My Random Guns N' Roses One-shots

Izzy x Steven (Sneak-Peak at my new ongoing BDSM fic)

Heyyyyy. How's everybody doing? Sorry I haven't been updating. The end of the year has been stressful. Between AP tests, final projects, and studying for my actual finals (which are tomorrow, heh) I have not had much time to write. But! I promised an ongoing Stradler fic about Izzy and Steven getting up to all sorts of kinky shit. So I thought I'd give you all a sneak-peak at the first chapter. Because I'm a nice person like that. Hopefully, I'll get an actual separate story together by the end of next week, since I still need a few things. Like a description. And a cover. If any of you are fanartists (idk what the proper term is) or know fanartists who could make a cover, please message me. 

xxxGoth-Bunny

The cheap, splintery, wooden stool Steven was sitting on creaked aggressively. The only furniture they had were two beds, a tiny kitchen set- not that any of them could cook, an old television his mom had donated to their cause, a musky-smelling moldy-green sofa with a suspicious looking crusty white stain on one of its cushions, a table with a broken leg that had to be propped up with a crumbling cinder block, and two chairs; one which seemed likely to crumble under Steven in the next few seconds. The apartment itself was part of a squat, tannish-colored building whose paint job made it appear a similar color to an old lady's ass. It had been built on the corner of La Cienega Boulevard and Fountain Avenue and had been something of a gift from Geffen after the record company learned of the fact that most, if not all, of the members of Guns N' Roses were intermittently homeless.

Axl was sitting across from Steven, leaning back in his own chair with his boot-clad feet resting on the edge of the table. He had appointed himself in charge of handing out the rooms- a fact that was unsurprising to Steven. What did surprise him was that Axl had decided that he and Slash were to be sharing the larger of the two bedrooms while Steven had the smaller bedroom to himself. The drummer had expected Axl to demand that he have the smaller room to himself and shove the other two into the other bedroom. Steven supposed the singer was relying on Slash to get a girlfriend before the end of the week and move out, leaving Axl with his own, larger room.

Steven's new room was one of the smallest rooms he had ever seen. It was so tiny in fact, that the cheap mattress and rusty metal bedframe took up an entire half of the room. The floor was covered with wall to wall carpeting that was a similar color to the musky-smelling sofa that was displayed in the front room, and the once white walls appeared to be covered in a thin layer of sand and cooking oil. The room also boasted a grime-streaked window on the wall next to the bed, a light fixture that looked oddly like a tit had been stuck onto the ceiling, and a closet so small Steven himself wouldn't be able to fit inside. The closet had three flimsy looking pink plastic hangers inside it- two intact, one on the floor with its hook snapped off.

Surveying what would be his only sanctuary between him and the outside world- at least until they got kicked out of the apartment- Steven tossed his two pillows and a set of sheets- another gift from his mother- onto the bed. The mattress, eager to please, coughed up a nice cloud of dirt when the pillows landed. With his garbage bag of clothes and drumsticks unceremoniously dumped in the closet, the drummer turned back to the bed.

It had never occurred to him that putting sheets on a bed might be difficult. In fact, Steven had many childhood memories of watching his mother quickly and skillfully make all the beds in the house once a week. Maybe making a bed was a skill everyone else had learned in school and he had just ditched that day. That was possible. Putting sheets on a bed was turning out to be an impossible task. The pillow cases had gone on just fine. He knew how to do that. But the bottom sheet was another thing entirely. First of all, the mattress was weirdly really fucking heavy. Secondly, every time he got a second corner of the sheet hooked under the mattress, the first corner would pop off. So he would have to go back and secure the other corner, only to watch the corner he had just secured ten seconds ago pop off. Steven was tempted to just say "fuck it" and sleep on the mattress, but if he didn't get the sheets on the bed today, they were never going to go onto a bed again.