What's Your Heritage?

What's your insta, if I may ask?

Just message me on here and I’ll give it to ya as long as you ain’t a creep or under a certain age lol

Finally 19🎉🎉

Steven finallyyy made his happy bday post to izzy!

Hi, I’m the anon who requested the Izzy fic, and I have to say—the alternate ending you wrote feels like the perfect setup for a continuation in a Slash fic😍. Could you please do that? I really love this ending because it seems like she could hook up with Slash again after this part:

~"'Slash let out a breathy chuckle. “He’ll get over it.” I turned on him, eyes burning. “You ruined everything.” He tilted his head. “No, sweetheart. You did.”~

Please let them become a couple after this but with slash being a bad boy😍

Hey anon! I gotchu!! Here is part one. I figured I would turn this story into a few parts because I want to take this into a messy direction. But, reader and slash will become a couple in the end so don’t worry lol. Hope you enjoy 😉

(Btw my inbox is open if anyone want to request a story or ask any questions)

Damaged… or not~ Part one

Slash x reader

Y/N POV~

“No, sweetheart. You did.”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. Because the truth stung more than his words. My throat burned, and I hated that it was Slash standing there looking at me like he’d won.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I snapped finally.

“Like what?” he asked, stepping closer. “Like I’ve seen you fall apart before and I’m the only one who doesn’t lie to you about it?”

He was too close. The smell of cigarettes and whiskey clung to him like a second skin. His curls were half in his face, and that damn smirk he wore made it impossible to breathe.

“You think you’re better than Izzy?” I challenged.

Slash let out a low laugh, one of those husky, condescending ones that crawled up your spine and made you want to slap him and kiss him all at once.

“No,” he said. “I think I’m worse. But at least I don’t pretend.”

I hated that I was still standing there, trembling with whatever the hell this feeling was, rage, regret, maybe something worse. Or better.

He tilted his head again, the same way he had earlier, but this time his eyes dropped to my lips.

“Izzy’s not coming back,” Slash said, voice soft now. “You burned that bridge. But I’m still here. So what does that say?”

I stared at him. “That you don’t know when to quit.”

Slash stepped even closer, his body nearly brushing mine. “No, sweetheart. It says I know exactly when to stay.”

And just like that, I kissed him.

His hands were everywhere, rough and greedy, and mine weren’t any better. We were chaos and mistakes and something that felt too good to be right.

And when he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, his grin crooked, and his voice low as he spoke.

“Careful,” he whispered against my ear. “You keep kissing me like that, and I’ll ruin you next.”

I didn’t care.

I think maybe I wanted to be ruined.

A few hours later…

I didn’t sleep.

I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, feeling like an idiot. Slash was passed out next to me, completely unbothered. Like what we did last night didn’t mean anything. Like it wasn’t messy as hell.

I pulled the sheet around me and sat up, trying to clear my head. My heart was still racing, and I felt sick, not from him, but from myself.

He shifted behind me, groaning. “Damn. You always this quiet in the morning?”

I didn’t answer.

He moved closer, his hand finding my thigh like it was no big deal. Like he had every right to touch me.

“I didn’t sleep,” I said.

He laughed a little. “You sure? You sounded pretty into it a few hours ago.”

I pulled away, annoyed. “You’re unbelievable.”

Slash sat up, resting on one elbow. “Why are you acting like this is some huge thing? It happened. So what?”

“This was a mistake.”

He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t really believe that.”

I got up, grabbing my clothes off the floor. “You kissed me right after Izzy left. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“So did you,” he said. “You didn’t stop me. You kissed me back.”

I froze for a second, then turned to face him. “Izzy’s gone, and now I’m here with you. That’s messed up.”

He stared at me. “Izzy walked away. I didn’t.”

“That doesn’t make you the good guy,” I said.

He stood up too, calm but serious now. “I never said I was the good guy. But at least I’m not the one pretending.”

I glared at him. “You ruined everything.”

Slash let out a breathy laugh. “No, sweetheart. You did.”

There he goes with that damn phrase again. I couldn’t even argue though because deep down, I knew he was right.

Popcorn & Panties Part 2😝

This is a re-upload⚠️

So I had a request for a part two of this izzy story. Can’t find the request anymore😭, but if you enjoyed the first one hopefully you’ll enjoy this one :)

Warning ‼️ contains (public smex, choking, a bit of praise/degradation, dirty talk)

Y/N POV

The movie ended, but the tension didn’t. Izzy kept his arm slung around your waist as you all walked out of the theater, trying to act casual even though your legs still trembled from the orgasm you’d ridden out in his lap.

