“OLD MAN”
Modern! Axl Rose X Younger! Fem! Reader
The house is unusually quiet.
No music blasting from speakers.
No people moving through the halls.
No late-night phone calls about tour schedules or studio sessions.
Just rain tapping softly against the windows and the low hum of the heater.
Axl is stretched across the couch in the living room, long legs taking up most of the space. His reading glasses are perched low on his nose while he scrolls slowly through something on his phone, one hand lazily resting on his stomach.
From the hallway, you appear wrapped in the biggest blanket you could find, the soft fabric dragging slightly behind you like a cape.
He notices immediately.
He always does.
His eyes lift from his phone and follow you as you shuffle into the room.
“You cold?” he asks.
“A little,” you mumble.
He doesn’t hesitate. He just lifts one arm and pats the empty spot beside him.
“C’mere.”
You don’t need to be told twice.
You climb onto the couch and immediately tuck yourself against his side, curling up like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Axl shifts without even looking, automatically adjusting so you fit comfortably against him. The blanket gets pulled over both of you, and his arm settles around your shoulders like it belongs there.
“You steal my blankets every time,” he says.
“You have like ten.”
“Yeah, but I was using that one.”
“You weren’t using it enough.”
He lets out a quiet huff that’s suspiciously close to a laugh.
For a while neither of you say anything.
The rain continues outside, steady and soft, while the room fills with that comfortable silence that only happens when two people are completely used to each other.
Your head is resting on his chest now, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
You start playing with the strings of his hoodie absentmindedly, wrapping them around your fingers.
Axl glances down.
“You ever sit still?”
“Nope.”
“Figures.”
But he doesn’t stop you.
In fact, his hand starts moving without him even realizing it, tracing slow circles along your arm with his thumb.
It’s something he does all the time.
You notice it every time.
“You’re doing the circle thing again,” you mumble.
“What circle thing.”
“That.”
You grab his hand and guide it in the same motion across your arm.
He shrugs.
“Habit.”
You smile softly and snuggle closer.
A few minutes pass before you look up at him.
He’s still reading something on his phone, brows slightly furrowed in concentration.
“You’re cute,” you say suddenly.
He immediately snorts.
“Absolutely not.”
“You are.”
“Nope.”
“You’re literally wearing glasses and reading on the couch while it rains outside. That’s peak cute behavior.”
He lowers his phone just enough to give you a look.
“You have a weird definition of cute.”
You grin.
“You’re my favorite old man.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Careful.”
“You are an old man.”
He scoffs.
“I’m not that old.”
“You were born in the nineteen hundreds.”
He stares at you.
“That’s the dumbest argument I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s true though.”
“You were born five minutes ago.”
“Exactly.”
You beam proudly.
Axl shakes his head, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his mouth now.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“But you like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
You poke his chest.
“That sounded fake.”
He sighs dramatically, like this conversation is exhausting him, then reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
“I like you.”
Your smile softens.
You settle back down against him, arms wrapping loosely around his middle.
For a while you just lay there listening to the rain.
The warmth of the blanket.
The steady rise and fall of his breathing.
Eventually your eyes start drifting closed.
But just as you’re about to fall asleep, you mumble something.
“Hey.”
“Mhm.”
“Why do you always let me cling to you like this?”
He glances down.
“You’re literally glued to my side half the time.”
“Yeah but you never stop me.”
You wait for him to make some sarcastic comment.
Instead, he shrugs slightly.
“Because you like it.”
“That’s not the real reason.”
He studies your face for a moment.
Your sleepy expression.
Your messy hair.
The way you’re curled up against him like he’s the safest place in the world.
His expression softens in that quiet way he rarely lets people see.
“You look happy,” he says.
Your heart does that annoying little flutter thing.
“So you just… let me cling to you because I look happy?”
“Pretty much.”
You grin lazily.
“Wow.”
“What.”
“You’re whipped.”
“I am not.”
“You totally are.”
To prove your point, you tighten your arms around him dramatically.
He sighs, but then he shifts slightly and pulls you even closer until you’re practically laying across him.
“Alright,” he mutters.
“Maybe a little.”
Your voice is getting sleepy now.
“Good.”
Your fingers curl lightly into the fabric of his hoodie as your eyes finally close.
Within a few minutes, you’re completely asleep.
Axl notices immediately.
He carefully lowers his phone onto the table so he doesn’t wake you.
For a while he just sits there, one arm around you, listening to the rain outside.
Then he gently adjusts the blanket around your shoulders so you stay warm.
You mumble something in your sleep and tuck your face further into his chest.
He smiles faintly.
The world knows Axl Rose as loud, unpredictable, explosive.
But right now?
He’s just sitting quietly on a couch with a sleeping girl sprawled across him, making sure she’s comfortable.
And honestly…
He wouldn’t move even if he wanted to.
