Izzy Stradlin X Reader - Blog Posts

Lazy lover

This is my first story!! Enjoy!

Izzy x fem!reader

Fluff

Early 1987

Izzy was a great man, he'd always treat you like a princess. You two had met in '86. You became his girlfriend after he accidentally asked you out while drunk, the next day you two talked and got together. He promised that if GNR ever got famous he'd take you on tour with him.

Izzy just got back from rehearsal, and what did he do? He went right into your arms to snuggle and cuddle. Boy, did he look tired. His eyes were so droopy it was almost funny to watch him doze off.

"Hi darling" you smiled softly. In response he snuggled closer, too lazy to talk.

"If you're so sleepy, how about we go to the bedroom and sleep?" You smiled as he nodded and reluctantly got up. "Come on..." Izzy helped you up and you both walked into the bedroom you shared. He got dressed into a soft sweater and boxers and got in the bed while you removed your makeup.

Once you came out, he pulled you next to him and rested his head on your chest.

"Missed you today..." He mumbled. You hummed softly and he nuzzled closer to you. You were warm and he wasn’t cold, but he liked your warmth.

He fell asleep minutes later, all tuckered out from the whole day. You shut the lamp off and fell asleep as well.

With the love of your life in your arms.

:D

CHAPTER 4 | MR. BROWNSTONE.

w.c. 4k

tags. original female character, mild period-typical misogyny (it's the late 1980s), cussing, physical & mental abuse dynamic, PTSD induced panic attack, childhood trauma, mentions of familial abuse, heroin consumption via injection, mentions of needles, mentions of relapsing, mentions of nausea. if there is anything else needed to be added, let me know!

a/n. oh boy. this is a TOUGH one. poor jackie ;-; as someone who has struggled with addiction, PTSD, and panic attacks i really hope i portrayed all the feelings well. if any of you are struggling, please shoot me a dm or ask. i will always listen. i love you all! take care and i hope you enjoy this weeks dosage of ‘patience’!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge.

you can find chapter two on wattpad and AO3, linked under the respective platforms aforementioned.

last two previous chapters:

chapter two: terror n' tinseltown - wattpad and AO3.

chapter three: kill 'em all - wattpad and AO3.

CHAPTER 1 | SHE TALKS TO ANGELS

w.c. 2.3k

tags. original female character, mentions of college, busy work environment, i don’t think there’s any more tags. first few chapters are pretty tame!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge. it you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, send me an ask!

pinned so fine masterlist last chapter

A few days had passed since his first shift, but Duff's gaze still lingered on the counter where Cynthia was standing, balancing a tray of drinks with one hand while adjusting the collar of her denim jacket with the other. The usual clatter of plates and the buzz of the busy kitchen faded into the background as he focused on the small detail that had caught his attention the last time he saw her: the Aerosmith pin on her jacket.

It had been harder to miss today, glinting silver under the fluorescent kitchen lights. Aerosmith. Duff recognized the logo instantly—it was a staple in his own music collection. The sight of it on her jacket stirred something unexpected inside him. It was just a small pin, but it felt like an invitation to know more, a thread he couldn't wait to pull on.

Cynthia set the tray down on the counter with a soft thud, and Duff cleared his throat, glancing at the stack of dirty plates in front of him. He was still trying to figure out what exactly he was supposed to do, but he couldn't shake the feeling that talking to her was going to be harder than washing dishes.

"Hey," Duff started, a little awkwardly. He wiped his wet hands on his apron. "I, uh... I saw the Aerosmith pin on your jacket. I didn't expect that. You, uh, into them?"

Cynthia didn't answer right away, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes as she glanced over at him. She set her hands on her hips and shrugged.

"I like them, yeah. Not really a huge deal or anything." Her voice was guarded, but not unfriendly. She didn't seem particularly eager to continue the conversation, but she didn't shut him down either. Maybe this was progress?

Duff shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how to keep the conversation going without making it weird. "Yeah? I've got a couple of their records," he said, nodding toward the kitchen's radio. "'Get Your Wings' and, uh, 'Toys in the Attic.' Those all-time classics."

Cynthia's mouth twitched at the mention of the albums, and for a moment, Duff thought he might've said something wrong. But then, she spoke again, her tone a little more relaxed this time.

"Yeah, 'Toys in the Attic' is a good one," she said, her voice softening just slightly. "I've got it at home. Honestly, I like their older stuff the most."

Duff grinned. She was starting to open up, just a little. "Same. There's just something about that early sound... rawer, you know?"

Cynthia nodded slowly, her fingers brushing over the edge of the tray. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, still cautious about letting him in. "Yeah. Raw. I can't stand all that... shitty pop ballad stuff. Aerosmith's real, you know?"

Duff chuckled, wiping his hands on his apron again. "I hear you. That's kind of the beauty of it, right?"

Cynthia didn't respond right away, but she gave a small shrug. The conversation, though brief, felt like a small step forward, a crack in the wall she'd built around herself.

After a beat of awkward, tense silence, Duff tried to push a little further, sensing an opening. "So, you've been working here for a while, huh?"

Cynthia's eyes flicked over to him, but she didn't meet his gaze directly. "Yeah," she said, almost dismissively. "Since I was sixteen. Two years. It's just... what I had to do, you know?"

Duff leaned against the counter, trying to make the conversation less forced. "I get that. Had to start somewhere, right?"

Cynthia nodded. "Yeah, exactly." Her voice didn't give much away, but Duff could tell there was something behind it. She'd been working here a lot longer than he had, and there was a weariness in the way she spoke, like she was tired of it. "It's been fine, but I'm ready for something else."

Duff's curiosity piqued. He had to know what she meant by "something else." He took a step closer, lowering his voice a little as if he was treading carefully. "Yeah? What's next for you?"

Cynthia hesitated, her hand lingering on the edge of the counter. "I'm leaving LA," she said, almost to herself. "I've been here long enough."

