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averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

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She’s Still Preoccupied With 1985 🎤 | Bob Floyd x Rockstar!reader Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x modern-day rockstar!reader (childhood best friends/romantic), dagger squad (platonic), Bob x female!oc (past romance), male!oc x reader (past romance), The 1985’s!BandOCs (platonic)

Content Warnings: major fluff, angst, profanity, canon divergence (Bob is born in 1985 in this, making him roughly 34 during TGM & 37 in the year 2022), pop culture references, second chance romance troupe, suggestive content and light smut + implied smut (MINORS DNI!!) inspired by the song ‘1985,’ by Bowling For Soup | Female!reader—afab!reader (she/her) | wc: 17.2k

Premise: Join Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd as he looks back on his fairytale love story with childhood best friend and real life rockstar, who’s set to perform one last time on the country’s most iconic stage, in her band’s final show of their farewell tour.

Note: so after I wrote ‘It’s A Long Way To The Top’ with Maverick x 80sRockstar!reader, I had inspiration for someone from the dagger squad x modern-day rockstar!reader. I was going back and forth between Rooster and Phoenix, but this anon suggested Bob with a rekindled childhood best friend and I thought that was the bullseye. Once again feel free to imagine your friends as your bandmates, I just gave names to make it easier to write. I do not own any of the song or pop culture references, this is for fictional purposes. Let me know what you think! - Bee 🐝

Songs that are real life songs, but are used as ‘your’ songs in this imagine: ‘1985’ by Bowling For Soup, ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls, ‘Some Nights,’ by Fun, ‘Pompeii’ by Bastille, ‘Payphone,’ by Maroon 5, ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ by Bats for Lashes & Beck, ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ & ‘Little Black Dress’ by One Direction.

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Lt. Robert Floyd had seen a lot in his 37 years of life. Growing up on the plains of Montana, there wasn’t much for him until it came time to leave for college. There, life seemed to pass by quicker than the night sky. He’d experienced the hype of a Navy vs Army football game, getting wasted to the point he hated alcohol. Endless nights of studying that paid off when he received not only his diploma but also the rank of Ensign in the U.S. Navy. Then there was that time he nearly married his college sweetheart only to end things weeks before the wedding because he realized his heart belonged to someone else. In his career Bob pulled Gs with his pilot against the speed of sound in an F-18 and most recently, dogfighting SAMs out of enemy territory.

But no words could describe what Bob felt as he stood on the floor of Madison Square Garden with the people he called his best friends, waiting for the appearance of his one true love on stage.

The love that was once thought to be impossible, until fate was like, “These souls belong together. Once the time is right, I will work my magic.”

17 years prior in 2005, Bob was certain he’d never get the chance to tell Y/n L/n he had loved her since they were fifteen years old after hearing her voice on the radio.

“That was Kelly Clarkson’s ‘Since U Been Gone,’ part of her Grammy nominated album Breakaway released last summer. Clarkson is the favorite to win the award for ‘Album of the Year’ at next year’s Grammys. Up next is a new group recently signed to Capitol Records….here is ‘1985’ by, funny enough, The 1985s”

Something about the name of the group and title of the song had an odd feeling swirl through the then college student. Driving the car he was in was his roomate Derek and their buddy Adrian along with Derek’s girlfriend Willow.

Nothing could’ve prepared Bob for the voice coming through the speakers, the lyrics bringing back the memory of when she showed him the paper with them written down in her semi-sloppy handwriting.

“Debbie just hit the wall, she never had it all.”

“One Prozac a day, husband’s a CPA.”

“Bob, you okay?” Adrian tapped him on the shoulder, “You look a little pale.”

“Her dreams went out the door when she turned twenty-four.”

“Only been with one man, what happened to her plan?”

“This has a good beat,” Willow bopped her head.

“She was gonna be an actress, she was gonna be a star.”

“She was gonna shake her ass on the hood of Whitesnake’s car.”

“My mom could definitely relate to that,” Derek joked, stopping at a red light. He too was enjoying the song. It gave that classic rock feel that the 80s music his parents listened to had. Nowadays Hip-Hop and Pop are becoming the main genres of music on the radio.

“Her yellow SUV is now the enemy.”

“Looks at her average life and nothin’,” *guitar riff* “has been,” *guitar riff* “alright.”

Bob, who’s eyes were wide and heart racing, breathed in awe, “No way.”

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna,”

“Way before Nirvana,”

“There was U2 and Blondie,”

“And music still on MTV.”

“Her two kids in high school,”

“They tell her that she’s uncool.”

“‘Cause she’s still preoccupied,”

Tears spring in Bob’s eyes, wiping them away before his friends could see when Y/n sang the final line of the chorus.

“With 19, 19…1985.”

That was how the future naval aviator discovered his childhood best friend had accomplished her dream. Breaking into the music industry. It’d been nearly four years since he’d seen Y/n, the two parting ways after her father took an accounting job in California, uprooting the teenager and her family from their home state of Montana.

They’d grown up on the same street, both their moms teaching at the elementary school. The two had pretty much gone through every grade together considering their school was small with few teachers. Every year they were in the same class, often sitting next to each other and spending time after school on the playground while their moms finished up for the day. Bob spent nearly every moment with Y/n as kids, becoming best friends when they were only five years old. But it wasn’t until the boy was twelve that he realized what a crush was….and boy did he have one on her.

Cherishing their friendship, poor Bob didn’t say anything about his surfacing feelings for his best friend. Even when the news of her moving was announced when they were 16, Bob remained quiet. It pained him to do so but he’d rather have her in his life than risk losing her if she didn’t feel the same.

In all the years Bob Floyd knew Y/n L/n, music was her life. It consumed her entire being with the young girl always humming a tune or singing along on the radio. When she was given a keyboard and guitar for Christmas, Y/n self-taught herself how to play until they could afford to put her in lessons. Then there were the notebooks.

At first it started as sticky notes with a verse or two, then it turned into loose pages of lyrics before finally the teenager wrote them all into notebooks. Anytime inspiration came to Y/n she was writing it down on whatever she could find. Napkins at a restaurant, receipts from her mother’s grocery run, hell even on her arm Y/n was writing lyrics so she wouldn’t forget. Sometimes she’d have the whole song complete before settling on a title, or a catchy title would come to mind but the lyrics would take time. Bob would always get annoyed when she’d steal his pen from out of his hand, but would let it go, understanding she had to write it down before she lost it.

At a football game he witnessed her unable to find a pen in time to write something on her arm before the lyric faded away. The teenager nearly sobbed right there in the middle of the stands, face in her hands as though to will herself to remember. “Are you okay,” Bob whispered, to which he received a sad groan.

“No….please don’t interrupt my thinking. I’m having a crisis, Robby.”

Y/n’s mom, who mentally still lived in the 80s, was the inspiration for her song ‘1985’, Y/n wrote at 15. Bob could still remember the day she raced up to their reserved lunch table, planting the paper in front of him, “Read this,” she was out of breath, but smiling nonetheless. Picking it up, Bob adjusted his glasses and let his eyes read over the words scribbled down that were separated into: intro, verse 1, chorus, verse 2, chorus, bridge, chorus, & outro.

“Wow,” he reads over the lyrics again, brows raised and feeling a connection to the song. It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact it was likely titled ‘1985,’ which also happened to be the year they were born. “This is amazing, Y/n. Almost like….wait is this about your mom?” As her best friend growing up, Y/n’s mother was like a second mom to him….so Bob knew her obsession with the 80s and how she had plans to be an actress before she and her high school sweetheart, Y/n’s father, got married after college and had Y/n when they were 24. Then they had her siblings afterward and both changed their course of careers in order to raise them. The line that said ‘husband’s a CPA,’ is what really gave it away considering her father was an accountant. Debbie wasn’t her mother’s name, but even a rocket scientist could piece it together Debbie represented her.

