hii i'm Cherry, im 20 and i love gnr so feel free to write me a fanfic request with them anytime (im sorry but i only take creative requests right now due to high amount of the requests i get) ;p
rockstars i write for (mostly):
axl rose ♥
slash
duff mckagan
izzy stradlin
steven adler
(gnr is my priority)
tom keifer
billy idol
jon bon jovi
dave mustaine
𝓶𝔂 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽
things i don't write:
male x male (i write only for reader she/her), weird bsdm, PISS OR SHIT KINK, incest and disturbing requests!!
please remember that my fics are based on real people but they are FICTIONAL stories. nothing you see in my fics is a real thing; it's something i wrote using my imagination and probably never happened.
also im fully aware of what i post so if u dont like something in my stories just block me <3
hi guys please don’t send me any personal questions since this blog isn’t about me but about fics i write about gnr, if you want to ask me something just dm me so we can talk
I love tumblr bcs every now and then I’ll get a notif that’s like “strawberry-pink-angel-fawn-doe-bunny-lace-sweet-innocent-pure-doll liked your post” and I immediately know she’s very ill
i love my moots, friends, family literally everyone that are close to me are so cool and comforting to me, im so glad that i dont have toxic people around me anymore 🩷
It was late evening when you pushed open the back door of your old bar job, the one you had vowed not to return to. the one that used to leave you drained and sticky with spilled drinks and smoke
but now, the familiar hum of glasses clinking and classic rock humming through dusty speakers felt almost comforting — even if your stomach was twisted into a knot
you waited until your old boss spotted you from behind the bar. his heavy frame barely moved but his eyes lifted like he’d been expecting this
“Well, well. Look who crawled back” he muttered, wiping a glass
you forced a smile “I’m not crawling. Just wanted to ask”
he raised an eyebrow
“Weekends” you said “You gotta job just the weekends? I’ve got another job no, but I need the extra money. I remember they pay double. If that spot’s still open…”
he set the glass down, slow and heavy “Maybe”
“Maybe?” you frowned “You know I’m good at this. Fast. No drama”
he leaned forward slightly “Sure, sweetheart. But weekends are heavy now. Big crowds. Big tips, too. Lotta guys wanna be served by something worth staring at”
you stiffened
he added “I’m not saying anything bad. Just… if you want the gig back, I’m gonna need you in something a little more... eye-catching. We got a new dress code. Shorter skirts. Tight tops. That kind of thing”
your throat burned. you wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. to walk out and never look back
but you thought of the new place and the growing list of bills
you nodded slowly, jaw tight “Fine. I’ll do weekends. Starting this Saturday”
he gave a smug smile “Knew you were smart kiddo”
you didn’t say another word. just turned on your heel and walked out, your chest heavy
you fumbled with the keys outside your apartment door. your head was still ringing from that conversation at the bar. shame buzzed under your skin like a mosquito bite you couldn’t quite scratch
you pushed the door open—and the smell of burnt garlic hit you immediately
“Axl?” you called softly, stepping into your still-barely-decorated place. you kicked off your shoes, a familiar clatter from the kitchen making you smile despite yourself
“Kitchen” he called out
you found him with his hair tied back loosely, standing over the stove with a warped pot of something beige and slightly smoking. his jeans were slung low on his hips, no shirt, a few flecks of flour clinging to his torso
he looked up, bright-eyed
“I made you something. I think. Pasta? I kinda blacked out halfway through”
you laughed quietly, setting your bag down “You tried Ax. That’s what matters”
he grinned but quickly wiped his hands on a rag and stepped toward you, suddenly buzzing with energy “Wait—before you say anything—guess what?”
you blinked “What?”
“I got a job!” he announced proudly, almost bouncing
your eyebrows shot up “You what?”
“Yep. Starting Monday. It’s this grungy little music store over on Melrose. The guy that owns it’s cool. Real old, talks a lot about guitar brands, didn’t even ask for a résumé. Just looked at me and said ‘You've got this job’ ” Axl held up his fingers, still nicked from unpacking boxes all morning “Said they need someone who knows gear. Guitars, mics, pedals and all that shit”
you stared at him for a second, your heart punching weirdly against your ribs “That’s… amazing”
“I know, right?” he looked so proud
you felt the words about your bar job crawling up your throat but they stuck
you were going to tell him. you wanted to
but now it wasn't the right time…
he stepped closer, leaning down to kiss your cheek with a stupid, smug grin “You’re looking at employed rockstar boyfriend Axl Rose. I’ll probably blow half my paycheck on beer and cassettes but whatever. It’s a start”
you smiled, small and soft “It’s more than a start. I’m proud of you”
he beamed, tugging you in by the waist “So, what were you gonna say earlier?”
