front of you.

You groan. “You have no idea.”

The shot glass touches your lips but before you have the chance to taste the bitter liquid, a man pushes his way through the crowd, nearly knocking into you, before settling himself beside you at the bar. “I’ll take three of whatever she’s having,” Axl flauts a fifty dollar bill in his hand, sending a wink to the bartender before smirking down at you.

“Charming,” you say, downing the tequila. It burns, and you kick yourself for not ordering a few limes to go with it.

“I know, I know,” Axl gloats. “It’s one of my best traits.”

“Clearly you lack the capacity to understand sarcasm.”

Axl grabs his first glass, drinking the liquid with ease. “And clearly you lack the ability to be nice. What’s your problem, hm? You always have this stuck up, bitchy attitude. I promise you, sweetheart,” Axl’s face is dangerously close to yours, and you pray he can’t feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. “You’re not all that.”

“Oh, and you are?” On a normal day, you’d let Axl’s comments roll off your shoulders. The highlight of his day would be insulting you, teasing you, and irritating the fuck out of you. And somehow he always got to you before you could say anything back. This time, though, you’re determined to stand your ground and speak the fuck up.

“Of course I am. Take a good look at who I am, angel,” Axl holds out his arms as if he believes you’ll actually admire him. “I’m Axl fucking Rose for shit’s sake. Rock legend, millionaire, ladies man.”

“Actually,” You lean closer to him, finger rimming the shot glass. “You wanna know what I really think of you?”

“Enlighten me,” he says, teeth biting the corner of his bright pink lip. “Tell me everything I want to hear.”

“I think,” you whisper, body slightly pressing against his side. His eyes are dark, lustful, and they betray him. “That you’re a selfish, stuck up prick that never got any attention as a child, and that’s why you crave it now. You have commitment issues, which is why you’re a shag ‘em and leave ‘em type of guy. You’re a womanizing bastard and you know no woman would ever willingly choose to be with someone like you, and that is why your life revolves around sex. Sex is the only way women give you attention. And that,” your lips graze his ear. “Is truly fucking pathetic.”

Axl stares angrily as you down the second shot, staring back at him with such animosity burning in your eyes, he almost believes you truly hate him. But the hatred in your eyes is mixed with something else, and he can’t quite figure it out. As he replays your words over in his head, it hits him.

Jealousy.

Axl isn’t prepared for the next words that come out of his mouth, but he takes a shot of tequila anyway for courage. “And I think,” he creeps closer to your body, maneuvering around the tight crowd so your back is pressed against the bar, trapping you in his arms. “That you are so beyond jealous that I haven’t fucked you yet.”

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head as Axl laughs at your expression. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Axl prodes, eyes flickering to your lips. For a moment it seems as if he’s going to kiss you. “If I said let’s go back to my house right now, what would you say?”

“I’d say fuck no.”

“Riiiight,” he taunts, inching closer to your face. “And you actually think I believe that?”

“You should,” You briefly turn in his arms to finish the third shot before turning back, chest heaving, thoughts racing, pussy throbbing. He’s dangerously close and you need to get out of there, and fast, before you act on your thoughts. “Because I would never fuck someone whose dick has been shoved in about twenty different girls.”

“More like seventy-two, but who’s keeping track?” Axl winks, backing up to set you free.

Stomach twisting, you shoot Axl the most disgusted look you could manage. “You’ve had sex with seventy-two women?”

“And counting,” He grins, eyes racking your body. “Wanna be number seventy-three?”

~

One too many tequila shots later, you’re stumbling down the street with Y/B/F right behind you. The liquor had hit when you least expected, and tequila mixed with anger was a deadly combination.

“Seventy-two women!” You shout, leaning on a nearby pole to regain your balance. “He’s fucked seventy-two women,” your chuckle is empty, “And he...and he asked me, me! If I wanted to be...be his number seventy-three.”

“Does that surprise you?” Y/B/F asks. “You said it yourself. He’s a pig.”

“I know and it’s even worse because I’d love nothing more than to be number seventy-three!” Axl hit the nail on the head when he called you out for being jealous. You weren’t just jealous. No, observing his hookups with random girls and hearing stories about them the next day was infuriating. You’d never even been a choice to him.

“You don’t mean that,” says Y/B/F, helping you off the pole. “You’re just a little too drunk.”

“No, Y/B/F, I’m serious.” The purse in your hand slaps against your thigh, free hand smacking your forehead. “I’ve wanted him for years, but I’ve never been good enough. I don’t want to date him or anything, I know he’s not really into that, but goddamn it can’t a woman get a little hate sex in her life? I hate him, he can’t stand me. It’s the perfect fuck.”

Y/B/F grabs your hand, rolling their eyes as they help you inside a cab. “Jesus, Y/N, quiet down before someone hears you.”

But it was too late for that, as just a few paces away Axl stood in the back alley of the bar, phone lifted to his ear, cigarette hanging from his mouth as it narrowed in a smirk. You wanted hate sex? Oh, he’d give just that.

~

As you sit on your couch, TV on low volume, book in your lap, you try to ignore the aches in your body. As you discovered this morning just by emptying your guts into the toilet, tequila was not your friend. This hangover was the worst one you’d had, and even though it was your fault you’d drank too much, you’d subconsciously blame Axl for making you so hot and bothered, you felt drowning yourself in liquor was the only way to handle it.  

There’s a knock on your front door and luckily you’d kept it unlocked. You had no intention of moving from the couch other than to go to the bathroom. “It’s open!”

Your eyes don’t leave the page in front of you, too engrossed in the scene playing out, until the all familiar voice has you slowly looking up from the book. “You look like shit.”

“Always the charmer, eh, Axl?” Snapping your book shut, you chuck it beside you, pulling the blanket to your chin. “What do you want?”

Your pupils dilate as Axl pulls his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the floor. Wandering eyes run over his chest. He’s not like other men. He doesn’t have hard pectorals or the outline of six pack abs, and you like that about him. You also like that he’s standing in front of you shirtless, but you don’t have a guess as to why. “Two words. Hate sex.”

Your breath hitches as he moves toward you. Instinctively, you shoot off the couch. “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, but you need to get out of here right now.”

“Cute shorts,” Axl gestures to the soft gray pajama bottoms that are two sizes too short, the curve of your ass peeking out, giving him a show. “And you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You move around the couch, Axl watching you like his prey. His thumbs are hooked around the belt loops on his jeans as he shuffles his feet along the floor.

“I was drunk,” you admit, eyes flitting around the room, looking at anything other than the man in front of you.

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” He says back, folding his arms across his chest. “I know you’re not a huge fan of me. I don’t particularly like you either. But what I do like is sex,” The bulge in his pants hardens, and you beg yourself not to look. “So, how about it, sweetheart?”

You hate the effect he has on you. He knows you want him, he knows he has total control over you now. But you can’t give into him. You won’t. “Get out.”

His demeanor falls briefly, as if maybe he’d read you wrong. “Are you serious?”

“I said get out, Axl.” Walking around the couch, you position yourself in front of him, lightly pushing his chest. “Now.”

He doesn’t budge. “You’re joking.”

“I said get out.”

His head tilts, but he backs up slowly. You follow him toward the door, heart thumping against your chest. Fucking hell, this was your chance! Why were you kicking him out?

“So last night was just a lie,” Axl responds, pursing his lips.

“No, Axl, it wasn’t a fucking lie,” Again, you shove his chest. “I want you. I really fucking want you. But for the six years we’ve known each other, you’ve never given me so much as a fucking wink. For some reason, I’ve never been good enough for you to fuck.”

“And that pisses you off, doesn’t it?” Axl taunts, shoulder leaning against the doorframe. “I knew you were jealous. And I’ve got to be honest, it looks hot on you.”

“Just go, Axl.”

“You don’t want me to go,” his voice is low, raspy, and if he doesn’t leave now, you may just pull him back in. “I know you don’t.”

“Axl, goddamn it--.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you into his body, lips molding against yours. His lips feel just as you imagined. Warm and soft.

He moves them against your mouth with such expertise it was easy to let him guide you. With his free hand he shuts the door behind him as you cling to his body, locking your arms behind his head.

His tongue explores your mouth, claiming you with each sweep of his tongue. He sucks your bottom lip and a moan escapes you. He kisses like an angel, but he’s anything but.

Axl’s hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, the curve of your ass. He whispers “jump” into your mouth and you do, legs locking around his waist, never breaking the kiss. Heat crackles between the two of you, and you’re overwhelmed with the need to feel his skin.

Axl walks the two of you back into the living room, gently lying you on the couch. His lips disconnect from yours and you groan in want, but his lips find their way to your neck and you relax.

“So needy,” he whispers against the base of your throat. His fingers play with the hem of your shirt. “This is in the way.” In a swift motion, Axl rids you of your shirt, running the tip of my tongue over each of your nipples. They perk, and he smirks before closing his lips around the bud, flicking his tongue and softly biting the peaks. Arching your back forces more of your breast in his mouth, and you hook a leg around his waist, bucking your hips upward. “I need you.”