Duff raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're... leaving LA? Where are you going?"

Cynthia's eyes finally met his, and there was a fleeting, intense look in them. "Princeton," she said simply, like it was just a fact. "In the fall."

Duff blinked. Princeton? The Princeton University?

He didn't know why, but the thought of her going to such an Ivy League school threw him off for a second. She didn't seem the type. But he didn't say that. Instead, he tried to cover his surprise with a half-smile. "Princeton? That's, uh... that's a big deal. How... how'd that happen?"

Cynthia shrugged again, her eyes shifting to the side as if the conversation was starting to bore her. "I don't know. I worked hard for it, I guess. I'm finally done with high school. Ready to get out of here." Her gaze hardened as she looked at the restaurant, almost like she was staring straight through it. "This place is a hellhole, and I'm finally getting out. I don't have time or the patience for the strip anymore."

Duff blinked, the bluntness of her words hitting him harder than he expected. He'd heard people complain about LA before, but there was something about the way she said it that made him think there was more to it. More to her wanting to leave than just the usual complaints.

"Hellhole, huh?" he repeated, his voice softer now. "Funny, I said that about Seattle."

Cynthia turned her gaze back to him, her expression unreadable. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I've been stuck here for too long. I'm done."

There was a moment of silence, the kind that hung in the air and made Duff feel like he was intruding. He wasn't sure if he should push further. She'd given him a glimpse of something—something that felt personal—but she was still keeping a lot to herself.

"So... Princeton," he said after a beat, trying to lighten the mood. "That's gotta be exciting. You must be looking forward to it."

Cynthia gave a half-smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, I am. But it's not all... excitement, y'know? It's not exactly the escape I thought it would be."

Duff nodded, understanding that. He didn't know what her story was—what made her want to leave LA so badly—but he could see the weight behind her words. He didn't want to pry, but there was something there he couldn't ignore.

"Well, it's a big step. I'm sure you'll figure it out," he said quietly.

Cynthia looked at him for a moment, her gaze softening just a little. "Yeah, I guess." She paused, then added in a more casual tone, "Anyway... I gotta get back to work."

Duff gave a small nod. "Yeah, sure. Don't want to get you in trouble."

Cynthia gave him a brief, almost amused glance before she grabbed her tray again, walking back toward the restaurant floor. As she left, Duff couldn't help but watch her go. She was different from anyone he'd met. There was something tough about her, a kind of resilience that made her stand out. But there was also a vulnerability there—a feeling like she was running away from something.

And, for some reason, Duff wanted to know what it was.

The rest of the shift went by in a blur of clinking dishes, the muffled sound of people talking, and the steady rhythm of the restaurant. Duff worked in quiet concentration, trying to keep his mind on his duties, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Cynthia.

There was something about her, something raw and unspoken. He couldn't get her out of his head, even as he scrubbed the same damn plates over and over again. Her eyes—cool and guarded, but with flashes of something deeper. The way she'd shrugged off talking about Princeton like it was just another stop on the way out of LA. But he could tell it meant something to her, even if she wouldn't admit it.

He stole a glance at her across the room, watching as she moved through the dining area with a practiced ease. She was always busy, weaving between the tables, balancing trays in each hand like it was nothing. Every now and then, her eyes would flicker to him, but there was always a slight tension in her gaze, like she was unsure of how to look at him.

After about an hour, the dinner rush started to die down, and the staff began to clean up. Duff wiped his hands on his apron again and leaned back against the counter, feeling the exhaustion settle in. He didn't know how anyone could stand on their feet for hours like Cynthia did. But maybe it was easier when you didn't care about the job.

"Hey, Duff," Bruce's voice broke through his thoughts, and Duff turned to face his brother. "I'm gonna head out soon. Everything good?"

Duff nodded, glancing over to Cynthia for a moment, but she was busy talking to another waiter. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just, uh... figuring it out, you know?"

Bruce gave him a once-over, his eyes flicking toward Cynthia before settling back on Duff. He raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. "Uh-huh. Right. Well, don't be shy. You're doing just fine." He clapped him on the back. "If you need anything, just ask Cynthia, alright?"

Duff swallowed a grin, wondering if his brother had noticed anything he didn't realize he'd been giving off. "Yeah, I'm good," Duff said, trying to play it cool. "Thanks, Bruce."

Bruce gave a quick nod and started heading toward the door, but just before he left, he threw over his shoulder, "Don't forget. You're supposed to pick me up from the bar tonight, right? I don't trust the boys to get me home."

Duff's eyes widened as he realized he'd forgotten. "Right. Shit, I almost forgot. I'll be there."

"Great. See you later," Bruce called as he slipped out of the restaurant.

Left in the quiet of the backroom, Duff took a moment to lean against the counter. His thoughts drifted back to Cynthia. He had a million questions about her. Why was she so... distant? And why did it seem like she was carrying some heavy weight? She couldn't just be running from LA; there had to be more to it.

Suddenly, the sound of a tray crashing to the floor broke through his musings.

He spun around to see Cynthia standing near the dining room entrance, her face flushed with frustration. She'd dropped a tray of drinks—ice and soda splashed everywhere, the glasses broken on the floor.

Duff moved before he even realized it, his instincts kicking in. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice a little sharper than he meant.

Cynthia stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide. She exhaled a shaky breath, then bent down to begin picking up the glass shards.

"I'm fine. Just... a stupid mistake," she muttered under her breath, her hands shaking slightly.

Duff stepped forward, crouching next to her and reaching for a piece of broken glass. "You sure? You don't have to do clean this by yourself."

Cynthia looked at him for a long beat before giving him a tight smile, one that didn't reach her eyes. "I think I can handle it."

The sharp edge of her words stung, but Duff couldn't help but feel that there was more to her snapping than just a little mishap with the tray.

He set the glass down and backed off a little, letting her take control of the situation. "Right. Sorry. I didn't mean to step in—I mean—Just... wanted to help, y'know?"

