“Good Swimmer”

Just GNR being GNR

Me when this part of dumb but instrumental version comes on or just the song in general:

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅

Izzy stradlin/ fem!Reader

Tags: original female character, late 1980s, karaoke night, music, cussing, smut, p in v sex, not established relationship, implying drug use, teasing, just Izzy (is already a tag), drunk/high state, wall sex, fingering kind of, maybe some other additional tags to be added(tell me if I missed something) + also it’s very long and I’m sorry but still hope you enjoy (lol).

Description: Under the neon lights of the Sunset Strip, a night of karaoke with Izzy Stradlin takes an unexpected turn. As MDMA flows through your veins and classic rock anthems fill the air, boundaries blur between performance and desire. What begins as musical connection evolves into something far more intense, but in the haze of substances and stolen kisses, can anything real emerge by morning?

a/n: that was supposed to be one of the chapters for my Ao3 fanfic with Izzy “Anhedonia” (shameless promotion yeah ikr) but I changed my plans for the plot itself so this chapter won’t be originally there. But I was kind of sad to throw away this beautiful chapter so I changed it a little bit to make a smut out of it. (lol what a lovely way to let this chapter live) So maybe I will post it here and on my Ao3, I’ll see. Anyway, I hope you enjoy cause it’s my first time writing smut (sorry if it’s ass) and I kind of need to train for further usage of this “genre”. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

A strong grip grabbed your hand, leading you through the crowd of people who stuck to each other like tongues on ice, exchanging scents. His dilated pupils and clouded gaze could not be erased from your memory, while the “vitamin” taken half an hour earlier worked deep under your skull, creating a false sense of comfort in the middle of an ocean of the unknown. Izzy’s calloused and dry fingers intercepted yours, gluing the skin, so smooth, like child’s with his flaky and warm one. The difference was sensual. The rings he wore cooled some corners of your limbs, only to sweat again after a while, sliding like oil and electrifying the sense of touch. Like two teenagers, you ran after each other along the dark and dimly lit streets of the Sunset Strip, laughing with all your might and feeling especially free. It seemed to you that the whole world is just nonsense, you are the main character of your story where all those people are your friends and in general you are the queen of the whole world. You became more social and wanted to make friends with everyone. Izzy became more alive, you don’t know if you will remember him like this, if in the morning when the carriage turns into a pumpkin you will remember his happy eyes, saturated with euphoria. Remembering the fact that he threw off the shackles, running away with you from the imaginary guards of your prison with him inside your reality. Now in your heads there was not a single negative thought or guilt for actions, you felt good. And it doesn’t matter what the world thinks, because only you exist.

Somewhere in the distance, music was playing from some old convertible crookedly parked on the side of the road, spraying Bowie or Prince songs everywhere, you did not catch the familiar melody with your ears, not even having time to look back as Izzy pushed you after him into a dim alley lit only by neon and light from the windows of people who lived above. The air around you smelled of gasoline, burning, cheap street food and cigarettes, making the space just a thick impenetrable flow of mixed smells that your nose did not perceive well. Lifting your chest up, then down and then up again, you opened your mouth wanting only to inhale more air than everyone else, collecting a large armful of the remaining pure oxygen. It’s not real in places like this and soon it will be sold in bags along with drugs, because substances trick our brains, making us feel a constant need for something that our bodies do not need. Air is needed more than cocaine. One to live, another to not die. Izzy has the same reaction to you, especially now when his tall figure like a shield pushed everyone around, trampling a path for you through the tall grass and helping you further to the very corner of the alley where a red neon sign awaited you: “Backbeat Karaoke Lounge”. Slightly blinking, as if all the life was sucked out of it. The two letters “K” in the karaoke didn’t glow, which is why you couldn’t immediately read what was written there, already feeling like everything was swimming before your eyes. The other letters were still shining, like stars at the end of their lives, indicating the fact that soon no one would even guess what was written on this damn sign.

Izzy pushed the heavy wooden door with his shoulder, directing it forward. It was covered with leatherette like in underground clubs. Inside, behind this door, it generally smelled of cheap beer, overheated bodies and cigarette smoke that blurred the vision. Heat rushed into your body. You didn’t imagine Izzy’s brain being the genius of bad ideas, but in the last few days he began to show his bad side too often. Maybe this is for the best, fate screams run, but your brain says otherwise and begs you to stay. The impossible is possible, especially now when you realize that it’s already been several days since you met him and during this time you managed to spend more time together than apart. It says something, but you don't know what it is yet. It might be bad, it might be good, but it doesn't matter how fast your story does, it matters how deep it goes into your skin. And Izzy will stay there because he can't get his satisfaction.

Familiar pupils caught yours when you found yourself in place where everyone around you was free. Or rather, substances gave them wings of freedom sending them to heavenly heavens of pleasure while black filled the blooming surface of irises. Your euphoric wings of MDMA had long been digging in your brain, like a stick in an anthill releasing dopamine into free fall throughout the body while the world acquired colors and unusual softness, like moss. There was nothing under your feet and muffled music sounded in your ears, you feel it with every cell like a drowning man. Your senses were indeed the drowning Brian Jones. Yes, you are drowning just like him because breathing has become harder with every step. Like light through water, a neon sign on the wall meets you with Izzy inside "Sing your heart out" through this whole black hole of hedonism and damn prostitution of the soul. The ceilings were low, the walls were knocked off and only along them there were a few peeling booths with old posters - KISS, The Clash, Rolling Stones and many others that could be named during all evening. You liked them and now especially wanted to become one of them.

