petals-and-bullets

[petals-and-bullets]

Clan III

Pairing: Izzy x Reader

Word Count: 1284

Info: Request from @julessworldd! "Would you ever consider writing a part 3 to the one fic where the reader is Duffs older cousin, who is a doctor. Her and Izzy are engaged and planning on marrying very soon? Pt 2 was a cliff hanger and I’m curious to see if Duff puts things a side and goes to be a witness at the courthouse. Hope you have been good 💓"

The plane tickets were easy enough to purchase, and the plane itself was easy enough to board. Rather, you just had to sit back and enjoy the 9-hour flight that took you across the Atlantic ocean to land firmly on the soil that your dearest fiancé was residing on.

As well as your cousin.

You hadn’t heard from Duff after the revelation that you had been engaged to his bandmate escaped – and not exactly in the way you had wanted. His words before he had passed you the phone hurt more than you anticipated, with the defeated tone that had seeped through his words, and you knew that you had fucked up. Royally.

Duff was less like a cousin than he was a brother, and you knew that you were unlikely to make up for the damages you had unwittingly caused; you could only hope that Izzy, in some bizarre way of his, had managed to convince him it wasn’t an intended slight against him. After all, nobody knew that you had been engaged, having carefully hidden your ring whenever you were around company. It was amusing, really, the way you and Izzy had thought you could share the secret between yourselves, but it had come at a greater expense than either of you were willing to pay.

You glanced up from your book, some paper written by some doctor in Germany arguing for the benefits of some new surgery, at the sound of the ding from the seatbelt light. Packing your minimal belongings into the small carry-on you had, you clicked your seatbelt into place and sat back, watching as the rolling fields of England came into view as the plane descended from the sky. Disembarking the plane and getting through security was a blur, and you found yourself enveloped in a pair of arms that held you to a chest that smelt faintly of mixed spice, cigarettes and just something that was distinctly Jeffrey Isbell.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he said softly into your hair, winding his arms further around you, as though he were afraid that if he let go, you would vanish into thin air. It was also a subtle way to ensure you were blocked from any prying eyes of the paparazzi, and he lifted his head to gaze down at your tired face, his lips curling into that beautifully crooked grin that you loved so much. You reached up and cupped his cheeks before you brought his head down to meet your lips, the kiss tender and soft.

“Hey yourself,” you responded, just as soft, and you pulled back to look over your shoulder at the crowds that were slowly beginning to form; news had obviously gotten out that there was a celebrity present in the airport, yet you doubted that they had quite realised who it was they were here for. Izzy always joked that he was the forgettable one, the one who hid in the shadows and observed everything – although he certainly wasn’t a saint. How the hell he was even allowed into an airport after the incident, you had no clue. The boys had found it hilarious, dubbing him ‘Whizzy’, which made you roll your eyes every time you heard it.

“We ought to get going. Don’t want to get mobbed by a crowd if I can help it.”

Izzy firmly planted his hand at the small of your back and guided you quickly through the airport, ducking his head at just the right times to avoid being recognised – though the amusement of watching him do so quickly wore thin. It was too much like being at a McKagan family gathering, trying to avoid the prying eyes of any nosy relatives that wanted to comment on whatever downfalls they could find. The thoughts distracted you enough to the point where you hadn’t even realised where you were going until you found yourself outside of a sleek black car, the make you couldn’t determine. It was very much like your fiancé – stripped down to its bare bones, with no distinguishing features on show. You shot him a brief look before you climbed into the back, and he slid in quickly after you, sinking back into his seat with a small sigh.

“You look exhausted.”

“So do you.”

The pair of you looked at each other, sitting in the comfortable silence that always enveloped you both, before he reached out and brushed your hair from your face, his thumb stroking over your bottom lip gently in thought.

“I got us booked in a registration office. Took a lot of doing, mind. But we’re booked. Ready for tonight.”

“Tonight? Izzy, I don’t even look remotely ready to get married-“

“Sunshine, I don’t care about that. We can get a proper ceremony, or whatever when we get home, whatever you’d like. But I just wanna get hitched as soon as I can to you.”

