Rules & Writing List.

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.

Hii! I wanna request a Slash fic but was wondering if you’d want free reign or for me to specify a scenario?

hey anon! thank you for asking. i’d be more than happy to write for slash, but i does help me out a lot as a writer (and i suppose for you as a reader, in a way) if you request a specific scenario so a) i have a rough plot idea b) you get something you want that is tailored to YOU! 💝 either works though, i just love making people happy with their requests.

writing and then losing motivation halfway through <<<<

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

i'd purposely get him mad so he could scold me like this

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

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.

hi,

first I want to say, I love LOVE your blog! 🥺❤️

second, your writing is beautiful, I write fan fiction too but I have to say you are an incredible writer. when I read your story I felt I was reading a published novel and I could see the story playing out like a film 🎥😭

It gave me so many emotions but mostly this emoji 🥹🥰

OH MY GOD 💖🥹 thank you so so much!!!!! that is so sweet. <3 i try HAHA i definitely have lots to work on and improve and i hope y’all can bear with me. thank you so so much 💖💖💖💖 as a writer i’m sure you know how big of a compliment that is!!!!!

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. 💗