Izzy bought you drinks to sing karaoke for free, succumbing to another promotion and provocation to attract customers, selling more drinks. Karaoke evening once a week and you are already like Sherlock removing the mask from the false offers of an unpopular bar that is so eager to increase revenue. You looked around with your jaw lost somewhere as if you had never been to karaoke. In front of you was a small stage with two microphone stands, on the sides there were speakers on tripods, so old but powerful. They were so similar to guards. Behind the stage there was a TV with a convex screen and sometimes it seemed to you that it was about to pour out forward like liquid but solid magma. From the inside, there were low-res background videos of some beaches, random night shots of fireworks, waves and Tokyo. You wanted to jump right into the screen and be there among the azure waters and attractive pictures, only not here among the sweating crowd. A LaserDisc player, cassettes with soundtracks, a large remote control for selecting songs and a film were at your disposal when some idiots walked away realizing that real rock stars had come to replace them. You immediately took up the wired microphones with a metal grill and a power button, feeling like a real star. If only you could change your suit, you would be a real Freddie Mercury. Izzy was fiddling with the equipment when he returned from the bar counter, holding two large glasses of refreshing beer in his hand, which he left next to the screen, knowing for sure that both of you would sing until the end. What a tech geek. This guy knows his stuff and it seems he is not here for the first time.

- «Take on me.» you said out of the blue to which Izzy turned to you with a half-smile.

-«Is this flirting?» he asked in his usual raspy voice that jumped an octave higher, making him clear his throat. It was like he was hoping you meant something. Sometimes he was such a teenager that it made you smile and ruffle his hair with a smirk.

-«This is a song.» you pointed to the disc that laid out in a line with hundreds of others to which he turned his high eyes to you with disapproval not wanting to start with pop songs but noticing how your own puppy-like irises were looking at him, he nodded inserting the tape into the player, adjusting everything with the remote control as needed while you smiled with anticipation and nervously chattered your teeth. Familiar music came out of the speaker and it made you jump with anticipation, there was a small crowd around and you didn't care about them simply because Izzy and those songs meant more to your cheerful, high and exploratory view than a couple of idols that came to stare at you.

Izzy tuned in knowing that pop was definitely not what was on his playlist, but he decided to give you what you wanted. After all, it was his turn later. Anyway, he was here for one reason and that reason was reflected in his eyes as the first words appeared on the screen. Your voice was like that long yellow line, eating up the words, reproducing them from the screen into reality and pushing Izzy in the shoulder so that he would sing too and not stare at you.

- «…Today is another day to find you.» he blinked, returning to the screen and trying to catch the rhythm after the lost equilibrium he had just experienced when you had knocked him back into reality with your punch. Okay, lost social rating points again, he can give his cup back and run to the locker room in tears. How embarrassing, why was he staring at her? Okay..time to sing

- «Shying away.» Your voice complemented it and you turned to him as if apologizing for the awkward start. «I'll be coming for your love, okay?» such irony, such a sick and dishonest irony connected your views, which made you smile when his usual nut colored gaze caught yours. He sang it too and maybe it just seemed that way to you because you were high and all the people around you were your friends. But he clearly wanted to tell you something with this, because you weren't just joking around at the bar, but experiencing a small catharsis where even a small song is a confession.

- «Take on me.» Izzy's voice caught this chorus, which made you remember Morten Harket and his performative video where he calls a blonde girl with him to the world of comics on the other side of existence. Now this scene was similar to yours, it seemed that you were both about to run away to where no one would find you.

- «Take on me.» you smiled, catching his voice like a shooting star. Even if you couldn't sing, even if it didn't sound like Harket's, you both complemented each other. You weren't afraid to embarrass yourself, even if you were high, just because Izzy was there and he was in the same situation. 1:1.

-«Take me on.» such a cigarette and hoarse voice, completely unsuitable for a pop star, sounded from his thin and so desirable lips. Everything in the world seemed possible under the influence of drugs, even if from the outside you looked like idiots. You just wanted to forget and clasp his neck, giving him the opportunity to do everything he wanted with you.

-«I'll be gone... In a day or two» you tried to raise a high note, looking at the screen, then at Izzy, from which you got confused, feeling how laughter came out of your mouth by itself. Everything seemed so funny and simple. Even the fact that this phrase sounded ironic from your lips, you already forgot about everything looking into these deep brown or dark olive eyes, they changed color in the dark. You wanted to jump inside them, diving to the very depths, to his very heart. This feeling was repulsive knowing that you haven't even known each other for a week, but so what? No one cares.

The song continued and you began to dance when the melody began to gain momentum, pop music sometimes made you subconsciously shake your limbs and, like a hypnotized zombie, catch the rhythms in time with your heartbeat. Even despite your great love for rock, pop was sometimes the source of your joy, also doing magical things with your consciousness. A couple of people around you were also singing along, looking at you and nodding to the beat, someone was filming with a Panasonic camera, someone was laughing hysterically in the corner of the bar with a group of friends , some couple at the bar were kissing while the bartender was dusting himself askew, wiping glasses and having a strange hairdo like Elvis. You knew that you didn’t regret coming here at Izzy’s request, knowing that he has good taste in such places. He knows that music is a form of speech, and perhaps by sharing it with you this evening he was sharing words that none of you can say. The room was periodically filled with flashes of light, constantly illuminating your faces in different colors, while you tried different versions of Izzy on your tongue. Like a multi-colored Polaroid painted with different markers. The sounds of clicking, blinking screens and the muffled voices of those who chose songs danced around your temples. Your and Izzy’s song, came to an end with the cherry blossoms in the background as you sang the last line, your voice carrying through the room, feeling like it was your last day. You were so close, smelling the cigarettes on his body, dusting his skin with sugar, tasting the cherry gloss on his lips and the sheen of sweat on your collarbones. One touch and fate would chop his head off and burn you with the fire of karma, making you feel guilty for losing clear control in the midst of the musical and drug adrenaline.