You watched him, your lower lip caught in your teeth as you thought. It had always been in the cards, you supposed, to get married as soon as the plane touched the ground. At least he hadn’t dragged an officiant to the airport to marry the pair of you as soon as you stepped through security, though you wouldn’t put it past him to try.

“Alright, fine. Tonight. But you’re not disturbing me while I get ready.”

His mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of some excuse to join you, before he fell quiet.

“Okay.”

The hours flew by faster than you had anticipated, and you found yourself sitting in that same indistinguishable car with your soon-to-be husband sat beside you, your hands clasped together tightly. He’d mentioned wanting to get there early, to give you a wedding gift, despite your protests that you hadn’t gotten him anything. He’d waved your concerns off.

Once you arrived, the heavens opened and rain fell from the sky, prompting those caught on the street to lift umbrellas to protect themselves, blocking your view of the registry steps, though you could’ve sworn that you had seen someone who looked just like Duff. You looked at Izzy and gave a wan smile, feeling the pit in your heart grow even larger at the thought you were getting married without the man you’d practically grown up with by your side to observe. As though he sensed your hesitation, he kissed your knuckles and pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Just wait. You’ll see.”

He guided you out of the car and you both rushed up the steps, your eyes searching desperately for the familiar face. You let Izzy handle the paperwork, craning your neck in an attempt to get a glimpse of Duff, and your shoulders sagged as you acknowledged that he wasn’t coming. The rift that you had created had gotten too large, and there was no way for you to repair it. Not in time for him to see you get married. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as Izzy guided you through the building and to the small room in the back that would host your miniscule wedding, only to wink and push open the doors.

You looked up, your eyes making direct contact with Duff’s.

Who was stood behind the officiant’s lectern.

And then it dawned on you; Izzy’s wedding gift, the thing he had been so insistent on, was that Duff had agreed to officiate your wedding for you, in the grandest display of an apology that could probably have beaten Axl riding a white horse to apologise to whichever girlfriend he had upset.

You smiled and stepped into the room, prepared to go from Dr McKagan, to Dr Isbell.

[petals-and-bullets]

Clan III

Pairing: Izzy x Reader

Word Count: 1284

Info: Request from @julessworldd! "Would you ever consider writing a part 3 to the one fic where the reader is Duffs older cousin, who is a doctor. Her and Izzy are engaged and planning on marrying very soon? Pt 2 was a cliff hanger and I’m curious to see if Duff puts things a side and goes to be a witness at the courthouse. Hope you have been good 💓"

The plane tickets were easy enough to purchase, and the plane itself was easy enough to board. Rather, you just had to sit back and enjoy the 9-hour flight that took you across the Atlantic ocean to land firmly on the soil that your dearest fiancé was residing on.

As well as your cousin.

You hadn’t heard from Duff after the revelation that you had been engaged to his bandmate escaped – and not exactly in the way you had wanted. His words before he had passed you the phone hurt more than you anticipated, with the defeated tone that had seeped through his words, and you knew that you had fucked up. Royally.

Duff was less like a cousin than he was a brother, and you knew that you were unlikely to make up for the damages you had unwittingly caused; you could only hope that Izzy, in some bizarre way of his, had managed to convince him it wasn’t an intended slight against him. After all, nobody knew that you had been engaged, having carefully hidden your ring whenever you were around company. It was amusing, really, the way you and Izzy had thought you could share the secret between yourselves, but it had come at a greater expense than either of you were willing to pay.

You glanced up from your book, some paper written by some doctor in Germany arguing for the benefits of some new surgery, at the sound of the ding from the seatbelt light. Packing your minimal belongings into the small carry-on you had, you clicked your seatbelt into place and sat back, watching as the rolling fields of England came into view as the plane descended from the sky. Disembarking the plane and getting through security was a blur, and you found yourself enveloped in a pair of arms that held you to a chest that smelt faintly of mixed spice, cigarettes and just something that was distinctly Jeffrey Isbell.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he said softly into your hair, winding his arms further around you, as though he were afraid that if he let go, you would vanish into thin air. It was also a subtle way to ensure you were blocked from any prying eyes of the paparazzi, and he lifted his head to gaze down at your tired face, his lips curling into that beautifully crooked grin that you loved so much. You reached up and cupped his cheeks before you brought his head down to meet your lips, the kiss tender and soft.

