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guns-n-jovi · 2 years

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All The Time

Slash x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Slash, introduces you to his fellow band members for the first time when he takes you to a rehearsal.

Warnings: None

I tried not to stare at Slash as he was driving, keeping his dark brown, sparkling eyes fixed forward on the road. However, his eyes wandered from the dim-lit road to the bright, neon lights, and the clubs on the strip he knew were alive with the usual debauchery the night brought. Shirtless, and only wearing a short pair of blue athletic shorts, his bare body was rested against the back of the seat, and his long legs were parted around the wheel. His hand rested lazily on his thigh, and I wanted so badly to catch it, and hold it in mine. My efforts to try not to stare at him were futile. The lights cast a soft glow on his young, dark face, outlining the silhouettes of his curls. It amazed me; he wasn’t even trying to look good, and he looked so attractive I could not keep my eyes off of him.

Slash hadn’t said very much of anything the entire ride out to the studio, and I began to wonder if something was bothering him. The ride had been enjoyable, nonetheless, under the glow of the city lights, with Aerosmith, Queen, and Led Zeppelin hits struggling through the scratchy radio of the car. Still, I began to crave the soft, scratchy sound of his attractive voice, so I blurted the first question that came to my mind.

“What time did this rehearsal start, anyway?” I asked him.

Slash’s eyes darted towards me, as if I had startled him, but he straightened in the seat and sighed. “Oh, ten-thirty.”

I glanced at the watch around his wrist, and my heart sank.

“It’s one,” I said. “You’re two and a half hours late. Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

Slash looked at me, and the eye contact sent a shiver down my spine.

“Oh, y/n,” he said, dramatically. “Don’t you know it’s your fault I’m late? I’ve been tryin’ to entertain you all night.”

I chuckled. “And it’s been one heck of a time.”

He smiled smugly, and cupped my chin in his hand. I melted under his touch on me. His hands, as usual, were so warm and strangely soft that one touch from them was enough to melt me into longing for more.

“Now,” Slash cleared his throat, and sat up straight in his seat. “About the guys…..you’ve never met them before, right?”

I shook my head. “No, never.”

He chuckled. “Then you’d be the only girl in this neck o’ the woods who hasn’t.”

He shook his head, smiling. His black curls rustled around his head.

“They are…” Slash’s voice trailed away. “…Special.”

I shrugged. “So are you,” I teased.

As I giggled, Slash snickered, shooting me a warning glance. “Watch your mouth, little girl. You know I could find me another chick in a New York minute. I don’t have to keep you.”

I smiled. “But you want to.”

Slash chuckled, knowing he was defeated. “Exactly.”

His seriousness returned, and he said, “The guys are…well, y’know, they might scare you.”

Frustrated with himself, he stumbled for a better choice of words. “Not scare you. Just…shock you. Like they shocked me, when I first met them! I just didn’t know what to think at first. I’m sure you won’t, either.”

I was nervous. I knew the devious reputation that Guns N’ Roses had for being wild, rabid experts in mischief and bad behavior, and I wondered if they would be too much for me to handle. Meeting Slash, however, and dating him for two weeks surely would be some sort of preparation for meeting them. I’d wondered why he hadn’t introduced me to his fellow band members sooner than now. As Slash’s car wheeled with a grunt into the parking lot of the studio, I braced myself to be shocked, scared, and everything imaginable by the fellow band members.

As I stepped from the car, Slash hurried in front of me and slung his arm around my shoulders. I smiled, clutching his hand, and letting it warm mine from the cool night air.

“Be honest,” I said, looking up at him. “Do you all actually practice at these rehearsals? Or do you just fool around?”

Slash laughed. “That depends on what mood he’s in. If he’s in the mood to practice, he’ll put us to work, and he’ll be a drill sergeant. If he’s not in the mood for that- and he usually is not- we can do whatever we want. Play cards, drive the strip, pick up girls- all that.”

“He…” my voice trailed off. “Who’s he?”

Slash chuckled. “Oh, you’ll see.”

As we walked through the studio, Slash brought me to a room in the very back where I heard loud arguing of masculine, but yout

hful voices.

“Dude, the song says the same thing over and over again!” one of them was complaining, as Slash opened the door and ushered me in. “‘Take me down to the paradise city where the grass is green and the girls are pretty.’ Over and over again! I hate it, man!”

“That’s called a chorus, you idiot!” one of them rebutted. “It’s supposed to say the same thing over and over again.”

A third nervously tapped his hands on his knees. “We can’t do anything about it as long as Axl’s not here. Come on! Let’s go pick up some chicks! It’s not that early anymore!”

“It’s one o’clock. We’ve got all night.”

The three of them stopped their bickering when Slash and I walked in. Slash lit a cigarette from a Marlboro box lying on the table by itself. They watched him, staring blankly, and Slash flicked his wrist.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he said. “Carry on.”

They rose to their feet and hurried over to Slash and I, bumping into each other and shoving each other out of the way. Now that they stood before me, I studied their faces intently- one by one, and eventually, all three.

“Alright, babe,” Slash took my hand. “Meet the guys.

“This one,” Slash gestured to the one on the far left. “That’s Duff ‘Rose’ McKagan. Our bassist- and resident expert on beer, if I might add.”

Duff blushed. “Hey,” he said, to me, tossing his head back.