Duff tossed an empty popcorn bucket at Steven. “Told you that chick was gonna die.”

Slash lit a cigarette and snorted. “I could hear you losers whispering the whole time.”

But Izzy didn’t say a word. He just kept walking. Only you noticed the way his jaw clenched, the way his hand dug a little tighter into your hip like he was barely keeping it together.

He barely waited for the others to around the corner before his hand was around your wrist, dragging you down the side of the theater like a man possessed.

“In here. Now.”

The alley was barely lit, smelled like beer and smoke, but you didn’t care, because he spun you around and pinned you to the wall with his body, mouth already crashing into yours.

“You know what you fuckin’ did to me in there?” he growled, already shoving his hand between your thighs. “Got me so fuckin’ hard I couldn’t think straight.”

You gasped as he put his hand up your dress and yanked your panties down your legs, letting them fall around your ankles. His fingers plunged into your soaking wet pussy without warning, and you moaned into his mouth, legs trembling.

Look at you,” he hissed, rubbing tight circles on your clit with two fingers inside you. “Dripping like a slut. You wanted someone to hear you in there, didn’t you? Wanted Slash to turn around and see me ruining you.”

You bit your lip, nodding shamelessly, and he laughed.

Nasty little girl,” he said, low and filthy. “Bet you’d let me bend you over the hood of their car right now, wouldn’t you?”

Izzy….” you whined, breathless.

Shut the fuck up,” he growled, yanking your shirt down to expose one tit, biting hard at the soft flesh. “You wanted it nasty, right? That’s what you’re gonna get.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, not hard, just enough to make your head spin, just enough to say “you’re mine”. Then he spat in his free hand, stroked his cock once, twice, and shoved it into you from behind, fucking you rough and fast without any warning.

You cried out, back arching, nails scraping the brick.

That’s it, baby. Take it. Take this cock like the filthy little slut you are.”

He was brutal, fucking you deep, hands bruising your hips, sweat dripping down his head. His hips slapped against your ass, echoing down the alley like the world didn’t matter. Like he didn’t care if someone walked by and saw it all.

You like this? You like me fucking you like a dirty whore behind a goddamn movie theater?” he panted, one hand back around your throat, pulling you up against his chest.

“Yes! fuck! yes!, Izzy, I love it”

That’s right you do. You love my cock. You love being full of me. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? Make a mess all over me like a desperate little bitch.”

His fingers reached around and rubbed your clit fast. You broke in seconds, shaking, and moaning shamelessly as your orgasm ripped through you, walls closing around him.

He hissed, lost in that tight pussy of yours. “Fuck…fuck, baby! I’m gonna cum in this tight pussy. Gonna fill you up right here, so the next time you walk, you’ll be dripping my cum down your thighs.”

And he did. Thrusting deep, cumming inside you, swearing against your ear as he spilled every drop.

You stayed against the wall, panting, legs weak.

He slapped your ass and laughed. “Still think we’re done?”

You turned to him, cheeks flushed, spit on your lips, his cum already leaking down your thighs.

“I hope not,” you whispered. “You owe me a round three.”

he’s the love of my life wdym we’ll never get married and live happily ever after

Cry me a river series~ izzy x reader

Chapter two: Ghost Notes😬

Back Then – 1989

It was Vegas, and it was loud. Neon signs, fans screaming, the sound of your own heart cracking beneath the surface.

Izzy hadn’t come back to the hotel that night.

You waited. Curled up on the stiff bed with your boots still on and the TV flickering static in the background. You’d stared at the ceiling so long it started to look like it was moving.

When he finally showed, it was 5 a.m. He looked like hell. Smelled like perfume and smoke and something too sweet to be innocent.

He froze when he saw you awake. “Didn’t think you’d still be up.”

You didn’t say anything.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through his tangled hair. “It’s not what it looks like”.

You snorted, bitter and tired. “You don’t even know what I think it looks like”.

He turned his head toward you slowly, as if hoping the dark would hide the guilt in his eyes.

“Maybe I don’t wanna know.”

You stood up, grabbed your bag, and headed for the door. You didn’t even know where you were going, just that you needed out before you said something you’d regret.

