NASA
cherry valley forever
Kaledo Art
d e v o n
sheepfilms
trying on a metaphor
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ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
JVL
Keni
Product Placement
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
🪼
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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Stranger Things
wallacepolsom
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Mike Driver
seen from United States
seen from Russia
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seen from Malaysia
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@coldlovehotblood
hiii im faith!! i write stuff :p
she/her. 18+. i write FANFICTION that may contain heavy themes (these will be forewarned, always, but specifics will be made skippable for those who don’t want spoilers). mostly afab reader but if requested i can do whatever u like :3
★ requests are open! ★
masterlist
be safe and read tags if ever unsure!
RIP YOU RIGHT IN TWO
The heir of the company you work for is the bane of your existence, always poking his nose where it doesn’t belong and showing up at the worst times. He’s full of grins and chat until you do him a favour that changes everything.
THREE QUESTIONS BELOW!!!
˗ˏˋ 1 ˎˊ˗
“AND LOOK WHO IT IS, THE MAN OF THE HOUR…”
The one whose face has turned up in your dreams more times than you’re willing to admit.
What’s he like?
shy and hesitant
bold and hungry
˗ˏˋ 2 ˎˊ˗
“DOLLED TO THE NINES, AND ALL FOR ME?”
What colour would you wear to make an impression at a boring business dinner?
Choose one
Red
Black
˗ˏˋ 3 ˎˊ˗
“THIS IS UNBEARABLE”
You need to leave the table before his teasing gets out of hand.
Where do you go
Bathroom
Outside
RIP YOU RIGHT IN TWO
The heir of the company you work for is the bane of your existence, always poking his nose where it doesn’t belong and showing up at the worst times. He’s full of grins and chat until you do him a favour that changes everything.
THREE QUESTIONS BELOW!!!
˗ˏˋ 1 ˎˊ˗
“AND LOOK WHO IT IS, THE MAN OF THE HOUR…”
The one whose face has turned up in your dreams more times than you’re willing to admit.
What’s he like?
shy and hesitant
bold and hungry
˗ˏˋ 2 ˎˊ˗
“DOLLED TO THE NINES, AND ALL FOR ME?”
What colour would you wear to make an impression at a boring business dinner?
Choose one
Red
Black
RIP YOU RIGHT IN TWO
The heir of the company you work for is the bane of your existence, always poking his nose where it doesn’t belong and showing up at the worst times. He’s full of grins and chat until you do him a favour that changes everything.
THREE QUESTIONS BELOW!!!
˗ˏˋ 1 ˎˊ˗
“AND LOOK WHO IT IS, THE MAN OF THE HOUR…”
The one whose face has turned up in your dreams more times than you’re willing to admit.
What’s he like?
shy and hesitant
bold and hungry
hai haiiiii
so something fun is in the works rn👀👀
i have a couple of ideas for this, and i wish i could include them all, but it’s one or the other. and i’m far too indecisive.
SO
that’s where you all come in!
i’m going to post a few polls so that everyone can tell me what they want to see + give some hints as to what it’s about.
enjoy voting!
PRETTY TIED UP (p.2)
The persona you’d created as front woman of a major band comes crashing down. Strong liquor paired with your hungry heart lead you to places you through never possible: the other side of the your crushes bed.
PART 1
w/c: 4,296
warnings: steven being a little shit, smut, drunk (?) sex (more details here)
a/n: finally part 2! pretty sure this is my first time posting a full smut scene so please be nice😭 i think it came out ok. i hope. tell me what you all think! (also this whole thing being 7.5k😵💫 IT WAS NOT PLANNED I SWEAR)
Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you once you both became more relaxed. It was unexpected. There even came a point where you said something that must've tickled him a certain way because the laugh he let out was unabashed and loud, so much so his bandmates and yours all turned to see what had cracked him up.
“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” Steven said, giving Izzy an eyebrow waggle and elbowing his side a few times. Izzy’s smile instantly dropped and he glowered with a scoff.
“Fuck off.” He punched his arm and Steven feigned injury, falling onto Axl’s shoulder and writhing and whining out in faux pain.
“Oh you asshole, how could you! My boyfriend is gonna have to come kick your ass now.”
“I’m sure. Axl, I'm begging you to get rid of him.”
Axl just shrugged, face blank as he kept his eyes on… you?
“What?!” Steven cried, sitting up suddenly, “How am I being kicked out first when you’ve got a girlfriend?! You're too suave for us.”
“Girlfriend?”
“Oh, sorry, did I misunderstand?” his words were oversweet as they came out and he tilted his head knowingly with a shit-eating grin, “‘S just you're sitting so close I thought that–” Steven’s mischievous slurs were cut off by Izzy’s sharp tone.
“Watch it.”
“I’ve been watching you, mister smooth talker.”
You hadn't noticed how close your stools had become, only looking because Steven pointed it out. You had no recollection of leaning in closer at all, or of him doing so either. You could feel your cheeks heat up slightly at the realisation.
“I mean, I wouldn't even be surprised if you moved in for a big ol’ smooch at this point–”
“Watch. It.” Izzy repeated through gritted teeth, face becoming even more furious.
“Alright, big guy, cool the jets,” he raised his hands in surrender, “I have one last question, though. Can I witness the great conquer of Izzy Stradlin? Can I watch it when you guys finally get it on? Come on, I’m asking for a friend–”
Izzy stood up abruptly, grabbing your arm with the movement and tugging you along with him as he headed for a side door.
“Oh, is it happening now? This is happening now? Wait, lemme come with–”
“Steven,” Izzy seethed over his shoulder before storming out into an alley with you still in tow. Steven’s laughs rang clear until Izzy slammed shut the door with a huff.
The air felt cooler on your skin than it had before, alcohol having warmed you up. The change in heat shocked your system a little, and so you crossed your arms around your midsection. Izzy took note of this and shrugged his leather jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. You thanked him quietly as you slipped your hands through each arm, letting his body heat warm you. He then guided you to lean against the wall with him, your upper arms pressed together with the proximity.
It was nerve wracking being stood so close to him. Similar to before, such a scenario had been imagined during sleepless nights. Never in a million years did you think something like it would happen. Ever. But there you were, stood beside him in the flesh, neatly pressed up against the wall and soaking up his body heat through a borrowed jacket.
Now that was an electrifying thought. Your heart jumped a little in your chest as you fangirled. This was short lived though, as you mentally slapped yourself, reminding your scattered brain that you had to behave.
You had vowed to not make a fool of yourself in front of him, and so refused to slip up then. You suddenly regretted drinking anything at all.
“Want a cig?” he asked as he fished a hand into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a half-empty carton and flipping it open. You nodded and thanked him once again, bringing the filter to your lips. The brush of fingers was enough to make your stomach feel funny. This was veering into dangerous territory you feared.
He continued to search through his pockets before sighing in annoyance.
“That fucker stole my lighter again. Hold on–”
“I have one, don't worry,” you said as you reached into your bra, producing an engraved zippo. The corner of his mouth turned up with the beginnings of a smile.
“Convenient.” You lit your own before turning to face him, cupping the flame as he leaned closer to dip the end of his cigarette into the orange wisp.
Lighting a cigarette was not a terribly intimate thing, but he made it one. The sight of his body tilting towards you, coming nearer and hovering just above your fingers, eyes half-lidded. God, it wasn't just intimate, it was downright erotic. He was stunning from this close, long planes of his face half hidden by the depth of the night, half illuminated by the tangerine glow of fire.
This image only lasted maybe three seconds truly, but for you it dragged on longer, as if in slow motion. Your eyes must have followed him as he straightened out again, mouth slightly agape, because as you came to you realised he was standing watching you, a devilish and playful smirk on his face.
“You still there?”
You blinked, returning to Earth.
“Welcome back.”
“Sh- shut up,” you huffed, turning away, cheeks blazing more than before.
Embarrassment began eating you through your clothes alongside the night air. Liquid courage had done nothing but make a fool out of you and you wanted to go home. You’d pushed against the barriers of what was safe too much for one night and that hungry part of your brain that chanted Izzy’s name every time you saw him had been fed enough. You needed to be real, you and Izzy could never be a thing. Even a small one–
“Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Uhm, thank you.”
Despite your awkwardness, he still looked at you cheekily, half-glazed eyes somehow sparkling even with the scant light of the alley you stood within.
“I…” he began before pausing to shake his head, take another puff of his cigarette and start again, “You've avoided me for a good year. Why is it only now you're willing to talk?”
You froze, the breath bunching in the base of your throat making it feel as if you swallowed a stone. You felt caught. He… He had noticed? Was it that obvious? How were you to explain yourself?
How could you begin to explain that the harmless flame of a crush had, against your will, become a blaze? A blaze so strong and fierce it was useless trying to tame it. You’d spent what felt like forever standing in its heat, ashes trailing you. It seemed as if your neglect only fed it as the light never dimmed, never faded. Only grew. Something swam at its own pace inside you, disturbing the water just enough to rock the boat. Just enough to send a reminder when you thought you might've let it all go. But it was never truly gone. It was kindling itself when you weren't looking.
You'd been left with a complex web of emotions strung through each gap of your ribcage, artfully weaved by none other than your own heart and its spinnerets. You had no one but yourself to blame for how much this affected you. Nothing to point fingers at but your inability to let anything go, despite the root of every lesson life threw at you being just that. You hated that you'd let it grow so big, and now that it was rearing all of its ugly heads at you, you were a deer in headlights.
There is no casual way to explain something like that. No smooth wording to soften the reality of it. No poetic lilt to sweeten the bite.