“Be a good girl and wait,” He demands, licking and kissing a line down your belly. He stops at your shorts, kissing your navel once before slowly dragging the shorts down your legs. He kisses the top of your underwear line, lowering his head until his mouth hovers above your clothed center, gently kissing the fabric. Your hips thrust upward in a frenzy. “Touch me, please.”

He says nothing as he takes his time pulling down your underwear. It’s been months since you’d been intimate, and the shyness takes over. Your legs try to squeeze shut, but Axl pushes them back open again. “You’re not hiding from me. I’ll stare at your pussy all day if I want to.”

His tongue licks a stripe up your center before disappearing between your silky folds. Wetness gathers between your thighs and he laps at it, sending a shutter of pleasure throughout your body. He licks and licks, using the tip and flattening his tongue, but what sends you over the edge is his lips sucking your clit into his mouth.

Your toes are curling and your chest is heaving. You do your best to suck in heaps of air, but you can’t focus on breathing as his tongue swirls around your clit.

You want to watch him. Back resting against the couch pillow, you hold yourself up on your elbows just in time to see Axl spit on your pussy. His thumb spreads the saliva across your clit, flicking it rather quickly.

His middle finger slides into your hole, wetness coating the digit as it pumps in and out of your folds. Axl adds his ring finger next, using his free hand to spread you open more. “So tight, sweetheart. Gotta loosen you up a bit so you can take my cock.”

You moan at the vulgarness of his words. This what exactly how you’d pictured sex with Axl. The dirty talk. The fingering. The gentle licks on your clit. This is what you’d been fucking wait for.

Your head falls back as his tongue finds your pussy again, the sensation of his fingers and tongue making your head fall back. “Fuck, fuck, Axl.”

“Yes, baby, I’m gonna fuck you.”

Cold air hits your clit as Axl pulls back, hands finding his jeans and pulling them down his legs. He kicks them off to the side, eyes locking with yours as he fists himself through his boxers. You reach out for him but he slaps your hand away, sliding the boxers down his thighs. His cock springs to life, thankful to not be constricted any longer. He’s long and hard with a few veins on the underside, and you whimper at the sight of precum that dribbles down the head. “Sit up.”

At that point, you’ll do anything he says. Axl sits, hand stroking his dick as you crawl over him, positioning your pussy directly over his cock. You lower yourself a bit, clit brushing against the soft head, and even Axl moans this time. His hands grab your hips, and together you lower yourself down, stifling a cry as his dick forces itself inside your hole, stretching your walls.

Axl’s mouth falls open as you sink yourself lower onto his cock. His hands never leave your hips, but instead aids in the bouncing of your ass against his thighs as you maneuver yourself up and down, up and down. Your tits are perched perfectly in front of him and he licks his lips in delight as he captures a nipple, swirling his tongue in circles.

Your body explodes in pleasure, from the tongue on your breasts to the dick burying itself in your cunt. Hands on Axl’s chest, you balance yourself over top of him, slightly craning your head back to watch as his cock slides in and out of your slick pussy.

Axl’s hand grips your face, turning you back to face him. “This is what you wanted?” He grunts out, hips thrusting upward to meet your hips. “You wanted me to fuck you like a whore?”

Your toes curl. Your legs squeeze against his thighs. Your head falls forward against his, breath fanning over his face as his hand squeezes your jawline. This is all you wanted, and even if you had to wait six years for it, it was worth it.

“Come on, ride my cock.” He grunts harshly as your hips pound against his legs, riding his dick as if there were no tomorrow. Like your life depended on it.

Your pussy clenches around him, and that all too familiar bubble in the pit of your belly only grows as Axl continues his pounding into you. He thrusts at lightning speed, and you’re so caught off guard you reach for the back of the couch, holding on as he fucks the daylights out of you.

“Axl! Shit, shit,” His balls slap against your underside, arms wrapping around your middle to steady you against him. “I’m gonna--fuck I’m--coming!”

Your thighs shake violently as you come, juices spilling out of your pussy, dripping down your legs, and puddling on Axl’s thighs. His load shoots into you and he pulls your forward, nuzzling his face between your breasts, breathing hard. With every twitch of his cock, you moan a little louder.

You close your eyes, steadying your breath as you come down from your sex high. Axl licks his lips, eyes trained on your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him, but your lips never meet as he pulls back.

“This can’t happen again.”

The words stun you as he slides his cock out of you. He stands from the couch, pulling on his boxers and pants before pulling his shirt down over his head, leaving you to process his words. This can’t happen again. Why the hell not?

“Wait, what?” You shoot off the couch, flustered and completely naked. Axl’s eyes run up and down your body, and you can see it in his face, he wants you. But something is holding him back. “I just had the best fucking day of my life, and you tell me it’ll never happen again?”

He shrugs, finishing the button on his jeans. There’s something sad in his eyes, and your heart breaks. “I don’t fuck the same girl twice.”

He turns, and you chase after him. Axl just gets to the door before you grab his arm, forcing him to turn around and look at you. “So that’s fucking it? You’re just going to leave?”

Axl nods, biting the corner of his mouth. “One and done, sweetheart. That’s all I can offer you.”

“But,” you stutter, unable to control the tears pricking your eyes. “But I thought-.”

“That fucking you would be different?” He asks, swallowing nervously as the tears in your eyes break free. Damn it. He wanted to be gone before the waterworks started. “That I’d want to be with you? We’re enemies, Y/N. Our personalities clash. You’re a bitch and I’m...well...you were right. I’m a bastard that only wants sex. You were never an exception,” Axl blows out a breath and watches as your face falls dejectedly. “You were just number seventy-three.”

#axl rose #axl rose guns n roses #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #axl rose head cannon #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses headcannon #gnr #gnr x reader #gnr fanfic #axl rose fanfic #axl gnr #gnr fanfiction #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses smut #axl rose smut

[losers-yurio]

I JUST DISCOVERED YOUR ACOCUNT AND SJAJHDBEOQIZHE I LOVE IT. I READ THE SUBBING MÖTLEY CRÜE AND oh my gosh CAN I REQUEST: A Guns N Roses sub head cannon thing?? Thanks so much 🖤

Guns n roses x reader smut

Sub head cannons

HI YES OF COURSE THANK YOU FOR THE FEED BACK ILY ALSO IM SORRY IF THIS IS SHIT-

Axl

the two of you have to be SUPER close before he’ll let you top though 

Like I said before he loves to be tied up right 

but hear me out 

he also enjoys to be gagged 

Like he'll let you take the lead

but you are very sorely mistaken if you think that your in total control

Slash

✨handcuffs✨

but its mostly so he cant touch you or control the pace 

Honestly topping him would be so fun

Probably a surprise the first time you did

Like you just had enough of his arrogant ass

"You wanna act like that? Okay fine my turn"

Bonus points if your v unassuming and hes just

"Oh😳"

Izzy

BRAT

Honestly it takes alot for him to let you have the control

but when he does he loves to have his hair pulled 

Not really whiney

But definitely soft grunts here and there

Steven

Such a sub

Absolutely loves when your on top

Especially when hes had a bad day at the studio

Coming home to you knowing that your gonna take care of him

Ik I said it before but

PRAISE THIS PRETTY MAN PLEASE

He l I v e s for it

Hes just a soft simple man

Duff

vv loud and whiney 

likes to be edged for hours

like hes definitely a tease but he loves when it comes back to bite ‘im in the ass

maybe you get possessive in front of groupies

"Mine back off"

Kinda halfway between being puppy happy and amused

Taglist:@makemeyourwife-loveofmylife

#smut warning #my writing #guns n' roses #guns n roses x reader #duff mckagan x reader #slash x reader #axl rose x reader #izzy stradlin x reader #steven adler x reader

[lost-in-the-80s]

The Hotel - Halloween Special

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Words: 4,859k

Summary: You and your boyfriend, Izzy decide to make a road trip, however, strange events end up leading you to a strange hotel on October, 31st. (kind of angst) 

A/N: Halloween is one of my favorite holidays, so I decided to make an Imagine with the Halloween theme. It is inspired by the song Hotel California by Eagles.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, ghosts and paranormal events. It’s a horror fic, if you don’t like this theme, maybe this isn’t the right fic for you. 

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car​ @ladieswttda​ @teasid​ add yourself to my tag list :)

It was the fall of 1990, you and your boyfriend, Izzy were enjoying the last few months you had together before he went on another world tour with his band, Gun n Roses.

The two of you were in the living room of your shared apartment in L.A. You shared a cozy blanket while sitting on the couch, watching some romantic movie on the TV. Izzy didn’t really like this type of movie, but made an effort because he knew how much you liked them. 

You snuggled in his chest, pressing yourself even more on him, he chuckled a little and passed his fingers through your hair.

“We should do something.” He stated.

“Like what?”

“How about a road trip? We take the car and drive until Portland, then come back.”

“Portland? You mean, Oregon?”

“Yeah, Oregon. I was looking on the map and it has some beautiful locations there.”