Cynthia gave him a quick nod but didn't say anything else. The air between them was thick with unspoken words. He could feel her walls creeping back up, and it was clear that she wasn't interested in opening up just yet.

Duff watched her work in silence, taking in the small details—the way her hands moved deftly despite her apparent frustration, the slight furrow in her brow that always seemed to be there when she wasn't smiling. It was like she was trying to hide something, but no matter how hard she tried, he saw it.

After a moment, she stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans, and finally met his gaze. Her expression was softer now, but there was still something guarded in her eyes.

"You don't have to keep offering help, okay?" she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I'm fine. It's just a little mess. No big deal."

Duff nodded, taking a step back. "Right. Got it." He felt that familiar awkwardness hanging in the air again, but he wasn't sure how to fill it. He didn't want to push her, but something told him that the more he tried to reach out, the further she would pull away.

Cynthia straightened up, giving him a brief glance before she picked up the broken pieces one last time. "I'm going to finish cleaning this up. Don't worry about it."

Duff was about to say something else, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he simply nodded and turned toward the backroom, his mind buzzing. There was more to Cynthia than she let on, and something told him that getting to know her wasn't going to be easy. But he was starting to realize that he didn't mind.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

PROLOGUE

w.c 1.2k

tags. original female character, mentions of smoking, busy work environment, i don't think theres any more warnings. this chapter is pretty tame but duff is smitten.

a/n. once again thank you all for the support and encouragement on my works! i put in a lot of time and effort and i hope you all enjoy them as much as i do writing them. feedback is always appreciated!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge. if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, send me an ask!

pinned so fine masterlist next chapter

Los Angeles smelled different.

Back in Seattle, the air was damp with rain, laced with the sharp bite of gasoline and coffee. Here, everything was drier, hotter—like a sunbaked concrete jungle mixed with car exhaust, grilled meat, and something vaguely metallic from the kitchen vents.

Duff McKagan had only been in LA for a few weeks, and the reality of it was setting in fast: dreams didn't pay rent. He needed money, and fast, which was why he was standing in front of a steakhouse instead of playing bass in some dingy club.

Black Angus wasn't exactly where he pictured himself when he decided to move here, but his brother, Bruce McKagan, had a job lined up for him—but not on the dining room floor. Oh no, his day-glo blue hair was too distracting. Duff's new job: dishwasher. It wasn't glamorous, but neither was being homeless.

With a long, deep breath, Duff pushed open the heavy wooden double doors and stepped inside.

The noise hit him first—forks clinking against plates, the low murmur of conversation, waitresses calling out orders. The kitchen, partially visible from where he stood, was alive with movement: flames flaring up from the grill, line cooks moving in a well-rehearsed dance, the clatter of pans slamming onto burners.

And then—

"Look who finally showed up," a familiar voice called.

Duff turned as Bruce emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a rag. His older brother was dressed in the standard manager get-up: button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled, hair slightly disheveled, expression hovering between amused and vaguely exasperated.

"You look a bit lost," Bruce smirked.

"Just taking it all in," Duff said, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

Bruce clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to the glamorous world of dishwashing, little brother."

Duff snorted. "Yeah, can't fuckin' wait."

Bruce grinned and jerked his head toward the back. "Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone."

The kitchen was hotter than the front of the restaurant, thick with the smell of butter, charred meat, and something greasy sizzling in the fryer. Steam curled from the dish pit where another worker was elbow-deep in sudsy water, stacking plates onto a drying rack.

"Alright," Bruce said, steering Duff past the prep station where a guy with a cigarette hanging from his lips was aggressively chopping onions. "That's Tony—he preps in the afternoons and works the line at night. Don't piss him off."

Tony didn't even glance up from his cutting board, but he grunted in acknowledgment.

Bruce continued walking. "That's Manny on grill, Paula on fryers—"

The introductions blurred together, a mix of names, faces, and brief nods. The kitchen was a well-oiled machine, and Duff was pretty sure he was about to be the next wrench thrown into it.

And then—

"This is Cynthia."

Duff turned, and for a second, the noise of the kitchen faded into the background.

She was leaning against the counter near the order window, flipping through a notepad, her pen tapping absently against the stainless steel. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She had a sharpness to her—something about the way she carried herself, like she had everything handled and didn't need anyone's help.

When Bruce said her name, she glanced up, her brown eyes flicking toward Duff for the briefest moment before dropping back to her notepad.

"Cynthia," Bruce said, "this is my brother, Duff. He's the new dishwasher."

She gave a small, barely interested nod. "Cool."

Duff felt like he should say something—anything. "Uh, nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too." She didn't look up.

Bruce smirked. "If you have any questions, ask me or Cynthia."

At that, Cynthia finally looked at Duff properly. Her gaze wasn't unkind, just assessing—like she was trying to determine if he was worth acknowledging.

"Just don't get in my way, and we'll get on fine," she retorted.

Then she was gone, striding toward the dining area, already focused on something else.

Duff exhaled. "She's... efficient."

Bruce snorted. "Don't take it personal. She's been here a while—knows this place inside and out. You? You're just another new guy."

"Right. Another dishwasher she won't remember by next week."

Bruce clapped him on the back. "That's up to you, kid."

Dishwashing was exactly as awful as Duff expected.

The sink water was too hot, the plates were crusted with food that had no business existing, and the steam from the dish machine made everything feel soggy. His fingers were already bright red and pruny, his arms sore from scrubbing.

Still, it wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was Cynthia.

Not in a bad way—just in a distracting way.

Duff caught himself watching her more than once, though he tried to be subtle about it. She was quick on her feet, moving between tables and the kitchen with practiced ease. Her voice cut through the noise whenever she called out an order or shot back a sarcastic remark at the cooks.

Cynthia was confident. Unshakable. Completely at home in the chaos.

Duff, on the other hand, was struggling to keep up with the never-ending pile of dishes.