Glancing up, he sees her guilty expression, offering a light shrug. “Is it that obvious?”

Bob never forgot that song. Even with all the ones Y/n showed him afterwards and when they lost touch two years after she moved, he never once forgot the song, ‘1985’.

It was a sad day when she told him the news. They were halfway through junior year, college applications around the corner and setting up for SATs/ACTs when she dropped the bomb, “My dad’s being transferred to California.”

The Coca-Cola he’d been drinking nearly went all over his steering wheel when he coughed, her words sending him into shock. “W-what-you’re moving?!”

“Next month,” she mumbled, head down to hide her face from his view. “My dad is there now looking at places for us. In the meantime Mom is dealing with the house while also applying to schools in the area my dad’s gonna be working.”

“Where?” Bob asks after a moment of silence, allowing him to fully process the news.

His best friend—who he was in love with—was leaving him.

Y/n sighed before replying with a sad chuckle, “Los Angeles. You know I would feel excited, seeing it was my plan to move to L.A after graduation, but I just can’t bring myself to.”

“Why?” Bob says softly with a frown, “This is your dream, Y/n. All you’ve wanted was to go there and audition for American Idol—or whatever that singing show is.” He was trying really hard to cheer her up, pushing down his heartbreak all the while. “This is your chance.”

“Yeah, but….” She glanced out the window, “what if it doesn’t work out? I don’t even know if I wanna go to college—which my mom still scolds me every time she gets the chance because she thinks I’m a fool to wanna pursue music. You know how it is,” Y/n gives Bob a knowing look, “she thinks of her life and wants me to go to school before selling my life away to a 9-5. I know she’s looking out for me, but God, let me make my own mistakes.” Her head leans on the window, “If it doesn't work out then that’s on me. But I’m not gonna give it up just because it seems out of reach. That’s what back up plans are for.”

Silence fills the car, the two letting their thoughts wonder. “Promise me something, Robby.”

“Anything,” he doesn’t hesitate.

“Promise me that even though I’m leaving, we’ll still be best friends. We’ll still write letters or talk on the phone…just don’t give up on me.”

Taking her hand in his, hoping she doesn’t feel the slight tremor as the words he so desperately wants to say are on the tip of his tongue, Bob gives her a look of love which she likely would believe is one of sincerity, “you’re my best friend, Y/n. I believe you will accomplish everything you set your mind to. When you make it big, I’ll be cheering you on every second and until then, we’ll talk every day if we have to,” he makes a face after thinking, “though maybe narrow it down to once a week so my mom doesn’t kill me for the phone bill.”

That makes Y/n laugh before reaching over the console to hug him. Arms go around his neck while his one arm awkwardly wraps around her side.

“I love you, Robby,” she tells him, sending his heart soaring. “You’re the only person I can count on in this whole damn world.”

“I love you too, Y/n.” ‘More than what you could possibly know.’ “I’ll always be here for you. Forever.”

He never thought he’d break that promise. But around the time of graduation things became so hectic in Bob’s life on top of the fact he was hurting. Hurting because he loved Y/n, and anytime they would talk on the phone or send letters he was reminded of the fact she was in California while he was stuck in Montana and they could never be together. Bob felt the only way he could save his heart and move on from that love was by cutting contact. It was his fault and he knew it when the letters eventually stopped coming and the phone stopped ringing every Friday. His mother could only relay an excuse to the girl so many times before Y/n eventually gave up. The last letter she sent him came two months after their last phone call, “So much for always being there, Robby. Have a good life, I hope it treats you well. -Y/n.”

He didn’t know what happened to her until two years later when ‘1985’ played for the first time on the radio for the whole world to hear. Tears lined his eyes, the man having to look out the window away from his friends. The flooding of emotion was overpowering, forming a sob in his throat.

She did it. She’s on the radio like she always dreamed.

“That was ‘1985’ the debut single of incoming rock band, The 1985s. Hits the nostalgia I gotta say—I feel we’re looking at some fresh new faces to the scene. Can’t wait to see what they have to offer in the future.”

The prediction of the radio host came true, when in 2006 the group released their debut album Established in 1985. Like their name, it referenced the year all members were born in which included frontwoman and occasional guitar player Y/n L/n, bassist Thomas Quinn, guitarist Farrah Cortez, drummer Xavier Hernandez, and keyboardist Pepper Renolds. All met at the University of California Los Angeles, and funny enough none were students in the music program. They were all in STEM/humanities with Y/n studying sociology with a minor in music, meeting the others when they formed a study group after they all had the same prerequisite classes their second semester.

It was at one of their meetups that Y/n couldn’t help but sing along to Journey’s ‘Faithfully’ and The Who’s ‘We Don’t Get Fooled Again,’ as they played on the little radio in the corner. “Damn Y/n,” Thomas looked amazed, “You got a voice, girl. How come you’re not studying music?”

“Same reason why you aren’t—don’t give me that look, Quinn, I saw that bass in your place when we were there last week.”

Next thing they knew Pepper mentioned she was a pianist who was progressing onto keyboard. Then Farrah said she played guitar and Xavier smirked, “all y’all need is a drummer and you can be a band….oh wait, have I ever told y’all I play drums?”

And thus, the 1985’s were born.

Months were dedicated to them building their sound and learning to be a band all while keeping up with their school work. Y/n was the brain behind all their songs, literally dropping the pile of notebooks onto the table one day saying, “I’ve got at least four albums worth of songs in these…maybe even more.” Working little by little they eventually got the tunes for several that they knew they’d want to release first if they managed to get discovered. MySpace was just starting out and Y/n took it upon herself to be bold, creating a profile for them. She listed her information since they didn’t have a band email set up. That would hopefully come in the future.

It was on MySpace that their lives changed forever.

Roughly after a year of working nonstop to create songs and develop their sound, the band uploaded a video onto the platform for ‘1985,’ in May of 2004. It almost looked like a music video, teaming up with students from the drama programs who were in need of doing their end of semester project. They had someone play Debbie, her husband, the two kids, and a group of extras. Even the yellow SUV Y/n’s mom drove was used as well as a poster of Duran Duran for the line in the second verse. The band would be in clips throughout the video, Y/n singing and playing the guitar. It took them the whole night spray painting a makeshift logo of ‘The 1985’s’ onto Xavier’s drum set.

When they first uploaded the video they were all like, “Even if no one sees it, this was still fun as hell to make.”

But little did they know it was going to be seen by many eyes…..including an executive of Capitol Records.

Y/n was just coming home from her shift at a local diner when she checked her email, dropping the water bottle in her hand and letting out an ear-piercing scream that woke her roommates.

“Y/n, my name is Martin Plaza and I’m a talent exec at Capitol Records. A member of my team came across your video on MySpace and we were impressed by your band and song, ‘1985’. We’d like to set up a meeting if you all are interested and please bring any demos you may have. Email me back as soon as possible or give me a call using the number listed below. Hope to hear from you soon. Regards, Martin Plaza.”

Y/n and the group could hardly contain their reaction at the meeting when Martin and a few members of Capitol Records were visibly pleased with what they were hearing. With so many songs they had recorded, they settled on bringing five, including ‘1985,’ and ‘Some Nights,’ which they were planning on uploading to MySpace next.

Martin and the team had excused themselves briefly before returning with the offer: a six year contract with Capitol Records releasing at least three albums during that period.

You can bet your ass they agreed. Signing their names before the sun could set on the horizon.

Champagne popped that night with Y/n crying against the receiver of her pink Motorola as she informed the news to her family. Her mother cried with her, her dad celebrating in the background while her siblings were like, “Don’t forget me when you become famous, sis.” What made her sad though after the call ended was when she went to dial Robby’s number, only to close the phone with a sigh. It’d been over a year since they last spoke, Y/n unsure where he even was or if he had a cell phone. The only number she knew was his home phone.