You felt too drunk to start such a conversation, and yet, at the same time, not drunk enough. It was too much in that moment. Far too much.
“I, uh, I have my reasons.” You decided on, ignoring the waver in your voice to instead take a drag of your cigarette.
“What, were you scared I was nasty or something?”
“No, but you’re more intimidating than you think.”
“Is that so?”
Izzy turned to face you fully, the shoulder that previously brushed yours now leaning against the wall. You didn’t meet his gaze.
He took his time, leisurely raking his eyes over your side profile. The playful smile he had previously worn melted into something much subtler. You did your best to watch him from the corner of your eye like you had earlier on in the night, but with your vision made slightly muddy, it was difficult. A few drawn-out seconds of quiet passed; only the dim sound of engines rumbling past through the alley opening could be heard. Well, apart from the thud of your heart in your own ears. He made you nervous. Tipsy-leaning-drunk you did not know what to make of that.
“Hey,” he said your name gently, “look at me for a second?”
The static of your brain ceased and you turned your head instinctively.
You decided there and then that he would be the death of you.
He stood so lax, a hand in his front jean pocket, cigarette sitting between his lips as thin swirls of grey obscured him ever so slightly. Your legs pressed together.
He broke eye contact briefly, taking the filter between his fingers once more before returning to you, looking almost shy.
“Can I try something?”
You nodded quite dumbly, unable to close your mouth or really speak. You were entranced.
He was hypnotising as he moved closer, lifting his shoulder off the wall, throwing the remnants of his cigarette without looking where and reaching to the side of your face, tucking a couple of stray hairs behind your ear. You could only blink as his touch lingered, the warmth of his palm leaking into your already heated cheeks. He looked one last time into your glassy, compliant eyes, and then leaned in. Your breath stopped once again.
Soft lips pressed against your own; a feathery but sure kiss.
Electricity crackled throughout your body and you went hot then cold, dropping your own cigarette unknowingly. The touch lasted forever and not long enough. It was so unexpectedly gentle for a man like him. ‘A man like him’. You internally rolled your eyes. You barely knew him.
Too lost in thought, it felt like no time before he pulled away. That just wouldn't do. It had ended much sooner than you had wanted.
“Sorry,” he blurted out upon seeing your reaction (or rather, lack thereof), “I shouldn't have–”
You surged forward and kissed him again, muddled brain deciding you needed him close, and to keep him close. Close enough to where you could feel it as he huffed in relief through his nose, anyway. You wanted him and that steady body heat of his yesterday, thank you very much.
A curious tongue prodded at the seam of your lips and you opened up instantly. He tasted of sugary whiskey, and you welcomed that. Very happily so.
You should have expected the strength of flavour you’d get, for he was only after having a glass, but it really did feel like you were getting a mouthful of it through a mouthful of him.
‘So this is what Izzy Stradlin tastes like’, you thought to yourself.
Saccharine liquor that mellows to vanilla once it’s wet your mouth, the sweetness manifesting like dew in morning light and condensing along the folds of drooping tobacco leaves.
Put quite simply: you were convinced his biological makeup was purely aphrodisiacal.
Too easily addictive.
Scarily so.
You found your arms winding around his neck anyway.
He mirrored your urgency, his other hand finding your hip and stroking a thumb against it. The touch burned through the thin layer, etching itself into your skin. You may have been drunk, but even in that blurred haze you could confidently say that the memory of that gentle up and down motion would last.
He pulled away and you leant forward, expecting lips on yours once again, but you opened your eyes and huffed a bit. Why would he pull away? Were you not good? It had been a while since doing something like this, yes, but surely you weren't that rusty–
“Hey, slow down, pretty, slow down.”
You whined and he just shushed you, stroking a hand down your cheek and looking up to the alley opening.
“We can’t do this here. Anyone could be around.”
You had caught the scent of his cologne while sitting at the bar, but from this close, it was dizzying. Your mental checklist of maddening things about him was updated and you leaned in further to get a better lungful. It was greedy, but you had crossed so many of your own lines already. What was one more?
As your head met his chest, his hand that held your cheek slipped to the back of your head. That felt good. His touch was so grounding and yet he still sent you beyond the clouds with a small chuckle. Fuck him.
“You wanna take this somewhere else?”
You looked up, unimpressed. Had he not caught on? Had he not seen the way you were pressing your thighs– scratch that, actually. You hoped to God he didn’t. He raised a firm eyebrow at you.
“I need you to say it, sweetheart.”
Oh. ‘Sweetheart’. That’s nice. Your chest bubbled with the need to let out a pleased, giddy laugh.
“I need words–”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He kissed you once again. The hand on your hip snaked to your lower back and he guided you towards the entrance of the alley.
“I have a place not far from here,” he began as he steered you onto the street, walking a bit too fast for your stomach to keep up, “an apartment I rent cheap for when I need to get away from those idiots back there.”
You had never been in the area he brought you to before. It was more run down than expected, but you said nothing, too pleased with the situation at hand to worry about what this little hide away looked like. He led you into a building a couple of stories high and you both giggled the whole way up, keeping a firm hold on his arm, his own touch seemingly glued to your hip.
He impatiently jammed a key into one of the doors, threw it open and pressed you against the inside, hard enough to slam it closed again. The pressure of him against you was perfect as you kissed him once more.
You felt full of bees, ready to burst out of your skin with excitement. It felt so right laughing with him as he led you further into the apartment by the hand, so natural when he laid you down and gently stripped you bare. His eyes felt like water, gliding over your skin. You couldn't get over that fact. His eyes felt good on you.
He took you in before praising every inch he could reach with feather-like lips, moving down, down, till he found what your tense legs were hiding. Gently, he encouraged you to part them and sighed contentedly at the view.
“So wet, honey,” he whispered against your inner thigh, breath dancing along the sensitive skin there before inching closer, closer, then the slick feeling of his mouth came. You watched him lick through you, your own mouth falling open, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.
Izzy muttered, “Oh fuck. Definitely honey.”
He was good at this. You should've expected it, now mostly sobered up, but it seemed he’d never stop taking your breath away. As he steadily brought you closer to that feeling you’d been craving since he’d led you into the alley, every nerve in your body crackled and set you alight. It took everything within you to keep your mouth sealed.
The whole situation almost didn’t feel real, and you felt a bit detached from your body. This was a fantasy of yours playing out. A genuine fantasy. That first glimpse of his face in the flesh at the awards show a year ago had stubbornly burned itself onto the back of your eyelids, an image only visible when you were lying in bed. It was a bit childish, but this was a celebrity crush going down on you. You were a grown woman, one that knew of her worth and beauty. Not once had you ever been nervous in bed. You had no reason to be.
But he made you self-conscious. He had been nothing but praising and everything he did felt fantastic, but you couldn't help it. Even the one thing you had total confidence in, your voice, you didn’t trust. In fear of being unappealing, you kept your mouth closed. It was damn difficult, and could only hold back so much, but you tried.
Biting your lip, that familiar knot came to your abdomen. You were so close…
You whispered, “I— I’m gonna—“
He suddenly pulled away and the whine that left you couldn’t have been held back even if you tried. You were needy before, but it had become unbearable with his teasing.
“Izzy,” you pouted, not even fully realising what you were doing, still half out of breath from adrenaline. He just hummed, looking at you through his eyelashes cheekily.
“Izzy,” you repeated.
“What?”
“Izzy.”
“Need something?”
“Stop that.”
“Aww, do you need something, sweetheart?”
“You're so mean,” you huffed and gently bat his shoulder once.
He let out a handsome laugh and tilted his head to the side to lean against one of your bare thighs.
“I'm serious!”
“Well, how am I supposed to know what you need if you don't tell me?”
“You know damn well.”
“Do I?”
“Izzy!”
He laughed once again, sitting up and affectionately patting your side.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, pretty.”
So he was just as much of a tease here as he was at the bar. Yet another thing about him that had the potential to send you to your early death.
He suddenly sat up and flipped you around onto your stomach, eliciting a squeal from you.
“This pussy has been doing a lot of the talking, though,” he ran his hands along your back and ass as he spoke, calloused fingertips tickling and warm.
His breath hit your ear when he leaned over your shoulder to whisper, “Let me hear you.”
“Let me see you then. You've taken nothing off and I'm lying bare.”
“I'm getting there, I'm getting there.”
“C’mon Izzy,” you reached behind your back and found his torso, warm. It was your turn to drag your fingers across him and down towards his belt. His hand wrapped around your wrist.
“Are you sure?”
“Please.”
“I don't mind–”
You whipped your head around to look at him over your shoulder.
“Please.”
He looked back at you with a strange expression before leaning down and kissing you, just as soft as the first time.
Your head spun.
He eased you around and lay where you once had, back against the headboard. You took your time dissecting him. Each piece of clothing like wrapping paper. How cheesy. Would he let you be cheesy with him?
Your fingers wrapped around the band of his boxers and pulled, dragging out a hiss from him with the movement. He was gorgeous. Somehow more than you had anticipated.
Dipping your head, you took him into your mouth and a groan came from above you. If you'd been pressed more wholly against him you bet you would've felt it rumble right through to your bones. This was good. Fantastic, actually. The part of your brain he’d taken over long ago yipped with glee.
A hand threaded through the hair at the nape of your neck. Oh yes.
“C–can you take it a little deeper?”
You drop your head further, feeling him fill your throat more.
