☞︎ 𝑆𝑙𝑎𝑠ℎ 𝐼𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 ☜︎

⚠︎︎ᴄʀᴀᴢʏ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ⚠︎︎

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Fem!reader
This imagine series is going to include:  smut, blood, gore, blood kink, knife kink, over all slash being a meanie :(, Stockholm syndrome?, dubcon?, noncon ( just in case), obsessive behavior.
PART 1/2
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1995
The bar air was thick, the stench of alcohol apparent. This was a bar that Slash had frequented for a while, often with his friends for a night out for some fun.
Most of the time he would find a hot chick with a respectable personality to bring home to satisfy his needs for the night. The morning after, he'd kick her out, and dwell on the empty feeling in his chest. No matter how many girls he shagged the feeling never went away. No matter what position, or how kinky the sex was, that inky black feeling never went away. Slash even started to dabble in drugs for a bit. Sure, the high would distract him for a while, but it soon caught up with him. Now, he had an addiction he had to take care of.
When he was at a rehab center, all he did was sit in his room and stare at the empty, suffocating white walls. Why did they have to be white?

During that time in his room, Slash had a lot of time, twitch and itching for his fix. Maybe the hole inside his chest was a need that he could never satisfy. A itch that he could never scratch.
Once he left the rehab center he decided to ignore the feeling altogether. Put it on the back burner if you will.

That was until he met you.

When Slash first saw you, it was at one of the many bars on the Sunset Strip. He was sitting on one of the leather stools, a bottle of jack in his hand, rings and bracelets clacking on the glass bottle and the varnished bar top. An obnoxious couple were making out to the right of him and a passed out drunk was drooling on the bar top to his left. His ears perk up at the sweet voice of a woman. He turned his head and there you stood, to the right of him. The couple must have left, though Slash hadn't noticed one bit.
You were pointing at the vacant leather seat next to him, "Is anyone sitting here?"
God your voice. It was like a breath of fresh air in this murky bar. "Yeah. You." Slash smirked at you, putting on his charming façade. You peacefully sat down ordering something mild. Nothing too hard. The bartender started concocting your drink, clinks of glasses and sounds of foaming liquor surrounded you both. Slash took a gulp of the jack in his hand, wiping his mouth, the sluggish smirk never leaving his face.
You gazed at him wondering what he was thinking, "why are you looking at me like that?" a soft chuckle escaping your lips.
Slash shrugged, his eyes bore into yours, sending a chill up your spine. "I can't help staring at a something so gorgeous." he punctuated his suave words with another gulp of jack. His words left you feeling  conflicted, he must be drunk.
Your expression gave your thoughts away, "I ain't drunk sweetheart. I haven't been here that long." he winked. You gave a muffled laugh at his boldness. "Your quite a character, stranger." you took a small sip of your drink, giving a small thanks to the bartender.
"Mm, close, its Slash." he held out his jeweled hand. You choked on your drink, but quickly recovered, coughing a little in the process.
"I'm sorry, it's just, I've never heard a name like yours." You took his hand, slowly shaking his rough hand which contrasted to your smaller, softer hand.
"You're alright. I get it a lot, but it's not my birth name. You'd have to pay me a hefty price to get me to tell you that one." he squeezed your hand a little before he let go, leaving your hand pumping and tingling. "What's your name, beautiful?"
His voice was full and deep, "It's Y/N, I don't have a cool nickname like you." A blush tinted your cheeks.
"A beautiful name for a beautiful girl." He took your hand once again, pressing his plump lips to the back. You blush deepened as his lips brushed against your knuckles, goosebumps erupted across your arms. He dropped your hand, leaving it feeling cold and limp against your thigh.
He snickered at your expression. You gaped at him like a fish out of water, almost gasping for air. You gulped, reaching for your drink and taking a deep swig.
The alcohol burned your throat, "Slow down, sweetheart," he paused, his lips brushing against your ear, "we don't want you to choke."  You shakily swallowed your last gulp of alcohol, although now you felt sluggish. You gazed at him shyly, his presence now making you want to sink into the leather seat.