Curiosity and slight anger rising, Y/n dialed the number saved as his home landline, not surprised when his mother answered. “Y/n! Why hello, darling, I wasn’t expecting your call tonight.”

“Hi, Mrs. Floyd,” she sniffed, feeling tears prick in her eyes again. Y/n was not used to addressing the older woman by her last name. It felt awkward now to call her by her first. “I know he’s probably not going to come to the phone…but if Robby—Robert is there, could I…could I just speak with him please? It’s important.”

“Oh honey,” that was enough to indicate it wouldn’t happen. Y/n looked up to the sky, heart breaking in two at the fact her so called best friend, who she loved more than anything in the world, had completely discarded her. “Robert is uhh—he’s at the Naval Academy, sweetheart, I can give you his email or cell number—.”

“No-no-no,” Y/n interrupted, stunned by the news. “It’s fine. Uh, just never mind.”

“Honey—.”

“Sorry to bother you so late, Mrs. Floyd. Take care and thank you for your help.” Placing the phone in her pocket, Y/n allowed the tears to flow freely before moving back inside to where the party was. Only she could hardly enjoy it now. Instead she let her feet carry her over to the notebook placed on her backpack, removing a pen hastily from the pencil pouch and scribbling down the lyrics that were screaming in her head. The words that took over the paper went onto become their Grammy award winning singles, ‘Iris,’ and ‘Payphone.’ Iris became so popular it was used in several movies and tv shows after its release in 2006, earning the band the Grammy for ‘Record of the Year,’ to go along with their ‘Best Rock Performance by a Duo/Group’ and ‘Album of the Year’, three MTV moonmen including ‘Video of the Year’ and the American Music Award for ‘Song of the Year.’ Payphone was just as successful, topping the Billboard Hot 100 for 20 consecutive weeks and winning just as many awards as Iris.

Anytime the songs played on the radio or wherever he was, Bob had to change the station or frown until it ended. Deep down, he could feel they were about him—hurting him even more at the realization Payphone was basically saying how Y/n loved him and was trying to move on. Just in the way Y/n sang combined with the lyrics telling a story, it was obvious he had broken her heart. And they weren’t even together. They were just best friends…..who were too stupid enough to not admit their feelings for each other.

His senior year of college Y/n and the group were starting to become big, all the members taking a break from college in order to build their careers as musicians. Often Bob would check in to see how Y/n was, tuning into award shows to watch them perform. Pride and awe filled him watching her sing, living her dream just as he believed she would. He hated that he broke his word to her, and it seemed to affect Y/n whenever she performed Iris and Payphone, putting every ounce of emotion into each lyric.

At 21 Bob had finally entered a relationship with a nice girl from the Naval Academy. The possibility of him reuniting with Y/n was long out of the picture and his friends were getting on him to finally break out of his shell. They had no idea of his connection to the rockstar, but they could tell anytime they were on the radio Bob’s demeanor changed. Abby, a sweet pre-law student at the Naval Academy, was his first serious commitment, the two bonding over similar interests and plans for the future. Hope rose at what it could hold.

Until she and their friends decided they wanted to go see The 1985’s concert.

It was 2007, they’d just graduated and were commissioned to the rank of Ensign’s waiting to be shipped off to their respective duty stations. And Bob was engaged…..but he hadn’t really proposed in the traditional way. It was more of Abby pointing out if they wanted to get stationed together then it was best for them to get married and he just agreed. But a big part of him was hesitant to go through with it.

The news of Abby and their friends' desire to go to the concert made his stomach drop and head spin. Still in Maryland, they had gotten tickets to the show in New York at Madison Square Garden which was only a couple hours away. Abby had went ahead and got them as a surprise for Bob, not telling him until the day before the show.

“You guys go,” Bob initially said, praying she couldn’t pick up on the anxiety in his voice. “I—uh—I’ve got some things to get done—.”

“What things?” She scoffed, shaking her head as she laid out the outfit she planned to wear. “School is over, you aren’t planning to see your family until next week, and you don’t leave for flight school till the end of summer. What could you possibly do tomorrow night, Bobby?” He mentally cringed at the nickname, unconsciously thinking of how Y/n would call him Robby.

This wasn’t a good idea and he knew it. Already he was starting to think of her again. More and more by the second. Feelings were resurfacing, and Bob was fighting them hard. If he saw her on stage it was only going to confirm what he already knew.

That Y/n owned his heart. And no one else would have it. Not even Abby.

In the end, Bob found himself on the floor of Madison Square Garden of all places, wondering just how the hell their friends managed to get the area. The band was touring for their debut album, selling out within seconds and what made it more historic were they managed to get The Garden in their first ever tour. Usually groups/artists had years before they played at the Garden, settling for smaller venues in New York, but the 1985’s had become sensations.

The entire time they waited for the band Bob’s hands were shaking, the man unable to contain his tremor with each minute. Abby asked at one point, but brushed it off as him being excited when he didn’t give her an answer.

He was a little excited….but mostly fucking terrified.

Especially because they were very close to the stage. Like if one of the members happened to walk close to where they were standing they’d be spotted.

Bob should’ve fucking knocked on wood.

When the band came out Madison Square Garden erupted, Y/n belting out the lyrics to their opening number, looking like an actual dream. Her look was more of a modern take on rock n roll but still looked classic. Black leather adorned her body with cutouts to showcase some skin, arms covered in ink from the various tattoos and hips rolling to the beat of the drums causing the crowd to go crazy.

Y/n really knew how to work the stage and make it her bitch.

Bob was mesmerized. Utterly speechless as his eyes glued to the woman he once called his best friend. All he could do was stand there and stare, while willing his heart to calm down by how fast it was beating.

It was to be a two hour show at the least, and Bob didn’t know if he wanted to leave as quickly as he could or wishing the show would last forever. Seeing Y/n up close and performing before a crowd made him feel things he didn’t know were possible. Her dazzling smile, dancing across the stage and playing the guitar was everything he could’ve dreamed for her.

He loved her. Bottom line, Bob loved Y/n like no other.

When their eyes connected 30 minutes before the concert ended, causing Y/n to drop the microphone and throw her off for the remainder of the concert, Bob knew he couldn’t marry Abby.

He wasn’t sure if Y/n recognized him at first, but the rockstar had approached the side he was standing at to interact with the crowd when her gaze landed on his. Eyes widening, Y/n literally dropped the microphone causing the impact to echo through the speakers. Bob’s cheeks went bright red, unable to look away in their 2-second staring contest until Y/n blinked rapidly and cursed.

“Shit,” he saw her mouth as soon as the microphone hit the platform, bending down quickly to pick it up. “Sorry about that guys,” she nervously laughed, eyes glancing at Bob as though to make sure they weren’t deceiving her. A sharp intake of breath indicated she realized it wasn’t a trick. Walking backwards until she was back to the middle of the stage where the band was, Y/n’s tone became flustered, “U-uh, we only got a couple songs left in the show. We’re gonna take a quick five minute break so just hang tight.”

Bob could see the looks of concern from her friends/bandmates as she ran off stage, the group following behind. His heart dropped, rubbing a hand over his face to calm down the anxiety in his veins.

“What the hell was that about?” Derek laughed, “It was like she saw a ghost or something.” Everyone besides Bob agreed, none seeing the way Abby was staring at him with an unreadable expression.

When the band returned for the final act Y/n did her best to not look at the section Bob was in. Unlike everyone else in attendance, the Navy officer could pick up on the fact she was more tense than at the start of the show. Her voice shook lightly when delivering the lyrics to ‘Iris’, although it was as though she was putting more emotion than ever into the song, bringing tears to Bob’s eyes. Y/n also appeared to hold back tears, quickly transitioning the song to their next to avoid breaking down.