you hesitated
“Just… that I missed you today”
he kissed you again, a little deeper this time “Missed you too. We’re getting somewhere, huh?”
you smiled against his lips, your chest tight with something in between pride and guilt "Oh stop it and let's eat, I'm honestly starving"
he smiled and got you his... whatever he made
after you two ate you settled at the bed. the street noise faded into a hum. Axl lay beside you (on the sheets you two unpacked finally), shirtless and half-under the blanket, one arm behind his head, his chest rising slow and calm. his hair was loose, soft from your fingers running through it earlier. the TV played some old movie
you'd been lying there for almost an hour, nerves tangling tighter the longer you waited. his job at the music store was good and he’d been so proud of it, so full of hope. and you hadn’t told him everything
now your heart felt like it might crawl out of your throat
you turned toward him, voice small “Axl…”
he moved his head slightly, just enough to sleepily peek at you “Mmm?”
“Can I tell you something?” you started unsure
his eyes flicked over to you lazily “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
that almost made you smile “No, dummie. It’s… it's about the bar. I went there today”
Axl blinked “What, for drinks?”
you shook your head, already nervous “No silly. I… I asked for my job back. Just for weekends. It pays double on Friday and Saturday nights, and I thought it might help with rent”
he sat up a little, brow furrowing “You what?”
“I was gonna tell you earlier—”
“What the fuck for?” his voice was sharp now “You got the other job. You’re already working full-time. I told you I will get the job and I did so what the fuck Y/N?”
your voice wavered “Because we’re in debt, Axl. And the apartment was my idea. I just wanted to—have more money so we wouldn't be completely broke?”
he stared at you, chest rising “So you’re gonna run yourself into the ground and not tell me about it?”
“I was gonna tell you—”
“You waited until now. In bed. After all that shit about being honest with each other”
you swallowed “There’s more”
he scoffed, sitting all the way up now, running a hand over his face “Jesus Christ, what else? You're gonna parade there naked or what the fuck”
“No! I mean not exactly naked… the boss said I could have the job but only if I wore more revealing stuff. Like skirts and low-cut tops. You know how that place is. Tips mostly come from creeps”
Axl stared at you like you’d grown a second head “And you agreed?”
“I needed the job—”
“Fuck that” he growled “I don’t want you parading around in that sleazy place while some asshole stares at your tits all night”
you bit your lip “It’s not like that—”
“Don’t bullshit me” he snapped “I know how those guys are. They’re just waiting for you to bend over once and then brag to their buddies. You think that's okay? Did you even thought for a second if I’m okay with that?”
“No, Axl— I don’t want to do it either! But what was I supposed to do? We can barely afford groceries now!”
he got out of bed suddenly, pacing the room in just his boxers “So what? Now I get a job and suddenly it’s not good enough? You think shaking your ass for a few hundred bucks makes more sense than believing in me?”
your breath hitched “That’s not fair”
“I am fucking trying here!”
you sat up, clutching the blanket to your chest “So am I!”
for a second, the room just buzzed with anger
then his expression cracked. not all the way. “So what now, you’re just gonna work yourself into the ground, parading there like a cheap whore while I stack CDs at the music store like a goddamn teenager?”
but when he saw your pouty look on your face his voice dropped just slightly “I just… I don’t want anyone else touching you okay?”
“They won’t” you whispered “I promise”
he stood at the edge of the bed “Then don’t make me imagine it”
you reached out and took his wrist “I’ll quit. If it’s gonna ruin us—I’ll quit”
he sighed, forehead pressed to yours now “I know. I just… I hate the idea of you not telling me about this from the start”
“I know”
silence stretched between you. then he muttered
“I should’ve gotten a job that paid more than guitar strings…”
you laughed, weakly, your forehead still pressed to his “I kinda like that you'll smell like amplifiers and dust”
he snorted “Well, you won’t like if some drunk asshole tries to slip a twenty into your fucking panties”
you winced “That did happen once. I threw it at his face”
that made him smile. he climbed back into bed, tugged the blanket over both of you and curled around your back. his voice was soft against your ear
“I’ll pick up extra shifts too. We’ll figure it out. But I’m serious—if one of your customers touches you once, I’ll set the whole fucking bar on fire”
you closed your eyes and whispered “Mmmkay my lovely possessive boyfriend, I will have that in mind”
the new apartment still smelled like cleaning products and stale beer from the hallway but it was yours now — your and Axl names on the lease, your furniture on the curb outside and your friends bitching about having to move it up three flights of stairs
"Whose idea was it to live at the top of the building?" DJ grunted, hauling one end of a sad, over-loved couch with Steve
"Not mine" Axl huffed, wiping sweat off his brow as he passed by carrying your heavy-ass record crate "Ask the landlady's golden child over there"
you stood at the top of the stairs in shorts and a tank top, sipping iced tea, smug as ever "What can I say? I have good taste”
"This thing weighs a thousand pounds!” Axl groaned, shifting the crate higher on his arms "Why do you need six different pressings of Rumours?"