“But how long will it take us?”

“It’s a 14-hour drive, we can make it in a week through the coast and then come back in another week, taking a different road.”

“Hmm, sounds nice! Let’s do it!” 

“How about we leave by the end of October? So I can have enough time to finish some stuff at the studio.”

“Sure, babe!”

And so October went by, Izzy finished some final touches at the studio, you rescheduled some appointments of yours, you two organized your bags, bought a map, a flashlight and some other travel essentials and checked the car with a mechanic. Everything was going as planned. 

You decided to leave on Monday, 22nd, because the roads would be less packed. So you both woke up, took shower, had a delicious breakfast and started your amazing trip.

You knew that the reason why Izzy wanted to leave town for a while, was because he was stressed. Axl was a perfectionist, while Izzy liked things to sound less rehearsed, for that reason the two of them have been bickering towards each other during all this album recording, and Izzy really needed some time away from all of this. 

The trip started just fine, you drove through the coast and you got amazed by how beautiful California’s coast was. All its colors, shapes and beaches getting a special place in your memory.

The first stop was Santa Barbara, you two enjoyed it’s beaches, becoming friends with a group of sourfists that taught Izzy how to surf. By night you went to a nice restaurant in front of the beach, delighting yourselves with cocktails and seafood.

Then you went to San Francisco, where you decided to stay for two days, visiting all its touristic places, like the Golden Gate Bridge, Lombard Street, Pier 39 and the Coit Tower.

Moving on to Sonoma, you could savor some of the best wine you had had in your life and spend the night at a cozy cottage, reading a book and cuddling together in front of the fireplace. 

The last stop in California was the Redwood National Park. You got completely stunned by that place, admiring the magnitude of the world, as you looked so small beside those trees. 

Soon the greenish color of the sea turned bluer, the sunset became less orange and the mornings turned more grey, the sand turned to earth and the breeze became colder and you arrived in Oregon. 

You glimpsed the strength of the sea at the Samuel H. Boardman Scenic Corridor and Cape Sebastian State Scenic Corridor and admired the sunset at the Face Rock State Scenic Area. 

And finally, you got stunned with the Devil’s Punchbowl and spent a day relaxing at Neskowin Beach ending the week taking the most beautiful pictures at Cannon Beach, where you bought souvenirs for all your friends. 

Then you finally arrived in Portland, spending the weekend there, seeing all the touristic places and visiting museums. On Sunday night, Izzy took you to this fancy restaurant, you wore a beautiful blue dress he had asked you to bring along, while he put on a black shirt with a blazer.

You had just eaten delicious lamb meat with a glass of wonderful wine and were waiting for the dessert when he started talking.

“I’ve been thinking these past days, about the tour and stuff.”

You looked up at him and his eyes caught yours.

 “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’m sure it will be a long time and I didn’t really want to leave without doing something first.”

He touched your hand that was resting on top of the table.

“You’ve been with me for years now. You met me when having a big band and becoming famous were just dreams, you saw me in my best and in my worst and you never let go of me, even when I was being an asshole with you.”

He made a pause.

“I wake up happy every day, just because I know that I’ll see you when I open my eyes, and I can’t imagine my life without you. So I was wondering if…” He stopped and started to search for something in his blazer pockets, he took a small black box out of it and you gasped, covering your mouth as a huge smile appeared on your face. “If you would like to marry me, Y/N?”

Recovering a little from your surprise, you replied with teary eyes. “Yes, Izzy, I would love to!” 

He placed a small silver ring with a single diamond on top of it, on your ring finger and kissed the back of your hand, then he leaned a little on the table and pecked your lips.

“I love you!”

“I love you too, Izzy”

When Monday came by, you two fueled the car and started driving back home. stopping at some locations you haven’t been before.

You had the chance to drive a buggy at the Oregon Dunes, take lots of pictures at the Heceta Head Lighthouse and make a forest trail at the Cape Perpetua Scenic Area before camping at Beverly Beach. Which, by the way, was a disaster, you forgot the repellent spray and the mosquitos had a nice dinner over with you and Izzy. 

Soon, day 31st arrived. You woke up in your tent with a single sunbeam illuminating the place, you felt Izzy’s arms holding you close to him and you took a moment to admire your engagement ring. 

You stretched up a little bit, which woke him up. He yawned and squeezed you harder, before speaking with a husky morning voice. 

“Good morning, beautiful!”

“Good morning, Iz!”

You turned around and kissed him quickly on the lips.

“Happy Halloween.”

“Today’s Halloween?” He frowned.

You just hummed in response. 

“All right, let’s get up then.” He pecked your lips one more time and let go of you, as he sat up. 

You got ready, packed your stuff and exited the tent, starting to walk towards the parking lot. 

You looked up to the sky and saw the grey color became prevalent.

“I think it’s gonna rain.” You said.

“Maybe if we have breakfast fast enough, we can get to California before it starts.”

You sat on the passenger seat, scrolling through the radio stations until you found one that pleased your ears.

After a few minutes driving, you stopped at a cafe, taking a table in front of the window and ordering pancakes with coffee.

“Where’s the next stop?” Izzy asked.

You took the map out of your purse and looked cautiously.

“Mount Shasta.”

“Hmm. I think we’ll get there for lunch.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee. “A friend of mine told me about a hotel there, I don’t remember the name, but it has Wale on it.”

“Nice. We should spend the night there!”

“We really should.”

You finished eating and started driving again. Izzy took the wheel while you gave him the directions. It was a little past ten when the rain started pouring, making Izzy drive slower, not trusting his car to stop fast enough if you needed it.

About 2 in the afternoon you got to Mount Shasta. It was still raining and the trail had been closed due to the bad weather.

Not having many more things to do, you both had lunch at a local restaurant and took pictures of yourselves at the mounting foot and other places you found interesting. You smiled as Izzy made a funny face for you to take a picture.

An old man started walking near you, and you asked him if he could take a picture of the two of you, which he happily complied. 

You went to Izzy’s side and rested your hand on his chest, while his hand circled your waist. You saw the flash and then Izzy kissed your forehead, the second flash hit your eyes and Izzy thanked the man, getting the camera back.

The day started to grow dark and you decided to head to the hotel, since it was about an hour away from the city.

The rain became stronger and the mist started to cover the road. You passed by the numerous trees that surrounded the road while listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd.

In the distance, you saw a red light appear beside a big house. “There!” you shouted.

You were right, it was the hotel. You were both sure as you saw “Californian Wale” written on top of the house. There was just one problem, the red neon light in front of it said “No vacancy”, which meant you would have to keep on driving, during that weather, until you found somewhere else to stay. 

As the sunset and the night arrived, the weather got worse, thunder and lightning turning the night into a spectacle and you barely could see anything until it was really close to you. 

You were becoming hopeless, you thought you wouldn't be able to find anywhere to stay for the night.

By 7 in the night, Izzy didn't see a hole on the road, a loud sound broke in the darkness and you knew you had punctured the tire.

For a second Izzy lost control over the car and you ended up out of the road. 

"Fuck! Are you alright?"

"Yes." You let go of a breath you didn't realize you had caught.

"Where's the flashlight?"

You searched through the glove compartment until your hands touched the cold material. You handed him the object as he thanked you and exited the car.

After a few minutes, he came back. "Fuck!" He was dripping wet. "We don't have a spare wheel."

"What do you mean we don't have a spare wheel?"

"I mean we don't have a spare wheel, Y/N!" He replied to you as if he was talking to a toddler. 

"I thought you had checked the car out with the mechanic!"

"I did it! But we just checked the engine and shit, I didn't even think about the step!"

"Fuck! What do we do now?"

"I don't know." He leaned his head on the wheel while cursing.

Suddenly a car headlight lightened the road.

"Look!" 

Izzy lifted his head and you smashed the car's horn, making the driver stop his truck beside your car, turning on the alert lights. 

It was a squeak. You breathed out in relief.

"What happened?" He shouted through his window.

"We punctured the tire and don't have a spare wheel!"

"Alright, hold it!" He lined up his truck with your car and exited it.

"Wait inside." Was all Izzy said before exiting the car to help the driver hitch the car on the truck.

After a few minutes he came back and the car started to be pulled back on the road.

"He called us crazy for not having seen the weather forecast on the news. We're underneath a huge storm cloud." He chuckled.

"He said there's a small city not too far from here, he'll let us there."

"Good" You sighed.

After some minutes you saw the city's entrance, he wasn't joking when he said it was small. It had just one main street and all the houses looked old.

He left you and Izzy in front of a mechanic garage and refused to get the money Izzy offered him for having driven you there.

You entered the office of the garage, hand in hand, and a man in his 40s appeared behind the counter. He had a toothpick between his lips and looked like he hadn't taken shower in ages. 

"Hm, good night. We have a punctured tire." Izzy spoke up.

"I see, let's take a look."

He moved outside and looked at your tire. 

"Well, it's not that bad. I have a tire of this type here, I can fix it in 30 minutes or so."

"Good!"