‘1985’ was the last in their set, everyone in MSG jumping up and down to the chorus and screaming the lyrics. Y/n smiled the entire time, finally letting a tear slip when the concert came to an end. To everyone it may have looked like the rockstar was overwhelmed with emotion at the fact she just played Madison Square Garden before a sold out crowd. But for Robert Floyd, he knew those tears were because of him.

Especially when they connected eyes again, Y/n’s lip quivering before turning away to hide her face. When she walked off with the band Bob felt his heart go with her.

“You’re hiding something,” Abby said with a soft tone when they arrived back home late that night. It was nearly 3 in the morning, the concert having ended at 11.

Bob tilted his head back, eyes closing to block off the rest of the world, “Please, let’s not do this.” He just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.

“You know, I always wondered why your knuckles would tighten around the steering wheel when their songs played on the radio, or why you look like you wanna cry anytime I sing ‘Iris’ at karaoke, why you can’t even look at me when I do,” she lists off, voice slightly rising. “Then there’s that box of letters you hide in the closet. And….and the photo album you won’t even let me look at. We’ve been together for a year, and you have not once told me you loved me.” By now Abby’s voice wavered, sniffing as she continued.

“I’ve been a fan of The 1985’s for close to a year now, but it wasn’t until tonight I actually read up on them. On Y/n…..” she saw how his body reacted, confirming her suspicion even more. “How she was living in L.A when they got discovered, but she grew up somewhere else…..She’s from Montana. The same town as you, Robert.”

“That’s just a coincidence—.”

“She went to the same high school as you!” Abby shouted, pushing off the wall she was leaning against. “You told me your town had less than four-thousand people—and only one high school. She would’ve gone there, Robert—in fact it said her mom was a teacher at the elementary school. The same one your mom taught at!”

By now Bob had enough, mouth tightening as he spoke calmly to his ‘fiancé’, “What do you want to know, Abby?”

“Who was she to you? Don’t fucking say shit like ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’—I saw her look at you,” tears pricked in her blue eyes. “How she looked like she’d been punched straight through the heart. She fucking dropped the microphone—and looked like she wanted to faint! Like you were a walking ghost. And you….you looked the same.” Pausing, she thought back to his face at the concert. There was no doubt Y/n and him had locked eyes, she heard him audibly react despite the noise.

“You looked like someone with deep regret. Someone who longed for a second chance. You looked like someone in love, Robert. Never have you looked at me that way.” Abby waited for him to respond, but Bob was unable to speak, expression unreadable causing her heart to break.

“Just please,” she breathed out, “tell me the truth, Bob. What was she to you?”

Silence filled the room, causing the tension to rise. It stayed that way until Bob finally sighed, face falling as he admitted what she already knew.

“She was everything. She is everything.”

When it came time to ship out two months later Bob was not the married man he expected to be. In all honesty, he was relieved. That night the argument had ended with Bob telling Abby he couldn’t marry her—he’d be hurting her even more if he followed through with it. Never could he love her the way he did Y/n and wouldn't put her through that. Going their separate ways was for the best. Even though he’d likely never be with Y/n, no one could compare to her.

Abby was angry as one could expect but part of her knew it was for the best. What good was it getting into a loveless marriage? She almost resented the rockstar, feeling like she could never enjoy the 1985’s anymore knowing the man she thought she spent the rest of her life with was hopelessly in love with his former best friend, who was the frontwoman of her favorite band. But then Abby took some time to think, and felt her heart break for Bob. She couldn’t imagine what it was like loving someone you couldn’t have.

Ending their engagement and agreeing to be friends, Bob told stories about growing up with Y/n—even bringing out the letters and photo album for her to see. It amazed the woman, flipping through the pages to see the singer when she was a child and teenager. It was almost funny to see how polar opposites the two best friends were, Y/n with her 80s band t-shirts and ripped jeans next to a Bob in his cowboy hat and flannels. As teenagers Y/n dabbled more in the grunge makeup. One photo made Abby laugh as it showed Bob with black eyeliner and glitter on his cheeks.

Coming across the end of the album was a half of a ‘Best Friends Forever’ necklace taped to the page. Abby frowned, “What happened between the two of you?”

This was a question he never thought he’d answer, thinking he’d go the rest of his life without anyone finding out his history with Y/n.

“After she moved we stayed in contact for about two years. We’d call every Friday—send letters from time to time ....” He paused, biting his lip as the frown took over. “But I stopped responding and answering.”

“Why?”

“It hurt too much,” he admitted, hating the way his heart clenched. “I never said anything because I didn’t want to lose what we had,” he looked to the ground, “but then it just became too overwhelming and I thought if we….if we drifted apart then I eventually could move on.”

Abby is silent, glancing at the picture of him and Y/n before looking back at the necklace, “Wanna hear something, Bob? Something you probably won’t believe, but I promise you it’s more likely than you think?” He looks up from the floor, brow raised slightly.

“What?”

“I think Y/n loves you.”

“Not in the way you think, Abby,” Bob deflects with a shake of the head. “And she definitely doesn’t anymore—she hates me no doubt.”

“No, listen to me,” she closes the album, setting it aside. “When did you two stop talking?”

“Around fall of 2003,” he tells her, look of regret in his visage, “in 2004 was the last time she phoned the house.”

Abby thinks back in her research of the band, shoulders dropping slightly, “That’s when they got signed to Capitol Records. ‘Payphone’ and ‘Iris’ came out last year, but Y/n said in an interview she wrote them the night they were signed—which had people confused because they’re sad songs that were written on a night that was supposed to be happy. Don’t you see?” She waves her hand at his now confused gaze, making her huff. “She probably had called your house hoping to tell you the news! Anyone who hears those songs knows it’s about heartbreak. And not the type of heartbreak you get by a friendship disintegrating, Bob. That’s the heartbreak when someone you love with your entire soul hurts you.”

“Abby please,” Bob pleads with her, water lining his eyes. Falling silent the woman leans away, solemn in her expression.

“All I’m saying is she loved you more than you think. And judging by her reaction to you tonight, I think I’m right when I say Y/n would give anything for you to talk to her again…..”

For years Bob thought about what Abby had told him that night they broke up. It kept him up at night especially when The 1985’s came up that day either in conversation or on the radio. There were times he was tempted to write a letter, but life would get crazy with the Navy and then in 2011 he was invited to Top Gun.

Devastated couldn’t even be the right word to describe how Bob felt when it was revealed Y/n had eloped with a Hollywood heartthrob. Not a fan of social media, Bob had just returned back to his squadron after graduating from Top Gun to turn on E! News where they were covering the story.

“Wedding bells are in store for rockstar Y/n L/n of The 1985s and actor Enrique Lorenzo from The Walking Dead. The two have been spotted throughout the year looking cozy at award shows and Lorenzo attending The 1985’s concerts in L.A and Atlanta. An inside source has gotten word the two applied for a marriage license two days ago and earlier this morning had a private ceremony with close friends and family in West Hollywood. Neither has confirmed if they have in fact tied the knot, but I would keep your eyes out. In the meantime, congratulations to the happy couple and we’re looking forward to seeing Y/n’s ring.”

It seemed like all the air had left Bob, turning off the tv in a flash but still pointing the remote as he stood stunned. Then his phone buzzed with messages.

“Honey, just checking in. Call me when you get home,” was from his mom, trying to avoid the obvious elephant and would rather discuss it over the phone.

“Have you heard the news?” Abby wrote. “I’m so sorry, Bob.” He actually appreciated that she wasn’t walking on eggshells. That she was upfront with him. Though it’d been over four years since their breakup, and Abby was now married with children, the two remained friends and often checked in with each other occasionally.

“It was bound to happen some time,” he replied before turning off his phone so he couldn’t receive any more messages.

The rest of the night he was pretty much a walking shell, then as the years went on Bob closed himself off. Hardly did he date, and when he did they only lasted a few months before the girls realized he was not ready for the commitment they were wanting. Some understood, others were more aggressive when spitting out their feelings. Never did he admit why he couldn’t love them the way they wanted. The only people who knew who his heart belonged to were Abby and his family.