-«Now it's my turn to choose.» Izzy said, pulling away and grabbing his glass of beer to ease the dryness in his throat.

-«What will you choose?» you asked, pulling the tape out of the player, still trying to get your breathing back to normal.

-«Gimme Shelter.» Izzy said as he picked out the right one from the stack of tapes and replaced pop with the Stones while you quickly gulped down your beer, returning your gaze back to the screen.

- «Classic.» You nodded back at him, getting ready to sing as the familiar guitar sound began to hit your chest so dryly with a rhythmic beat. Your fingers grabbed the microphone with a tremor, not from fear or excitement but from a feeling of dizziness, it seemed like you were about to fall when the Stones began to play, you loved this band so much and knowing that you were singing their song with Izzy gave your body a signal to lose gravity as the words began to appear on the screen one by one.

- «War, children, yeah..» He sang with you in unison as the words appeared on the screen again. The Stones really knew how to bring people together with taste.

- «It's just a shot away, it's just a shot away» you sang along feeling like Mick Jagger, as if your chest was about to fry in the hellish flames of submission to fate while the song, like a scream, pierced the ashes of war and desperation through a long slow motion.

- «It's just a kiss away, it's just a kiss away..» Izzy sang along, closing his eyes and letting the music flow through his veins like heroin throughout your duet.

- «Kiss away, kiss away, hey!» you raised your hand up, feeling the energy of the melody only to splash it out of your body with different movements, understanding why the lead singers were dancing on stage. The culmination of the melody and different pictures on the screen did not take long to come and smiles of euphoria spread across your face again, washing it all down with more sips of beer, feeling how the glass empties quickly with the same speed as the pain, joy and adrenaline in your body after the «performance».

- «It's your turn to choose.» Izzy said, returning with another batch of drinks, using your wallet. Money was pouring out of it in stacks, although its joke, no, because you won't let him know that it's not even equal to what you have. Time is ticking fast again, not obeying your power.

- «Whole lotta love.» You smirked with a note of defiance in your voice while Jagger's voice and his sticky as gum Gimme shelter still pulsated in your temples. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were crazy.

- «Ohh..» Izzy whistled, replacing old glasses with new ones and leaning over the tapes, changing the Stones to Zeppelin. «Not bad, not bad.» The sound with a bad mix went through the speaker again, but with such soul. In the second minute of the song, you regretted that you were alive when sounds similar to moans went through your ears, you did not turn around to Izzy, not giving him a chance to look at you in a moment of vulnerability. But it wasn't long before the guitar sounds came to your aid, drawing your attention back to the lyrics. You still liked the song despite that small aspect, especially the fact that Izzy sometimes imitated the guitar with his fingers during the solo, making you smile at him. Someone lit a cigarette at the bar, and the smoke hung in the air, swirling in spirals under the very ceiling, letting imaginary clouds form, as if a karaoke machine was releasing smoke at the end or your and Izzy's minds. It all felt like an emotional episode. From Take On Me, where everything is still sweet and naive, to Gimme Shelter, where there is threat and desire, and to Whole Lotta Love, where everything becomes frankly physical and dangerous. The first is about escape, romanticism and illusion, the second and third are about threat, passion and an apocalyptic breakdown. Like your situation with Izzy, first a light hallucinogenic euphoria, then something much heavier and deeper, just like now.

Your hands, covered in glitter, then wrapped around each other as you drank glass after glass, song after song, losing your voice for hours. But you didn't care, because everything around you was floating. People - not people, but colored spots. The bar - not a bar, but a black room with lights, like a ship during a storm, screams, words and lyrics mixed, changing personalities like cards. You were two social chameleons exchanging yourselves for other people, becoming singers of fortune and world stages. Satisfaction, Stupid girl, Come together, Dude, Dream on, Light my fire, Somebody to Love, I love Rock’n’Roll… followed one after another eating up the minutes on the clock and erasing the passers-by, making people in the bar come and go, the places empty and faces spinning before your eyes, crossing out the exact contours. And yellow words appeared on the screen with white shadows, slowly emerging against the background of a murky view of Tokyo in the 70s, cars, women in kimonos, lights of night streets and meaningless shots, but it didn’t matter when the song was playing, all that was needed was the words and the rustling recording on the camera with the name of the song/band. Holding the microphone with both hands as if it were a life preserver, you danced, fooled around, half-hugged and just had fun with each other while the alcohol mixed with the drug, erasing any perception of shame. Your wallet didn’t lag behind the fun either, no longer supporting your and Izzy’s drunk faces. The last song of the night or already the morning, you don’t remember exactly, was because your pocket money that you took with you “just in case” betrayed you, leaving you on the sidelines of torn memories, barely moving carcasses and plastic cups with cocktails left by someone on the edge of the stage that trembled from the sound.

MDMA whispered under the skin and caressed, so pleasant and so satisfying. The heart beat out a rhythm, dancing in the middle of your chest, ready to jump out from there while your eyes were intertwined with each other among hundreds of others. Around nothing entered the memory, the brain seemed to block the ability to remember what happened next, everything was like a slow motion movie. As if the truth or a lie retold from mouth to mouth, playing a broken phone. Hot skin felt every touch three times stronger, everything went through goosebumps through the fabric of clothes, coming out as an acid kaleidoscope.

- «You are beautiful.» Izzy whispered through the broken film of neurons feeling how no logical thought would pass through your head.

- «It's a pill.» You answered, turning your gaze to him, half-open eyes, so sleeping, so drunk and so desirable. He, like Medusa Gorgon, turns you into stone with his gaze, grinding you into powder and inhaling it. All the songs grew like petals from your eyelashes, every blink like flowers bloomed in front of your eyes, letting the butterfly of his own eyes sit there and take all the feelings, like bees collecting pollen of secrets from where no one else has ever managed to get it.