At one point, Cynthia came back to the kitchen to grab a refill. On impulse, Duff decided to try and talk to her.

"So, uh... Cynthia, do you like working here?" Duff liked the way her name felt in his mouth—soft but steady, like a melody that stuck even after the song was over.

She barely glanced at him as she filled a glass with Coke. "It's a job."

"Right." He scrubbed at a stubborn stain on a plate. "Seems kinda crazy."

She let out a dry laugh. "You should see weekends."

Duff smiled, encouraged. "Guessing it's not your dream job either?"

"Dreams don't pay rent."

He hesitated. "Yeah, but if you could do anything else, what would it be?"

For a second, Cynthia looked at him like she might actually answer.

Instead, she grabbed the drink and walked off.

Duff sighed. Strike one.

By closing time, Duff was exhausted. His back ached, his arms were sore, and his shirt was damp from the heat of the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Cynthia, looked as composed as ever. She was leaning against the counter, talking to another waitress, her laughter carrying over the low hum of the closing shift.

Duff didn't realize he was staring until Bruce walked up beside him.

"You survived," Bruce said.

"Barely."

Bruce halfheartedly chuckled. "You'll get the hang of it."

Duff rubbed the back of his neck. "Place is busier than I expected."

"You should see Saturdays." Bruce glanced over at Cynthia, then back at Duff. "What do you think?"

"About what?"

Bruce raised a confused eyebrow. "The job."

"Oh. Uh—yeah. It's fine." Duff paused. "It's work."

Bruce studied him for a second, then shook his head, amused. "Right."

Duff wasn't sure what Bruce was implying, but he didn't ask. Instead, he stretched, rolling out his sore shoulders.

Across the room, Cynthia grabbed her denim jacket, slinging it over one shoulder effortlessly. As she turned, the dim dining room light shined a few pins fastened to the fabric—one of them the unmistakable winged logo of Aerosmith. The red and white design was a little faded, edges worn like it had been there for years.

Duff's lips quirked slightly. Aerosmith. He wouldn't have pegged her as a fan, but then again, he didn't know much about her—not yet.

She disappeared through the door without a second glance.

But he had a feeling he'd be learning soon enough.

previous chapter ← → next chapter

SO FINE, a duff mckagan story.

pairing. duff mckagan x original female character

synopsis. it's 1984, and duff mckagan, a 20-year-old punk rocker from seattle, moves to los angeles to chase his rockstar dreams. but reality hits hard—he needs a job. thanks to his brother, he lands a gig as a dishwasher at black angus, a steakhouse.

enter: cynthia atkins, an 18-year-old waitress who's been working there since she was 16. she's tough, smart, and has zero patience for wannabe rockstars. when duff sees her for the first time, he's instantly smitten, almost knocked over by how perfect she is.

despite his awkward attempts to get her attention, cynthia isn't impressed by his punk rocker hair or measly music dreams. but as the two spend more time together, they start to see there's more to each other than they thought. can duff balance trying to get a band together and his growing feelings for cynthia? or will they pull away before they get started?

status. on-going, updates every monday.

tags. female original character, a lot of cussing (gnr-typical), heavy depictions of mental health issues (post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, bipolar, anxiety), depictions of childhood trauma, period typical misogyny, drug & alcohol abuse (seriously, it's a duff fic), slow burn, NSFW themes (eventual smut? who knows..) references to past abuse and assault (physical, mental, sexual in reference to children and adults), depictions of panic attacks due to anxiety and substance abuse.

additional warnings will be marked at the beginning of each chapter—please be mindful! also i have decided i will post 'so fine' here on tumblr as well as AO3 and wattpad, which are linked below.

links. AO3, wattpad.

: ̗̀➛ 00. prologue.

: ̗̀➛ 01. she talks to angels.

CHAPTER 3 | KILL 'EM ALL.

w.c. 3.8k

tags. original female character, mild period-typical misogyny (it’s the late 1980s), some cussing, slowburn, arguing, possessive/slight controlling behavior via mc’s boyfriend, toxic masculinity/insecurity, manipulative behavior via mc’s boyfriend, smoking, if there’s anything else to be added let me know!

a/n. hey all! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. you’ll have to bear with me for the first few chapters in the beginning, as i’m trying to naturally and realistically flesh out everyone’s story while writing the real life people “in character.” i’m expecting to start the legit drama SOON just.. let me enjoy my slowburn.

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge

you can find chapter three on wattpad and AO3, linked under the respective platforms aforementioned.

last two previous chapters:

chapter one: welcome to the jungle - wattpad and AO3.

chapter two: terror 'n tinseltown - wattpad and AO3.

CHAPTER 2 | TERROR 'N TINSELTOWN.

w.c. 1.6k

tags. original female character, mild period-typical misogyny (it’s the late 1980s), some cussing, mentions of alcohol/cocaine consumption but no depictions of it, this chapter is pretty mild so not many tags are necessary ig?

a/n. thank you to everyone who's shown excitement for this series so far! i see you all, and i appreciate each and every one of you ^_^ and i’d love to hear from you as we go through this process together! silent readers scare me and i fear i’m going to need to motivation to keep going on this long, slowburn journey. also i apologize for the short chapter this week, i’m trying to realistically write and develop each characters’ relationships without making it too OOC while keeping a natural pace to it all. next week’s chapter is wayy longer—about 3k/4k words. bear with me!

taglist. @prettypersuasion, @creepindeaathh, @nelnroses, @hyperiondickrider, @hollywoodroses, @tranquilitybasegrunge

you can find chapter two on wattpad and AO3, linked under the respective platforms aforementioned.

last two previous chapters:

prologue - wattpad and AO3.

chapter one: welcome to the jungle - wattpad and AO3.