2015 Bob was transferred to Lemoore when the news broke that Y/n and Enrique had divorced after nearly four years of marriage, however, they had been secretly separated for almost a year before it was finalized. Cursing mentally, Bob couldn’t help but feel a slight relief—which was completely fucked up knowing Y/n was going through a difficult time and here he was silently celebrating, as though he really had a chance now to make things right.

That should’ve been his sign to call her mother and ask for Y/n’s number, with the hope she’d give it to him. But then Bob felt it was too soon. Her divorce had just been finalized, he didn’t know the exact reason despite the former couple citing irreconcilable differences. Whatever it was, Bob wasn’t sure he wanted to know but at the same time couldn’t help but be curious.

He’d get his answer almost two years later in January of 2017 when he flew home to Montana to celebrate his birthday. It was his 32nd and his mother literally begged him to come home so they could all be together now that Bob’s sister had recently had twins and were there to visit. Wanting to meet his nieces, the WSO relented and booked a flight for the weekend after confirming his leave.

Suspicion filled him with the way his family was acting when he arrived. Almost like they were excited but nervous, which only confused the officer. He was in his service khakis, pulling his cap off when they got inside and removing his windbreaker before setting it on the coat rack.

That’s when he saw the black suitcase in the corner.

“Who’s is that?” He asked with a raised brow, noticing his mother slightly tense. It wasn’t a luggage he recognized as one of theirs, and it was as though it had just been placed there.

And his sister had already unpacked in her old room. So it wasn’t hers.

Blushing, his mother tried to find the right words, “Oh-um, It’s—.”

“It’s mine.”

32 years had gone by in Bob’s life and never did he think he’d experience anything close to cardiac arrest. But hearing Y/n’s voice, so close as though she was behind him, made him think he was about to die right then and there.

Then he turned around, slowly, heart beating so fast it was about to explode from his chest, and she was there. Standing at the end of the staircase in a beautiful black leather dress with matching knee high boots, her hair slicked back into a bun and minimal makeup showcasing her gorgeous face.

She was ethereal. Absolutely breathtaking.

The last time he saw her in person was when they were 22, before that was 16. Here she was a grown woman who’d been through a hell of a life. She looked beyond gorgeous, and Bob felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

Only her gaze was not as warm as the emotions Bob was feeling. Honestly he felt like he could be six feet in the ground with how she was looking at him. Betrayal, heartbreak, anger, but underneath it there was love and hope.

“Hello, Robert.”

He didn’t even know how to react. All he could do was stand there, speechless with his mouth slightly agape. Eventually he just breathed out, “Y/n.”

Stoic, Y/n glanced at his mother, “Mrs. Floyd, could you please give us a moment.”

“Of course,” the older woman nodded, bidding her son a glance, “We’ll all be out on the porch.”

Nodding in thanks, Y/n waited until she and everyone in the house had moved outside before facing Bob again. Chills ran up his arms when she let her eyes trail over his figure, remaining emotionless.

An awkward silence passed, neither really knowing what to say. Bob was hesitant to break it, hoping she would but Y/n just continued to stare at him. Both unable to form the words.

Finally he tried to say, “y-you uhh, wow.” He swore he heard her scoff under her breath.

“Yeah, wow,” her tone broke his heart, but then again Bob couldn’t blame her. After all, he’s the reason they drifted apart. When he didn’t reply, instead glancing to the ground, she scoffed louder, “That’s all you can really say? ‘Wow’? After thirteen years, Robert, all you have to fucking say to me is ‘wow’? No, ‘I’m sorry,’ no ‘I can explain everything.’”

Anxiety rising, Bob sighed which only made her angrier. “Y/n, I-I—.”

She couldn’t stop herself, “Why?” The question haunted her for over a decade. “Why did you just throw me away like trash—a-after everything we’d been through? You owe me the reason why you broke your word to me and made me feel like shit. I have waited and waited for years, Robert, hoping you would call or send a letter but now I’ve had enough so you can’t run away from me now. So start talking.”

“Y/n, I didn’t mean for y-you to feel like that,” he tried to explain, but the words were not the best, causing her to explode.

“How else was it supposed to make me feel!?” She threw her hands out. “That’s how it came off as to me! ‘All always be here for you,’ my ass, Robert. You remember telling me that? It was only two years—two years of us doing so well with the distance—I was even planning on surprising you for fucking Christmas and then it was just gone in the blink of an eye,” snapping her fingers, Y/n emphasized her point. “No explanation, no warning. Nothing to tell me you didn’t want to be friends anymore, having your mom give me excuse after excuse why you wouldn't come to the phone.” She pauses to calm herself, her tone kept rising with each word.

Bob takes the moment to speak, “It’s…Y/n, you have to understand it was never my intention to hurt you,” when she made a sound of, ‘yeah right,’ he rushed out, “Please! I fucked up, I know I did and I’ve regretted every second of it since then—and as much as I wanted to reach out and apologize, explain to why it happened…I just felt so ashamed and then I heard you on the radio,” a sad smile comes to his lips, seeing her stiffen at the mention of her debut. “And when I heard your voice, I just thought that was it. You didn’t need me anymore and believed you would forget about me eventually.”

“Forget about you?” Her tone went soft, eyes glistening. “You were my best friend—since we were fucking five, Robert!” He flinched, shame filling his veins. “We did everything together, I shared everything with you. My music—some of which were inspired by the fucking things we did,” the confession had his eyes widened a bit, “You think I would just forget all of that? Thirteen years worth of friendship down the drain? Sorry, but I’m not like you—I wouldn’t just ditch the only person I trusted most in this world because I was starting to become something. Did your mom tell you I called?” She suddenly asked, not letting him answer before she was ranting again, “It was almost a year after you threw me to the winds. The night I fucking met with Capitol Records and got offered the opportunity of a lifetime….I wanted to share that with you. Despite the fact we hadn’t talked for almost a goddamn year, I desperately wanted to hear your voice and tell you I did it,” her voice cracked at the end, causing tears to prick in Bob’s eyes at the sight she was fighting back her own.

“That I did it,” Y/n held back the sob threatening to escape. “You were the only one who believed in me, and I couldn’t even share that with you. Because you didn’t want me in your life anymore—and you know what that’s okay. Friendships come and go, but you couldn’t even give me the fucking respect to tell me. And then you come to my show!” Now she was shouting, “Yeah I know that was you, don’t even try to deny it. It may have been four years at that time but I know damn well that was you in New York. I cannot fucking believe you would come to my show and not even tell me! And then to not reach out after was a fucking slap to my face.” Her breathing was starting to get heavy, the woman pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t even recognize you honestly. The Robert I knew would’ve never hurt me like you did. He would’ve at least shown me some respect. He wouldn't leave me to wonder what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said sternly.

“Well it doesn’t feel that way now does it?” She said just as harsh, “Why?”

“Y/n, it’s complicated,” he put his hands to his neck, looking at the ceiling as he started to lose composure.

“Then tell me why!”

“Because I fucking love you that’s why!”

The words had left Bob’s mouth before he could stop himself. Silence ignited, the WSO covering his mouth with a hand as he went pale, staring at Y/n whose own mouth was parted. The confession had hit her full blast, causing her to stumble back as though she physically felt them possess her. A shaky hand came to her own mouth, looking away from the man when her eyes closed allowing the tears to spill on her cheeks.

“I love you,” Bob whispered, mirroring her expression. “I’ve loved you since we were fifteen, Y/n. I knew I felt something when we were twelve, but I just brushed it off thinking I was confused. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about you—and what we could have. But I didn’t want to lose you if you didn’t feel the same.” Opening his eyes, they locked on hers. God even when she cried she looked beautiful. “When you left…I thought it would be easier to move on. But then we talked every week and the feelings wouldn’t go away. No matter how much I tried. You took my heart with you to L.A. and you’ve had it ever since.”