- «No.» Izzy answered. «It's you.» His lips were next to your ear whispering a secret that only you will remember, only you will hear hoping that you will understand and he will not have to chew everything like for others. He knew that you will understand him more than others. They will not understand. You looked at him without blinking. The world seemed to be silent, only the projector clicked, the microphones hummed, somewhere in the distance someone was laughing, knocking over a beer bottle and a huge meteorite was already rushing towards the world, ready to blow up the planet. But even then there will be no silence, even then the music will continue to click on the temples bleeding from wounds, then the flowers will begin to grow again from the sent soil of the bloody rain of the dead. Then looking into his eyes you will find peace that no one has ever been able to give you, there the gardens will always be greener and life will be better.

He ran his fingers over your cheeks letting himself breathe in air while his lips greedily cut the distance breaking the rules and stealing your kiss in the silence of minds. Izzy was not a stupid guy and missing an opportunity is definitely not about him. You answered without thinking while your lips danced in an intimate tango of secrets and his hands outlined your body like a map wanting to know where was what. Your cheeks, then shoulders, then your back where he slowly slid to the very bottom of your waist. Alcohol and drugs mixed into one whole clouding your gaze completely, closing it with imaginary curtains when his tongue slid into your mouth. You couldn't think straight anymore, your hand slipped under his shirt, leaving you wanting more, until he let out a short groan, lowering his hand from your cheek to your arm.

-«Hold up, tiger...» he muttered, pushing his lips away from yours, causing his black curls to tickle your face and drool to form a line between your lips.

-«Izzy what the-» you didn't have time to express your displeasure when he grabbed you by your shameless hand and dragged you away from the hall itself, pushing you away from all of those people again.

Disappearing from the stranger's view, he pushed the first door open that was indeed the staff room. Fuck everyone when he closed the door with the latch, leaning you against the door, no one would dare come in here while he was here with you.

- «I'm not done with you yet.» He whispered, connecting your lips again, his tongue immediately slid between them, meeting yours, to which he squeezed out a quiet but such a pleasant moan. This sound warmed the bottom of your stomach while butterflies flew up in goosebumps on your skin. Your tongues played with each other, tasting, while his hand was the first to begin the unfinished, sliding under his T-shirt to feel your skin. You did not lag behind him, playing with his black hair on the back of his head, gradually going down to his shoulders to take off his leather jacket, to which he ran his tongue along your lower lip, biting it.

- «Izzy?!» You gasped and whispered in surprise, slightly pushing him in the chest but not having anything against it in your head.

- «Sometimes I want to eat you alive. Just like that pill so that you will fill me completely, and not just my brain.» he whispered, freeing you from your stylized long-sleeved top, leaving you up in just your bra, feeling the cold of this damn room.

-«I never thought of you as a cannibal.» you whispered back with a smirk as he pounced on your neck, biting and licking you like a hungry animal, wanting so desperately to leave hickeys. His hands slid under your skirt, squeezing your butt brazenly.

-«Well…I am but with very precise tastes and they only include you. The rest are garbage.» he whispered in your ear, making you bite your already wounded lower lip. You raised your hand to grab his hair and gently rip him off you, to which he only responded with a groan and disapproval in the form of a frown. «Hey-»

-"Then stop testing me and go for it.» you said through an irritated grin, to which he only raised an eyebrow again, sensing your annoyance.

- «Say the magic word.» He smirked without moving but you could feel how hard it was for him to keep everything in his pants when you were around.

- «Now.» You looked into his eyes while grabbing his belt on his pants to which he only sighed heavily.

-«How bossy...but alright. Time to release that tiger from its cage.» He smirked giving you free rein to which he unfastened your bra freeing you from your main female problem and sucking on that place with such impudence that you stopped halfway to unzip his fly. His tongue licked your nipples so precisely and so skillfully that you had to sell your soul to the devil after seeing the stars right in front of your eyes. You pulled his pants down so they fell down where they belonged. Your fingers grabbed his hair again to which he only continued his game of being a milksop. «Your cherry is the best.» he stated from which you snorted.

- «You’re high.» you responded to his strange ramblings.

- «On you. And I want to OD.» he answered again greedily kissing you and pressing you to the door lifting your skirt up and tights down to feel you. When his fingers slid where they shouldn’t you moaned into his lips. His smirk started to turn you on so much that he just continued without wasting a second and turning the corner of your panties to slip where you want him.

- «Motherfucker..» you mumbled into his lips through groans at his obvious teasing, feeling how your whole body went numb and touch became more sensitive.

- «I don’t think you will accent me having it with your mom rather than with you.» he inserted one finger, pushing away from you and checking your reaction. Sometimes he was so annoying and you wanted to hit him.

- «Than..Than…ugh! You piss me off!.» you sighed it at his movements, trying to release your energy from within and not die from an excess of emotions, looking into his eyes, to which he just amusingly snorted. Damn you, Stradlin.

- «I’m not and you know it.» His movements were impatient but very precise which made you wonder how much of experience he really have. Then the second finger entered and then you just kissed him while he pressed himself against you letting him feel how much you were the reason for his desire. He pulled away again and every time he did it, you wanted to press him back like an oxygen tube without which you can’t live. His long tongue licked those fingers that he pulled out of you with satisfied grin at which you laughed.

-«Tasty?» you joked at which he nodded.