"Do you have a car jack?"

"Yes, it's in the back."

"Go get it while I get the tire then."

Izzy moved towards the car and the man looked you up and down, making you feel a huge discomfort. 

You walked quickly to Izzy's side while the man walked back inside the office.

"I don't like this man." You whispered.

"Me neither, but we need to fix the car, baby." He put a lock of your hair behind your ear and closed the trunk. 

The man came back and you leaned against a wall while you watched them working on the car. 

"All done! It's 250 bucks." The man said, while he scratched his nose.

"250? Wow, that's way more than I had thought."

"I'm working at night, kid, my time it's not for free."

Izzy stared at him.

"I can take the tire off if you want." He said, leaning down. 

"No, it's fine." 

You both walked inside the office, while Izzy paid the man.

"Do you take a check?"

"I don't, usually." 

"I don't walk around with 250 bucks in my wallet, man." 

"Alright, I'll take your check then, but I want the date for tomorrow."

"Alright, man."

"Where are you guys going?"

"We're going to Los Angeles."

"It's a long road until Los Angeles, especially with this weather. If I were you, I would spend the night at a hotel… We have a good one, a little bit after the city. They serve a good soup at nights like this."

Izzy signed up for the check. "Thank you"

He grabbed your hand and you walked back to the car.

"What do you think? Should we check out this hotel?"

"I think it's a good idea. I'm soaked, we're hungry and it's raining cats and dogs outside." He turned on the car. "Plus, we don't know if we'll find somewhere else nearby."

You agreed. 

He drove until you saw a huge Victorian house with a sign saying "Hotel Hoffmann".

"I guess we're here."

He parked the car and you both exited, running in the rain until you got to the main door of the house.

You knocked repeatedly until an old woman opened the door for you. She had white hair and dark eyes and was dressed as if she still lived in the 50s.

"Come on in, kids." She gave you a creepy smile.

You gulped, grabbing Izzy's hand before entering the place.

"What a night huh?" She laughed a little. "Bill called saying you two would probably stop by."

"I'm sorry, but, who's Bill?" You asked.

"The man who fixed your car, darling."

"Oh"

"We still have some open rooms for you. Do you prefer it on the first or second floor?"

"Second, please" Izzy cleared his throat, the rain starting to make him feel sick.

"All right, I'll put you in room number 13." She looked through the multiple keys behind her, before putting the one with a locksmith with a big 13 written. 

"We'll be serving soup until nine at the main saloon." She put a leather-covered notebook on the desk. "In which name should I make the reservation?"

"Jeffrey Isbell." Izzy spoke before you could answer. 

She wrote his name down with a beautiful calligraphy before handing him the pen to sign. 

She handed you the keys to your room and said she would take you both there. Izzy interjected saying he would go grab your baggage in the car.

"Do you want help?"

"No, honey, it's okay." He left the room and an uncomfortable silence filled in. 

"It's been a long time since we last had a young couple like you."

You forced a smile, not really knowing what to say.

Izzy came back with the bags and she led you to your room. Once inside, Izzy locked the door.

You stopped for a moment to look at the room. It was big, the walls were painted in peach color and the furniture looked old.

"Finally some peace." He hugged you from behind, kissing the top of your head.

You turned around, hugging him back. "You need to take a shower, or you're gonna catch a cold."

"Hmm, and will you join me?" He asked suggestively.

"No, I'll go later, babe"

"Are you sure?"

You nodded your head and he walked towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

You took a long breath. Something was wrong. You couldn't quite put into words what, but your heart was clenched ever since you got in that town.

You took a seat at the bench underneath the window, looking at the dimly light garden. No cars were passing by, the only thing you distinguished outside was a dog running down the street.

"The rain is starting to stop." 

Izzy's voice made you jump a little, you hadn't realized he had left the bathroom, nor that you had been there for so long. 

You looked at him. "Why don't you take a shower and we go down to eat something?" He caressed your face and you instantly felt calmer.

He always had this power over you, no matter what was happening, you always felt safe and calm when Izzy was with you. 

"There's something wrong, Iz."

"What do you mean?" He sat in front of you.

"I don't know. I don't like this place, there's something wrong with the energy around here."

"I don't like this place too, but it's only for one night, tomorrow morning we get in the car and drive to the next destination ok?"

"Okay"

You stood up and walked towards the bathroom, closing the door and turning on the shower. Taking off your clothes you looked at yourself in the mirror before getting underneath the hot water, letting it warm your body.

Exiting the bathroom you put on a pair of jeans and a red sweatshirt and walked with Izzy to the main room. There was just a couple with a young daughter there. They stared at you until you sat down. 

Another old woman brought you two plates with soup and you started eating. The taste was horrible, but you were so hungry that you ate everything.

Back to your room, you guys were feeling so tired that decided to call it a night, Izzy removed his clothes and you put on his sweater, before climbing on bed with him. You adjusted the blankets and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fall asleep.

A loud scream woke you up. You sat down on the bed and turned the night table light on, looking at the clock you saw it was 3 in the morning. 

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah." Izzy said getting up and putting his pants on.

The corridor light allowed you to see a shadow passing by the door.

"Turn the light off." Izzy murmured.

You did as he said and you saw the person take another direction.

After a few seconds you turn it on again, and a scream left your lips as you could swear you saw someone behind Izzy.

"Shh, it's okay." He climbed on the bed and cupped your face. "I'm here, nothing is gonna happen to you, ok?"

"Okay." You breathed slowly, trying to calm yourself.

Suddenly the bedroom windows opened and the cool breeze of the night invaded the room.

"Izzy…" you tugged on his arm.

"Let's get out of here." He grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the room.

The corridor was empty and you started to walk quickly towards the entry door. You turned left and were faced with a long corridor full of doors.

That's when you hear what looked like a child asking for help. Izzy started walking towards the sound and you pulled him back by the hand murmuring for him not to do so. 

"It's a child Y/N!"

He let go of your hand and moved towards the only room with an open door. You walked closely behind him. You saw a boy sitting on the floor crying as he asked for help again. 

Izzy entered the room, but before you could do the same the door closed behind him.

"IZZY!" 

"Y/N!" He yelled back, trying to open the door. 

"IZZY!!" You started to shove your fists against the door.

You heard a loud sound inside the room and Izzy saying: "Oh my God!" And you became hysterical.

You tried to open the door with all your force, shoving your fists and shoulders on the wood trying to take Izzy out of there.

"Y/N Leave!"

"I'm not leaving without you!!" You started to cry.

"Get on the fucking car and leave!!" 

Before you could reply the corridor lights started to flick and you saw someone approaching you. Turning your head to the left you saw a young man getting closer to you, illuminated by the moonlight. 

You were about to ask him for help when the lights flicked on again. He was tall and was dressed in 60s clothes, everything looked normal except for his white morbid eyes and his broken neck, his head slightly leaned to the side.

You screamed loudly this time as you started to walk back.

"Y/N!!" Izzy hit the door trying to open it.

You turned around and started running down the stairs, while still hearing Izzy calling for you. 

Running towards the main door you were stopped as a woman with a cut neck appeared in front of you.

"Where are you going, sweetie?"

You screamed again and turned left, getting in a corridor you haven't been before. 

She started to walk behind you and you saw an open room, getting inside and closing the door behind you. It was a library, with big windows. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

You heard a loud sound coming from the second floor and one of the windows breaking. 

You saw someone falling from it, and when you got closer to the glass you saw a white man with black hair and red leather pants. 

"Izzy!!" You yelled punching the glass, seeing his lifeless body laying on the grass.

Tears started to fall from your eyes as you heard the door of the Library opening.

"You are going to be with him soon, darling, don't worry."

It was the old lady.

You ran and passed through the second door of the room, ending up in another corridor.

You ran until you found two big doors separating the corridor. You opened them and were greeted with an indoor pool area. The ceiling was made of glass, just like most of the walls. You looked from one way to another but there were no other doors. You were stuck.

"It's useless to run." She reappeared behind you.

You turned around, facing her. "Please, just let me go!"

She said nothing, but took one step closer, making you take one step back. 

"Please, I didn't do anything! Just let me go!"

The couple from the dinner appeared beside her, alongside the boy with the broken neck and the bleeding woman, along with some other people you haven't seen before.

They all looked hurt in some sort of way and their eyes were white as if a cloud was hiding their true ones.

You kept walking backward as they kept walking towards you.

"Please, let me go!! Please!" Your crying was evident in your voice and you were starting to freak out.

"Please, don't hurt me!" You took one last step back and was involved in water. You fell in the pool. 

You were so scared that you forgot the pool was there, and most importantly, you forgot you didn't know how to swim.

You tried as hard as you could. Moving your legs and arms to try to get to the surface again, but it was useless. The more you moved, the deeper you got.

You opened your mouth to try to breathe but was greeted with water filling your lungs, making you choke.

You moved your hand to your neck as if the gesture would bring you some oxygen. You looked up and saw all those people circling the pool and then darkness overtook you.