“Where the hell are you going?” he asked, voice sharp now.

“Out,” you said without turning around. “Maybe I’ll find someone who knows how to keep their promises.”

Now ~Present Day

You didn’t mean to see him again.

But three days later, he was waiting outside your building. Leaning against the hood of an old car like something out of a music video, cool, casual, and completely out of place in your carefully rebuilt life.

You stopped on the sidewalk, arms full of groceries, heart pounding like a drum solo in your chest.

“Izzy,” you said, flat and cold. “What are you doing here?”

He straightened up, hands in his pockets again, just like before.

“I owed you more than just walking into that cafe.”

You walked right past him toward the door. “You owe me a hell of a lot more than that.”

“I know,” he said quietly, following a few steps behind. “I just… I didn’t know how to fix it.”

You turned around so fast he almost bumped into you. “So you ran? Typical.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t. But now you’re here, dragging ghosts out of closets I locked up a long time ago.”

His jaw clenched, and for a second, he looked almost like he used to, raw, haunted, beautiful in that broken way.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he said. “I just want to talk.”

You stared at him. Really stared.

“You should’ve thought about talking then,” you whispered. “When I needed you. When I begged you not to shut me out.”

The wind picked up, rustling your coat, your hair. He didn’t move. He just looked at you like he didn’t know how to breathe anymore.

“I’m not the girl you left behind,” you said. “So if you’re looking for her, go find someone else to haunt.”

You turned and walked inside.

And this time, he didn’t follow.

Duff reposted it on his story! Slash and the gnr page made a happy birthday post about izzy aswell 😊

Hey, can you write an imagine where Y/N cheats on Izzy with Slash. When Izzy finds out, he is heartbroken, breaks up with her, and falls into a heavy alcohol addiction. Only then does Y/N realize how much she loved him and tries to win him back.

Including angst and fluff please, make it real long please ♡

Yess I gotchu! Sorry it’s late, I’ve been sick for the past week, but I finally finished it yay me! Hope you enjoy :) btw I have an alternate ending that I did for this, so if you want it let me know!

Damaged💔❤️‍🩹

Izzy Stradlin x reader

(featuring Slash | themes: betrayal, addiction, heartbreak, regret)

Warning ‼️ (angst, fluff, kinda long)

Y/N POV~

I never meant for it to happen. That sounds like bullshit, I know, but I didn’t. One minute, I was drunk, laughing too loud at one of Slash’s dumb stories, and the next, I was in his hotel room, tangled in sheets that didn’t smell like Izzy. They smelled like smoke and sweat and betrayal.

And now here I am, sitting on the floor of Izzy’s apartment, my back against the cold wall, knees pulled to my chest, wishing I could claw the last 48 hours out of existence. He hasn’t said a word in hours. Just paces. Back and forth. Back and forth. Like he’s trying to walk it off, like heartbreak is something you can sweat out.

“Izzy…” My voice is small, and I hate that. I used to speak and make his head turn. Now I sound like a ghost.

He finally stops and looks at me. Really looks. Eyes red, jaw tight, that wild black hair falling into his face like it always does. Except now he doesn’t brush it away. He just stares, like he’s seeing me for the first time. Or maybe like he wishes he wasn’t seeing me at all.

“You fucked Slash.”

There’s no question in his voice.

I open my mouth to speak, to explain, though I have no explanation worth a damn, but he cuts me off before I can try.

“You fucked him, Y/N.”

“I was drunk”

So was I! Every night for the last four years. You don’t see me climbing into someone else’s bed.” His voice cracks, and that’s worse than if he screamed. I’d rather he throw a lamp or smash a guitar than break like this.

“Izzy, I’m sorry…”

He turns away.

And just like that, I know it’s over.

I didn’t see him for weeks after that. The guys said he’d holed up somewhere in L.A., sleeping on a friend’s couch, bottle always in reach. Sometimes it was whiskey. Sometimes vodka. Once, it was cough syrup and Coke.

Slash didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to. The smirk he gave me backstage after a show said everything. I was just another notch. Another story he’d laugh about. Another mistake.

But Izzy? I ruined him.

I started hearing things. That he missed rehearsals. That he’d fallen asleep during a recording session. That Axl threatened to kick him out if he didn’t pull it together. Duff tried to help, but even he was at a loss. “He loved you,” he told me once, shaking his head. “He really fucking loved you.”