PATIENCE

pairing. izzy stradlin x original female character

synopsis. lethality: one of the most popular rising bands to come out of the sunset strip since the great days of early mötley crüe and van halen. but get this—a woman is the leader! lethality frontwoman, singer-songwriter jackie riot, guitarist-songwriter sean carnegie, and drummer dennis knight are on the brink of international superstardom. with a fresh deal from elektra records and a coveted spot opening for guns n’ fuckin’ roses on the appetite for destruction tour, their dreams are finally becoming reality.

but the road to fame is a long, dangerous one. jackie is already struggling to balance her ambition with the tensions in lethality—especially with sean, her boyfriend and bandmate. then there’s guns n’ roses’ rhythm guitarist izzy stradlin—mysterious, magnetic, and drowning in excess. jackie knows getting close to him is reckless, idiotic, unfathomable even, but on the road, temptation is everywhere.

while sex, drugs, and rock ‘n roll crash together, jackie must decide what she’s willing to risk—for love, for music, and for a place in musical history. will jackie and izzy get their happily ever after they desperately yearn after?

status. on-going

tags. female original character, a lot of cussing (gnr-typical), religious trauma, mentions of physical and mental health issues, depictions of childhood trauma, unhealthy romantic relationship(s), period typical homophobia, period typical misogyny, mentions of AIDS crisis, drug & alcohol abuse (seriously, it’s a gnr fic), slow burn, NSFW themes (eventual smut? who knows.. only i do ;)) mentions of eating disorders, lastly, again, its a fucking guns n roses fanfic, please be aware of the triggers that come along with that group.

links. AO3, wattpad.

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ prologue on AO3 and wattpad

𖤐ᝰ.ᐟ chapter one: welcome to the jungle on AO3 and wattpad

izzy finally getting the love he deserves… 🥹🥹 i’m not crying, you are. also.. 67 votes is crazy!!! thank you all for the support as is. i’ll be getting to work on the fic ASAP and i hope you all enjoy it as much as i do writing it for you guys.

if you wish to be added to my taglist for my new fanfic, PATIENCE, shoot me an ask with your username or comment under this post <3

hey all. working on the outline of guns n’ roses fanfic (based on the oneshot i wrote here) and i wanted to ask if y’all would rather me make it a duff/axl/izzy/slash story? i’ve also decided i’m not writing for steven anymore because my dad knows him & and i’ve known him since i was a baby and it weirds me out.)

additionally when i end up publishing, as previously mentioned, it will be promoted on tumblr but posted AO3 & wattpad for convince reasons. if you would like to join my taglist, send me an ask w/ your username and i’ll add you. 💗

hey all. working on the outline of guns n’ roses fanfic (based on the oneshot i wrote here) and i wanted to ask if y’all would rather me make it a duff/axl/izzy/slash story? i’ve also decided i’m not writing for steven anymore because my dad knows him & and i’ve known him since i was a baby and it weirds me out.)

additionally when i end up publishing, as previously mentioned, it will be promoted on tumblr but posted AO3 & wattpad for convince reasons. if you would like to join my taglist, send me an ask w/ your username and i’ll add you. 💗

IT'S SO EASY, guns n' roses.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing; guns n' roses x fem!reader

summary; your band, lethality, is the hottest thing that’s hit the sunset strip since mötley crüe and the notorious guns n' roses. after a sensational night playing the whisky a go-go, you to meet a very interesting group of men that take a peculiar liking to you.

warnings; cussing, no use of y/n, alcohol & cigarettes mentioned, veryy dialogue heavy, nothing really happens because i didn’t know if anon wanted it to be romantic/romantic encounter with a band member(s), steven is having fun somewhere else.

word count; 1.6k

a/n; i honestly loved writing this. i had a hard time starting it, but when i got it going i couldn’t stop. i was even considering making this a full fledged fanfic, if anyone would be interested.

requests open, not proofread, based on this ask.

The Whisky was packed, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of sweat. The crowd of people blended into one the further you looked out—was jumping around, their energy feeding into yours as you gripped the mic stand, swinging it around erratically. Your heart pounded with adrenaline as the house lights dim for dramatic effect, and with a deep, intentional breath, you launched into the final chorus of your band, Lethality's, set. Your voice was raw, passionate, and uniquely fresh. The audience erupted, fists pounding in the air, whistling and clapping being heard.

This is what made every sleepless hour, every shitty bar gig worth it. The feeling of the audience, the bass vibrating your core, the drums pounding hard and intentional, the guitar wailing along to your voice. You were in your element. This was everything.

With one last powerful belt, you let the song ring out, clutching the microphone as the sound of your heavy breath mixed with the cheers. A slow, sexy smirk tugged at your lips. They loved you.

You turned, locking eyes with your guitarist, tossing your damp, messy hairy over your shoulder and stepping back from the microphone stand. The applause and whistles followed you offstage, still roaring in your ears as you grabbed a towel and wiped your damp face.

You were shocked that Los Angeles had loved Lethality that much, given that they didn't take to women-led bands very kindly. They often watered them down to being a "woman in Rock" and not a "rockstar." You loathed it, and you be damned if it happened to you. You deserved to be on the same playing field as the rest of these young, dumb, and full of cum men. Not that you honestly wanted to be compared to that, though.

"You really know how to work a crowd," a voice called out.

Your eyes shot up to see an older, chubbier man leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking at you in thought. He nodded towards the dressing rooms. "You've got some serious fans wanting to meet you."

You raise an eyebrow in uncertainty, "Fans?"

The man sends you a shit-eating grin and sniggered, "Yeah. Ever heard of Guns N' Roses?"

For a brief second, your heart skipped a beat as you felt your hands get clammy—but you played it cool, tossing the wet towel onto a nearby beer crate. You exhaled through your nose and ran a hand through your hair. You knew Guns regularly went to the Whisky and other clubs you and your band frequented, and you were bound to run into them, but you still felt extremely nervous. You absolutely adored their newest album, Appetite for Destruction.

"Well," you eventually muttered, rolling your shoulders, "guess I better not keep them waiting, huh?"