The tremble of his fingers at the back of your head was addicting. You needed to feel this again. Again and again and again–
“Up. Up, up, up, I can’t s’ –” he stammered as he pushed you off of him and you saw his chest heaving above you, eyes wide, “s’ too much. Need you now.”
He took your shoulders and guided you into the position you were previously, but not as gently this time. He was almost frantic.
“Arch that back for me.”
You did as you were told.
“Are you okay with no condom? I have none here.”
“Sure. I’m kind of shocked, though,” you joked, “that a guy like you doesn't carry one around at all times.”
“Kicked that habit a long time ago. You forget I'm part of a rockband.”
He drags his tip through the slick that leaked past your lips and hisses. You gasp at the feeling of foreign touch.
“We tend to fuck first, ask questions later.”
As he began to prod at your entrance you push back onto him impatiently and he lets out another one of his delicious groans.
Pure magic took over your body. Magic and the all consuming static of finally getting what you want. His hands never stopped travelling over your body, moving over everything he could reach. It felt right. So right. He felt right.
“Keep grinding back, pretty. Good girl.”
He tightened his grip around the flesh of your waist.
Adjusting the angle of his hips slightly, he drew a higher pitched whine out of you. Suddenly, the grip on your waist came to your neck. He pulled you up, your back flush to his chest.
“‘S that your little sweet spot? Hm?”
Blissed out, you couldnt get your lips to move. You felt the sting of a slap against your ass and he growled.
“I asked you a question.”
“Y– Yes!”
His hold tightened and you began to feel lightheaded. Everything was too much. Too good. God he was so perfect. You dared to steal a glace of him and… Oh no. you were about to come.
The slight sheen that had began to gather on his face could be seen with how the light came through the window. His brows were furrowed in what you assumed was both concentration and pleasure. It was stunning to witness. In a mere couple of hours he had morphed from a pretty player into a god. Yes, a god. In that moment, that was the only word you found fitting for what you were seeing. But perhaps ‘god’ is too pure.
Incubus might’ve been what you were looking for.
A man with pure sex appeal for molecules.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you whimpered weakly.
“Oh my god, yes. Please do.”
He pressed his face close to yours. You could feel where his hair had started to stick to his skin.
“Come on, sweetheart, I know you want to,” he began, loosening his hold on your neck a bit to simply prop your jaw against his index and thumb before whispering, “so do it.”
Every muscle in your body tensed as you came, vision going white with the force of it. The sound of him groaning louder than he had all night just about registered. And you were right. You felt it rumble right through you.
The two of you took a few seconds to collect yourselves, before turning to eachother fully, still puffing from exertion, and laughed.
What was left of the night was full of sweaty skin on skin and just innocent conversation. Like high schoolers you talked and joked till the sun had fully begun its ascent. Yet again, he proved that he was perfect. Perfect for you.
After catching your breath from another spell of giggles, he turned to you.
“So, I dont know about you, but I’d love if this happened again.”
Your heart stopped as he continued.
“I’m not talking about running out of bars and fucking till daylight– I mean, yes I do. That was great. You’re great. But I mean I want this again. To talk. To… be normal, I guess. I don’t know what I’m saying–”
“I do. I get you. I… I would love that. This has been fun. So fun. And its been a while since I’ve felt so normal.”
It was true. Being part of a major rock band was not for the weak. It took real dedication. It took sacrifice. You abandon any sense of normalcy and learn to run with the wind, wherever it takes you. Between hopping on and off of tour buses, falling asleep in whatever studio was closest and cheapest to rent, drugs and screaming and seas of blinding camera flashes. It was intense. You don’t realise that along the way you forget what its like to pause and just be for a while.
“So, what do you say? Should we be continue being ‘normal’ together?”
You take a moment to fully consider what he’s saying and look at him. He looked soft in the blood orange light of dawn, hair tousled somehow tastefully despite how clear it was that he’d been running his hands through it. Cute.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
A beat passes where you hold eye contact, and the two of you burst out laughing. He guides your head onto his chest.
This was risky. Dangerous, even.
But it felt right.
The fire that just loved to feast on you now felt forgiving as it engulfed you both, the heat of it gentle. Tamed. Content.
Well shit. He had you pretty tied up, didn’t he?
Pretty Tied Up (p.2): full warning list
☆ hidden for those who don’t want spoilers ☆
- unprotected sex
- choking
- izzy slaps reader once during sex
.☆.
if you think anything else should be mentioned, please tell me and i’ll add it here <3
hii, can you write something about reader being friends with benefits with early glam era Slash like drunk sex after or between sets at a gig, please and thank youuu
˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖
better than ever
hooking up with slash after a gig 😋😋
warnings: drunk sex (DONT DO THAT GUYS), drinking etc etc
a/n: soz i keep disappearing guys. this is lowk bad but it’s the longest fic i’ve ever written so far (954 words 🤯) so oh well
backstage was always your favourite place to be. sure, it was a trek to the bar if you wanted a drink, but there was something about staying backstage that just felt brilliant. it was calmer - the walls muffled the sound of whatever band was playing and there was no drunken crowd you had to be a part of if you wanted to enjoy the performance. being backstage allowed you to enjoy the night without all the hassle that normally came with listening to live music.
tonight, guns n roses were playing. well, not technically. they were opening for some glam rock band the sunset strip seemed to love, one you didn’t care to remember the name of. you’d read it on the bill as you walked into the bar, but didn’t pay it any attention, instead focusing on the small lettering that read ‘GUNS N ROSES’.
slash, guns’ lead guitarist, had invited you here. you had known him for a few months, and you had become friends with benefits. it worked perfectly for the both of you - you weren’t looking for a relationship right now, and neither was he. and the sex was great.
you traversed through the winding corridors of the venue’s backstage area until you found a dressing room with the names ‘slash’ and ‘duff mckagan’ written on a piece of paper stuck to the door. you knocked on the door and went in.
“hey guys!” you greeted the two men. duff was sat by the mirror, seemingly making some final adjustments to his makeup before going onstage. his hair was as tall as could be, the blonde mass teased and hairsprayed so much it was almost laughable. slash was standing in front of another mirror, just finished putting in a star-shaped dangly earring. he looked over at you and smiled.
“hey. you look good.” he said, looking you up and down. duff turned round in his chair, before doing the same and agreeing with slash.
“yous excited for the gig tonight?” you asked.
“it should be good,” slash replied, “i hope so, anyways.”
“what makes you say that?”
“do you not remember the last gig we played here? i don’t know *what* happened but i think it was the worst show we’ve ever played. i’m surprised they let us back again.” duff answered. his reply jogged your memory, and you started to remember just how bad that gig was. you giggled as you recalled the group’s drunkenness as they stumbled about on stage, barely able to play their instruments. they were nearly always drunk on stage, but something about that night must’ve just been… insane.
you chatted with them for a while before they had to go onstage. as they were leaving, slash pointed to a corner of the room you hadn’t noticed.
“take anything you want.”
he closed the door and you looked over to the corner where he had pointed. you don’t know how you didn’t notice it, considering it was stacked full with bottles of drink. every sort of hard liquor you could imagine was there - whisky, vodka, gin, etc. of course, there were mixers too. not to mention a few beers. ‘what a treat’ you thought to yourself as you reached for your favourite. you searched with your eyes for a glass but didn’t find anything. shrugging, you opened the bottle and drank straight from it.
and that was how you spent the next hour and a half, just drinking. you knew you shouldn’t, but when you had all that on offer for free, you couldn’t resist.
it was late when slash came back to the dressing room. he was drunk too, clearly having spent some time at the bar to celebrate the gig. he laughed as he came in, seeing you sprawled on the sofa with a bottle in hand.
“enjoying ourselves, are we?” he smirked, coming over to sit on the arm of the sofa.
“what? you gave me free reign.” you retorted.
“you drank those beers? warm?”
“they were nice.”
he laughed again.
you started asking him about the show. you’d been listening, but the audio was significantly damped by the dressing room’s door. it had been good, not the band’s best, but nothing went wrong.
“well, i’m glad you had a good time out there.”
suddenly, slash leaned in and kissed you. this was normal for you guys - a makeout session could spring out of nowhere. you kissed him back, setting your bottle of beer on the ground as you did so. you settled into his lap as the kiss intensified. soon, your hands were in slash’s hair, and his were roaming down your sides. then, he started to fiddle with the button of your jeans. you smirked, knowing what was about to come.
it must’ve been an hour or two you spent in that dressing room with slash, but it passed by so quick. it was relatively quiet, except for the sounds of your skin meeting his and moans & groans that came out of your mouths. like every time before, it felt like heaven. not to mention, since you were both drunk, it feel even better. every time you felt slash hit that deep point inside you, you were entering another dimension. you could barely take it anymore, but it felt too good to stop. it seemed like slash could last forever, as his steady (albeit drunken) thrusts continued.
when you both came, it felt amazing. you could almost cry as your high washed over you.
as slash pulled out, he asked you “was that good?”
“better than ever.”
since i’m back, requests are open again!!! but from now on i won’t be doing aus bc i find them really difficult to write.
request something from my girl @coldlovehotblood if u want an au fic tho!! she would love to write one 😝
yes yes!!! au’s give me life i adore them (especially supernatural ones RAHHHHH) so feel free to send away
Hi, it's me again! This time i would like to request something smutty for Axl, again. Like Axl blindfolds the reader (preferably with his bandana) and goes down on her till she gets overstimulated and can't think of anything else except from him, and then fucks her. Please include again some soft hand holding, oh and some praise kink. If you don't feel comfortable doing it it's okay, thank you!!