“Hey yourself,” you responded, just as soft, and you pulled back to look over your shoulder at the crowds that were slowly beginning to form; news had obviously gotten out that there was a celebrity present in the airport, yet you doubted that they had quite realised who it was they were here for. Izzy always joked that he was the forgettable one, the one who hid in the shadows and observed everything – although he certainly wasn’t a saint. How the hell he was even allowed into an airport after the incident, you had no clue. The boys had found it hilarious, dubbing him ‘Whizzy’, which made you roll your eyes every time you heard it.

“We ought to get going. Don’t want to get mobbed by a crowd if I can help it.”

Izzy firmly planted his hand at the small of your back and guided you quickly through the airport, ducking his head at just the right times to avoid being recognised – though the amusement of watching him do so quickly wore thin. It was too much like being at a McKagan family gathering, trying to avoid the prying eyes of any nosy relatives that wanted to comment on whatever downfalls they could find. The thoughts distracted you enough to the point where you hadn’t even realised where you were going until you found yourself outside of a sleek black car, the make you couldn’t determine. It was very much like your fiancé – stripped down to its bare bones, with no distinguishing features on show. You shot him a brief look before you climbed into the back, and he slid in quickly after you, sinking back into his seat with a small sigh.

“You look exhausted.”

“So do you.”

The pair of you looked at each other, sitting in the comfortable silence that always enveloped you both, before he reached out and brushed your hair from your face, his thumb stroking over your bottom lip gently in thought.

“I got us booked in a registration office. Took a lot of doing, mind. But we’re booked. Ready for tonight.”

“Tonight? Izzy, I don’t even look remotely ready to get married-“

“Sunshine, I don’t care about that. We can get a proper ceremony, or whatever when we get home, whatever you’d like. But I just wanna get hitched as soon as I can to you.”

You watched him, your lower lip caught in your teeth as you thought. It had always been in the cards, you supposed, to get married as soon as the plane touched the ground. At least he hadn’t dragged an officiant to the airport to marry the pair of you as soon as you stepped through security, though you wouldn’t put it past him to try.

“Alright, fine. Tonight. But you’re not disturbing me while I get ready.”

His mouth opened and closed as he tried to think of some excuse to join you, before he fell quiet.

“Okay.”

The hours flew by faster than you had anticipated, and you found yourself sitting in that same indistinguishable car with your soon-to-be husband sat beside you, your hands clasped together tightly. He’d mentioned wanting to get there early, to give you a wedding gift, despite your protests that you hadn’t gotten him anything. He’d waved your concerns off.

Once you arrived, the heavens opened and rain fell from the sky, prompting those caught on the street to lift umbrellas to protect themselves, blocking your view of the registry steps, though you could’ve sworn that you had seen someone who looked just like Duff. You looked at Izzy and gave a wan smile, feeling the pit in your heart grow even larger at the thought you were getting married without the man you’d practically grown up with by your side to observe. As though he sensed your hesitation, he kissed your knuckles and pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Just wait. You’ll see.”

He guided you out of the car and you both rushed up the steps, your eyes searching desperately for the familiar face. You let Izzy handle the paperwork, craning your neck in an attempt to get a glimpse of Duff, and your shoulders sagged as you acknowledged that he wasn’t coming. The rift that you had created had gotten too large, and there was no way for you to repair it. Not in time for him to see you get married. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth as Izzy guided you through the building and to the small room in the back that would host your miniscule wedding, only to wink and push open the doors.

You looked up, your eyes making direct contact with Duff’s.

Who was stood behind the officiant’s lectern.

And then it dawned on you; Izzy’s wedding gift, the thing he had been so insistent on, was that Duff had agreed to officiate your wedding for you, in the grandest display of an apology that could probably have beaten Axl riding a white horse to apologise to whichever girlfriend he had upset.

You smiled and stepped into the room, prepared to go from Dr McKagan, to Dr Isbell.