With that, you strode down the hall, your heart beating so loudly you could feel it having a concert in your head. The hallway was dimly lit the further you walked down, the sounds of the Whisky still thrumming in the distance. Your heeled boots echoed against the floor as you approached the dressing rooms. Guns N' fucking Roses wanted to see you. You weren't one to get starstruck, you had met some of the best musicians to come out of the strip, but you weren't oblivious either. Part of you was curious, another part cautious. You knew how these men were. Hungry for sex, drugs, and dabbled in Rock 'n' Roll when the job called for it. You also weren't one to get caught up in the rock mystique. Yet, if they had something to say, you were damn sure going to hear it.

You reached the dressing room door and took a steadying breath. You took a second to smooth your hair and shake out the last of your post-show adrenaline. Then, you pushed it open.

The room was buzzing with soft conversation. The scent of fresh leather, whiskey, and cigarette smoke hung in the air. The ginger lead singer, Axl Rose, was the first of the four to look up, reclining in his chair, a drink idly dangling from his fingers. His sharp hazel eyes flickered with something unreadable as he took your figure in. Slash was perched on the couch, lazily tapping ash from his cigarette, while Duff and Izzy leaned back in conversation, their laughter cutting off the second you entered. Instantly, you noticed the lack of their drummer, Steven Adler. Huh.

Four pairs of beady eyes locked onto you.

"Well, well," Duff spoke up, giving a slow, acknowleding nod. "The woman of the hour."

You smirked, stepping inside with your arms crossed. "Didn't realize I was on your schedule."

Axl's lips curled into something between amusement and intrigue. "You weren't. But we couldn't ignore what we just saw out there," he tilted his head, studying you. "You don't just perform—you own that stage."

The way Axl said it wasn't flattery. On the contrary, it was a statement. A challenge, maybe. You couldn’t tell. Not yet, anyway.

You met his gaze without flinching, a newfound confidence overtaking you. "That's the job, isn't it?"

To your right, Slash chuckled, flicking his cigarette once more. "Yeah, but most people don't do it like that." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his leathered knees. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

You shrugged, "Same story as everyone else. Small-town band, a lot of shitty gigs, and too much cheap beer."

Axl smirked at that you noticed. He must've liked that reply, you thought.

"Not everyone makes it out of that."

Something about the way he said it made the air feel heavier, just for a beat. You could feel them sizing you up, trying to figure out if you were just another wannabe act, or something more. Maybe they were checking you out, who fucking knows?

You glanced around, then raised an amused brow. "So, you dragged me in here just to stroke my ego, or is there something else?"

Axl took a swig of his liquor, sliding his arm onto the armrest. "Maybe both."

Axl's words hung in the air, stretching the moment just long enough for you to feel the weight of their attention. You didn't mind it—if anything, you were used to being watched, analyzed, judged. But this? This was different.

Slash took a slow, tentative drag off of his cigarette, exhaling a thin breath of smoke before speaking again. "How long have you been playing as a band?"

You walked over to the other side of the couch he sat on, your eyes not leaving his hidden ones. "Long enough to know what I'm doing."

That earned a chuckle from Duff. "Yeah, we picked up on that, Susie-Q."

Izzy, who had been quiet until now, studied you with that easy, unreadable gaze. "Your sound's different. It's not just your voice—it's the way you hold a crowd. Who are your influences?"

You shrugged, "A little of everyone."

Axl chuckled and swirled the whiskey in his glass. "That's the safe answer," he retorted, clicking his tongue in amusement.

"Safe," you echoed with a knowing, smug smile, "or just true?"

That got a reaction—albeit a small one—a flicker of something behind Axl's eyes. The kind of interest that wasn't politeness. He wasn't just shooting the shit with you. None of them were. They had intentions—intentions you were unsure of.

Slash tilted his head softly, "You got a label yet?"

"Not one worth signing to," you replied smoothly as you shook your head.

Izzy and Duff exchanged what felt like their tenth glance of the night. Axl's smirk deepened as you quietly let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You were very nervous, after all.

"Good," Axl clicked his tongue, "means you're not an idiot."

You huffed a quiet laugh, "I try."

This whole conversation had your mind reeling: panic mode on. This was going nowhere, and you didn't really come here to get drilled about your music. They didn't even ask to see the rest of Lethality, just you. You weren't sure what to expect when walking backstage, but being rallied up by Guns wasn't it. Their gaze was still on you, making you feel small. You look at Axl from across the room—the gears in his head were moving. You soon realized that never meant anything good.

Axl turned his head to look at you dead on. "So, what's next for you?"

You met his gaze without hesitation, your eyebrows furrowing. "Why? You planning to keep tabs on me?"

Slash grinned, putting out his cigarette in the steel ashtray on the coffee table. "Wouldn't be the worst idea. Not every night we someone actually own the stage instead of just.. standing on it."

Duff gestured towards you with his beer bottle. "Crowd was losing their fucking minds. You got 'em wrapped around your pretty little finger."

You shrugged. “Like I said, that’s the job.”

“And like Slash said, most people don’t get that. They think it’s just about playing the songs.” Izzy eyed you, like he was still trying to figure you out. He motioned towards you as he pulled out a Marlboro from his pack. “You’ve got something else.”

Axl let out a low chuckle and cleared his throat while shaking his head slightly. Then, he raised his glass. “Right. Here’s to whatever the fuck happens next.”

Your eyes flicked to the band’s whiskey bottle on the table. Without a word, you picked it up, twisted off the cap, and took a deep gulp before setting it back down on the coffee table with a quiet, gentle clink.

“You’ll be seeing more of Lethality,” you said simply.

Slash huffed a quiet laugh. “Good. Scene’s getting boring.”

Duff nodded in agreement. “Listen—If you keep playing like that, you won’t be stuck in clubs forever.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, just gave a small, knowing smirk.