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appetite for destruction
after a show, you and axl just can’t get enough of each other.
warnings: smut, sensory deprivation
a/n: sorry it’s been so long guys!!! lack of motivation and writers block is a horrible combo. hope you guys like this!!!!!! (also this is exactly 900 words. isn’t that cool?)
“you looked so good tonight, babe.”
axl’s words penetrated your heart and your mind as you both scrambled to get into your hotel room. guns n roses had just played at saskatchewan place earlier on, and instead of going out to party with the other members of the band, axl only wanted to do one thing. spend some quality time with you.
his skin was still sweaty from the two hour show he had played, but you didn’t care. those two hours had been agonising for you - watching your boyfriend sing and dance just metres in front of you and absorbing his stage presence that just commanded respect and not being able to do anything about it. you had crossed your legs and hoped for the best, but that didn’t do much for you. you prayed that no one noticed the subtle action, as you knew if someone did, you might never hear the end of it.
you kissed axl with fervour, now lost in the heat of the moment. he returned your passion easily. he guided you over to the bed, letting you fall onto it with a soft ‘thump!’. the loss of contact made you whine, and you turned onto your stomach to watch your boyfriend draw the curtains, the minimal light coming in from the moon and city lights now cut off.
“c’mere.” you said, looking at the silhouette just a few steps in front of you.
axl didn’t say anything back, instead moving to turn on one of the bedside lamps. you could see him again now. sure, the light was dim, but you liked that. it provided an intimate ambiance that a brighter light wouldn’t be able to give you. and it made axl look even more incredible. the understated yellow glow made his features look more soft, more warm. he almost looked vulnerable.
he came and sat beside you, his tender gaze stopping your thoughts in their tracks. you sat up and he leaned in to kiss you. this time though, it was a lot more gentle. the desperation of before was now replaced with something more affectionate and slow. the room with was quiet, the smack of his lips meeting yours the only sound.
disappointment hit you again when he pulled away. you looked at him with sad eyes, but those feelings were taken over by curiosity when your boyfriend asked you, “can i try something?”
“what is it?”
axl took off his blue bandana. you quickly realised where this was headed, blush rising to your cheeks. he tied it round the back of your head with ease, your eyes now covered.
“what do you think?” he asked.
“it’s… new. i like it. what are you gonna do now?”
“you’ll see.”
wow. that was hot. then, before you could think, axl was undressing you. you didn’t say anything, looking forward to what was to come. the slow drag of his fingertips on your skin as he removed your underwear was infuriatingly slow, but you continued to be silent with anticipation. you trusted him to make you feel amazing.
it started with small licks taken at the most annoying, leisurely pace you’d ever experienced. the sensation was welcome by you of course, but you couldn’t help but wish for more in your head.
axl continued at the same speed, occasionally breaking to whisper how you ‘taste so damn good’ and ‘are just fucking breathtaking’ - compliments that made you see stars. it was that which caused your first of many orgasms, and as your high crashed down over you, you felt like you’d reached a whole other dimension.
and that carried on for ages. axl, with his tongue, bringing you to worlds you didn’t even know existed. you didn’t remember exactly when he gripped onto your hand, but it helped ground you after so many orgasms. if you could’ve strung together coherent sentences, you probably would’ve begged for mercy, but you were so lost in the feeling to even think about anything but him. and he revelled in it. you couldn’t see his shit-eating grin, but you could feel it, as the corners of his mouth progressed farther and farther upwards on his cheeks the more time he spent between your thighs.
and then he stopped. you felt a mix of relief and disappointment as his lips departed from your skin. he untied the bandana, and as you looked at him for the first time in god knows how long, you were stunned. he was just beautiful. with his little smirk and his lips coated in the aftermath of your overstimulation, and the way he looked at you with both overwhelming lust and complete adoration. he should be photographed and shown in a museum, you thought. that was just how gorgeous he was.
“well?” he asked, his smirk telling you he already knew your answer.
“fuck… that was… jesus, axl, it was brilliant.”
he laughed. a cocky, but endearing laugh. it was just as beautiful as him.
“i’m glad. you ready for more?”
your eyes widened. more? you weren’t sure you could handle even the thought of more, let alone the action.
but the way your boyfriend looked you, the way the dim yellow light shone on him… you couldn’t help but want it.
duff fluff/smut pls bby I read on Reddit that someone’s mums friend used to be a groupie and she did it w duff and he would always do the best aftercare by hugging and kissing and cuddling afterwords 😫😫😫
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any different
duff gives you brilliant aftercare, better than anyone else has before
warnings: smut but not really, kinda angsty
a/n: my first duff request yay!!! i didn’t mean for this to get sad but that’s the way it went 🤷♀️ hope u like!! soz this is so short btw
various moans and groans filled the room as you and duff mckagan reached your orgasms. you’d hung out with the man before, but you’d never slept with him, but god you were amazed. it was surprising you hadn’t before. you were one of guns n roses’ infamous groupies, and despite being with a few other members of the band, you’d never got the chance to sleep with duff. you’d heard stories from the other girls though - never-ending tales of how ‘he’s just so attentive!’ and ‘he’s fucking brilliant’ spoken like mantras every time he was brought up in conversation. and now you had experienced it for yourself, you knew those girls weren’t lying.
despite you just being a groupie, he’d taken his time with you. he’d eaten you out like you’d never been before, and made you see stars when he fucked you. multiple rounds of what you were sure was the best sex you’d ever had had worn you out though, and as you lay in his hotel bed, you smiled in exhausted ecstasy.
“hey, you alright?” duff asked you, “need anything? water? a bath?”
“water sounds lovely.” you told him, and with that, he reached into the mini fridge by the bed and pulled out a crisp bottle of water. he opened it and handed it to you, watching with a small smile on his face as you took a swig.
“that was really great, by the way.” you added, turning to face him. he was slightly sweaty, and his long blonde hair clung to his forehead in such an endearing way. he was the perfect balance of sexy and adorable, and it made you swoon. he returned the compliment and the two of you engaged in casual conversation. it didn’t feel awkward whatsoever though. it flowed naturally, like the two of you had known each other for years, not just a few weeks.
the orange evening sky turned into a deep dark blue as you talked with duff, both of you failing to notice the change in hue. you had been so lost in conversation that nothing else seemed to matter. you were snuggled up by his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he talked about the next bass he was gonna buy, and that’s all you really cared about. the girls were right. duff was attentive, sweet and caring. brilliant in bed too. really, he was everything you wanted in a man.
but you couldn’t entertain the idea of something more serious with him. this was duff mckagan, bassist for the current most famous band on earth. if you even mentioned the idea of a relationship with him to even your closest of friends, they’d laugh in your face. and it would be deserved. as lovely as he was, this guy had fucked heaps of other girls before you, and you knew there would be heaps after you too. why would you be any different?
Heyyy, i LOVED your writing so if possible, could you write a Izzy x rockstar! reader where the reader is the frontwoman of an all girl band, and she's like, a femme fatale yk those vibes
Izzy/ gnr and her/ her band have know each other for about 1 year, but these two are like, OBSSESSED with each other so so in love but they prefer to just keep flirting subtly and blah blah blah until in her birthday, they have their first time (finally)
Ma'am I'M BEGGING for some filthy eye rolling juicy smut (only if you're comfortable ofc) and some fluff to keep the balance hihi 🧘♀️
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PRETTY TIED UP (p.1)
The persona you’d created as front woman of a major band comes crashing down. Strong liquor paired with your hungry heart lead you to places you thought never possible: the other side of your crushes bed.
w/c: 3,205
warnings: alcohol consumption
a/n: so umm.. *gulps* hello anon from december! this spiralled completely out of control and somehow ended up so big it needs to be split into two parts. life, writers block and working on too many things at once have all been eating at me. sorry for the wait. i hope it was worth it😇 big thank you to @rocknrolldecadence for being a star as always
dividers by @/strangergraphics
Your manager threw open the door and launched a folded magazine at you with a growl.
“When will you lot be done with this heartthrob bullshit?! You know, I can’t clean up for your asses forever.”
You grimaced as he paced (read: stomped) back and forth by the doorway of the dressing room your group had been given. It felt as if someone was chipping at your skull with a chisel, and the addition of your manager’s huffing and puffing wasn't helping to ease the harsh thump between your temples.
The poor makeup artist's hand started to tremble slightly above your bandmate's brow at the sight of the man’s agitation. You couldn't really blame them. He was intimidating. It took years to become used to seeing how easily he flew off the handle, and a couple more to realise that it was all in good faith. He was tall and brawny, made of sharp edges and biting words, seemingly built for battle and not spitting through phone receivers for the majority of the day. There was this eternal furrow to his brow that made him look as if he was glaring at every person he met, and honestly, he probably was.
“Quit your whining. You read the job description years ago.”
“Yeah, well nowhere did it say ‘convincing the media every story they catch wind of is fake news’ would be on the daily agenda.”
Your drummer groaned and reached to grab a water bottle from the floor, voice snarky as she commented, “Read the fine print next time, then.”
“You shut up,” he snarled through his teeth, jabbing a finger in her direction as she rolled her eyes, “because I'm not just talking to miss centre stage here. All of you need to be a bit more careful about where you show your faces and who you hang around. I’m only after seeing this headline, and I swear to God, if even one word of it is true, I am disbanding you.”
“Sure you will,” you yawned, reaching for the magazine that had landed beside you.