- «As it should be.» and here again his lips and yours connected while his hands lifted you up by your thighs freeing themselves from any fabric and what had been bothering you before. Thoughts didn’t add up and common sense died before your eyes as he slowly entered you, making you both feel the highest kind of pleasure. You knew what sex was but he knew more. Your understanding did not go beyond groupies or rock stars. You just understood how much this thing was needed when the adrenaline was jumping up to the ceiling. His hands grabbed your thighs so tightly, pushing into you while your back was pressed against that very unfortunate door. Gasp, moans, short sighs and ragged breathing filled the room while you and Izzy were a puzzle for each other, the air you both breathe and the food you both consume.

- «So who are we now?…Who are we to each other?» you suddenly asked him through the blur, smeared images and incomprehensible sounds that came from inside your ears, pollinating your mind with fear that someone might catch you. But even if this happens, no one will remember your faces, but you wanted to remember Izzy's face. You didn’t know what to think or feel, but you knew that you wanted Izzy and you must stay with him until the very end. Until the north star goes out.

- «You are my oxygen. You are what I want to breathe every day.» He admitted through heavy and ragged breathing, feeling how with each push the knot in his lower abdomen was getting tighter. His immunity became stable because of you, you became the one who gives him the opportunity to breathe evenly.

- «Naive to the point of horror.» You answered through a giggle, to which he didn’t stop, continuing to mix your bodies together, like forbidden chemicals that do not work with each other but cannot react without each other. Paradox.

- «Whoever told you this is a complete idiot.» Izzy muttered, pressing his lips to your ears and making the last push with a rather drawn-out groan, releasing himself and letting you know that he was not joking, even under a pile of substances the picture is washed away, but you will not forget his words.

«I will love you very much even under the effect of the vitamin in my head.» he whispered to end this long night.

DAMN MICK, here we have our new Mr. Ultimate Rizzler (I know it’s not that deep but still) I was bored and came to harass him but apparently he had other plans for me 😭(yeah I still use c.ai and I’m supposed to revise for my exams wtf am I doing.)

Imagine having a kid with Brian jones and naming them Indiana….just like that you will have Indiana jones. *joke rimshot* 🥁🥁

(Alright that dad joke isn’t funny)

I think I have a type…

ℚ𝕦𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕤𝕔𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕝 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞

!Teenage! Izzy stradlin/ reader

(Basically Jeffrey Isbell in that fanfic)

Tags: High School, Prom Night, 1980s, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, First Meetings, Rejection, Popular Kids vs Outcasts, Dancing, Music References, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Happy Ending, Teen Romance, Second Person POV, Reader Insert and just izzy it’s already a tag.

Description: When prom night turns into a disaster of rejection and humiliation, two outcasts meet on a park bench. She in her ruined sequined dress, he with his crumpled bouquet meant for someone else. Both wounded by the popular kids who chose others, they find unexpected comfort in each other's company. What starts as shared misery becomes an impromptu dance under the stars, proving that sometimes the best moments happen when you least expect them.

a/n: My exams are eating my ass now and I’m tweaking out for them as if I’m going to fight with a literal dragon wtf. This fanfic came to me when I was looking at my old prom photos from middle school (yeah we have those) and I was like: hell yeah. Let’s not sleep that night and write something about our man Izzy, cause once again wtf not. My sleep schedule is already ruined because I catch a real inspiration here so enjoy 🫶🏻

May. The month that all graduates hate, and it's not only because the childhood is over and everyone will fly away from their parents nests to build their own lives. No, not because of this. And not even because the exam season begins, but simply because all the losers of school’s society will once again be humiliated in such a special way that every hope of finding happiness is equal to zero. As you understood we are stalking about prom here. Yes, yes, a place for fairy tales and first kisses, but not for your school. You have long outgrown the age where, sitting in your room, you built castles of love stories and fairy-tale myths that any minute now a prince on a white horse will gallop for you and take you away from this Hell. He should have, but he didn't, as usually happens in life.

Derek is a prince?... no, but the idiot you invited to the prom, the idiot who is the captain of the football team and your date of the night, and the idiot you liked long enough to realize how stupid and naive you were to let your heart beat faster. Every guy you met was idealized, you liked them all simply because they showed their attention to you. You didn't know what love was and probably no one else does, simply because at your age popularity and status are more important than nightly serenades and poetry dedications. So the evening turned into a disaster when Derek accepted your invitation but ended up making out at the prom with one typical and such a stereotypical blonde cheerleader with an open cleavage who was just trying to get the attention of your so-called "boyfriend". Tina. Yes, you noticed this connection between them a long time ago and it didn't make you feel any better when, walking back with drinks, you noticed how they hugged and kissed - it was a low blow. It was like all 206 bones in your body were breaking at once, grinding you into powder, smashing your nose into the dirt and slapping you so hard that a trace of shame would remain forever on your cheek. You remained there as tears welled up and slowly flowed down your cheeks and your heart created a crack in pain. You didn't notice how someone pushed you and all the drinks spilled right on your dress that you had been choosing for months specifically for this event where you were supposed to kiss Derek and wear the crown of the prom. How foolish.

But it looked good, this dress was a bold contradiction of softness and edge, clinging to your figure in rich plum tones that deepened to black at the hem. Those contractions were something that you wanted to prove of yourself, someone you wanted to be for Derek. But it’s not who you are. The fabric shimmered with a galaxy of fuchsia sequins, scattered like stardust across the sheer overlay. Each step made them flicker under the chandeliers, catching the light in flashes that felt almost rebellious that now seemed like nothing with drinks spilled all over it. The bodice hugged you with elegant ruching, sculpting your waist and drawing the eye upward to a halter neckline that hinted at something both vintage and daring. The skirt flared gently into jagged, asymmetrical points, like petals with attitude, brushing just above your knees and swaying like they had their own rhythm. Strapped to your calves were winding black ribbons from your heels, lacing up like something out of a midnight fairytale. On one wrist, a delicate corsage of pale pink and ivory roses sat beside a burst of chiffon. On the other a punch of wild color, thistles and a rose in bruised red and violet, bound in black which gave the impression that maybe you weren’t as soft as you seemed. It wasn’t the kind of dress meant to blend in. It was made to be remembered, but instead you stand there with tears over your eyes and ruined fabric.