He waited for her to respond, chest on fire with how bad his heart was racing. Fingertips were going numb as Bob stared at her with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t go back in time and change it as much as I wish I could. Please know, Y/n, I’m so fucking sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you. I won’t ask for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. I won’t blame you if you walk out that door and we never see each other again. But just when you do, know that I’m truly, deeply, sorry.”

Time seemed to slow now with the two adults staring at each other. Now that it was all out in the open, Y/n seemed to be processing the whole thing. Bob couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Unbeknownst to him, Y/n’s brain was screaming, as was her heart. Lips quivering, the woman sniffed.

“You love me?”

“I do,” Bob signed after a moment. He no longer could keep it in, feeling the immense relief at being able to finally say it aloud.

“For years?”

“Almost seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” she repeated with an unreadable tone. “Y-you, I thought—your mom told me you were engaged.”

“That was in college,” he explained softly. “She was at the show with me that night. Saw how we reacted to each other and realized things I tried to hide. I ended things with her—I couldn’t trap her in a marriage that would make her unhappy—make me unhappy. She understood after a while and we stayed friends.” Bob rubbed his jaw, adding, “everyone else that came along was the same. I couldn’t love them the way they wanted me to. My heart wouldn’t allow it.”

Y/n leaned her head against the wall behind her, gazing at the ceiling, “A-and you were just going to go through life alone? Never planning to settle or be happy?”

“What good would it be hurting someone by committing to them when I couldn’t offer everything they would give me in return. They could love me, but I couldn’t love them, Y/n, and that’s unfair.” He wiped away a tear that slipped from his eye, no doubt his irises were red, “I’d rather be alone than do that to someone.”

She took a sharp inhale at that, more tears falling. “You should’ve told me,” her voice cracked, making him look away. Only to freeze when she said in almost a whisper, “Because we could’ve had all this time.”

“Wh-what?” Was his mind playing tricks on him? Or did she really just say what he thought she did?

Y/n chuckled, but it was more of laughing at how sad the situation was. Shaking her head, her eyes stayed on her boots as she said, “Did you ever wonder why I rejected Tyler Davies when he asked me to homecoming junior year, insisting I wanted to go with you instead?” Tyler was the quarterback of their high school football team. A senior, who asked Y/n to the dance and became the talk of the school when she said no. Many were jealous she even got his attention, riddled with shock she would reject the star player.

“Because you felt sorry for me I didn’t ask anyone?” He asked like it was obvious, causing her to huff.

“Because I wanted you to ask me,” his heart skipped again, “And whenever Melinda Perry would flirt with you in government I would literally send her daggers because of how jealous I was. Why do you think I warned you not to go out with her when you asked for my advice? Yeah I knew she was a snake to most of her boyfriends, but I was also selfish because I didn’t want you dating someone else. God, Robby, you were so blind. Even with your glasses you still couldn’t see that I loved you.” It was though he was on cloud 9, disbelief at what he was hearing.

Y/n loved him. At least she did when they were teenagers.

The next question couldn’t even form in his mind before she was lifting her head back up, shrugging when allowing the confession to fall from her lips. “And as much as I want to hate you right, I can’t bring myself to. Because I’m still hopelessly in love with you, Robby.”

Now he was the one stumbling back. “Y-you do?”

“I do. I’ve loved you since I was sixteen.”

He didn’t recall much that happened after that. Just that his feet were carrying him over to her, cupping her face in his hands and moving their faces close together. Lips just barely brushing over, he waited for her to make the next move. Y/n wasted no time, pressing her mouth to his and the two felt the eruption of warmth and love consume their bodies. Her arms around his neck, her fingers ran through his blonde hair causing Bob to groan. The sound made her gasp, allowing Bob to slip his tongue past her lips and heat up the kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, bringing them back together.

“I love you too.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His arms went to cradle her, pressing her against the wall. She simply nodded before kissing him back, “I forgive you, Robby.” God he missed that name. Only she could make him feel some type of way when she said it. He chuckled when she added, “Even though I should slap the fuck out of you.”

It was a miracle they made it up the stairs and into his childhood bedroom which was now a guest room. He had to remember to lock the door after setting her on the bed, praying to God his family would stay outside. There was music playing from what he could hear through the window so it made things easier when the two got lost in each other.

Clothes scattered the floor, kisses and hushed whispers shared between the two. Bob worshiped Y/n, letting his mouth kiss along every inch of her, trailing down any tattoos that coated her skin and paying extra attention in the places that brought her the most pleasure.

When he entered her they both sighed in bliss, moving as one until they reached a climax that brought them both to tears. All the time Bob whispered how much he loved her, Y/n repeating it each time. She moaned with each thrust and whenever she pleaded with him to do something Bob delivered it without hesitation. With her leg over his shoulder, chests pressed and mouths attached together the officer believed if he died right there it would be with a smile on his face. They came together, Y/n gasping his name as he eased them through their climax. When it was over Bob leaned down to capture her lips, wiping away her tears before removing himself to clean her. They basked in the afterglow, Y/n laying her head on his chest while he lightly traced the tattoos on her arm with his finger.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked, making her humm in response. “Enrique…”

The woman made a sound, lifting her head to gaze at him. “Enrique and I had been friends for some time—and we did drunkenly hook up once to get the sexual tension out of the way but that was it,” Bob controlled his reaction, though he couldn't say anything for he too had his fair share of one night stands. “The band’s contract was renewed and The Walking Dead was just starting out. The label and his producers thought it was a good idea for us to be seen together. Just to bring in some press for our upcoming album and the show. But we never felt anything more than friends for each other.”

Bob sat up a bit, causing her to lean on her elbows as she rested on her stomach. His expression was unreadable, “but you two were married.” Again Y/n let out a sigh.

“Enrique and I were friends so we shared things. He confided in me, I confided in him—Enrique was in love with someone who he couldn’t have. Ring a bell?” She raised a brow at him. “I was in the same boat. Just like how you said you couldn’t bring yourself to love anyone else, I couldn’t either. But at the time I thought you were married, Robby.” That had his eyes widened. “I called your mom after the concert that night, hoping to get to you and she told me you were engaged. So when I met Enrique and we both were going through the same thing, we thought ‘instead of being miserable alone, let’s be miserable together.’ Our publicists hated the idea, but we both believed we wouldn’t get our fairytale ending.”

Something in the way she said that last sentence had Bob think about Enrique Lorenzo. Most recently it was revealed he was in a relationship with fellow costar Simon Zahir, coming out as bisexual to the world with an instagram post of the two sharing a kiss.

“So you married him even though you didn’t love him?” Kinda like how he almost did with Abby. It made Bob frown thinking about it.

“I did love him, just not the way a wife should love their husband. And he understood because he couldn’t love me the way a husband would their wife,” she sadly smiled, “It was a mutual understanding where we would go and support each other at premiers and award shows, kiss for the cameras, all that was needed to show the media we were a happy couple. But behind closed doors we actually lived separately.”

Hesitant to ask, Bob waited a moment before saying what was on his mind the last couple years. “What made you two divorce?” The question made her give a small smile.

“Simon confessed to Enrique he loved him after they finished filming season four, and that he and his wife were divorcing. When Enrique told me… I could just see the hope in his eyes, and who was I to deny him his chance at happiness just because I didn’t want to be alone. It would have been selfish of me to. No, I told him the first thing the next morning we’d file but our publicists called and asked to wait until Simon was divorced before we went through with ours. That’s why we were ‘separated’ for a year,” she put quotes around ‘separated’. “We didn’t want to cite irreconcilable differences since it was a mutual decision, but the lawyers thought that was the best route to go.”