'ROMANCING ROCK STARS REUNITE: Pour Femme members photographed once again sharing drinks with rock and roll powerhouse Guns n’ Roses, further feeding fan theories of unspoken courtship. Read more on page 5!'
“Ooh, what have they said about us this time?” your bass player wiggled a bit in excitement from the other side of the sofa, “Did they get my good side?”
You flicked through to page five and turned it in her direction. Some other members craned their necks to have a peek too.
“See, this is why I don't mind that magazine. I look great—”
“It doesn't matter how you look! It's your other image I'm worried—” he sharply exhaled, pinching his nose bridge to centre himself before continuing, “What I'm getting at is that we've been through why you shouldn't be seen with some other artists in public, especially those guys. If you had even an ounce of common sense, you wouldn’t have to put up with me giving you an earful every minute!”
You gazed down at the spread. Your bandmate was right, she looked amazing. You all did in the low light of the Whisky A Go Go, smiling and laughing. Your lead guitarist was leaning over the table to pour another round of whiskey into everyone's glasses, beaming wide at something, if you remembered correctly, Duff had said. Slash was leaning in towards your drummer’s ear, probably shouting over the electric buzz of screaming people and loud live music. It had been a good night out. You smiled, recalling the trek home being full of cheers and laughter.
That smile dropped as soon as you spied yourself. Your glass was raised to your lips, eyes cast to the other end of the table. No, towards Izzy Stradlin.
In the previous year, you and your band met Guns n’ Roses at an award show. The interaction caught the eye of the public, as you couldn't turn the radio on without hearing the gritty drone of electric guitar from one of Pour Femme’s hit songs or really any GNR song at least once. The two were big names, so of course, fans went bonkers when they saw their favourite bands conversing.
You admired GNR. They were great, their music was phenomenal, and you had to admit, all of them were handsome as well, but someone that you couldn't seem to stop thinking about was Izzy fucking Stradlin. You loathed that fact.
You hadn't really spoken to him that night, and in general, very few words had ever been shared. But there was no need for them, for the tension that hung thick like smoke when you shared a room said enough. He was alluring in every sense of the word. You wanted to know more, but he never gave you the chance. In fairness, you didn't give him one either…
Look, you pranced around the idea of having a proper conversation with him because you had a reputation to uphold. You earned the title of notorious heartbreaker many magazine issues ago, and fans went insane for it. You were keeping up an image, and clearly, nothing ever stays private when you live in LA.
You closed the spread up hastily, pages warping at the sides from how tight your grip had become, and dropped it beside you, reaching for your temples instead. You’d had enough of thinking about him. The focus should've been on the performance just minutes away, and your birthday the day after. It was supposed to be a good day. You weren't about to let yourself ruin it by thinking about something so trivial. He was good-looking, yes, but there was a time and a place to be admiring him that wasn't in the dressing room before going on stage.
Some small, needy thing in your brain called out to you— ‘Would there ever be a time when you'd let yourself truly look at him?’
One of the stage crew peeped their head around the door frame to give a five-minute call. You heaved a sigh and pushed yourself up off of the sofa. You’d settled on thinking about it later.
The next day, your bandmates woke you up with a shout, jumping on your bed and singing silly, screechy versions of ‘Happy Birthday’.
You don’t know when it happened, but you got to an age where you didn’t see a point in doing anything on your birthday. It was a great excuse to eat a little more unhealthy than usual and go easier on yourself, but you saw no reason for extravagant celebrations.
“Fuck off,” you mumbled, pulling your quilt up over your head.
“It's your birthday and you're acting like a grump?! Booo!” your bassist teased from your bedside as they shook you back and forth.
“Get up! I didn’t make a cake this morning for you to not even look near it,” a voice called firmly from the doorway and you made your displeasure known with an overdramatic groan, muffled by the covers.
“Come on! We have a couple of things to do before tonight so get your ass up!”
Someone pulled the covers fully down and you blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light. “What’s happening tonight?”
“Obviously we’re all going out. I refuse to let you sit in this apartment and be all sad about getting older like last year. No chance.”
Of course, it was your guitarist who was taking charge of this assault. You knew how stubborn she could be, and therefore simply did as you were told, slipping out of bed and wandering to the kitchen with the rest of them trailing you like ducklings. You wanted to be mad at all three members for ganging up on you, but you couldn't find it within you to keep up the irritated furrow in your brow. It was nice to know they cared and wanted to see you happy, and they looked so pleased with themselves when you lit up at the sight of the cake, squealing and nudging each other excitedly. How were you ever supposed to be firm when they had such good intentions?
The three of them took you to lunch, afterwards tugging you in and out of an absurd amount of shops, telling you to choose something and insisting they would pay. You ended up back at the apartment with more bags than reasonable. They were having none of it when you started to argue that all of the presents were entirely too much, instead pushing you into a chair and playing dress-up, adding to your makeup, doing your hair and making you model all the clothes they’d bought you.
One thing you had managed to stand firm on saying no to that day was going to a club. They had wanted so desperately to bring you to one, begging with big, sparkly puppy eyes.
“Come on!” your bassist pleaded, actually clasping her hands together and leaning your way, sweetening her voice the best she could, “It’ll be so good. We promise to go easy on the booze–”
“Uhh no? That's the point–” your drummer was silenced by an elbow to the ribs.
“We promise to keep it light until we’re home again.”
You shook your head at the two, a smile creeping onto your face against your will.
“It would be fun to go to one. I know she was talking about going to the Whisky tonight,” you jerked your head towards your guitarist who was rifling through every item of clothing you owned, “But I just don't think I would enjoy myself. I want to have fun with you all, but where can we have fun without the media breathing down our necks and watching every move we make?”
“I mean,” your bandmate spoke with a raised voice, knowing the sound would be slightly dampened by her position. She was basically downing in clothes at that point, “we could always go to The Cathouse.”
“Yeah, sure, let’s go to another habitat of GNR’s. Our manager would rip us a new one.”
“No, that's actually a good idea. I like it in there.”
“What?! You’ll go to The Cathouse but not The Whisky?”
You shrugged your shoulders before simply replying, “Apparently the Whisky can't be trusted. That spread had a great picture of us, but it’s proof we’ll get no privacy.”
Just then, your phone rang, buzzing against the vanity you sat beside. You picked up and were met with your manager's gruff voice.
“Happy birthday.”
“Thank you, but I'd like to think I know you a bit better than that,” you spoke, admiring your bandmates' artistic skills in the mirror as you did, “What's wrong?”
He had his moments in which his well hidden soft spot for you all shone clear as day, but he never called just to say nice things.
“You lot better behave yourselves tonight. If I wake up tomorrow to your faces all over the news or on the front page of another magazine for the wrong reasons–”
“I’ve told them already to be sensible. We’ll be fine.”
“Who is that?” your drummer questioned leaning closer to hear the voice coming through.
“Our dear manager telling us to behave.”
“Oh for fuck sake! Get off our backs and mind your own business!” your guitarist yelled, coming towards you with an outfit in hand and signalling for you to give her the phone. You traded items. She leaned against the vanity and sighed deeply in annoyance. Even from a slight distance, you heard your manager's static voice ring loud and clear.
“Shut up you!” he bellowed back, loud enough your guitarist flinched slightly and had to pull the phone further from her ear, “You all need to start listening to me! Some of these days, one of you is going to get into bother for one reason or another. I will not take any shit from anyone on that fateful day because I have done nothing but try and keep you all on the straight and narrow–”
“Yap, yap, yap! Go jerk off or something!”
She quickly hung up as his outraged roars became deafening, putting your phone back in its original position.
“Put this on and then we’re leaving.”
It was relatively quiet as the four of you walked in, expected for a random Wednesday night. You may have been a bit overdressed for a mostly empty bar, but getting ready was half the fun. It was worth it when you were able to strut through the entrance knowing you looked hot. The outfit your bandmate put together, highlighting your best features. The makeup another had carefully done for you, making you look striking. Head-turning even. Dressed up, you felt confident. That was all that mattered.
You all filed in one after the other, talking and laughing as you went, but the smile on your face dropped when you saw who was sitting at the bar, sporting a brilliant grin of his own and tilting his head back to swallow the rest of his drink. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat, watched as his dark hair fell back around his face once upright again, unaware of your group, instead focused on something his own bandmate, whom you recognised as Steven, had said.
The night suddenly didn’t look so fun anymore, and it hadn't even started yet. You did not expect them to be there. It was an odd night in the week to be out drinking in a bar. Why on earth would they be out having drinks?! It was only three of them sitting there on the bar stools: Steven, Axl and him, but two of their unit missing didn’t make you feel any better about it. You might not have even minded it, but Izzy's presence made you unsure, a nervous shiver making its way through you.
There was a reason you kept yourself a distance away from him. You knew that if you got to know him properly, you'd end up in it too deep because you found him devastatingly attractive. From the shape of his lips to the way he carried himself, he was flawless in your eyes.
You longed to chat casually over a drink or two. You longed to charm him a bit and see how, if he was even interested, he'd reciprocate that curious flirting. But you felt like you had to stay away as you feared both of your reputations. Celebrities dating was nothing new, but when things went south it left a bruise on each of their images.
At the height of Pour Femme and Guns n’ Roses’ careers, that was a far from ideal situation.
Your bassist noticed how your steps had become hesitant, leaving you half-hidden behind the other two. She asked if you were okay, eyes worried. You looked at her, bit your lip and looked back to the three men sitting at the bar. She followed your gaze and sighed when she realised, slowing a tad to match you as your other two bandmates walked on. They either didn’t notice or just didn’t care, too engrossed in an argument over something no doubt ridiculous. Your drummer's eyebrows only ever furrowed like that if they were trying to explain something, which was not an area they excelled in.