You woke up gasping for air, touching your body to check you were ok. Sweat covered your forehead and most parts of your body and hot tears left your eyes.

You suddenly saw the lights turn on, realizing you were still in the hotel room. "Shh, it's okay." 

You pulled away when he touched you.

"It's okay. It's me!" You didn't look at him, so he touched your chin and lightly made you look in his direction. "It's me Y/N!"

You let go of a long breath and hugged him tightly. 

"It's ok, it was just a nightmare. You're ok!" 

"You were dead and I was dead and the pool…." You dragged on, sharing the first memories you had from your dream.

"Shh" He kissed the top of your head. "We're fine Y/N."

"She was following me…"

"As long as I'm here, no one will hurt you, okay?" He parted from you to look in your eyes. 

You nodded slowly.

Looking at the clock on your bedside table you saw it was 2:35 am.

"Let's get out of here, Izzy. Please!"

"But it's in the middle of the night, babe"

"Please, Izzy, please, let's get out of here!"

He saw how frightened you were. "Okay." He paused for a second. "Let's get dressed then."

You both got up and got dressed, throwing all your stuff back in your bags. You paused before exiting the room.

"Promise me that you will ignore anything you might hear!"

"What?"

"Promise me, Izzy!"

"Ok! I promise!" 

You grabbed his hand and dragged him down the corridor and down the stairs as fast as you could. 

Arriving at the reception you rang the bell on the table tirelessly until the old woman appeared. She was wearing a robe, but didn't look tired at all.

"What's the problem kids? Didn't like your room?"

"We want to check out!" You replied quickly. 

"Now? But it's still early!" She paused for a moment, trying to think about what to say. "Wouldn't you prefer to leave by morning?"

"No! We have to go now!"

"We serve a good breakfast here."

"I said we have to go now!" You were growing frustrated.

"Okay, but I'll have to demand the same price as if you had stayed until morning." 

"Ok! How much?"

"45 dollars."

You opened your purse, looking for your wallet, getting 50 bucks, and putting them on her desk.

She opened a drawer to get your change, but you rushed in saying she could keep it, before grabbing Izzy by the hand and leading him to the door. Trying to open it, you realized it was still locked.

"The door is locked, mam" Izzy spoke up.

"Oh, wait a minute, I'll get the keys. They might be somewhere here.” She entered a small room behind the reception and you started to stomp the ground anxiously.

"She's taking too long!"

"Calm down, Y/N!" He touched your shoulder, making you feel calmer, but you were still cautious.

"We're in a rush!" You shouted.

"Oh I'm sorry, I was not finding them." She walked calmly towards the door, using all her time to open it.

Once she finally opened, you stormed out of it, dragging Izzy with you.

"Where are the car keys?"

"Jesus! Relax, Y/N! They're here!" He took the keys out of his pant's pocket and opened the trunk of the car first.

You literally threw your bag inside and rushed to the driver's door. "I'm driving!" You extended your hand for him to put the keys on. 

"No way! You're too shaken to do so. You're gonna end up killing us."

"Fine, but be fast!" You gave in, rushing to the passenger door, seating fastly once Izzy unlocked the car.

Turning on the engine, he drove the car back to the street, driving out of the city.

"What time is it?"

He looked at his clock. "3 am"

You looked back just in time to see all the hotel lights turning on and strange people appearing at the windows.

A shiver ran down your spine as you sat still on your seat again, thanking that you were out of that place. 

#halloween week with harley #izzy stradlin #izzy stradlin fic #izzy stradlin imagine #izzy stradlin fanfic #izzy stradlin x reader #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fic #halloween #halloween imagine #halloween fic #harley writes

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Behind The Album: In Utero

The third and final studio album from Nirvana was released in September 1993 via DGC records. The band wanted to make a clear departure from how their second album sounded. They felt that their huge hit album, Nevermind, was too polished as a record. The producer of that second LP, Butch Vig, would later note that Kurt Cobain needed to “reclaim his punk ethics or cred.” For his part Cobain would tell Rolling Stone in early 1992 that the record would have elements to it much more raw then found on the second album. However, he did emphasize the fact that the pop sound would not disappear entirely. He had hoped to start working on it l in the middle of 1992, but distance between band members getting together was an issue as they all lived in different cities. Another issue came in the fact that Courtney Love was expecting their first child. DGC was hoping to release a new record by Christmas of the year, but instead they were forced to go with the compilation album of all the early material from Sub Pop, Incesticide. For In Utero, Cobain showed interest in working with former producer of Bleach, Jack Endino and Steve Albini. They brought in Endino to work on a few instrumentals for the record that were eventually re-recorded, and he was never asked to produce in any capacity. The group went back and forth debating whether to hire Albini or not. In January 1993, the group recorded another set of demos while on tour in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil. This would later become the track, “Gallons of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through the Strip,” which originally had the working title of I’ll Take You Down to the Pavement. The latter represented a direct reference to an argument between Cobain and Guns N’ Roses frontman Axl Rose at the 1992 MTV Video Music Awards. The band finally decided to go with Albini as a producer despite his reputation of strict discipline within the studio and remaining one of the most opinionated producers out there. He was said to have referred to Nirvana as “REM with a fuzz box, unremarkable Seattle sound.” He would later say that his decision to work with the band came out of sympathy, feeling smaller groups like Nirvana were at the mercy of the record label. This particular statement should be taken with a grain of salt as Nirvana had just released the biggest record since Appetite for Destruction. Cobain had been a fan of the producer based on his work with the Pixies and the Breeders.

Producer Albini wanted to complete recording within a strict two week timeframe. Nirvana paid for the recording sessions themselves on Albini’s suggestion to avoid interference from the record label. The band paid him $24,000 for his services, while he refused any royalties whatsoever, which would have amounted to $500,000. He would continually say that royalties were immoral and a complete insult to the artist. They recorded at Pachyderm Studios in Cannon Falls, Minnesota in February 1993. Krist Novoselic would compare the environment to a gulag. “There was snow outside, we couldn't go anywhere. We just worked." Nirvana during this time emphasized to the record company that they wanted absolutely no interference from them, which meant they did not share anything from these sessions with their A & R representative. For his part, Steve Albini followed suit by only speaking with members of the band. He characterized anyone associated with the group as “pieces of shit.” After a short delay, the band's equipment finally arrived, so the actual recording of the album went very quickly. Each track began with the group playing together as one doing the instrumental aspect of it. For some tracks, Dave Grohl did the drums in the kitchen due to the natural acoustics sounding better. Albini had also surrounded his drums with 30 microphones for each track. They did not remove any take from the album, but instead kept them all. Cobain even added more guitar parts at the end of each day before doing the vocals. Although Albini had a reputation for being opinionated, he let Nirvana decide what to keep. “Generally speaking, [Cobain] knows what he thinks is acceptable and what isn't acceptable [...] He can make concrete steps to improve things that he doesn't think are acceptable." They did all of their musical work in six days, while Cobain said that it was the easiest recording he had ever done. Albini proceeded to mix the album in five days, which actually was slow by his standards because he usually only spent 1 to 2 days on it.

After completion, the band began to send the unmastered tapes to various people including the president of the DGC records. They absolutely hated it saying the songwriting was mediocre, the entire album was unlistenable, and radio would never except Albini’s production. Cobain took the comments personally to mean that the label wanted him to start from scratch and record again with a new producer. He would say, “I should just re-record this record and do the same thing we did last year because we sold out last year—there's no reason to try and redeem ourselves as artists at this point. I can't help myself—I'm just putting out a record I would like to listen to at home." Yet, the group remained dead set on releasing this version of the record as late as April 1993. They had played it for a number of their friends, who had liked it. The singer said, “Of course, they want another Nevermind, but I'd rather die than do that. This is exactly the kind of record I would buy as a fan, that I would enjoy owning." Around this time, some doubts crept up with all members of Nirvana because the mix of In Utero did not sound right. They asked Albini to possibly remix the record, and he flat out refused. “[Cobain] wanted to make a record that he could slam down on the table and say, 'Listen, I know this is good, and I know your concerns about it are meaningless, so go with it.' And I don't think he felt he had that yet ... My problem was that I feared a slippery slope." They took the record to Bob Ludwig for mastering, while at the same time mentioned their issues with the mix to him. Upon completion, Krist Novoselic said he was happy with the result, but Cobain still felt it was not perfect. At this time, Steve Albini gave an interview with the Chicago Tribune, where he doubted whether the record would ever be released. Newsweek would run another article that echoed the comments made by Albini. This caused Nirvana to write a full page letter to the magazine denying the label was putting any undue pressure on them. The same letter would be reproduced as a full page ad in Billboard not long after. The head of Geffen Records, who owned DGC made the unprecedented move of actually calling Newsweek to complain. The band thought about having Andy Wallace remix the release, but once again Albini refused saying they had only agreed to work with him. At the time, the producer also would release any of the tapes that were now in his possession. He only did so after a phone call from Krist Novoselic. The entire album for the most part was not changed at all, except for a remastering. Yet, the producer continually made comments that it was nowhere near the album he recorded in Minnesota. “The record in the stores doesn't sound all that much like the record that was made, though it's still them singing and playing their songs, and the musical quality of it still comes across." He would go on to say that major labels refused to work with him for the next year or so because of In Utero.