[petals-and-bullets]

Ritz, 1991

[petals-and-bullets]

Will you do a part 2 to monarch?

Hello! I will do, at some point in the future - I’m currently in the process of trying to figure out who would suit what roles.

Monarch is meant to be based in around the Tudor period (being the 16th/very early 17th centuries), since that is the period I am most comfortable with. Unfortunately, it means there’s a lot of faff due to people getting historical facts wrong (including myself). I don’t want it to be a purely historical series, but my historian heart wants it to be accurate enough that I would enjoy writing & reading it!

[petals-and-bullets]

Mr Jewel

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Word Count: 1441

Info: Mr Jewel was like the Boogeyman – the story parents would tell their kids when they were misbehaving to convince them to stop acting up. Only this time, Mr Jewel was the story the cops would tell the criminals – or rather, what the employees would tell the businessmen so they’d start paying them decently, or something. And one fateful night, you were forced to meet the Boogeyman.

It was always raining in the city. It wasn’t exactly the nicest experience, but it mattered little to the pair of men stood in the alleyway, the only light being the lit ends of their cigarettes whenever they took a drag, sheltered under the safety of a hanging awning from the store beside them.

After a few moments, one of the men reached into his pocket and with little reaction shot his partner, watching his body crumble and collapse to the floor before he lazily flicked away the remains of his cigarettes and stuffed his pistol back into the pocket of his coat and hunched his shoulders to his ears before he adjusted his cap and walked into the night, vanishing into the shadows with little noise.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning, when the sun’s rays began to lick the pavement, that the body of one of the most influential businessmen of the city would be found.

You hated the nightshift. It was pretty much almost always cold, it was almost certainly raining, and you didn’t want to talk about the subtle rise in murder-robberies that had begun to loom over the city like a thick fog. And you refused to believe the rumours of the mysterious Mr Jewel, who had suddenly gained infamy despite being a mere story. He was like the Boogeyman – the story parents would tell their kids when they were misbehaving to convince them to stop acting up. Only this time, Mr Jewel was the story the cops would tell the criminals – or rather, what the employees would tell the businessmen so they’d start paying them decently, or something.

“See you soon, Bob,” you called out as you grabbed your coat from the shitty hook that looked like if anything heavier than the light jacket you wore would be put on it, it would fall off the wall, and probably bring the rest of the wall down with it. Bob’s Diner wasn’t the cleanest – or most maintained diner in the city – but it paid a decent wage and Bob, the overweight owner and self-proclaimed master chef, made sure you and the others under his employ were kept safe and out of bother. The man didn’t take anything for an excuse if there was trouble, and there was a long list of names who had been banned from even showing their face in the diner because they’d made one of the waiters or waitresses uncomfortable.

You smiled at the grunted goodbye before you stepped out into the cool wind, wrapping your jacket further around yourself as you began your trek down the road. A few lone cars drove past, but you didn’t pay any heed to them. Everyone had places to be or things to do, just like yourself, and yet there was something that made you slow your pace as you walked past the alley, squinting into the dark curiously. After a moment, you dared to take a few steps into the darkness, your ears taking note of every noise that echoed in between the buildings that surrounded you, though you froze at the sound of low voices. Daring to glance back at the entrance to the alley, you eventually swallowed and continued your advance forward, only to stumble a little and stop when you realised just what you had walked into.

In front of you, their faces illuminated by the lit ends of their cigarettes, were two men. One of them, his eyes glinting in the shadows as he turned to face you, raised one hand, the bracelets hanging off his wrist jangling and shining in the dim lights that barely allowed you to see the features of his face. Your gaze trailed from his dark eyes and down to his hand, where you froze with the realisation that he was aiming a gun at you. Your mouth opened and closed wordlessly like a fish, as you tried to find the words to say something, anything to him.

Without blinking, he turned and fired his gun at his companion, and you couldn’t help but shriek as ethe other man’s body crumpled and he collapsed. When you realised the other man had turned his gaze back to you, you immediately jumped back and stumbled over your own feet as you tried to think of something, anything, to say to him, if anything to save your own life. Eventually, your back hit the wall and you unconsciously looked towards the man, stifling a whimper as he stalked towards you. Gloved fingers took a hold of your chin and guided you to look at him, and your eyes widened as you realised that the stories you had heard weren’t just fake stories – they were real.