“Ignore them,” your bassist whispered, leaning very slightly towards your ear.
“I love you, but that might be one of the stupidest things to ever come out of your mouth.”
“Okay fair. But look,” she said your name gently, “You can't run from him forever. I get why you are doing this, but… Why not loosen up a bit? Just for tonight.”
Your face twisted up against your will and she playfully pushed your shoulder with her own.
“Come on. There's no media here, you look smoking and it's your birthday. You should be allowed to have a bit of fun on your birthday of all days.”
You considered her words. Maybe you were a bit too cautious when it came to him, but so what? You had good reason to be! Although your worries were justified, she made a good point. You should've been allowed this at least. If you weren't going to get shitfaced, you'd let yourself have that wiggle room.
Just for the night.
You sharply inhaled through your nose and straightened your back, looking your bandmate dead in the eyes and nodded. She let out a quiet squeal and threw an arm over your shoulders, tugging you in for a side-hug.
“Go get 'em girl!”
You rolled your eyes and walked towards the bar, stride more sure than before. If you were going to do it, you needed something in your system.
Your two other bandmates had already taken their seats, of course, sitting right beside the three men your gut screamed at you not to look near for even a second, so you didn’t, instead going to the free seat right beside Izzy at the other end of the bar and ordering yourself something strong.
You were shuffling your stool in when you heard his voice.
“Brave choice for your first drink.”
“Well, you’ll get nowhere without bravery.”
He hummed and a beat passed before he spoke again, “Who taught you that?”
“No one. I learnt it with time.”
“Interesting.”
Your drink was placed in front of you and you thanked the bartender, winking at them.
“I don't think I've ever properly introduced myself, but I also don't think I need an introduction.”
“Cocky,” you said with a smirk, raising your glass to your lips and taking a swig, ”I assume I don't need one either.”
He said your name. You’d imagined him doing this, shaping his mouth to fit around the word, low timbre making it sound almost like a purr, but your imagination did a poor job at doing the real thing justice. You liked how it sounded coming from his lips. Very much so.
“Of course, I know you. Those magazine journalists can't seem to keep your name out of their mouths. They say a lot about you, you know.”
“I'm aware.”
You felt him looking at you before spying him doing so from the corner of your eye, observing you as you studied the liquor bottles lining the wall behind the bar. You waited for the prickling sensation like insects burrowing under your skin that often came with unexpected eyes, but it never came. His gaze didnt feel as… intense as you imagined it'd be. Actually, it felt good. You liked knowing he was taking a somewhat interest in you. It was exciting.
“Magazines talk a lot of shit,” he started suddenly, and you giggled.
“Tell me something I don't know.”
“It’s unbelievable the amount they've spewed, and yet, after all of those paragraphs, I still don't really know anything about you.”
“Well then. Here’s your chance to shoot,” you said quietly, looking him straight in the eyes as you went for another sip of your drink, an easy grin still on your lips despite the sweat gathering in your palms. He mirrored your expression.
part 2 here!
this is very close to being done so here’s a little taster (hehe see what I did there?) before I post
merry christmas!!!
Hiii, okay so, i've read some of your fics and i really like how you write things, so i wanted to request something fluffy with Axl. Like the reader is really stressed and worn out, so Axl is there for her and in general very sweet with her? I just want you to include lots of hand holding, hugs and kisses (maybe a massage too if you can throw it in somewhere). You don't have to do it if you don't want to, thank you in advance!
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i’ve got you
you’re stressed, and axl knows what to do to cheer you up
warnings: alcohol and drunkenness
a/n: tysm!!! sorry this took so long, i hope you like it 😛
life had been hitting you hard recently. real hard. it seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t ease the stress you felt. everyday was a struggle, and oftentimes you wondered if you’d even get through a day. with everything going on in your life, it felt like you’d never get relief.
there was one thing you found solace in, though. well… one person. your boyfriend, axl. you’d think since he’s the lead singer of the band many proclaimed to be ‘the next big thing’ in the world of rock n roll, he wouldn’t be very loving or attentive. but he was the complete opposite. axl was the most kind, considerate man you knew. sure, that certainly wasn’t the image he kept up in his music or for the media, but he truly was the best person you knew. so when you went round to his place one day, he could tell something was up.
“what’s wrong, love?” he asked you as you sat down together on his sofa. it was old, and a spring loudly creaked as you sat, but you didn’t mind. there was already a glass of wine waiting for you, the decanter placed like a centrepiece between your glass and axl’s. you sighed and sipped on your drink, hesitant to answer. you felt the liquid run down your throat, warming you up from the inside out. silently, you wondered how he was able to afford it. it seemed very fancy. you met your boyfriend’s eyes and began to speak, but cut yourself off.
“you can tell me.” he encouraged, his soft tone of voice putting you at ease.
“just… life, i guess? its so tough. i feel like there’s so many things just weighing me down every day. no matter what i do, i feel so stressed. it’s like there’s no remedy for it. i don’t know what to do.” you confessed. you knew you were safe to tell axl anything. that was what you liked about him - he always made you feel valued and not like you were crazy.
axl listened intently as you vented to him. when you were done, he grabbed you softly and pulled you into a hug, pressing a light kiss on your cheek. the combined smell of tobacco and wine putting you at ease. you let yourself sink into him, and slowly but surely, you began to cry. tears dripped down your face and were absorbed into axl’s shirt. he held you tighter, letting you get your emotions out.
“i’ve got you. don’t worry.” he reassured you as you cried. you stayed like that for a while with him, just holding onto eachother wordlessly. it felt like the world had stopped. you didn’t know how long you ended up sitting on that dingy sofa together, but it was insanely comforting. soon you started to feel better. but then axl had an idea.
“how about we go get some drinks?”
“oh, axl, i don’t kno-”
“think about it. we’ll walk down, sit and have a few, and then we can come back here and sleep. does that not sound good to you?” he said to you. you tossed the idea around in your head before eventually agreeing. why not? it’d be fun.
you got yourself ready with the few supplies you always left at axl’s place. once you were ready, you left with him and started to walk to the nearest bar to his place. subtly, he linked your hand with his, intertwining your fingers together. it made you blush. you and axl had been together for a long time now, but whenever he did small things like that, it still had you reacting like you did at the start of your relationship.
it was a short enough walk to the bar. you sat down on a stool beside axl. it wasn’t very busy, so you got served right away. the bartender took your orders and you both got them quickly. as you sipped away at your drink, you and your boyfriend quietly chatted. after a while he asked, “how you feeling now?”
“i’m okay,” you answered, “feeling better than before, anyway.”
“i’m glad. i hate seeing you so upset, darling.”
you smiled and the two of you fell back into what you were talking about before. as the hours passed, the bar filled up more and more, until you could barely hear what axl was saying to you. so, when you finished your drinks, you paid and left. your tipsiness had you stumbling slightly as you walked back. axl reached out his arm and you leant on him. you giggled at the close contact. he was warm. comforting. and you wanted to tell him so.
“hey, axl.” you said suddenly, stopping under a street lamp.
he turned to look at you and stopped too. “yeah?”
“thanks for tonight. you always know what to do to make me feel better. love you.”
he smiled. “i love you too, baby.”
and with that, he grabbed you and kissed you, disregarding the cars that sped past on the road beside you. you kissed him back, leaning into his embrace.
hiii lol
Always insanely glad to discover someone who writes for izzy (and well, may I add ;) that has reqs open!! Gurl /gn thank you for feeding us. ANYWAYS
could you do a soulmate au thing (SOULMATE AUS ARE MY SUSTENANCE LOL) where the tattoos of soulmates appear on eachother's bodies, and reader has Izzy's (maybe her parents freaked out cuz she was soulmates with an "irresponsible influence" or sth)?
And fast forward a bit reader has been following Gnr for a while (but obv hasn't seen Izzy's tattoos because he's usually not the focal point of pictures) and goes to a show where she sees them and realizes they're soulmates?
And then maybe they spot eachother and things ensueeee loll
No worries and no pressure if you can't :))) have a great day/night!!!
˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮-------------------✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖
i was made for loving you
you go to a guns n roses concert and discover something… 😛
warnings: soulmate au, implied smut, mention of being high once
a/n: ahhhh tyty you’re so sweet!! i’m always happy to feed the izzy nation 🙌
it was your 21st birthday, and you’d never been more excited for your birthday before. it was day you’d get your soulmate tattoo. you’d been dreaming of this day ever since you were a young girl.
you flung yourself out of bed and rushed over to your mirror, trying to locate the tattoo. it always manifested as a small, abstract scribble looking thing with a small design. not to mention, your soulmate would have the same one as you. and then you saw yours. placed just above where your heart would be. you stared at it for a bit, trying to see what image was in it. you meticulously gazed on it, until you found what you were looking for. if you focused hard enough, you could see a small guitar in the centre of the tattoo.
you smiled wide. so your soulmate was a musical guy. was he in a band? was he a rockstar? you had so many questions.
you went downstairs and showed you mother the tattoo. she had the same questions as you, but in a more concerned manner.
“i hope he’s not one of them ‘rockstar’ ones,” she sighed, “you don’t need anymore of that kind of influence in your life.”
she was very obviously hinting at your love for rock music. it was something she didn’t approve of - the lifestyle of drink, drugs and partying was something your mother was afraid you’d fall into.