As for the music, the producer wanted to go as far away as possible from Nevermind with this record. He felt that the second album made the group look incredibly bad because it had been overproduced at such a level to make it extremely radio friendly. He wanted to create a much more natural sound for the group. The 1993 Nirvana biography, Come As You Are, noted the vision for the band on this record. “The Beatlesque 'Dumb' happily coexists beside the all-out frenzied punk graffiti of 'Milk It,' while 'All Apologies' is worlds away from the apoplectic 'Scentless Apprentice.' It's as if [Cobain] has given up trying to meld his punk and pop instincts into one harmonious whole. Forget it. This is war." If one goes through the track listing, you can count which tracks are over the top punk, and which tracks are more radio friendly pop. The interesting thing is that they correspond equally, 6 to 6. Fans and critics alike would talk about how abrasive In Utero turned out to be, but Cobain and Novoselic really did not see it that way. The bass player had said the band had always had songs as they are found on In Utero. Yet, the group did consciously try to bring fans into the more punk sounding songs by releasing the first two singles that could have realistically been included on Nevermind. Some of the songs found on the record had been written years prior as early as 1990. Cobain used various points of inspiration for the lyrics. The track “Frances Farmer” came from a 1978 biography of the Seattle figure called Shadowland. “Scentless Apprentice” originated from a horror novel that the singer had read by Patrick Suskind. One of the central themes found on the album noted in that same Nirvana biography from 1993 was the fact that every song talked about sickness or disease in some manner. Although Cobain said the lyrics were very impersonal to him, many disagreed with this assessment. Dave Grohl would say this in an interview. “A lot of what he has to say is related to a lot of the shit he's gone through. And it's not so much teen angst anymore. It's a whole different ball game: rock star angst." The singer continued to argue that much of the album had been written years prior to any issues he was going through at the time. For example, “Rape Me” quite possibly could be talking about his frustration with the media in how he has been portrayed over the past couple of years. The track “Serve the Servants” seemed to specifically talk about Cobain’s father and how divorce affected him from a very early age. The Nirvana frontman wanted his father to know that he did not despise him, but he also had no desire to be around him whatsoever. One track, “Gallons of Alcohol Flow Through the Strip,” was actually one of the only improvisational tracks they ever recorded. The song represented a jam session that the group would frequently participate in in during down times at the studio. They had done this quite often, but this would be the first time that it was ever recorded in some form.

Upon its release, the record label took a very low key approach to promoting the album. None of the singles would come out commercially in the United States, as they concentrated all of their press releases at media specializing in alternative music. The band remained convinced that there was absolutely no way that In Utero would sell even a quarter of what Nevermind sold. The record would debut at number one on the charts selling 180,000 copies in its first week. They sold this many copies without big retail chains like Kmart and Walmart selling it because officially the demand was not there. The truth was actually these chains feared backlash due to the graphic nature of the artwork accompanying the album. In March 1994, an edited version of the album would be released with new artwork and alternative song titles. The band made this concession saying they wanted fans who could not go to a traditional record store to be able to purchase the LP. Following the death of Cobain. the third single “Pennyroyal Tea” was canceled, as well as any tour plans. Immediately following his death, the popularity of In Utero on the charts increased by 122% from 72 to 27. The album would eventually be certified five times platinum.

Critics were not unanimous in the praise of In Utero. For the most part, rock writers really liked the new sound from Nirvana. Time’s Christopher John Farley noted that once again perhaps the mainstream may need to go to Nirvana, rather than the other way around. David Browne of Entertainment Weekly emphasized the absolute contrasts on the release. “The music is often mesmerizing, cathartic rock & roll, but it is rock & roll without release, because the band is suspicious of the old-school rock clichés such a release would evoke." David Fricke of Rolling Stone would say that the record was both “brilliant and corrosive,” but undoubtedly a “triumph of the will” for Kurt Cobain. NME’s John Mulvey did not share the same sentiment as he observed the album really was not up to par with previous Nirvana standards. The review from Plugged In did not mince words saying it had absolutely no redeeming value whatsoever. Some reviews became quite bittersweet as you are reminded of Cobain’s suicide. Q said this about the record. "If this is how Cobain is going to develop, the future is lighthouse-bright." Ben Thompson of the Independent merely seemed happy that the record did not represent the punk rock nightmare the group had continually threatened to release. In Utero would go on to top several end of the year lists as one of the best albums including Rolling Stone, Village Voice, and the New York Times. The band would even receive a Grammy nomination in 1994 for Best Alternative Album. As time has passed, critics have lavished even more phrase on it seeing their work with Albini as far superior to Nevermind. Charles R. Cross would write in his Cobain biography, “If it is possible for an album that sold four million copies to be overlooked, or underappreciated, then In Utero is that lost pearl." Pitchfork named it the 13th best album of the 1990s, while it even made Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. NME named it number 35 on its greatest albums of all time list creating quite a sense of irony since the periodical did not think too much of the album at the time of its release.

[niksixx]

Number 73

~The 3rd and F I N A L part. Enjoy!~

Requested: Oh hell yes 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Female Reader 

Description: Sweet sex and revenge, baby. 

Warnings: Smut, language, a twist you may have (or may have not) seen coming. 

A/N: If you like dis, reblog dis :) 

*GIF isn’t mine. It was found on Google, so full credit to the owner!*

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The rain pours down on your car as you pull up in front of the GNR apartment. Shutting off your car, you clasp the keys in your hand, resting your forehead against the cool steering wheel. You had just come from what was possibly the worst sex of your life. No making out, no foreplay, nothing. Dry and meaningless.

Which is why you couldn’t wait another second to see Axl. He’d know how to make you feel good. He already had before. And plus, it was a beautiful day for some revenge.

You check your phone when it vibrates, grinning at Steven’s message.  

Stevie: Me, Duff, and Iz went out for happy hour. Slash and his wife are visiting her parents. Axl’s home. Remember what I told you. He wants to be friends. Use his words against him. Let us know how it goes! Good luck. Get that dick. ;)

Chuckling, throwing up the hood of your sweatshirt, and remembering to grab your purse, you rush out of the car and up the stairs, careful not to slip as the rain downpours. You knock twice on the door before letting yourself in, as the lock on the door was broken and none of the boys took initiative to get it fixed, and noticed how quiet the apartment was without the boys.

Shuffling down the hall, you stop just before Axl’s door. You try the door knob, knocking a bit loudly as you realize it’s locked and he won’t be able to hear over the sound of the blaring music thumping through his room.

Axl opens the door, bare chest, which is the first thing you see, but you manage to look him dead in the eye after a brief second of gazing at his pale chest. A red bandana is tied around his head, and black jeans hang a bit too low on his hips, giving you the perfect view of the beginning of a V-line.

“Did you come to stare at me or do you have something to say?” His voice has a bit of an edge to it.

“Maybe a little bit of both,” you say, letting yourself into his room. Clothes are thrown into a pile on the ground while CDs cover his bed, and empty water bottles and beer cans litter the windowsill. You crinkle your nose. “Do you ever clean in here?”

“Listen, shithead, I wasn’t expecting company,” he shoots back. Closing the door, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Care to explain why you’re here?”

The first thing to come off is your hoodie. As you have nothing underneath, Axl’s eyes lock on your breasts. He doesn’t do much, but his eyes narrow. “Nice tits. What the hell are you doing, Y/N?”

Tossing your leggings and underwear to the side, you stand, completely exposed, as Axl rakes his eyes down the length of your body. He smirks, but keeps his mouth shut. You saunter forward, tongue darting out to wet your lips, before you wrap an arm around his neck, the other trailing along his chest. “I’m going to give you another chance to blow me away.”

Axl’s voice thickens. “What makes you think I want you?”

“You haven’t kicked me out yet,” you said breathlessly, fingers grazing over his navel. His eyes darken. “And besides, I know what you said to Steven.”

He freezes, and you know you’ve got him. He plays dumb anyway. “I’d like to know what the fuck you’re talking about. I haven’t even seen Steven today. What are you getting at?” He flinches when your palm rubs against his clothed cock. “Fuck,” he whispers, and you bite your lip to hide your smile.

Sinking down to your knees, you work at the button and zipper on his jeans. “Me and you, we’ve always hated each other. It was fun, for a while,” His cock springs free as you release him from his underwear, softly licking the tip. He groans, arms above his head as you tease his length with your lips. “We’re too old for these games, Axl. I know it, and you know it. Steven told me what you said to him, about us,” Your lips close around him, sucking his cockhead before taking half of him into your mouth.

“Steven...needs to keep his...fuck...mouth shut.”