You are Cinderella because you lost your carriage and beautiful dress after midnight. Metaphorical confidence and childish naivety clouded your rational mind amidst the rhinestones, sequins and long glitter pendants that read “Prom 1980”. Amongst the crowd of teenagers, drink, fun and sparkly outfits, you felt like a missing piece of the puzzle and like you didn’t belong here. Glasses crashed to the floor and fabric was ruined until you began to realize how stupid you had looked this whole time. “You’re going to lose that girl” by The Beatles in the background didn’t help at all. How all those hours spent in the bathroom had been wasted, how makeup had become unnecessary that all weaknesses had slipped out when someone responded to you after a collision: “Stop standing there like a statue, you bitch. Can’t you see me coming or something?” it only provoked tears, bringing you back to reality. Derek and Tina turned to look you, studying you briefly before turning back with a smirk. You probably looked pathetic. Pathetic little creature. Naive and so stupid like a damn baby. Oh yeah who else you can possibly be than that?

You hate this world. You hate these people and you hate this school. All just to get out of this place, you ran out of the wooden door with a vertical window in the background, slamming it and no longer wanting to return to this damn hall. Everything that was happening around you shook even more, everything around was a trigger for tears and obsessive thoughts. You just don’t understand why all the bad things happened only to you and how you could have been so stupid to fall in love with this bastard? The sound of your heels echoed through the dark corridor as the music in the background disappeared, cracking your skull with memories of what you had seen earlier. Streams of tears ruined your makeup, painting your cheeks in a black stripe of mascara that was inexpensive. Because you were trying to save some money on that fucking dress. In your teenage dreams, you wanted Derek to take it off you. It only hurt more because you believed in yourself so much, preparing and planning everything in advance - speech, words, behavior, smell and appearance. And in the end he chose someone else.

Going outside and quickly walking down the stairs, you sat down on the step and started crying, but louder. You didn't care if anyone saw, those school years were over anyway and those people would leave, forgetting about you and themselves. But honestly you do because you wanted to be remembered as sharp and bright girl just to prove yourself once again that the role you worth for others is definitely not a crybaby. Your teenage hormones didn't help you at all. You're not a child anymore, but you're not an adult either. You're locked between two worlds and nothing can be the same as before. Kaleidoscopes and patterns of different colors blurred in your eyes when you felt the wind blowing your hair away from your bashful face.

Away from the monster you turned into in a matter of seconds after what you saw. You became a laughing stock that they'll hang on the boards of the school stand to ridicule you. It's so stupid and so unfair. But unfortunately you will get everything in this world only if you are popular and have a pretty face like this bitch Tina. Tina Morgan. Now you hate her, although you didn’t like her before either. An arrogant slut who likes to sit on two chairs, just so that all the male attention was on her. And so she oppressed you by receiving Derek and most likely the crown of the prom. Just the thought of this cut off your breath with a sharp pain and you began to feel how tears turn into an excess of air, and your chest can no longer cope. It never even occurred to you that you need to be a bitch to be liked by others. Since childhood, you were taught that princesses who received a crown are kind and beloved women. Not those who behave like Tina. You heard distant footsteps and someone's laughter that was approaching the exit where you were sitting at. Thinking about the bad, you prayed to God or whoever even exists up there, just so that it was not them. But with the door wide open and interested looks, you saw that it was a couple who couldn't tear themselves away from each other until they noticed your intense gaze and turned to ask who you were and what happened. And also why you were crying, which only made it more painful. Fuck you all, you replied, mentally wishing for their lips to stick together and choke them to death. You didn't want to see others happy, especially next to you in a place where it was calm and quiet and no one could possibly disturb you. A place where you could calm down and digest it all.

You stood up again, walking away under intense gazes. Maybe you were weird and that's why no one was interested in you and that's why no one will ever love you. You're an outcast, you're a commoner, you're disgusting, you're lonely, you’re an embarrassment, you’re an attention whore, you’re stupid and... your brain didn't had time to throw up a new insult when you walked outside the school closer to the nearest park and noticed a strange figure sitting on a bench. Some weird guy.

He sits there with a casual, almost defiant slouch, a teenager on the edge of adulthood who wears his confidence like a second skin but he lost it this time. At 17 or 18, he has the lean, wiry build of someone who moves fast and lives faster, with long, inky black hair that falls over his face in tousled layers. His deep-set, dark eyes hint at a restless energy sharp, observant, and constantly sizing up the world around him, were now reduced to thinking mess. He wears a light blazer carelessly over a graphic tee bearing the face of Keith Richards. Stones fan, huh? The contrast between classic rock glam and his gritty, punkish presence is almost ironic. He looked attractive and interesting, which made you stop in your tracks to observe his slouched figure. The shirt hangs a little loose, like everything he owns is either thrifted, stolen, or passed down from someone with better luck. His hands are rested over his knees while he was holding an already ruined bouquet of flowers. Fingers calloused, maybe from playing guitar, maybe from climbing out of too many second-floor windows but you knew that it was altogether for sure. He looked familiar. Everything about him says he doesn’t care, but the way he poses, half-challenging, half-inviting and half-thinking tells you he does. Just not in the way most people do.

You slowly approached him, sincerely not understanding what he was doing here and why you had the feeling as if you had seen him somewhere before. He is surely from your school.

-«Hey... can I sit here?» you called him out with a slightly shaking and hoarse voice after crying, swallowing saliva and already accepting your fate.