Mr Jewel was real, and he was stood right in front of you.

“Hello, darling,” he muttered, his voice surprisingly soft, before he guided you to turn your head this way and that. He quirked a brow, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he continued to investigate your face – the way your eyes widened, the way your lower lip trembled, either from fear or from the cold, he didn’t care to guess which was the answer.

“What do you want?” You shot back, your breath condensing into a puff of air that floated between you, dissipating between you before he leaned in, his own breath warming your cheeks and the bridge of your nose. The scent of cigarette smoke and coffee filled your nose, and you scrunched it slightly as your brain scrambled to remember where you had smelled it before; where you had seen that jawline for. His sunglasses, despite it being dark, hid his eyes from you, and your eyes widened in realisation when his hand rose to push them down the bridge of the distinct nose, his lips curling into a smile you knew far too well.

“Izzy?” You forced out, your eyes widening in horror as you realised that your boyfriend – the man who had previously held you close and stroked your hair and comforted you after you had a nightmare about Mr Jewel – was Mr Jewel himself. Your stomach twisted, forming tight knots as you struggled to maintain your calm as he tilted his head in acknowledgement, his hand sliding down your arm to firmly grasp your hand in his.

“The one and the same. Now, we should really be off,” he muttered, before he pulled you out of the alley and into the cold night, his steps brisk and his eyes alert, like a cat on the prowl for another creature that might impose upon its territory. Too stunned to say anything, you stumbled alongside him until he reached the low seated body of his car, opening the door for you.

“Ever the gentleman,” you muttered, before you clambered in at the warning glance he gave you. After another glance around, he walked to the driver’s side and slid in, before he calmly started the car and drove down the poorly lighted streets, one hand expertly retrieving a cigarette from his pocket before he lit it with his lighter. You watched him from your spot in the front seat, hugging your knees as you considered your next steps, before you opened your mouth.

“You know, what? No. What the fuck, Izzy?”

The only response you really got was a quirked brow, before he sighed and glanced at you, dark eyes peering over the rim of his sunglasses. That bloody look made you grit your teeth, and you crossed your arms and slumped back into your seat with a huff.

“And now you’re acting like a petulant child?” He questioned eventually, before he sighed and pulled over, before he turned to face you, resting an elbow on the steering wheel.

“I’m not acting like anything. I just want an answer on what the fuck is going on. I mean, you’re- You…” You trailed off as you finally looked at him, your anger dissipating as you regarded the man before you, licking your bottom lip.

“Well, you’re smart. You can put two and two together; you figured out who I am.”

“I’m very well aware of that. But I want to know why. Or how.”

“How?”

“Yes, how. How the hell you hid,” you motioned to him, “this from me.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, taking another deep drag of his cigarette in thought as he processed what would be the best answer to provide – if anything, to satiate your curiosity, but keep you in the dark to protect you.

“And I want the truth, Iz.”

“Well, darling. You’d best get comfortable, then.”

[petals-and-bullets]

Slash and Duff Mckagan fairycore aesthetic ( because I act on impulse)

[petals-and-bullets]

Mr Jewel

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Reader

Word Count: 1441

Info: Mr Jewel was like the Boogeyman – the story parents would tell their kids when they were misbehaving to convince them to stop acting up. Only this time, Mr Jewel was the story the cops would tell the criminals – or rather, what the employees would tell the businessmen so they’d start paying them decently, or something. And one fateful night, you were forced to meet the Boogeyman.

It was always raining in the city. It wasn’t exactly the nicest experience, but it mattered little to the pair of men stood in the alleyway, the only light being the lit ends of their cigarettes whenever they took a drag, sheltered under the safety of a hanging awning from the store beside them.

After a few moments, one of the men reached into his pocket and with little reaction shot his partner, watching his body crumble and collapse to the floor before he lazily flicked away the remains of his cigarettes and stuffed his pistol back into the pocket of his coat and hunched his shoulders to his ears before he adjusted his cap and walked into the night, vanishing into the shadows with little noise.