He was an attractive blonde, and he towered at a very tall height. As I looked up at him, I felt small, and guessed him to be nearly six foot three. He had shards silky, light blonde hair that was held at bay by a white headband constricted around his hairline. He had dark, prominent eyebrows despite his blonde hair and fair color, and he had clenched features. As I studied and took note of his face, he was doing the same for me. I blushed nervously.

“Hello,” I told him, intimidated by him, but knowing- with a strange certainty- that there was nothing to be afraid of.

“This one is Steven ‘Popcorn’ Adler,” said Slash. “Our drummer.”

Steven smiled. “Hi! Nice to meet ya’”.

He was shorter and more muscular than the first. He had long, thick, blonde hair, that was such a soft, warm yellow that it looked almost as if it had been crafted from sunshine. He had blue eyes, and he was more ruddy than the first. Instead of gazing blankly at me, he was smiling wide. He had an infectious, attractive grin that spread to me, and I found myself smiling at him. He looked very warm and friendly.

“Hi there,” I nodded to him.

Slash rested his hand on the slender shoulder of the third one.

“This is Izzy,” he said. “Izzy Stradlin. Our rhythm guitarist.”

He was a tall, lanky young man who looked nothing like the others. He had black, glossy hair that layered down his neck, and rested just below his shoulders. He was very fair-skinned and around his eyes were sleepless shadows. His eyes were very dark and glittering. He was wearing a crisp, white shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wore long, black pants and a black hat rested on top of his hair. He had a strong nose, and his face was shaped like an oval. There was a cigarette perched in the corner of his mouth, and his eyes squinted as they bore down into my soul.

Izzy nodded. “Yo,” he said, in a soft, quiet, and attractive voice.

“And guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, guys. Guys, Y/N. You get the picture.”

“Dude,” Steven whispered to Duff. “She’s so cute.”

While he attempted to whisper, I heard it plainly, and I blushed. While I tried to hold back a giggle, Slash gave him a disdainful look.

“My pleasure,” I said, looking at Duff, Steven, and Izzy, again. “But…”

I glanced up at Slash. “Wasn’t there five of you?”

Slash opened his mouth to speak, but I asked, “Where is the fifth one?”

As if on cue, the fifth one tumbled through the door of the studio I had just come through with my boyfriend. His face was deep red with anger, and he was violently swearing under his breath. In his hands was a small piece of paper. I barely was able to take note of that before he angrily shredded the paper and threw its remnants in the floor.

Duff laughed. “What did you do this time, Axl?”

The fifth member yanked off a pair of shades to reveal two flaming, blue eyes.

“I got another ticket,” he hissed. “That’s the fifth time this month! I wasn’t even goin’ that fast, man!”

“Let me guess,” said Slash. “It was that guy that got you last week with the big mustache and no hair.”

The fifth one, Axl, gritted his teeth.

“I hate that guy!” he cried. “All he does is sit over there and watch for my car to go by! Then he pulls me over and takes up ‘bout fifteen minutes of my life, that I’ll NEVER get back, to lecture me about how to drive! That man is out ta’ get me!”

Duff chuckled. “Alright, alright, Axl. Calm down. Can’t you see we’ve got company?”

Axl, still groaning, joined the others, and looked at me. Slash, with his arm tucked around me, introduced me to Axl.

“Y/N,” Slash began. “This is W. Axl Rose, our lead singer.”

Axl had looks to perfectly match his fiery temper. He had long, straight red hair that ran in one continuous, shiny layer down his back. It was restrained by a blue, white-spotted bandana. He had fair, light-colored skin, and sapphire blue eyes. He had a ski jump nose and a perfectly squared jawline. He was wearing a black leather coat, and a tattered, white tank top under it. He was wearing leather pants, and tennis shoes with untied laces.

“Well,” said Axl, hotly, clearly still angry. “You’re pretty. How’d someone like you end up with Slash?”

Slash glared. “Watch it,” he warned, in a low voice.

I admitted I rather liked Slash’s being so protective over me. With his arm around my shoulders, and his defending me and our relationship against Axl, I felt like the safest girl in the entire world.

“Uh, Y/N,” said Duff. “You’re welcome to hang out here with us for as long as you want. Can we get you anything? A drink, a cigarette- anything?”

I shook my head, smiling softly. “That’s nice of you. But I’m good for now. I think I’ll just watch.”

Slash chuckled as he took me at his side, and we sat on the floor in a circle with the other guys. Axl lit a cigarette and said, begrudgingly, “Alright, what’d you got?”

“I think Paradise City says the same thing over and over again,” said Steven, plainly. “I think we should change it up a little bit.”

“No,” said Axl, then changed the subject. “What about- for that one verse in Anything Goes, that we-“

“What?” Steven cried. “You’re not gonna even think about changing Paradise City?”

“Nope,” said Axl, puffing his cigarette.

Steven opened his mouth, but snapped his jaws shut. “Can I ask why?”

Axl looked right at him, and he looked as if he was cowering under the eye contact.

“No,” Axl stated, simply.

Watching them and listening in fascination, I suppressed a chuckle. Leaning over to Slash, I whispered, “Are they like this all the time?”

Slash moaned. “All the time, Y/N. All the time…..”

Tagging my GnR mutuals who might enjoy this: @kaylasixx @greeneyezblackheart @jack-spawn @therockywhorerpictureshow 💞

#Back at it again with terrible writing 💪#Shut UP Hannah #GnR #Slash #Guns N Roses #Axl Rose #Duff McKagan #Steven Adler #Izzy Stradlin #80s bands #80s music #80s fanfiction #Fanfiction #Writing

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