The black-haired guy looked up and you recognized him. Jeffrey Isbell, the same guy from your school who everyone calls a “weirdo” because of his strange style and “gay” because of his long hair. And he also loves the Stones, which clearly shows how much worse the situation has gotten since the wave of hate towards this band and how all of their fans immediately became gay. It's hilarious. His chestnut gaze was looking at you and you had already lost your guard for a second while he calmly nodded with a hint of attention, moving away and leaving you a place next to him. Weird guy, he looks so calm and enigmatic as if he were the surface of the ocean. He put the bouquet on the other side of the bench, leaning back while the rustling of leaves played a serenade, letting you both get used to each other. This... Jeffrey is definitely weird but he's dressed cool and his hair looks cool. You had almost forgotten that he was friends with this crazy guy Bill Bailey from your parallel or whatever he was.

-«Tough night?» a hoarse teenage voice soaked in testosterone suddenly sounded somewhere to your left. You were already looking at him, but it didn't matter because he was also looking at you, directly pointing with his gaze at your ruined makeup and obvious dejection.

-«That's an understatement but... yeah you can say that.» You answered with a nervous laugh, looking away and bitterly chuckling, not wanting to feel his intense gaze on you, as if he already knew your entire family tree and also your favorite drink. But it's better to just forget, because the worst thing is if he realizes that you were rejected in front of everyone and you, like a naive fool, cried thinking that it was love. «And you?» you turned the arrows in his direction, not wanting to raise this topic.

-«Tina Morgan.» He answered calmly, which made you raise an eyebrow, realizing that words were not needed here. You were both in the same hole. What a coincidence...

-«Ah...» was the only thing that came out of your mouth, realizing that you absolutely don’t know how to support others, or even yourself. It is such a difficult task and you definitely need to study for at least another 12 years.

-«Yeah... and you as I get it is Derek Henderson?» He turned in your direction with sympathy, also deftly avoiding the main topic, not wanting to bare his wounded soul and deep shame for believing in love. Just as you. It's strange, because this is one of the reasons why humans can be called humans, and they are so embarrassed by this feeling. Like what the heck, dude?

-«Yes.» You nodded, looking at your hands that you placed on your knees, playing with the fabric of your ruined dress. «I take it you were also rejected and replaced by someone better?» You said it with such deep pain feeling that tears were about to flow down again but his voice distracted you.

-«Well yeah... I spent three weeks getting ready and even spent money on a bouquet. The price I could have bought new strings or wires for my guitar for.» Jeff started. Which made you look up understanding his pain, you also spent so much pocket money on a dress, although you could have bought posters of your favorite performers. Even if we talk about Jeffrey, his outfit was most likely borrowed from his father or a relative judging by the quality of the fabric. But he was still irresistible. Well, that's what you thought. Of course.

-«Me too. I spent a month choosing a dress and in the end it's ruined. I could have bought posters or vinyl in that store down the street with that money.» You shook your head feeling your own absurdity and stupidity thinking that it was really so important for your money. «So I came hoping he likes me but he chose Miss Perfect... but I don't blame him, I'm really not good enough for him.» You said, feeling your eyes getting wet again. Damn Derek.

-«Not good enough?» Jeff suddenly said, making you look up at him while he just frowned. There was no pain in his eyes even after Tina, which made you so jealous. How did he do it so easily?

-«Look at me!» You exclaimed, feeling an obsessive sense of injustice fill your soul. This world hates average, which is what you definitely were. «I'm not a cheerleader and I'm definitely not a blondie with perfect curves who just came out of Vogue! Of course, nothing would ever work out between us...» You realized how pathetic you sounded pouring out your soul to a guy you barely knew, who clearly didn't give a damn about you and your problems. Tears started flowing from your already wet eyes again. It simply couldn't be any worse than it already is.

-«I hope it’s a joke.» Jeff replied, from which you looked up at him, clearly not understanding what he wanted to say. He only smiled slightly lifting the corner of his virgin lips in a light form of support. «Wipe your tears, this bastard does not deserve you. Now crying because you can’t buy a poster of your favourite musician is a real problem. I sold my soul for this T-shirt with Keith.. so this is the only thing that supported me this evening. I mean…I could cry over Tina but she’s not Richards.» His velvety and such a boyish voice pleasantly flattered your heart, from which you blinked wiping your eyes, feeling a strange sensation in your lower stomach. He supported so strangely but skillfully, as if thousands of crying girls were sitting next to him and asking for help.

- «....» you simply lost your words listening to him, of course you knew that he was slightly strange and detached guy who almost has no friends except for the rockers with whom he plays behind the garages and this crazy Bailey. But this level of support was definitely something new.

-«See? You have nothing to say because I'm right.» He smiled sarcastically and it gave you such a big explosion somewhere inside, letting the ecstasy spread through the body and the butterflies fly up the stomach and straight to the heart feeling every rhythmic beat. You always wrote it off as hormonal reactions, being a teenager trying to grow up and get some brain. Just because falling in love with every lamppost... is a little weird. «You're not the type of girl who deserves tears, you don't deserve anything related to this at all.» Jeffrey added, which made you have so many questions that no professional who has considered them all will be able to answer them. But the most understandable is where did he suddenly get interested in you? In you...

-«And what do I deserve then?...» you asked, swallowing the lump in your throat and feeling how all the unpleasant feelings accumulated at the level of your dignity.

-«This.» Jeff replied and turned the other way, taking out his crumpled and dirty flower bouquet he earlier left on the other side of the bench. «You deserve it.» He replied with a smile that made you smile back. What a romantic this dude.

-«A dirty bouquet?» You laughed awkwardly, already thinking that if they will ever invent a time machine, you will erase your existence for such a response to elementary flirting.