“just because rockstars are reckless doesn’t mean i wanna be. and anyway, it’d be so cool if my soulmate was a rockstar! then i’d be rich!” you replied.
you went back upstairs to get ready for the day. you looked forward to finding your soulmate.
later on in the day, you met up with your best friend. she pulled something out of her pocket and told you to close your eyes and open out your hands. you did as she said, and when you opened your eyes, two tickets to guns n roses’ next LA show were sitting in your palms. you thanked her like crazy.
guns n roses weren’t your all time favourite, but you liked their music a lot. they only had one album out, but it was brilliant. you had the vinyl of it, and it was frequently in your rotation. whenever you’d listen to it, you’d stare at the photo of the members of the band on the back. they all were gorgeous, but one of them in particular caught your eye. the rhythm guitarist, izzy stradlin. there was just something about him. the way his hat slid over his face so you couldn’t clearly make out his features, how his guitar rested in his lap… he was so interesting to you. you really, really liked him.
so when the time came a few weeks later to go to the concert, you were excited. you were gonna be in a venue full to the brim with people passionate about music, so you were sure you’d find your soulmate there. you walked in with your bestie and went to go get drinks. you’d purposely worn a low cut shirt so that your tattoo was shown off - if you didn’t see your soulmate, maybe they’d see you.
after getting your drinks, you managed to push your way to the barricade. you stood, holding onto the metal railing, waiting for the band to take the stage. the opener was good, and you enjoyed their set, but your thoughts about your soulmate ran around in your mind. you gazed into the crowd, trying to peer into the scribbles of anyone’s tattoo to make out a guitar like yours. you had no luck.
soon enough it was time for guns n roses to start performing. you could immediately feel their stage presence as the opening riff to ‘it’s so easy’ rang out through the venue. you danced along with your best friend, enjoying every moment. this continued for the next few songs until there was a small break where axl was talking to the crowd. you peered over at izzy. you’d been glancing at him all night, but now that you weren’t dancing along to the music, you could get a proper look at him. and what you saw shocked you.
his soulmate tattoo, in the crook of his neck. it looked exactly like yours. you stared and stared, trying to make sure you were seeing things right. that caught izzy’s attention, and he looked at you. then his eyes widened, and he met your shocked glance. before anything could escalate, axl returned back to his role, and the next song commenced.
you spent the rest of the night in a bubble. yes, you were enjoying the music, but you couldn’t believe what you saw. your eyes fixated on izzy the entire rest of gig, and the glances he threw your way got more and more frequent as the night went on.
when the last chord of ‘paradise city’ had been played and axl bid the crowd goodbye, you knew you had to get backstage somehow. you mustered up all the confidence you had and asked the security guard for a backstage pass. he gave you a questioning glance and didn’t say anything. you realised that you were gonna need an excuse.
“i’m uhhhhh… the bass tech’s sister.” was the best you could come up with. despite the air of confidence you had, your voice lacked finality. of course you couldn’t say you were related to any of the band members - the guard would never believe you.
he gave you another weird look before reaching over to where the passes lay. he took one and handed it to you wordlessly. you thanked him and walked backstage. any thought of where your best friend may be had vanished from your mind. all you wanted to do was find izzy. and that didn’t take much effort.
there he was, leaning on a wall and smoking a cigarette. you could’ve died right then. you walked up to him, trying to hide the nervousness that had struck you like a freight train.
“i saw you out there.” izzy remarked, looking you up and down.
“the show was great.” you told him, trying to seem cool and collected.
his eyes stopped at your chest where your tattoo was. he choked on the smoke of his cigarette a bit, but played it off the best he could. in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of you in the whole world.
“what’s your name?” izzy asked you. the eye contact he was making with you now was almost too much to handle. you told him, and he smiled. you chatted for a while more, until he invited you to an empty dressing room. you followed after him as he walked to it, and when you stepped inside, he locked the door. butterflies danced in your stomach as you guessed where this was heading.
it wasn’t long before izzy was kissing you. you were taken aback, but reciprocated. this was just the rockstar way of doing things, you supposed. he pressed you down onto the sofa in the corner. your heart was going a mile a minute. this was your soulmate. and he was on top of you, making out with you. everything happened so quick you barely had time to process it. you moaned, and he smirked.
“needy, aren’t you?”
his cockiness made you scoff. he was right of course, but that was besides the point. you looked up at him and leaned in to kiss him again. he dodged you and chuckled.
“what was that for?” you asked izzy, slightly offended. he was high, you figured.
“you’re just cute, is all.”
and with that, he met your lips as you prepared for a long, long night.
SNOW-KISSED SERENADE
Izzy makes up for missed time by creating an unforgettable christmas.
w/c: 3,264
warnings: izzy is disgustingly cute
a/n: this is an early christmas gift for my bff violet @rocknrolldecadence ! sorry for taking so long queen… IM ONLY AN HOUR LATE ITS FINE ITS FINE *sweats* anyway i hope you all enjoy some more izzy fluff. merry christmas! <333
divider by @/strangergraphics
You had been suspicious for quite some time.
Usually, your boyfriend wouldn't care if you were in the room while he worked. In fact, he often invited you to join him, insisting you sit beside him either in the studio or on the sofa of your apartment as he tested different chords and scribbled down a line or two. You didn’t have to talk to him or be quiet or help, all he asked was that you sat with him. The few times you questioned why he requested such a thing, he replied with a shrug, saying ‘I just like you close.’
But as your relationship progressed, he slowly asked for you to come to the studio less, instead asking for privacy. Of course, you respected this. Really, his music-making process was none of your business, and it wasn't like you fully paid attention to what he was doing every time you accompanied him. With this in mind, it didn’t bother you. However, when the conversation steered towards songwriting or what he was currently working on, he changed the subject. That was strange for your normally very communicative Izzy who freely blabbed about anything that was on his mind around you.
Again, you respected the boundary he placed, but that didnt mean you kept a cap on your curiosity. Holding your tongue was easier than holding back wandering thoughts. It hurt to be shown that he did not feel comfortable sharing his art anymore, but you said nothing. There was no point prying, as over the years you learnt that was the quickest way to put him off talking about or admitting anything.
It got to a point where if you walked into the room and his lyric notebook was lying open in front of him, guitar sitting neatly in his lap, he’d lurch forward from where he sat, no matter how comfy he seemed, and snapped the book closed, body rigid, eyes a little frantic. Maybe even panicked.
After a couple of months of this, you decided one December that you'd get to the bottom of it.
Christmas had been drawing closer and closer, and you still didnt have any idea what you were going to gift Izzy. You had tried to subtly bring it up in conversations for a week or two, but he caught you every time, fondly kissing your cheek and telling you he didnt need anything. You would never turn down one of his kisses, but they were very unhelpful with your search.
Eventually, you settled on getting him some essentials and a custom engraved dog tag necklace. Peel back the layers of rockstar and he was a simple man. You knew that, no matter what you got him, he’d give you a big, glowing, toothy smile and a hug.
It was Christmas eve when you picked the necklace up from the shop, his name crisply engraved into the shiny silver tag, and he had come to your apartment to share a takeout dinner. He hadn't seen you for a couple of days and had begged previously over the phone to stay the night, promising to pay for the food in a childish, whiney voice. You couldn't deny him. You just had to pray he wouldn't find the hidden, snowflake decorated gift bag you had hidden.
A knock sounded from the door as you stood wiping down the last bit of your kitchen counters. You had decided to tidy up before he came to stay, as you knew he would rope you into evenings spent lounging around, on and off napping and staying firmly within each other's hold. No complaints, but this usually meant that, with each day he spent with you, your apartment became more and more messy. Not a big deal, but it was easier to clean when the disarray was built from a clean slate, not the beginnings of your own messes.
You almost skipped to the door with how excited you were. It was always fun when he came to stay. You had missed him. He’d spent a couple of days holed up with the band in some recording studio, working hard on their next big project. He often became fully absorbed by whatever he was doing so contact with you would become sparse. You knew him well enough to not panic when radio silence came. It was hard to complain about it when the fruit of his labour tasted so sweet. Guns n’ Roses, as a unit, were so hard working and it showed in the quality of their music. Izzy was simply dedicated to his craft. It was one of the things you found most endearing about him. You admired his passion.
He was looking at his boots when you opened the door, head coming up instantly when you said hello. He was carrying a guitar case on his back and wearing less than sensible clothing, black button up shirt open halfway, partially exposing his chest. This, paired with ripped jeans and only a beaten up leather jacket to fend off the nip in the air, you decided he was one of the stupidest people you had ever met.
“Do you have a death wish?” you asked as he leaned down to kiss you. He just laughed against your lips and moved the two of you further into the apartment, one of his cold hands finding the side of your face, the other resting easily on your hip.
“Damn, miss me that much?”
“I'm talking about your outfit. Izzy, it's leaning towards minus numbers out there and you're dressed in ripped jeans with your chest bared to the wind? Are you looking to get sick?”
“I’m so hot, the cold doesn't get to me. I think I recall us having this conversation–”
“Shut up, weirdo,” you rolled your eyes and kissed his cheek before pulling away.
He muttered something about your apartment being cosy and you repeated with playful anger that he was stupid. He argued that it was worth it because he looked good. To be fair, he did. In fact, he looked amazing. He always had in your eyes. So naturally handsome he sometimes took your breath away just by standing there. But however well put together his outfit looked, it was ridiculous considering the weather, every slight breeze whispering with the promise of thick frost and snow. That view of his chest was gorgeous but tempted the low temperatures to pierce right through him. You couldn't have him getting sick.