Removing your mouth, your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing the base. “Being friends? It’s going to take a lot of work. And you're right, we should at least try. But right now, we need each other. Badly.” Axl whines when you pull away from him and stand, inches away from his face. “Fuck me like you hate me, Axl Rose. One more time.”

~~~

The CDs were flung from the bed as you and Axl wrestled in the sheets. You gave into him, letting him pin you to the bed, moaning as his lips work your neck, your throat, your chest. Your hand dips between your thighs, lightly brushing over your clit. You were already wet for him, needy and panting under his touch. Your body responded to him like no other.

His tongue flicks over your nipples and you arch your back, pressing the hardened peaks further into his mouth. Axl’s hands find your hips and push you down in the bed, fingertips digging into your sides.

You cry out when he bites them gently, shockwaves of pleasure flying straight to your aching core. The good thing about Axl? He’ll take his time loving on your body. He’s an arrogant prick, but he knows his way around a woman’s body. A woman's pleasure is his own.

His tongue flattens against your chest, licking down the center, around your belly button, before his head dips between your legs. Your heart pounds against your ribcage when Axl’s tongue dips between your folds, and you instinctively cover your mouth with your forearm.

“Don’t fucking do that,” he spits, eyes blazing as his hands grip your thighs. “Move your arms to the side. I want to hear you.”

He owns your body. Right now, he controls you, and there’s nothing you love more. Unbeknownst to Axl, you have the upper hand. You’ll win in the end.

You obey his command, soft cries coming off your lips as he buries his face in your pussy, tongue assaulting your hot, wet flesh. Your hips buck upward with every lick of his tongue, and when his tongue delivers quick flicks to your clit, you damn near lose your mind.

“Let me come on your tongue,” you pant out, fists tangling in his long red hair. “Please, Axl, I’m so close.”

“Fuck that,” he groans, sitting back before situating himself at your entrance. He taps the head of his dick on your clit, and you squirm. The ache inside you is delicious, and you’re so close to getting what you want. “If you’re going to come, it’s going to be on my fucking cock.”

And he surges forward, not even giving you a moment to adjust, before his hips buck forward, dick sliding effortlessly in and out of your juicy core. Your legs hang lazily around his waist as he fucks you. Axl’s hands come up to cup your tits, thumbs rubbing over the pink nubs.

“So much for not wanting the same dick twice,” he teases, releasing your tits. He bends down to your face, quickly hiking your legs up further, before forcing his tongue in your mouth. Your hands grip the back of his neck, moaning against his lips. “Dirty little slut just couldn’t fucking resist.”

“You’re fucking me again after you said you wouldn’t,” you moan out, nails digging into his back. He hisses as your nails break the skin. “What’s that say about you?”

Axl draws his cock out of you slowly, slamming back in, claiming you. His teeth nip your cheeks, your chin, before sinking into the skin above your collarbone. Your senses are in overdrive, trying to focus on the shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

You’re so close. So close to release. So close to your sweet revenge.

Axl’s fingers find your clit, rubbing harshly as his cock slams into you, never stopping. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting out a gasp when the pit in your stomach explodes. You writhe in place, legs quivering, gripping Axl’s forearms as he curses through his teeth, filling you to the brim. He holds himself over top of you, emptying his load in your pussy, before he collapses on the space beside you, both of you gasping for air.

And then you feel his eyes on you. You turn to look, and there’s something soft shining in his deep gray eyes. The faintest hint of a smile ghosts his lips, but you don’t return it. Instead, you smirk.

“Are you hungry? Do you want to order a pizza?” He asks, leaning back on his elbows. You snicker to yourself, sliding off the bed to retrieve your leggings. “No.”

He frowns. “Okay. Thai then?”

You fix your clothes, smoothing out your hoodie. “No.”

“Alright, fine. How about Mexican? There’s this restaurant right down the street--.”

“I’m leaving,” you say simply, biting your tongue as Axl stands, quickly pulling on his pants.

“Wait, what? Why?” He asks, retying the bandana around his head. “I thought--.”

“That you would be different?” You challenge, taking a step forward. “That I’d want to be friends with you? After all this?”

Axl stops, and you can hear the gears turning in his head. Finally, he narrows his eyes. “What the fuck are you up to?”

Reaching into your purse, your fingers brush against his book, which you and Steven had nicknamed Axl’s FuckBook. You pull it out, and all the color drains from Axl’s face. “Time out. Why the fuck do you have that?” He lunges forward to grab the book, and you push a hand against his chest, preventing him from moving.

“For the six years I’ve known you, I have watched you toy with girls. Play with their feelings. And then dispose of them as if they meant nothing. Girls are a game to you, Axl. And they shouldn’t be.”

“That’s not--That’s not true,” Axl stutters, fists clenched.

“Save it. You’re caught and you know it. You’ve kept track of all the girls you’ve had sex with in this fucking book, some of which are people me and your bandmates know. Ruby Thompson? Steven’s fucking cousin?” You laugh bitterly. “I had to stop him from almost ripping your head off.”

“Steven knew you had this?” Axl asks bewildered, pointing at the book. “They all knew I had the book, but only Steven knew where I kept it.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” you say innocently, shaking your head. “Who do you think helped me get it?”

Axl’s face reddens. You grin triumphantly.

“See, for two months, the boys helped me plot my revenge against you. For you know, fucking me and then tossing me to the side like every other woman you’ve ever met. Some might be fine with it, but I’m not. So for two months, I carried around this book. And when you disappeared at the bars, I showed every single girl you wanted to fuck, this book. For two months, I’ve been exposing you for the man you really are. And while you were craving sex, begging me to suck you off, which was incredibly pathetic might I add, I decided to have some fun myself and catch your body count. And boy, did I save the best body for last.”

“What are you talking about?” Axl asks, sitting back on his bed. “I’ve been stuck at seventy-three for the last sixty fucking days. There’s no fucking shot you caught me yet.”

“Oh, but I did,” you say, tossing the book aside. “You see, before I came here, I had sex. Disappointing sex, but sex nonetheless. He was number seventy-two,” You smile wickedly, and Axl’s mouth falls open. “Do you know what that makes you?”

And then it dawns on him. “You psychotic son of a bitch.” He sits there, utterly stunned, and you smirk. He knows. “All this,” Axl whispers, “All this to just get back at me? You’re no better than me, Y/N. You whored yourself out to a bunch of dudes, just so you could what? Fuck with me?”

“You do it, because you have nothing better to do,” you say, stepping closer, leaning your hands on his knees, lips barely brushing his mouth. “I did it to prove a point. That someone will always be able to play the game better than you.” You drop your eye in a wink, grinning as steam rises from Axl’s head.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Kissing and patting his cheek, you make your way toward the door, looking back over your shoulder. “We’re enemies, Axl. Our personalities clash. You’re a bastard that only wants sex and well...me? You may have invented the game, Axl, but I’m the bitch that played the game better than you ever could have. Our friendship was never an exception,” you give Axl a shit eating grin. “You were just number seventy-three.”

#axl rose #axl rose guns n roses #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #axl rose head cannon #axl rose x you #axl rose x y/n #axl rose x female reader #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fic #axl rose fanfiction #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses fanfiction #gnr #gnr fanfic #gnr fanfiction #gnr fic #axl rose smut #gnr smut #guns n roses smut #axl fic #axl fanfiction

[niksixx]

The Perfect Man

Requested: By an Anon 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader 

Description: “lmao hi,, can you write one that’s just pure fluff with axl if you have time lmao tyyyy” 

A/N: Please reblog :) 

*GIF is not mine, but found on Google. Credit goes to the owner.*

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Cute things that you've noticed about your boyfriend, Axl Rose:

He’s an early bird, and he always makes sure to wake up before you so you’ll be greeted by a fresh cup of coffee.

He’s definitely a romantic, so you can expect flowers once a week.

He sings you to sleep.

Axl loves holding your hand and brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

He’s a hugger and you feel secure in his arms.

He doesn’t get mad when you steal food off his plate, but he encourages you to!

If he knows he’s going to have a busy day in the recording studio, he’ll send you a cute message first.

He listens when you rant and doesn’t offer unsolicited advice.

He’ll never start the new episode of Game of Thrones until he knows you have a free day to watch it with him.

Your wedding picture is his phone screen and computer background.

He plans date night every two weeks.

There’s never a time when he’s not admiring you or complimenting you.

He strokes your hair when you fall asleep in his lap.

He supports your dreams and aspirations.

He comforts you, but doesn’t smother you.

Axl helps you pick out new outfits at the mall and doesn’t look like a lost puppy. 

He’s always down to have dance parties in your kitchen at 3 a.m.

He never leaves your side when you’re sick, even if he has business to attend to.

He’s never shy when asking you to teach him new things.

Axl loves spending time with your family; He’ll even visit them on his own!

He’ll show you off anywhere, anytime.

He loves PDA, especially kisses.

When Axl is upset, you can tell by the way he curls up in a ball by your side.

He loves being the little spoon and having you hold him.

He’ll always instigate play fights with you (and he’ll let you win).

Axl never pressures you into anything. He respects you so much.

He’ll literally cancel plans with his buds to just hang around the house with you.