-«C'mon, think one more time.» He tut his tongue and shook his head. «It's not that bad, even if it was thrown on the floor. I think that next to you, it will shine with new colors ... as cheesy as it sounds.» He looked at you, still holding the bouquet and pointing it at you, with such an enticing face. As if begging you to take it.

-«Is this an invitation?» you asked with some naivety, holding out your hand and intercepting the bouquet that he gave you, lightly touching his fingers, from which the touch went through your body like electricity, causing goosebumps.

- «You're certainly not a cheerleader and you're definitely not a blondie with perfect curves who just came out of Vogue. But I'd be a fool if I didn't give you this bouquet.» Jeff paraphrased you, from which you smiled and the tears were forgotten. That bastard Derek and slut Tina, could suck it. They can bathe in perfectionism as much as they want, but we will always be one step closer to the truth ... simply because we are real and not fake Barbie and Ken.» said the black-haired guy, pushing his body up from the bench and holding out his hand to you.

-«This...» you looked at him in surprise, sincerely not understanding what just happened and what was going on. He was so quiet and aloof almost always, and here his other side of the coin was calling you to forget about this world and accept reality. This introverted guy that you briefly saw in the corridors did not stick out in your memory until this evening.

-«Shall we dance? I don't want to invite artificial blondes anymore. I like humans, not dolls, even if I'm disappointed in them... which I don't think will last long, because you'll fix it.» He smiled and for a second it seemed to you that you were sleeping, that any minute now you would hear the alarm clock and wake up.

-«But... I don't want to go back there and anyway-» you didn't have time to finish as Jeff interrupted you, shaking his head and using all his efforts, all his masculine charm to attract you. Although to be honest, you thought that he didn't even have to try.

-«No. We're not going back there, they can have all the fun they want but we have our own fun here.» Jeff said.

-«It's quite shitty..» you commented pessimistically, reluctantly taking his hand and standing up from the bench holding the bouquet in your hands.

-«Then...we are the king and the queen of our own shitty prom, how does that sound?» he nudged your shoulder before his other hand let go of yours and with permission from your eyes he dropped his hand at your waist.

-«Still shitty.» you smiled letting him catch you while the rustling of leaves distantly carried loud music from a nearby building filled with students who next year will leave, disappear and only the school photo book will remember them. You and Jeff are part of them, but it didn’t affect your dancing at all, as the song reached your ears you grabbed each other twirling and dancing under the night lights. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders while the bouquet hung somewhere behind him. Let time stand still, everyone will forget you and you will forget them.

-«You’re hard to please..» Jeff joked, looking straight into your eyes with sarcasm. That damn smirk was spreading across his face again.

-«You're not Jimmy Page for me to like, but your resemblance attracts me.» you said back.

-«Oh, so... you're also a Zeppelin fan? Welcome to the club. We love black-haired guitarists.» Jeff replied, studying your face with interest, like a painter memorising every detail. «I just hope you're not here with me because I'm a black-haired guitarist and look like a kid of Keith Richards and Jimmy Page.»

-«No.» You shook your head with a laugh. He had a particular sense of humor and you were definitely starting to like it. It wasn't just because he calmed you down so quickly and brought you back to your senses. He was just being himself. «But that could be one of the reasons.»

-«I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult.» Jeff replied, his eyes falling on yours. You wanted to drown in them so much.

-«Neither. I just found your resemblance amusing.» You shrugged, until a barely audible song reached your ears, this one was "Dancing Queen" so ironic.

-«Too bad.. I was hoping for the former.» He grinned with such cheekiness that sometimes you considered the quote don't judge a book by its cover, because there might be a masterpiece behind it. And that masterpiece was most likely standing in front of you, which made you feel weird again.

-«What do you think... I'm weird? Well... I mean..if I think about them?..» You didn't want to specify who, because in any case, you'll come out as a weirdo. Thinking about rock stars is weird because they're a few years older than you and they certainly won't notice you... and thinking about Derek and Tina is also weird. Just because that's what they're waiting for. For you to waste your tears on them.

-«We are all weird in our own way. And I love the way you are weird, because it makes me fell more comfortable being weird with you.» Jeffrey replied, leaving you speechless again. Sometimes this weird guy was such a poet that you wondered if he was from a fairy tale. With a gentle smile, he leaned forward to your ear, letting you smell him. He smelled like….teenager, but better, like a guy who is preparing to become a man, leaving his boyhood behind. It sounds weird, but he looked smarter beyond his years. Jeff hummed the melody of Dancing Queen in your ear, with such a husky and slightly underdeveloped voice, trying to impress you with his singing. Such a gentle and quiet half-whisper, so that only you could hear. So that no one else could enjoy his mini concert for you. He would have been a great musician. «You are the dancing queen...Young and sweet, only seventeen..»

You danced with him to this melody until the very end and until the beginning of the next one, realizing that sometimes the best things happen when you least expect them and don't prepare for them for months. They just come and change your life upside down. Just like this black-haired guy who whispered different songs to you all evening while you danced like an old couple to the hits. Such a stupid thing this life, first it cripples then heals. But you knew that Jeffrey would definitely make you love this little thing called….life.

sadly I think it’s my curse, guys, cuz I’m not sure that someone will read my yap (well at least I will Lmao)

ChaptGPT knows what’s up 😎😎( I kinda joined the trend so I will put down the full list it gave me if someone is interested):

2)Jim Morrison

3)Joan Jett

4)Mick Jagger

5)Robert Plant

6)Debbie Harry (Blondie)

7)Prince

8)Slash (Saul Hudson)

9)Stevie Nicks

10) Kurt Cobain

Just GNR being GNR (pt. 2)