Axl’s gaze lingered for a second longer before he set his now empty glass down. “Guess we’ll have to just wait and fucking see.”

The conversation shifted, drinks flowed, and the night stretched on. Whatever this was—whatever had started here—you had a small feeling burning deep inside that this was just the beginning.

© lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved.

rules & writing list.

hiya everyone! I just wanted to post some rules & general guidelines for my blog. i want you all to enjoy my work. if you are ever confused if a certain request is against my rules, don't be afraid to ask! i also upload my chapter(s) long fics on wattpad & AO3, which are linked below.

wattpad pinned AO3

✬ my most recent work; n/a.

✬ currently working on; n/a.

✬ my request box is currently; open.

✬ i am partial to writing smut, i can and will deny your request if i think i cannot write it properly or if it's illegal, non-con, unethical, etc.

✬ i do not write ship fics (character x character.)

✬ please do not spam my inbox with your request, i'll get to it as soon as possible!

i currently write for;

✧ twist and shout! the beatles

john lennon. paul mccartney. george harrison.

✧ used to love her... guns n' roses

axl rose. slash. duff mckagan. izzy stradlin.

✧ girls, girls, girls! mötley crüe

vince neil. nikki sixx. tommy lee.

✧ a tout le monde… megadeth

dave mustaine. david ellefson. nick menza.

✧ whiskey in the jar! metallica

james hetfield. kirk hammett. lars ulrich. cliff burton. jason newsted.

✧ we're fated to pretend… musicians

chris cornell. tracii guns. kelly nickels. robert plant. jimmy page. mick jagger. brian jones. kurt cobain. dave grohl. alex turner. johnny marr. jeff buckley. elvis presley.

if there is a musician you dont see on here, thats fine! shoot me a request and i can probably write something. don’t be afraid to request.

thank you all! lots of love, © lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved. 💋

ultraviolence

izzy stradlin x reader x nikki sixx

you were sitting in front of your vanity, watching yourself in the mirror while you were trying to cover the purple bruise nikki left you the other night after a big fight started for something so… little.

it was the wedding day and you were almost ready to go to church, the hair was done and you were wearing the gorgeous white lace dress that you had chosen three weeks earlier.

after you were done with covering the bruise, the bouqet was the only thing left , that a friend of yours should have bought it to you 30 minutes earlier

you started thinking about how your life was gonna change in a few hours, you were going to marry the love of your life, nikki sixx. he wasn’t perfect, he had his flaws but we all do right? sometimes he would hit you, but it was like he said: it was your fault, you were the one who drove him crazy everytime, you were the one who annoyed him when he was angry. and in the end you would be able to take a few kicks or slaps, he was the love of your life ,it didn't matter he wasn't perfect.

after ten minutes someone rang at the door, you tough it was the bouquet, but it was actually… izzy? “what are you doing here?” you asked him, shoked for his appearance. you and izzy had a particular relationship, you met through mutual friends two years ago and since he was introduced to you, you never stopped thinking about him, you never had a real relationship but, whatever it was, despite the on and offs, it was better than any relationship you'd ever had. But then you met nikki, things with him at the beginning were much easier and you ended up giving up on izzy, even if you often caught yourself thinking about him.

“listen, i know that you are going to marry him in a few hours but…” he stopped , looking at the black bruise on your right wrist that you forgot to cover.

shocked, he knew how violent nikki could be but he still hoped he wasn't with you too. just seeing the look in your eyes was enough for him to understand what you were going through.

“ don’t marry him, don’t do this to you…” he said in a low tone voice after some seconds of silence . he actually came to tell you that he still loved you but after seeing the purple mark on your right arm he totally forgot about his primary plan, now he had to convince you to run away from nikki.

“I can’t, it’s too late… everything is ready for the wedding” you replied with tears in your eyes, incapable of liying to him. you knew you were going to lock yourself in a cage.

“ it’s never too late, y/n” he simply said. Then he placed a soft kiss on your lips and went away.

as you watched him go, still trying to process wath just happened, you realize that he was right, it wasn’t too late, you still had two hours.

The soft music played while you were walking to the altar, you seemed calm to all the 200 guests but not to izzy ,who, somehow, found a way to sneak into the wedding.

in fact you were scared and you didn’t know if you would have had the courage to run away from nikki.

“Nikki, do you take Y/n for your lawful wife , to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” the priest asked.

“Yes, I do” nikki said while looking at you, smiling.

“Y/n, do you take Nikki for your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

you looked at nikki with guilt in your eyes, incapable of saying “yes, i do”, he was confused trying to understand what was happening. after some seconds of silence the guests started to whisper, each one confused by the situation.

you saw izzy leaving the curch, he would probably have waited for you outside.

you looked again at nikki saying “sorry but i can’t do this” and then you ran, away from nikki and the life you would have had with him.

outside of the curch you saw izzy and you already knew that he was your future.

Wonderful memory

Prologue

it was a hot night of august of  1986 when you and izzy first met, it was during a guns n roses concert at the roxy and you were in the first row with some groupies , but you weren’t one of them, you were there just to enjoy the music. 

the vision of the five guys was  incredible, they were playing in total armony, it looked liked they were under a spell for how magical and beautiful they all seemed together.

while axl was signing a memeber of the group captured your attention: he was tall, a little bit skinny, his hair was black , like the outfit he was wearing ad he had a mysterious and enigmatic aura. To you he was really handosme.

while you were starring at him at some point he raised his head ad captured your gaze with a pair of black eyes. you looked at each other for some seconds and, after that, the eyes of that mysterious man would sometimes come back to you.

when the concert finished a man told you that a memeber of the group wanted you in the backstage but you refused, you weren’t messing with that groupie shit. So intead of going to the backstage you decided to go to the bar to drink something and at some point while you were drinking a beer the mysterious man came to you. You were obviously surprised, why was he looking for you when he had tens of groupies that just wanted to be fucked by him?