And last but not least, Axl is constantly reminding you how much he loves you, day in and day out.

#axl rose #axl rose guns n roses #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #axl rose head cannon #gnr #gnr fanfic #gnr x reader #axl fic #axl fanfiction #axl rose fanfic #axl rose fic #axl rose x you #axl rose x y/n

[niksixx]

Birthday for the Books

Requested: By our anonymous birthday girl! 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader 

Description: “Hi, I remember it was today that you said you would start taking requests yeah? If I’m right can you do axl x birthday girl!reader imagine? (Sry this is super self indulgent cuz it’s my birthday next week lol)” 

A/N: If you enjoyed this fic, leave a comment! 

*GIF is not mine, credit to the owner*

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Ah, birthdays. Some people hated them, others enjoyed them. But you? Your birthday was the best part of every year. Celebrating only one day was never enough for you though, which is why you resorted to having a birthday week. Excessive? Probably. But there was nothing you loved more than being celebrated by your family, friends, and most of all, your boyfriend.

Sometimes you thought your boyfriend Axl loved your birthday more than you did. He was always excited, planning various activities for you to enjoy throughout the week. Material objects didn’t do it for you. The gifts that meant the most were the ones directly from the heart, and Axl always delivered.

Like he did every year, Axl treated you to a lavish dinner for the first night of your birthday week. It was one of the only occasions he would get dressed up, and you looked forward to seeing him in a suit more than the dinner itself. Although dinner was always expensive, you’d let Axl spoil you for the night, only because he promised the rest of your presents barely cost a thing.

Axl’s creative side always made an appearance during your birthday week. Handmade bracelets, paintings, and love letters were only some of the heartfelt gifts you received over the last few birthdays.

You expected the same types of presents this year, but Axl had truly stumped you. It was the last day of your birthday week and the anticipation over Axl’s last present was killing you. All morning, he’d been locked away in your bedroom putting the finishing touches on your gift, so you passed the time by lying around in your pajamas (because Axl refused to let you in your room for even a second) and watching old Guns N’ Roses music videos on YouTube, smiling whenever Axl was on the screen.

You were halfway through the Paradise City music video when the door to your bedroom creaked open. Axl stepped out into the small living room, lips curling into a smile as he realized you’d been watching him.

“Baby giiiiiirl,” he drawled out, laughing as your eyes widened at the sound of his voice.

“Is it ready?!” You eagerly shut down your laptop, sprinting into Axl’s outstretched arms. “I hate waiting.”

“I think it’ll be worth it,” Axl answered, brushing the hair from your cheeks. “I hope it’s worth it.”

“Axl, you’re a Godsend when it comes to gift giving,” you assured him, lightly patting his cheeks. “You could pick me a flower from the side of the road because it reminded you of me and I’d probably start crying.”

“Well if a simple flower is enough to make you cry, then I’m curious to see what this gift will do.” With a breath, Axl grabbed your hand and placed his free hand on the door. “Are you ready?”

Chuckling as you nodded, Axl gently pushed open the bedroom door, and immediately your eyes fell on a perfectly wrapped gift box that sat in the middle of your bed.

“Oh, God, I’m so excited,” you squealed delightedly. You and Axl sat on the edge of the bed as he presented the box to you, your fingers delicately running over the bright red bow. He gave you the go ahead, and you happily unwrapped the box, cheeks warming at the sight of what appeared to be a handmade photo album.

“When we started dating three years ago, what’s the first thing I noticed about you?” Axl asked, eyes bright as you examined the album.

“I always had a camera,” you replied. “I was always taking pictures.”

“Uh huh,” Axl smiled proudly. As you opened the album, you realized that some of the pages had already been filled. “And I’ve always wanted to get you an album, a keepsake, for all the pictures you take. But this album in particular, I wanted to start for you, because it’s dedicated to us and some of our favorite moments.”

Flipping through the pages, you recognized some of your favorite pictures you and Axl had taken together: Your first kiss, first concert together, first vacation, and first date. You had so many firsts with Axl, and seeing as he carefully documented them in a scrapbook just showed how much he truly did treasure you. Even though some of the pictures were over three years old, as you and Axl had known each other before you made things official, the memories were still fresh in your head. And from now on, anytime you wanted to be pulled back to the past, all you had to do was open the album.

Setting the book aside, you threw yourself into Axl’s arms, sinking into his loving embrace. He’d managed to give you another spectacular birthday with an unforgettable gift. “You have no idea how much this means to me,” Axl had gotten you a multitude of incredible presents over the years, but the personalized photo album blew everything out of the water. “Thank you, baby. Thank you so so much.”

Standing from the bed, Axl held you in his arms as you clutched the album to your chest, a few happy tears sliding down your cheeks. Axl kissed the top of your head, a proud smile on his lips. “You’re welcome. I’m so glad you like it, but you didn’t even see my favorite picture of us.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you gave Axl a confused look. “I didn’t? What page is it on?”

“Fifteen,” Axl said, shifting his feet.

Opening the album once more, you flipped the pages until you found page fifteen. It was titled Engagement. “Axl, baby, there’s nothing here.” As you looked up from the book, you immediately broke out into a sob, muffling your cries with the palm of your hand. There in front of you, on one knee, was Axl Rose, holding out a small box with what appeared to be the world’s brightest engagement ring perched right in the center.

“God dammit, Axl, I told you nothing expensive,” you laughed through the tears.

“Baby, I’ve had this picked out for months,” Axl informed, his own eyes glossing over. “You’re my everything. Even if sometimes you don’t like it, I plan on spending the rest of my life spoiling you the way you deserve. I want to travel the world and create more memories with you. Maybe we’ll have a few kids or some dogs, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.  Marry me, Y/N, and let the rest fall into place.”

Without hesitation, you shook your head yes, just as a flash lit up your room. You were too distracted by Axl sliding the ring onto your finger to ponder about the random burst of light. He scooped you up into his arms, dusting kisses all over your face before planting a long sensual kiss on your lips.

“I’m going to love you forever,” you whispered, already picturing your life as Mrs. Axl Rose. And then it hit you. “Wait, what was that flash?”

Smirking, Axl nodded his head toward the bureau, where a camera was propped up, facing you. Rushing to the bureau, you picked up the camera and turned it over, and there on the screen was a timed photo of the moment you said yes to Axl’s proposal.

“Now you have another picture to add to the album,” Axl whispered, hands circling your waist as you both stared at the photo. You couldn’t even complain that you were still in your pajamas because the smile on your face and the love in Axl’s eyes were the only two things that mattered.

#axl rose #axl rose guns n roses #guns n roses #gnr #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #axl rose head cannon

[niksixx]

Summer Honeymoon

Requested: This was either requested by an Anon or someone called Stars are Blind?? I’m not exactly sure who requested this one! 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader 

Description: “Hc or blurb for summer luxury resort with axl please! Either fluff or smut is fine! Thank you!” 

A/N: Leave a comment if you enjoyed!

*GIF is not mine. Full credit goes to the owner!*

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Ever since your wedding night, you dreamed of your two week long honeymoon with now husband, Axl Rose.

You always wanted a small wedding so you could have a lavish honeymoon, and of course, Axl would do anything to make you happy.

You married in the middle of July and decided to have your honeymoon on an island many might not be familiar with, St. Lucia.

As an island in the Caribbean, you could expect crystal clear waters and various activities provided by the luxurious resort, Sandals.

Your first night in the hotel was spent in bed, making love to your husband for hours on end.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I will love you forever.”

The resort was all inclusive, perfect for a honeymoon.

You spent p l e n t y of time at the swim up bars trying different cocktails.

A tipsy Axl was the best Axl, as he’d flirt with you the whole day.

“I have the hottest fucking wife.”

One of Axl’s hobbies was golfing in his free time, and the excitement on his face when he found out the resort had a golf course was unmatched.

“Come on, babe, let’s go play some holes.”

“I hate golf but I love you.” You’d sighed, smiling when Axl kissed your cheeks enthusiastically.

Candlelit dinners over the water !!!

You and Axl held hands across the table.

Relaxation was key, and what a better way to relax than with a couple’s massage at the spa?

You also wanted to be adventurous and try snorkeling!

Axl made sure to have his waterproof camera ready so he could take pictures of you swimming with the fish.

“My little guppy. No? You didn’t like that joke?”

You’d also enjoy the various sports and fitness centers the resort offered.

Skinny dipping in the pool after hours (and praying you didn’t get caught)

You and Axl were always exchanging kisses and holding each other close.

Professional pictures taken by the ocean !!!

The last few nights of your honeymoon were your personal favorite.

You spent them enjoying live entertainment, whether you saw shows or danced to a live band.

As you danced, Axl held you close, whispering how much he loved you and couldn’t wait to start your lives together.

And after you arrived home, you and Axl agreed to travel to St. Lucia once every summer to relive your honeymoon memories. 

#axl rose #axl rose guns n roses #axl rose x reader #axl rose imagine #axl rose head cannon #guns n roses #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses headcannon