It wouldn’t be until the next morning, when the sun’s rays began to lick the pavement, that the body of one of the most influential businessmen of the city would be found.

You hated the nightshift. It was pretty much almost always cold, it was almost certainly raining, and you didn’t want to talk about the subtle rise in murder-robberies that had begun to loom over the city like a thick fog. And you refused to believe the rumours of the mysterious Mr Jewel, who had suddenly gained infamy despite being a mere story. He was like the Boogeyman – the story parents would tell their kids when they were misbehaving to convince them to stop acting up. Only this time, Mr Jewel was the story the cops would tell the criminals – or rather, what the employees would tell the businessmen so they’d start paying them decently, or something.

“See you soon, Bob,” you called out as you grabbed your coat from the shitty hook that looked like if anything heavier than the light jacket you wore would be put on it, it would fall off the wall, and probably bring the rest of the wall down with it. Bob’s Diner wasn’t the cleanest – or most maintained diner in the city – but it paid a decent wage and Bob, the overweight owner and self-proclaimed master chef, made sure you and the others under his employ were kept safe and out of bother. The man didn’t take anything for an excuse if there was trouble, and there was a long list of names who had been banned from even showing their face in the diner because they’d made one of the waiters or waitresses uncomfortable.

You smiled at the grunted goodbye before you stepped out into the cool wind, wrapping your jacket further around yourself as you began your trek down the road. A few lone cars drove past, but you didn’t pay any heed to them. Everyone had places to be or things to do, just like yourself, and yet there was something that made you slow your pace as you walked past the alley, squinting into the dark curiously. After a moment, you dared to take a few steps into the darkness, your ears taking note of every noise that echoed in between the buildings that surrounded you, though you froze at the sound of low voices. Daring to glance back at the entrance to the alley, you eventually swallowed and continued your advance forward, only to stumble a little and stop when you realised just what you had walked into.

In front of you, their faces illuminated by the lit ends of their cigarettes, were two men. One of them, his eyes glinting in the shadows as he turned to face you, raised one hand, the bracelets hanging off his wrist jangling and shining in the dim lights that barely allowed you to see the features of his face. Your gaze trailed from his dark eyes and down to his hand, where you froze with the realisation that he was aiming a gun at you. Your mouth opened and closed wordlessly like a fish, as you tried to find the words to say something, anything to him.

Without blinking, he turned and fired his gun at his companion, and you couldn’t help but shriek as ethe other man’s body crumpled and he collapsed. When you realised the other man had turned his gaze back to you, you immediately jumped back and stumbled over your own feet as you tried to think of something, anything, to say to him, if anything to save your own life. Eventually, your back hit the wall and you unconsciously looked towards the man, stifling a whimper as he stalked towards you. Gloved fingers took a hold of your chin and guided you to look at him, and your eyes widened as you realised that the stories you had heard weren’t just fake stories – they were real.

Mr Jewel was real, and he was stood right in front of you.

“Hello, darling,” he muttered, his voice surprisingly soft, before he guided you to turn your head this way and that. He quirked a brow, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he continued to investigate your face – the way your eyes widened, the way your lower lip trembled, either from fear or from the cold, he didn’t care to guess which was the answer.

“What do you want?” You shot back, your breath condensing into a puff of air that floated between you, dissipating between you before he leaned in, his own breath warming your cheeks and the bridge of your nose. The scent of cigarette smoke and coffee filled your nose, and you scrunched it slightly as your brain scrambled to remember where you had smelled it before; where you had seen that jawline for. His sunglasses, despite it being dark, hid his eyes from you, and your eyes widened in realisation when his hand rose to push them down the bridge of the distinct nose, his lips curling into a smile you knew far too well.

“Izzy?” You forced out, your eyes widening in horror as you realised that your boyfriend – the man who had previously held you close and stroked your hair and comforted you after you had a nightmare about Mr Jewel – was Mr Jewel himself. Your stomach twisted, forming tight knots as you struggled to maintain your calm as he tilted his head in acknowledgement, his hand sliding down your arm to firmly grasp your hand in his.