Bringing a hand up to caress her cheek, Bob asked the second question he wanted to know, “What made you come here?” She leaned into his touch, “you said you thought I was married. How did you even get here?” The last question was more due to the fact The 1985’s were currently on tour. It was another reason why he was so shocked to see her there when he arrived.

“We played in Helena last night. After the show I had this feeling I needed to come here, so I called my mom to get your mom’s number. That’s when she told me you were flying in today.” Her face turned to one of guilt, “I sorta feel like a bitch because tomorrow is your birthday and I came here knowing there would likely be an argument. Even though I thought you were married, I just really wanted to know the truth. It was eating me up. And with that feeling I needed to come here again after so many years, it sorta felt like a sign—if you can call it that.”

Leaning more into his hand, Y/n added, “I didn’t come with the intentions of winning you over or anything—especially under the impression you were married. I wanted answers, that was all. Although,” she kisses his wrist, “I’m not complaining with how things turned out.”

“Me either,” he agreed with a laugh. As he moved in to kiss her, a knock on the door interrupted causing the two to look like deer in headlights.

“If you two are presentable,” it was his sister, “then we’d be happy if y’all joined us for dinner sometime soon. But by all means, take your time.” She ended with a cheeky laugh before footsteps indicated she had walked away.

Bob let his head fall back into the pillow with a groan while Y/n giggled. She went to get up, but the man wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. “Five more minutes,” he mumbled into her neck. “I’ve waited too long for this.” Humming, he felt her hands go to his air, maneuvering them so he was on top of her.

Y/n gasped at the feeling of him becoming hard again, causing Bob to smirk as she wrapped her legs around him to offer assistance. “Me too, baby. Me too.”

In the haze of it all and as the weeks passed, the two began to live the life they dreamed of with each other. Neither realized they had forgotten protection that night….until Y/n was puking on the tour bus and counted the days since her last period.

“Look at me,” Bob held her hands. They sat in her hotel room in Sacramento, the band finishing out their tour in California before setting to work on their next album. When she called him that morning about her possibly being pregnant Bob got in his car and drove straight there. Thankfully it was a Saturday so he was off and had great timing. Pepper was kind enough to give her a spare pregnancy test she had on her, so Y/n waited until Bob arrived to take it.

Relieving herself on the stick, she kept it in the bathroom to wait for the results while she sat with him on the bed. She was crying, unsure how to feel. Part of her was excited at the idea of being pregnant and having a baby with Bob, but also feared it was too soon. They had just started dating, she was on tour until the end of the month, and they had been keeping their relationship quiet from the public so she was scared of what could happen.

For the WSO, he was going to be happy regardless of the outcome. “Look at me, Y/n. Everything is going to be okay. I am not leaving you—I swear to you, baby. If that says positive, then believe me when I say I will be the happiest man alive,” she whimpered, making him press kisses her cheek lovingly, “We’ll get through it together. You’re gonna be done with the tour in a few weeks and then we can take it from there. And if it’s negative then that’s completely okay too.”

When the results did come, the stick reading in small letters pregnant, the couple cried together with Bob pulling Y/n into his lap. “I love you—I love you,” he kissed all over her face, her cries turning into giggles. “It’s going to be okay, Y/n. I’m so happy, darlin’. So so happy. I want nothing more in this world than to have a baby with you. You’re going to be the best momma ever. I know it.”

October of 2017 brought Marcel Brandon Floyd into the world. Keeping her pregnancy a secret, no one besides the band and their families had knowledge of the birth of their son. Thankfully Bob’s identity was still hidden, both very careful to not let paparazzi catch them together. Especially with Y/n being pregnant they didn’t want to add on the stress of the media discovering their relationship. They planned to announce it on their own at some point once the baby had arrived.

It wasn’t until Marcel was roughly a month old that Y/n posted an Instagram picture with his tiny hand wrapped around her finger, ‘my world has arrived 🤍 10.20.17.’ The announcement had Y/n trending #1 on Twitter and talk show hosts calling to have her on the show. Y/n declined, she only really made television appearances with the band if they were performing, but that was only when they released new music.

Around the holidays was when Bob proposed. They were sitting by the fire, Y/n in his lap with Marcel in her arms when Bob simply said, “Marry me.”

At first she thought he was joking, but then he removed a velvet box from his pocket. Her eyes watered, “Are you serious?”

“More than I’ve ever been. You’re my person, baby. I’ve waited for this moment my whole life—and I won’t waste another second. Marry me, Y/n. Be my wife and I promise to love you even after death.”

He truly meant it when he said he didn’t want to waste another second. After she said yes, they put Marcel to bed and Bob made an appointment at the courthouse, both agreeing to get legally married and wait for a big ceremony some other time. They made love all through the night until the sun rose. In the morning the little family and the band gathered in the courthouse and tied the knot.

Y/n already knew the media was going to have stuff to say about her when the news broke. This was her second marriage, also happening in the spur of the moment like her first one. Only this time around it was with her soulmate so the rockstar couldn’t give a fuck what they had to say. She and Bob were coming up on a year, had a child, and planned to spend every second of their lives together. She loved him with every ounce of her being.

On instagram the picture posted was of their rings followed by one of them kissing where his face was hidden. “I’ve been keeping a secret from all of you. In January I reunited with my childhood best friend, who I was in love with way before The 1985’s were even thought of. Things happened in life causing us to drift apart, but we recently found our way back to each other and I plan to never let him go. He is my second half. The person I was meant to grow old with. I can’t put into words how happy I am and with the birth of our son, our little fairytale seems to be working out. Some of you may think this is all too fast but let me tell you this, we’ve waited a long time for this moment. I ask that you please respect our privacy and thank you to all who have supported me over the years. Much love, Y/n ♥️”

For almost two years the two kept their relationship under wraps from the media. Then in October of 2019, just before Marcel’s birthday Bob was called back to Top Gun. It’d been several years since he graduated from the program, surprised they even wanted him for the mission. With how timing was the WSO would have to report to Fightertown a couple days after his son turned two. Y/n had a beach house in San Diego, deciding her and Marcel would stay there while Bob was in his detachment and what made it better was Xavier and Farrah—who fell in love over the course of their years as a band— were both from San Diego, both currently there while the band took a small break. Bob would have to stay on base with candidates, but after training ended he’d come to the house to be with them.

Pepper and Thomas were back in L.A, but we’re working on beats for their upcoming album and sending the three what they had for them to add on or scrap if they felt it didn’t fit. They had a meeting with the two Zoom with Xavier and Farrah and their two young kids at Y/n’s place the day she got the call Bob was in an accident.

“Hello?” She answered the phone, moving to the side away from where Xavier was drumming. Marcel was in his little playpen, a pair of baby earmuffs over his ears to protect them from the loud noise.

“Hi….” The guy on the opposite end let out a soft chuckle. “I’m looking for uh, Y/n L/n?” His tone was that of someone who found it funny he was asking for someone he definitely thought wouldn’t be on the other end of the phone. Like he saw the name on the card and said, “there’s no fucking way this is the guy married to Y/n L/n,” but because of his job he had to call the number anyway.

“This is her. Who am I speaking to?”

The man went silent for a moment, before clearing his throat. “This is Lieutenant Royce from NAS Miramar medical group,” Y/n’s heart picked up as dread filled her, “Can you confirm you are the spouse of Lieutenant Robert Floyd.”

“Yes,” she rushed out. “I am. Is he okay? Did something happen?” Closing her eyes, she prayed she wasn’t about to receive the worst news imaginable. No, Bob had to be okay.

“There was an accident with his F-18 this afternoon, he had to eject—.”

“Excuse me one second,” she apologized before bringing the phone back slightly to yell at the drummer, “Xavier! Stop drumming for five seconds—I need to fucking hear right now!” The man winced as he mouthed, ‘sorry’ catching the ashen look on her face. Both he and Farrah set aside their instruments, watching Y/n turn away to speak again, this time more calmly. “Please repeat that for me, Lieutenant.”