"They all sound different!" you argued, following him into the apartment "One of them's a Japanese import—”
”One of them’s going to break my spine”
Slash now wandered in behind Axl, holding two mismatched dining chairs by the backs like a cartoon burglar “I dunno, I think it’s kinda romantic. He’s gonna breake his spine for you”
"Romantic is helping with the mattress" Axl shot back "Which you still haven't done"
“I’m allergic to box springs” Slash smiled sarcastically
"You’re allergic to everything that involves effort" Steve chimed from the hallway, shoving the couch the last few inches into the living room with DJ groaning beside him
the place was slowly transforming from a dusty, looking similar to something resembling a home. the old couch was now shoved against the wall. Axl’s battered speakers were already half-hooked up. the kitchen held your stacked mugs, your thrift-store silverware. it wasn’t glamorous but it was yours
Axl dumped the last of the records onto the floor beside the stereo, sweat slicked down his back, cheeks flushed. he collapsed beside the pile, dramatically rolling onto his back
“You could help us, baby” he panted
you leaned down, brushing damp hair off his forehead, grinning “I was gonna. Now I’m thinking maybe not”
he scowled “Traitor”
you laughed, standing up and clapping your hands “Okay, break’s over! Only fifteen more boxes to go!”
the groan of guys that followed was nearly comical but no one laughed
later that night, the apartment was filled with the warm buzz of cheap beer, empty pizza boxes and the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that only comes from hauling furniture up the stairs for the whole day
Stevie was passed out on the floor, snoring against a guitar case. DJ sat cross-legged by the open window, smoking. Slash was reclined against the wall, his hat tilted low over his face, mumbling something about needing “a thousand ibuprofen and a bath in whiskey”
you were curled up beside Axl on the couch. his arm was slung across your shoulders, shirt damp with sweat and sleeves rolled up, the tattoo of your profile glinting slightly under the lamplight. his other hand idly played with the hem of your shirt
“You tired?” he asked quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head
“Exhausted” you murmured “But happy”
he smiled, almost bashfully, brushing his nose against your temple “Yeah?”
“Mhm” you looked up at him, a soft grin tugging at your lips. “I live with a rockstar now. Even got the bruises from moving”
Axl huffed a laugh “You wanna see my bruises? I think I pulled something trying to lift that record crate. What do you keep in there, rocks?”