“so you’re an hard one right?” he said .

god, even his voice was sexy. 

“no, i’m just not a groupie” you replied.

“then who are you?”

“y/n, what about you?”

“izzy stradlin”

“wait that’s actually your real name?” that sounded a little bit weird.

“no my real name is actually jeffrey isbell but it didn’t sound great for a rockstar” well he was right.

you guys talked for hours that night, he was perfect: sexy ,smart and funny. You really liked him. You wanted to talk to him all night but you had to come back home, you had to work the next day. 

izzy proposed to take you home and you accepted. During the ride you guys listened to some music and you discovered that izzy also was rolling stones fan, you were falling in love with him, he was the man of your dreams. 

“ so this is where you live right?” he asked

“ yeah the building is not perfect, but it doesn’t cost much”

he laughed quitely

“ just out of curiosity where do you work?” he asked 

“ in the record store near the sunset street”

“ oh yeah I understand” he said while nodding

“ well I have to go, thank you for the ride” you said after few seconds of silence, even if you didn’t really wanted to go.

“all right, it was nice to meet you y/n” he saiid while smiling. 

you smiled at him too. 

“ good night izzy”.

you entred your appartment thinking: god, what a night.

A Gift

You and Izzy sit on the balcony, smoking cigs and observing the stars

— - -

For: my lovely, @dizzystradlin, a very special person to me.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

You’ve had your fair share of life. Maybe you’d pushed through more than you had to. Endured more than most. Exhaling a puff of smoke, you sighed, leaning your head back against the exterior of the apartment you were just barely able to afford. The sky was clear tonight- at least as clear as it could be considering that you lived in Los Angeles. The stars were faint, but still just faintly glowing in the sky. Like little dots. Just two twinkling away.

You ash your cigarette on the molding boards which make up your porch. How many cigarettes had you and gone through at this point? You’d last track long ago, when the sun was still up, not that you were exactly keeping track. Izzy was your… well Izzy. Maybe that’s what it is- just plain and simple. You were you and Izzy was Izzy. Izzy who crashed on your couch far too many times, Izzy who was a little to lax when you could make payments, Izzy who spoke more with his eyes than words. Just plain ol’ Izzy.

That was more than enough for you.

At your rock bottom, Izzy picked you back up on your feet. Be it that he was aware or not. He helped you in more ways than one, physically and mentally. Were you exactly one hundred percent in either aspect? No. But things felt a little more possible. You turned your head just enough to watch Izzy- who was standing right next to where you sat. He seemed to paying attention to everything and nothing.

“Don’t you…” you paused, taking another drag of the cigarette. It almost seemed like Izzy didn’t even hear you, but you knew he did. He always did. You exhaled and continued, “Don’t you ever think about how insignificant we really are? I mean… look at all those stars. They’re… they’re goddamn massive compared to us. And yet here I am, worrying about the utility bill.” Then silence again. Izzy didn’t respond, not that you were really expecting him to.

The silence went on for a few minutes.

Izzy spoke up and you almost jumped, almost, “I think you’ve got a one-sided perspective on all this. You think we’re all that insignificant to the stars, but they’re just as insignificant as us.”

He pointed out and up towards the sky, “That star right there, what difference would it make to us if it just wasn’t there? Disappeared or something, I don’t give a fuck.” He dropped his cigarette and out it out with the heel of his boot, hands automatically going to his pants pockets.

You didn’t responds, you didn’t exactly have a counter argument… you also wanted to hear Izzy keep on talking. For being a drug-addled rockstar, he was far more insightful than most.

“It wouldn’t make a lack of difference. To us, we’re seein’ the same damn starry sky.” He turned to look at you, his hazel eyes staring right into yours, “Guess it’d be different if you only focused on that star, yeah?”

You swallowed and gave a half nod, “Yeah.”

“Then I’d guess you’d noticed it missing.” He said with a shrug, but you knew the implication. That all the stars reflected all the people in the world. That the one star which, in theory, disappeared was you. And Izzy was the silent observer, watching the sky.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁

You are a spectacular individual, so strong and so incredibly brave. I wish you all the best

Imagine:

Late nights smoking with Izzy

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.

It was silent, but a good kind of silence. It wasn’t tense, it wasn’t heavy, it was just…normal. That’s how it was with Izzy. If he didn’t have to, he wouldn’t talk. Usually you weren’t once for silence, you always had the TV on, cassette player going, anything. You hated the silence.

Izzy made it comforting. He didn’t make the silence feel lonely or empty. You weren’t sure what it was. How he always had that calm, collected aura of cool around him. He brought the cigarette up to his lips, taking a long drag and blowing out the smoke. You watched intently, not saying anything as your own cigarette burned away between your fingers.

He wasn’t like any other rockstars you knew. He wasn’t that outgoing, he wasn’t that crazy, he wasn’t that loud. Izzy was Izzy. Just as north is north and south is south. He finally caught on to your staring, or maybe he already knew, and he was just choosing to acknowledge it now.

You didn’t know. You never knew with him. He looked you up and down, gaze lingering no where in particular. Without another glance, he turned his gaze back out the window. And there you were, back to complete silence. And it stayed that way for a few long minutes.

“You even gonna smoke that cig?”

You almost jumped, not expecting to hear his lazy drawl. Looking down at your cigarette, most of it burned away, you thought. You didn’t like smoking. The taste always made you feel sick. You don’t even know why you started, maybe because Izzy did. And what a pathetic reason that was. Staring the offending cigarette down, you bit the bullet and took a hit anyways.

You didn’t reply, and neither did he.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚. ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.

I take requests xoxo

Check my pinned under my master list for more info

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

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Guns N’ Roses

Main Masterlist

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𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟚

𝕃𝕒𝕥𝕖 ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 - 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖

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𝔸𝕔𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 - 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

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𝔸𝕩𝕝 ℝ𝕠𝕤𝕖

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟙

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𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕜𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤: 𝟙

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