i love axl

Deal preppy?

Note: I was thinking of making a few more parts of this story, so if you guys have any plot twists inside your wonderful minds, feel free to send them to me:))))

3.40 am. Struggling trying to make your heavy eyes to close, with the smell of curry filling your nose coming from the Indian restaurant around the corner of 25th and I’m in hell, you hear the phone on ring. Your desk was way too far to reach and at that point it seemed it slowly went even further, mile by mile, but you dragged yourself out of bed anyway, made your way to it somehow and picked up. You felt your heart skip a beat when the awful sound of a cheering crowd came crashing right through your head and in-between the pitched screams of the Strip women you recognized the raspy voice of your friend: “Y/N could you maybe… the fuck I can’t remember why I’m calling you.” You let out a sigh and roll your eyes because you knew exactly what was coming… “oh yeah, could you come and pick me up? I mean my car is out there somewhere but… well, you know… I’m drunk Y/N.”

“sure, sweet pie.   Where are you anyway?”

“it’s this place ya know, really smelly, full of shitholes… the one you went to that one time…”

Her voice got a little distant and you heard her asking around what was the actual name of the place.

“is it the Whiskey?” you asked, trying to recall the days you would go out and around, heavily drunk most of the time.

“yea, yea that’s it! I’ll wait for you inside. I found this really cute drummer-“

You cut her off:  “I’ll be there in 20’. Make sure you’re easy to notice.” You let the phone down with your hand that felt as heavy as the hand of an iron man.


The club really did stink and it was hard to identify people with the fog from the cigarettes rolling all over the goddamn place. Making your way through the crowd gave you anxiety and it felt like you could really use a shot of vodka before continuing your search.  Lucky the bar was standing tall and alone. You ordered and sat down on a burgundy bar stool. Your friend was nowhere to be found. You felt a figure behind you, turning around to see a handsome young man with gorgeous green eyes, soft and straight red hair and very tight pants standing beside you.

“Someone is not happy to be here,” he said with a low voice, low enough to give you goose bumps.

“I am supposed to be sleeping preppy, not sitting here trying to find my friend who’s probably fucking some drummer or guitarist right now. So to sum up, no I am most certainly not happy to be here.”

He looked at you amused by all the words just flying out of your formerly sealed mouth.

“It ain’t preppy. It’s Axl.  W. Axl Rose and lady may I just say you have swept me off my feet right now.”

You turned away from you drink to face him: “impressive preppy. Move along now.” He was hot, but you felt he had a band aura around him and you had absolutely no aspiration to carry on a conversation with a jackass from living off booze and music.

“oh come on baby, what’s your name? have you seen our show? We’re bomb aren’t we?”

He practically stabbed you with all the questions, looking  up and down at you, his curious eyes finally resting on your boobs.

“hey my eyes are up here and no I didn’t see the show, I also didn’t come here to pick up band members and I’m not giving away my name either.”

“oh c’mon… tell me your favorite band then.” He smiled at you deviously and you could help but letting out a soft chuckle.

“I don’t know,” you simply stated “can’t decide I guess.” You were starting to have fun stringing him around.

“Let me guess. Is it… Guns n’ Roses?”

“I suppose that’s the name of your band?”


“then no.” your face turned death serious when you said it, hoping that Y/F/N will show up already. Axl’s mouth spread into a huge grin as he heard the word no coming from you.

“come on just tell me your favorite band” he begged you further on with a puppy face look that softened you a little: “fine… the Stones…”

“okay great, so I’ll start you up on Friday then.” He smiled at you and took a drag of his previously lit cigarette that sat between his long fingers.

“yeah sure, Friday,” you said with a sarcastic undertone in your voice to cover up your nervousness, because you had to admit it to yourself that the guy was smoking hot.  Not only did his eyes made you feel he could see through you, but also he knew how  to use all the right words to get ya’ goin’.

“Baby admit it, you like me. I can see it, you can’t deny it.”

“really?” you stated with a questionable look on your face, when finally you rolled your eyes: “ I want you baby, I need you baby, can’t go without you baby.” With the negotiation clearly not coming to an end, Y/F/N finally seemed to show up, looking like a freaking panda and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh, because she was so trashy. The only savior from Axl’s invisible grip around you.  

“Where the fuck have you been Y/F/N?!” suddenly you felt more like a mother to her than an actual friend.

“Well Y/N, I met this really, REALLY cute drummer…” she stopped and looked at Axl’s amused face, that still stood behind you, “he knows him, they play together!” she stated and pointed a finger at him. “Tell her how cute he is!”

She was so drunk she could barely stand up, plus she was embarrassing you in front of this gorgeous man you tried so desperately to play it off cool with. Her mouth didn’t seem to shut any time sooner so you slapped her ass, turned the blondie around and started pushing her through the crowded, foggy and trashed up place to get to the front door, and just by the time you were half way there you felt a strong grip around your wrist: “hey, you can’t just leave me waiting by the bar like an asshole and not giving me your number baby girl.” For the mother of god, you thought to yourself, he really doesn’t give up that easily. At this point you wanted to stay and have a drink with him since he really tried to impress you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your dearest friend, on a death row surrounded by a bunch of horny old bikers, that drunk. You just weren’t that kind of person. So you sat her down on the nearest chair in the dark hallway and turned back to the green-eyed  angel: “fine, Axl. I’m Y/N. I work at the Rainbow.  Be there tomorrow at eight or you lose the date. Deal preppy?” you were so satisfied with yourself right now you could blow up the entire place and not give a shit about it. Axl’s perfect teeth started to show, and all of a sudden he gently pecked your lips grabbed your hand and left a light kiss, like a true gentleman, on top of it: “I’ll make sure I’ll meet you at 8 o’clock sharp, pretty woman.” You smiled at him picked Y/F/N up said your goodbye and dragged yourself and your severely drunk friend out of the shithole and before you knew it, it was 8 o’clock on a Saturday. He better be one hell of a guy…

“At some point in the mid-‘80s, I heard a song of mine on the radio and for the first time, I felt that something really important had happened. Still, from time to time I listen to songs that I composed and recorded in the '80s on the radio, and I to say myself "Wow, incredible, there I am” but I was still just a teenager who just wanted to play the guitar.“

-Izzy Stradlin


Axl: I can’t help it. I either stand there bored or I run back and forth. And I kinda get into dancing. I didn’t even know that I like what I do. I just, I looked down at my feet and go “what am I doing now?” but I feel like if I stand there, then people think “oh this is boring” so I gotta do something and I just try to do whatever happens. It’s a lot of fun. I thought about taking dance lessons and stuff but then I was worried about getting too stale, being too much like organized and everything. I like the spontaneity of just whatever happens, keeps it real raw and fresh. If it got too ballet’ed out, I couldn’t handle that.