“History of art” you said dramatically
he rolled his eyes “You’re insane”
“And you’re obsessed with me”
he didn’t even pretend to deny it “Yeah. I am”
for a moment, he looked around the messy living room — his friends half-asleep
“You know…” he said, resting his chin on your shoulder “I don’t think I ever had a home like this before”
you glanced at him, your heart tensing gently “Yeah I know. I'm sorry Ax”
he met your eyes — that raw, boyish sincerity rising to the surface “People who don’t leave... Someone who gives a shit about me and… doesn’t get scared off. I'm really grateful to have you all in my life, especially you”
you cupped his cheek, leaning in just enough to whisper “You deserve this. All of it. Even the roaches”
Axl smiled and it was one of those rare, real ones that crinkled his eyes “If you ever leave me for someone who doesn’t bring roaches into your house, I’ll understand”
you snorted “Oh please. I’m in too deep now”
he kissed you again, slower this time. when he pulled back, he looked around and saw boxes standing there asking to be unpacked
“Let’s never move again” he mumbled into your hair
“Sure” you murmured, eyes fluttering shut “But you’re still unpacking the rest tomorrow”
from the floor, Slash’s voice came sleepy and dry “If you two start fucking while we’re still here, I’m never helping anyone move again”
Axl grinned “Then get the fuck out, smartass”
after these words the guys finally stumbled out, half-drunk and groaning the whole way down the stairs. Slash gave a lazy salute with two fingers as he disappeared, muttering something about “never moving again unless there’s a fucking elevator”. Stevie and DJ followed, dragging their tired asses behind him
the door clicked shut
you let out a long breath and leaned back against it, looking at Axl. he was standing in the middle of the living room chaos, hair sticking to his neck, that crooked little smirk on his face
“Finally” he said, voice rough from the day
you crossed the room and slipped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to his damp t-shirt “Our place now. No more hallway that smells like stale beer, i mean well... maybe at least a little less”
he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, hands sliding down to rest at the small of your back “C’mon. Bed. Before I collapse right here on the floor like Stevie”
you didn’t even bother turning on more lights. the two of you shuffled down the short hallway to the bedroom, stepping over boxes. the mattress was bare except for the fitted sheet you’d thrown on earlier in a half-assed attempt at progress. no top sheet. no comforter. just a thin, worn-out blanket you’d found stuffed in one of the bags
you kicked off your shorts and tank top, leaving you in just your underwear. Axl stripped down to his boxers and collapsed onto the bed with a dramatic groan, starfishing across the mattress
“Axl” you mumbled, crawling in beside him “We should shower. We’re super sweaty. Like… it's disgusting”
he turned onto his side and pulled you against him immediately, one arm heavy over your waist, his face buried in your neck. his skin was warm, still sticky with the day’s work and you could smell the faint mix of his cologne, sweat and that unmistakable Axl scent that always made your brain go fuzzy
“I like when you’re sweaty” he murmured against your skin, voice low and sleepy. his hand drifted slowly up your back, fingers tracing your spine “Thata's kinda hot, actually”
you laughed softly, even as your eyes were already closing “You’re gross”
“Mhmm and I still like you all sweaty” he pressed a lazy kiss just below your ear, then another on your collarbone “Shower can wait till tomorrow now rest, baby”
“Night, rockstar” you whispered
Axl’s grip tightened around you, protective even in his exhaustion
“Night, baby”
the next morning after the move, you were already up, slipping quietly into the tiny kitchen in only your underwear, your hair a mess, eyes tired. the buzz of celebration had dulled into reality
rent
groceries
bank debt
the new place was perfect — but far from free
you sat at the tiny table with your coffee going cold, squinting at newspaper ads and circling anything that paid over minimum wage: waitress needed. filing clerk. retail assistant. your heart sank lower with each listing. you were already working nearly full-time
you didn’t hear him wake up. but suddenly Axl was there, shirtless and rumpled, scratching at his stomach with a frown
“What’re you doing?” he asked, voice thick with sleep
you flipped the paper shut too quickly “Nothing”
he squinted, stepping closer “You’re looking for a job”
you hesitated, trying to sound light “Just something extra. I mean… we’ve got that loan and you’re not exactly helping with rent—”
“You said you were fine with it”
“I am” you said, standing “But I can’t let us drown, Axl”
he made a confused frown “So your plan is to work yourself into the ground? I didn’t ask you to do that”
“No, but I did it” you shot back, gesturing to the apartment around you “Because I wanted you to have a home you’d love. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna let the bank eat us alive”
Axl ran a hand through his messy hair, pacing now “Fuck. I didn’t want this. You burning yourself out while I pretend to be an actual rockstar—”
“You're not pretending” you snapped “You’re just… not making money yet”
“Yet” he echoed bitterly, like he didn’t quite believe it
silence dropped between you for a moment, heavy and uncomfortable
then Axl huffed and stormed into the bedroom
“…Where are you going?” you called after him
“Getting dressed” he shouted “I’m getting a fucking job”
you blinked “Wait, what?”
“You heard me” he came back out half-dressed, yanking his boots on “I’m not letting you carry all this alone. If it means I flip burgers until I get signed, so be it”
your heart softened painfully “Axl—”
“No” his jaw was tight “I know I act like a mess sometimes but I’m not gonna let you kill yourself trying to keep us going”
you exhaled slowly and crossed the room to press your forehead against his chest “We’re a team, okay?”
his arms wrapped around you tight “Damn right we are”
he kissed your head “Now gimme the classifieds. I’m gonna find something that doesn’t make me wanna set myself on fire”
you handed him the paper, laughing into his shoulder “Good luck with that”
“Thanks, babe. I’ll be the hottest busboy in whole LA”