“The one and the same. Now, we should really be off,” he muttered, before he pulled you out of the alley and into the cold night, his steps brisk and his eyes alert, like a cat on the prowl for another creature that might impose upon its territory. Too stunned to say anything, you stumbled alongside him until he reached the low seated body of his car, opening the door for you.

“Ever the gentleman,” you muttered, before you clambered in at the warning glance he gave you. After another glance around, he walked to the driver’s side and slid in, before he calmly started the car and drove down the poorly lighted streets, one hand expertly retrieving a cigarette from his pocket before he lit it with his lighter. You watched him from your spot in the front seat, hugging your knees as you considered your next steps, before you opened your mouth.

“You know, what? No. What the fuck, Izzy?”

The only response you really got was a quirked brow, before he sighed and glanced at you, dark eyes peering over the rim of his sunglasses. That bloody look made you grit your teeth, and you crossed your arms and slumped back into your seat with a huff.

“And now you’re acting like a petulant child?” He questioned eventually, before he sighed and pulled over, before he turned to face you, resting an elbow on the steering wheel.

“I’m not acting like anything. I just want an answer on what the fuck is going on. I mean, you’re- You…” You trailed off as you finally looked at him, your anger dissipating as you regarded the man before you, licking your bottom lip.

“Well, you’re smart. You can put two and two together; you figured out who I am.”

“I’m very well aware of that. But I want to know why. Or how.”

“How?”

“Yes, how. How the hell you hid,” you motioned to him, “this from me.”

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, taking another deep drag of his cigarette in thought as he processed what would be the best answer to provide – if anything, to satiate your curiosity, but keep you in the dark to protect you.

“And I want the truth, Iz.”

“Well, darling. You’d best get comfortable, then.”

[petals-and-bullets]

Bad Obsesion demo

OMGGGGG, IZZY'S VOICE I'm going to cry now 😭

[petals-and-bullets]

Names

Pairing: Izzy x Reader

Word Count: 1588

Info: Anon Request! ‘Hi could you please write a fic about with Izzy Stradlin and whenever he and the reader have sex she will sometimes subconsciously switch to moaning Jeff instead of Izzy and it really turns him on even though the reader has not clue she does it so Izzy brings it up one night and idk what the ending would be 😂 surprise me! Also sorry if this was confusing 😂 ‘

A/N: Apologies for taking so long! Writer’s block had hit me harder than anticipated, although I do hope this was worth the wait! I’ve already gotten started on the other fic requests, so it shouldn’t be long until they’re released too. Thank you for your patience and support; it really means a lot!

Keep reading

[petals-and-bullets]

“The story of Guns n’ Roses” (2004)

[petals-and-bullets]

when i say he looks like a painting

I

MEAN

IT

[petals-and-bullets]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY STRADLIN!! <3

Jeffrey baby's 60th birthday

[petals-and-bullets]

HAPPY 60th BIRTHDAY IZZY STRADLIN (April 8, 1962)

[petals-and-bullets]

@stradlin-the-globe posted this on instagram and im smiling and crying at the same time over this cute tiny face of my baby izzy...

i donno what else to say:"((

[petals-and-bullets]

[petals-and-bullets]

A slide (film transparency) of Izzy Stradlin and the Ju Ju Hounds.

Thanks for stopping by my little Tumblr I appreciate it. It’s something I do in my spare time that makes me happy. Hope you’re well and safe.

🥀

[petals-and-bullets]

Unexpectadly

Pairing: Slash | Saul Hudson x fem!reader

Requested: for smutty saturday: could you write something where slash and y/n are in a long term relationship and they really want kids and slash has the biggest breeding kink ever and one day his girl tells him she’s pregnant and it ends up with passionate sex and dirty talking? btw your writing skills are amazing, i have read some of your fics for so many times that i ended up already knowing everything line from them 

Info/TW: Fluff and smut [handjob, breeding kink but not in too much detail,dirty talking]; pregnancy and unnefective contraceptive methods; 2908 words

AN: Is it smutty saturday? No. Do I care? Also no. First thing I’ve published in a long time, hope my writings are still worth posting <3

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