#SLASH

[hanoisrock]

[hailsbellsl]

Every time I look at him, the more lickable he gets

[bl00d-wh0r3-4ng3l]

steals his gender violently

[cherrypopidol]

can youbdo a slash fic and the reader is a stripper?

𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓹 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓝𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓮

𝓈𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

you met him on a Tuesday

it was raining, which in LA always felt like something holy or cursed. depends who you ask

you were halfway through your shift at Velvet Goldmine, leaning against the backstage wall in your robe, watching cigarette smoke coil from your fingers while the next girl spun onstage. your set wasn’t for another half hour. you weren’t in a rush. you never were anymore

he came in like most men did—hood up, eyes half-lidded, looking for distraction. only he wasn’t drunk. wasn’t loud. just slumped into the darkest booth in the back, ordered a whiskey with barely a word, and watched with a kind of aching stillness. that’s what got your attention. stillness in a room full of noise

you didn’t know who he was. not really. the name Slash meant nothing to you at the time. you just knew he had this gravity about him, like someone who'd been through a storm and decided to stay wet

and for reasons you couldn't explain, you brought him a napkin when he spilled his second drink. told him “You look like you hate being here” with a tilt of your head

he replied “I don’t hate you”

you didn’t sleep with him that night. you didn’t even flirt. he gave you his number on the back of a matchbook and you didn’t call for a week

when you finally did, he sounded half-asleep “You the girl from the club?” you smirked “What gave it away?” “The way you said nothing. Most people never shut up”

you ended up going to breakfast at 2am. Denny’s off Sunset. you didn’t wear makeup and he didn’t bring a guitar. he talked about snakes. you talked about how you wanted to open your own dance studio someday—something clean, with big windows and sunlight. he listened

after that, it became a rhythm

he’d pick you up after your shift in that beat-up car of his, leather jacket draped over the passenger seat. you’d drive through LA with the windows down and no destination. sometimes he’d just park in the canyon and smoke while you stretched your legs out the window, breathing in night air like it was salvation

you never had to perform around him

months later...

he hates when you leave the house in your fishnets and six-inch heels

not because he doesn’t trust you—though sometimes that dark look crosses his face when guys at the club call you baby too easy—but because he hates what the job does to you. hates how quiet you get when you come home after a long night, peeling off your lashes like they’re battle wounds

sometimes, you find him on the couch at 3am, still awake, guitar in his lap, a beer going warm in his hand. he watches you take your makeup off in the kitchen mirror and says nothing

until he says everything

“Just wish you didn’t have to do that”

you look at him, mascara smudged under your eyes, hair a mess “I don’t hate it. I don’t love it. I just… do it”

he nods. then pats the couch “Come here”

so you do. crawl into his lap in one of his old shirts, bare legs tucked under you, face against his chest. he holds you there like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. like maybe you’re the only thing keeping him grounded these days

domestic life with Slash isn’t perfect since he leaves his guitars everywhere. he never buys groceries. he sleeps in too long and talks in his sleep. sometimes when the band is in chaos, he disappears for a day or two without a word—just needs the silence

but he always comes home to you

he brings you little things: a cassette tape with your favorite song, a snakeskin lighter, a broken bracelet he saw on the sidewalk because “it looked like something you'd wear.” he doesn't say I love you much, but he kisses your forehead when you're half-asleep and runs his fingers through your hair when you're too tired to shower after work

you cook for him in your bra and pajama shorts, dancing barefoot while he watches with a sleepy grin and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. he says you’re the only girl who can make a Tuesday morning feel like a fucking holiday

and when you get in the shower after a shift—legs aching, soul a little tired—he’s there. washing your hair with surprising tenderness, pressing his lips to your shoulder like a quiet apology for all the ways the world has tried to bruise you

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[californiaahunny]

@cherrypopidol

[qonyremains]

can someone tell me if that’s slash’s…

disco stick poking out in his pants?😭

[goldensstars]

Accurate representation of me if I ever catch glimpse of this guy

[axlthetwink87]

The duality of man

(so like....me n' who ??😍)

[haywire-hetfield]

[azotho]

The S line - two pink haired liars and a witness🖍️

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[rocketqueen1989x]

🪽Rest in peace angel🪽

Thank you for everything

🖤I’ll forever miss and love you🖤

[hanoisrock]

[hailsbellsl]

I want to make out with him sloppy style

[estrangedillusions-appetite]

[sadeyedgoodbyes]

🎶🎶Give me a head with hair

Long, beautiful hair

Shining, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair

Shoulder length or longer

Here, baby, there, mama

Everywhere, daddy, daddy🎶🎶

(some of the lyrics of the theme song from 'Hair', the musical)

SLASH & BRIAN MAY & AXL ROSE 🎩🎸🎸👑🎤🌹