I knew. God, I knew.

The first time I saw him again, it was pouring. The rain was heavy and mean, like it was trying to drown the whole damn city. I waited outside The Viper Room, soaked and shaking, because someone said he might show up. And he did.

He didn’t recognize me at first.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

“Hey,” I said, breathless when I saw him, cigarette dangling from his lips, coat clinging to his shoulders, eyes bloodshot.

He blinked. “Y/N?”

“Izzy… I need to talk to you.”

He just stared, swaying slightly, the smell of alcohol clinging to him like a second skin. “Talk? Now you want to talk?”

“I miss you.”

He laughed. It was empty. Hollow. “You miss me? What part? The part before or after you fucked my bandmate?”

I flinched. “I made a mistake.”

“You made a choice.”

We stood there in silence, rain hitting the sidewalk like a metronome. I reached for him.

“Don’t.”

His voice wasn’t angry this time. Just tired. Broken.

“I’m not okay,” I said softly.

“Neither am I,” he whispered. “And that’s because of you.”

I didn’t give up.

Call me pathetic. Call me delusional. But I loved him. I love him. And I couldn’t let it end like that. I started writing him letters. Leaving voicemails. Waiting outside shows. I became the girl I used to roll my eyes at, clingy, desperate, hopeful.

Weeks passed.

Then one night, I heard a knock on my door.

I opened it and nearly collapsed.

“Izzy…”

He looked different. Thinner. Tired. But there was something in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, clarity.

“I can’t sleep,” he said.

I stepped aside.

We didn’t talk much that night. We didn’t need to. He lit a cigarette and sat on my bed, fingers trembling just a little. I watched him. Studied him. Every line of his face. Every bruise I left on his heart.

“I still dream about you,” he said finally. “But in the dream, you always leave.”

“I’m here now.”

He looked at me. Long and hard. Then set the cigarette down and stood.

And when he kissed me, it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was fire and pain and everything we never said. His hands were rough, callused, trembling. He pinned me to the wall, his mouth hot on my neck, his voice a low growl in my ear.

You ruined me,” he said, breath hot as he lifted my shirt. “You fucking ruined me.”

“I know,” I whispered.

He kissed me again, harder this time, like he wanted to forget. Like he wanted to punish me. Maybe he did. Maybe I deserved it.

Clothes fell to the floor. His body pressed against mine, hot and heavy, every thrust a reminder of what we had, what we lost. He held my wrists above my head, lips on my collarbone, moaning my name like it hurt.

“I hate you,” he gasped against my mouth.

“No, you don’t.”

And I was right, because he came undone with my name on his lips, burying his face in my shoulder as we collapsed together.

Fast forward ~

It had been almost a year since the night izzy came over.

Twelve months of silence, of blocked numbers, of showing up to the studio just to hear he’d left five minutes earlier. I had written letters. Sent messages he never opened. I even showed up at his old apartment once. Slash answered the door.

“You’re the last person he wants to see,” he said coldly, before slamming it in my face.

Izzy had fallen deep into it, alcohol, bar fights, late nights with women whose names he didn’t bother to learn. I heard the stories. Everyone did. He was burning out and didn’t care who watched.

But I still loved him. That never changed. Even as guilt gnawed away at me like rot under the skin.

And then one night, I found him.

Passed out in a back booth at some shitty dive off Sunset. Guitar case on the table, empty bottle in front of him. He looked like a ghost, pale, thinner, eyes sunken like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Izzy,” I said, crouching beside him. My hand touched his shoulder. He flinched hard.

His eyes opened, bloodshot and slow to focus. “Why the hell are you here?”

“I needed to see you. I’m worried.”

He sat up, barely. “A little late for worry, sweetheart.”

“I know I hurt you,” I whispered. “But I love you. I never stopped.”

He looked at me, really looked, and I could see it all behind his eyes. The pain. The love. The memories.

“I believe that,” he said finally, voice hoarse. “And it doesn’t matter.”

My throat tightened. “Izzy…”

“You broke something in me. And no matter how much I want to pretend I can forgive you, I can’t.” He reached for his bottle, found it empty, and dropped it with a thud. “I hope you figure your shit out someday. But you and me? We’re done.”

And that was it.

He stood and walked away, guitar slung over his shoulder like a war wound. I didn’t chase him.

Because maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

happy birthday izzy love u so fuckin much old man 😭😭😭💕💕💕