“What do you wanna eat?” you asked as he shrugged the guitar case off of his back, letting it lean against the side of your sofa.
“I don’t mind. Just name somewhere and I’ll give you the money.”
“You know, I was joking when I said you have to pay for it. We can split like normal.”
“No, I feel bad for being away for so long. Let me treat you. And anyway, it's Christmas tomorrow. Consider this one of my gifts to you.”
You argued for a short while and ended up chasing him with cash in your hand, insisting he take it. He just shouted a quick ‘Love you!’ before running out your door, slamming it closed to make sure you couldn't grab him by one of his sleeves. You huffed in defeat.
Damn him and his long legs.
He came back maybe twenty minutes later, two pizza boxes in hand, and you ended up eating sat in front of the TV, a thick blanket thrown over your tangled legs. It was so nice to have him back and beside you where you could feel the mass of his body against your side. Sure, hearing from him on the phone and talking was great, but being able to actually touch him, wrap an arm around his and put your head on his shoulder, was so much better.
You thought it was your imagination, but as time went on and the two of you got closer to finishing your food, the movie playing drawing to a close, Izzy started to tense up. If he was uncomfortable, he was masking it well on his face, but from how you leaned against him, you were able to feel how his shoulders were tightening and you saw his fingers curl into fists over the blanket.
Eventually, the credits began and the two of you got up to dispose of your empty pizza boxes. You were in a fantastic mood and couldn't wipe the pleased smile off of your face. You didn’t want to. This was an ideal Christmas.
“Should I give you your gifts now? Or should we wait for the morning? You don't have to open them now, but I'd rather just have them out before I wake up too groggy to remember where they're hidden.”
You saw the way his Adam's apple bobbed and eyes widened at the mention of gifts.
“Now?
“Yeah. Do you want to wait? I don't mind…” you trailed off when you saw him bite his lip and look down slightly, realising what was happening.
Was he nervous?
He didn’t reply to you so you said his name softly, startling him out of whatever daze his head brought him into.
“Um, actually, before you do, can we go sit again?”
“Whats wrong? Did you not get me anything?” you laughed nudging him.
“Well,” he took a small breath, “Yes and no?”
You tilted your head, not understanding. He ran a hand through his hair, still nibbling on his lower lip.
“Just come sit and I’ll explain.”
You started to suspect he forgot to get you something. You wouldn't have been angry– he'd been busy for the past week for goodness sake! Was he afraid you would blow up at him for it? No, you didn’t want him thinking like that. His presence meant everything, and even that alone was enough of a gift for you that Christmas. You opened your mouth to reassure him of this, but he simply held gentle fingers over your mouth before guiding you to sit on the floor with him, the two of you leaning against the front of your sofa.
He was still biting his lip, and the skin was turning to an irritated red, so you reached forward and carefully eased it from between his teeth
“You'll hurt yourself, love.”
His eyes widened again and he looked at you with an expression you couldn't decipher.
“You know, I won't be mad if you haven’t bought anything. That’s not what I’m looking for at Christmas. If that’s what this is, there's no need to worry.”
“No, it's not that, it's just…” he took a second, and you let him have it, “I have a gift, but its not something physical, if that makes any sense.”
You nodded your head and observed him as he sat there, no longer looking at you but rather keeping his gaze carefully on the floor. He took one more deep breath before reaching for his guitar case and placing it in front of the two of you.
For some reason, this felt like a moment– a movement for him and your relationship. Nothing was moving out of place, per se, but rather, moving in and adding to the solid connection between the two of you. The air was vulnerable as you sat there, watching him take in very intentional breaths. You could tell that, for some reason, he was incredibly nervous, and how you reacted to whatever happened next mattered. So, you didn’t move an inch and let him take his time, keeping your face carefully neutral but encouraging.
You could be patient for however long he needed.
“As you know, I've been working on a lot of music lately, and I’ve spent the majority of my time in a studio. I’m sorry for not being with you as much as I should be.”
You shook your head.
“No need to apologise. I honestly don’t mind. I know how much music means to you, Izzy. I would never take you away from your passion. Hell, it's your job.”
His eyes met yours again for a split second before he returned his gaze to the floor. His hands had begun to fiddle with the end of the blanket the two of you had abandoned previously.
“Thank you. I honestly don't deserve you. I’ve been more caught up in making music because I've been… more inspired in the last few months than I have in years.”
You smiled. That was genuinely great to hear. It pleased you to know he was doing well. His happiness rubbed off on you.
“And,” he continued, now looking up,” I suppose I have you to thank for that.”
“Huh?”
“Remember when I used to ask you to sit with me in the studio?”
You nodded.
“It’s because you inspire me. I found that writing became easy with you there because you've been the root of all of my ideas. Ever since we met actually, you've inspired so many different things.”
His ears started to redden and your heart skipped with pure molten love and excitement. You could've genuinely leapt to your feet and sprung comically high like a cartoon, screaming with joy. That was so special. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You kept the same gentle and relaxed demeanour as before, but it was useless to try and hold back the giddy smile that took over your whole face.
“Is this why you’ve been so protective over your work?”
“Um, yeah. I didn’t mean to be so secretive, it’s just kind of… Kind of,” he looked away, that same beet red that grew on his ears now starting to come to his neck and cheeks.
“Kind of..?” you encouraged.
He took a peek at you before sighing, exasperated from having to be so honest.
“It’s embarrassing, okay? You probably think I’m fucking weird or something now.”
“No, Izzy. Actually, its quite the opposite. I think thats so sweet. I’m seriously so honoured to be an inspiration. You know how much I admire your work.”
He seemed surprised by your reaction.
“R-really?”
“Yes!”
He visibly became more relaxed, slumping a bit further against the sofa behind him.
“Oh thank God,” he breathed.
“Don’t tell me this is what you were so nervous about.”
“It is. I was going to buy you some clothes or something originally, but I thought, instead, I could show what I wrote for you. I burned a CD with a few of them on it for you too.”
Your mouth fell open. A few of them? Did you hear that right? He reached to open his case now and handed you a CD before taking the instrument out. You took it and looked at the front of the case. There was a paper slipped in the back of the plastic, on it, your name was written in neat cursive with a heart on the end. You genuinely could not believe what you were looking at.
He strummed experimentally, seeing if each string was in tune. You set it down and looked at him, eyes soft.
You were filled with so much love you could almost feel it coming up your throat. He didn’t realise just how much all of this meant to you, and you could tell. He was more at ease now, knowing that you were more than pleased with all of this. But you knew with the way the corner of his mouth raised once happy with the tuning of his guitar that he was unaware of just how incredible what he had done was.
You felt special. You felt loved.
“I was going to do this tomorrow, but now feels better. I’ll play you my favourite one, okay?”
You could only nod.
He began, and you were instantly enchanted. You paid careful attention to every chord, every word, every syllable. It was impossible not to. Everything about him demanded you look. He drew you in like that. The way his voice was filling the space made you want to lean in closer and maybe lean your head against his chest, but again, you didn’t dare move. The last thing you wanted to do was throw him off and scare him from ever doing something like this again.
He had been so brave and honest. You could tell that it took a lot of courage for him to tell you about this little secret. Izzy could be sappy every now and again, but playfully so. He was rarely so open. He was being open and vulnerable. Sincere. He had even flushed the sweetest red for you.
It was futile trying to stop the tears from forming in your lash line.
He finished with a final strum and his gaze returned to you once again, that unsure expression returning.
“What do you think?”
You sniffed before swaying forward and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He quickly put his guitar aside and made space for you, tilting his head to let your own fall to the crook of his neck. He put a cheek against your crown and laughed gently as you kissed all the skin you could from where you were tucked away, salty streams wetting your face as you cried. They weren’t just happy tears, but the result of being so stuffed with true, unwavering love you didn’t know where to put it, so it flooded out of you.
“I'm assuming those are positive tears,” Izzy spoke. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was smirking. You could hear it in his words.
You pressed closer, seeking the vibrations that his voice brought.
“You are so dumb for thinking I'd call you weird,” you said, muffled by how you were positioned.
“How was I supposed to know how you’d react? There’s no way to casually say ‘Hey! You’ve been my muse since our first meeting and you’re the first thing that comes to mind when it’s quiet!’ I sound insane,” he huffed dryly.
You gave a scoff as your tears started slowing.
“I love you for you. This was really thoughtful and I’m a mess because of it. Are these tears not proof enough of my appreciation?” you joked, pulling away from his neck to look at him. “Should I run around like a headless chicken and explode into flames to show how this makes me feel?”
He let out a full laugh at that, making you smile once again. You noticed from the corner of your eye through the glass of the window that there were white flakes dancing in the breeze and you gasped, turning and pointing.
“Izzy, it’s snowing!”
“So it is.”
You took a moment to watch it fall like feathers against the black drape of night, contrasting colours striking. Beautiful.
The living room settled into true syrupy peace as you melted against your boyfriend's chest once again, eyes still steady on the sight outside. With the warm tangerine glow of display lights you’d wrapped around the TV stand, you felt a memory slip itself into place inside your mind.
You knew you would never forget that moment.
Izzy pressed a soft kiss to your hairline.
“Love you, sweetheart. Merry Christmas.”
“Love you too, idiot.”
“Hey!”
Silence came again, and you didn’t realise your eyelids were drooping. It was just so comfortable on his lap, his body heat bleeding into your skin so easily.
You had finally figured out what it was he was hiding.
‘Case closed’ you snorted internally, before drifting off, head blissfully empty.