When Royce heard the name of The 1985’s drummer being shouted at, the Lieutenant nearly forgot what he was calling for, “U-uh, yes. There was an emergency ejection in your husband’s F-18 this afternoon during training. He is okay minus a few bruises, but he will be staying overnight in our facility for observation.”

“Oh my gosh, okay,” she breathed in relief, bringing a hand to her mouth to calm herself. “Is there any way I can see him?”

“Do you have a dependent ID card?” She tells him yes and he says with a light cough, “Then yes you can come onto base and see him.” Royce gave the address, still finding it hard to believe he may have been talking with the frontwoman of the most popular rock band in the last 15 years. He really thought it was just someone who shared a name with her. But then again, they sounded very alike.

Thanking the officer, Y/n wrote down the address and rushed to grab her purse. “I have to go to base—something happened with Bob. Can you guys watch Marcel until I get back?”

“Of course,” Farrah told her, “go go, we’ll stay here and clean everything up.”

Practically speeding onto base, it was the first time she ever had to use her military ID, which had the guard at the front gate jaw drop. He maintained professionalism, scanning her card and nodding to the rockstar. As much as he wanted to ask for a photo the guy could tell she was in distress and it wasn’t a good idea. “Have a good day, Ms. L/n.”

“Thank you, sir. You too.” She waved apologetically, recognizing the look she often got from fans. Had the situation been different she would’ve happily chatted a little longer.

It was the same when she got to the infirmary. The receptionist, who looked to be in her mid twenties, dropped the apple in her hand while other young servicemen were doing double takes and whispering. “That’s fucking Y/n L/n.” “Are you sure?” “I’m serious! I had a huge crush on her in college. I’d recognize her anywhere.”

“Hi,” she offered a small smile, aware the guy to her left had his phone out trying to sneak a picture, likely tweeting the fact she was in a Navy hospital. “I’m looking for my husband, Lieutenant Robert Floyd. I received a call from a Lieutenant Royce saying he was here.”

Upon hearing his name, the gentlemen seated behind the girl with his back to her spun around, eyes bulging when they landed on Y/n. The chair almost fell when he stood abruptly. “T-that’s me. Yes I’m the one who called you, Ms. L/n. If you would follow me I’ll take you to him.”

“Thank you,” she walked behind him, ignoring the whispers and comments made by those around. By now TMZ probably got tipped off, she could already feel her phone buzzing—no doubt from her publicist wondering what the hell was going on. She made a mental note to call her back later to explain.

Royce knocked gently on the door before opening it, “Lieutenant—oh you have visitors I apologize,” he glanced over his shoulder to Y/n, still in disbelief on what he was about to say. Turning back to Bob, Royce gives a nod, “your wife is here.”

“She is?” Y/n heard Bob, and some murmurs of voices going, “Wife?” “When the hell did he get married?”

Pushing past Royce, thanking him briefly, Y/n entered the room only to stop short at the several pairs of eyes landing on her. Off to the side she saw a man with a buzz cut drop his bag of chips, choking on the one in his mouth, “What. the. fuck.”

The two standing in front of the bed—mouths agape—parted away allowing Y/n to see Bob sitting with his flight suit unzipped and tied around his waist. Exhaling in utter relief the woman rushes to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Robby.” She felt his arms go to her waist, pulling her closer as she hid her face in his neck. Y/n could literally cry with how happy she was to see him in one piece.

“I’m okay, darlin’.” He rubbed her back, aware his fellow aviators were staring at them with mixed expressions. They looked confused, disbelieved, shocked, and in awe.

The quiet, reserved, yet sometimes sassy WSO is married to the woman who's been ruling the radio over the last decade.

Who had seven fucking Grammy’s under her band’s name.

Pulling away, Y/n ran her hands along his shoulders, checking for any visible wounds. “What happened? Lieutenant Royce told me you had to eject?”

“There was a bird strike,” he explained, taking her hands and soothing them with his thumbs. “We lost both engines—Phoenix tried to get back control but we were going too fast and couldn’t save the jet. Had to eject at the last second—we’re okay though, I promise. Just a little shaken.”

“Thank God you’re alright,” she sniffed, hugging him again while kissing his cheek. “Leave it to you getting in an accident that makes me use my ID for the first time.”

“How was that?”

“Interesting. I was tempted to run the gate because I had no patience, but controlled myself. Getting arrested would not have been good.”

“No it wouldn’t,” he chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead.

The clearing of someone’s throat ended the moment, Y/n removing herself from Bob to face the group of aviators who were still speechless by the scene. Smiling shyly, Y/n took in each of them. “Hello, I’m Y/n.”

“Oh we know who you are,�� Fanboy said with awe, groaning when Payback smacked his shoulder with a disapproving look. “Sorry that was not the best thing to say. What I-I meant was we’re all fans of your work.”

“And by that he means we were all jamming to your music on the tarmac just yesterday, not understanding why Bobby here looked so smug when Seresin said he could totally get a shot with you if he ever got the chance,” Rooster added on, resulting in the blonde pilot to glare at him before blushing when the others started to laugh.

“Well now I sure as hell won’t try—I’m not that shallow to hit on a married woman, Bradshaw. Made that mistake ages ago and it was not pretty. Anyways, sorry Bob for what I said,” he held a hand up, “but let me be the first to say what a fucking G you are. And Y/n, it’s an honor to be in your presence. Big fan.”

Y/n raised a brow, smirking to her husband to see his reaction. He sure did look smug, keeping his arm around her waist. “A fucking G, huh?”

“He’s the one who said it,” he smiles before noticing she was alone when she arrived, “Where’s Marcel?”

“With Xav and Farrah. They were at the house when I got the call—we were working on some songs.” In the corner of her eye she saw Coyote and Fanboy visibly react to the mention of her bandmates.

“Forgive me for asking,” Phoenix finally spoke from her bed that was seated right next to Bob’s. “But weren’t you two childhood best friends if I’m not mistaken? Sorry if it’s too personal, but I remember seeing your post on instagram two years ago and I thought it said something like that.”

The couple smiled, confirming her wonders. “Yeah,” Bob looked at Y/n with love in his eyes. “We grew up together. Took a hell of a long time before we could get our chance at love, but it was worth the wait.”

For almost an hour the aviators learned more about Y/n and Bob’s relationship, literally saying it should be a romance novel with what life threw at them. The hopeless romantic in Phoenix couldn’t help but awe, feeling so much happiness for her backseater and the rockstar she’d been listening to since sixteen. They truly were the ultimate love story.

When it came time for the mission with Bob and Phoenix selected as one of two foxtrot teams, Y/n held onto him the entire night prior to him shipping out. He made love to her for hours, very slow and sensual ensuring she felt every inch of him. And when they climaxed a tear spilled from her eyes, “You better come home to me.”

He kept a picture of her and Marcel in his pocket the entire time. Before the jet took off of the carrier Bob gave it a small kiss before keeping it safe in his flight suit. The second they got back after successfully completing the mission he called his wife to tell her he was coming home. She practically catapulted into his arms when she picked him up from the docks, not giving a shit that the paparazzi had followed her there. By now the whole world knew who Bob was to her.

The rest of 2019 seemed to go by in a blur. They first thought 2020 would be the best year of their lives when it was discovered Y/n was pregnant again, having conceived the night Bob had left for his mission. She was just at the end of her first trimester when the entire globe shut down. When the rumors spread of a possible pandemic with the outbreak happening across the ocean, the 1985’s all took up camp in San Diego now that Bob had become an instructor with Phoenix at Top Gun. Thomas and his fiancé, who was an actress, didn’t mind moving, neither did Pepper and her girlfriend. The group were working on their sixth studio album and had celebrated 15 years as a group.

But they were starting to get burnt out, thinking it was time to go on hiatus.

Concerned with the virus and what it could have on her pregnancy, the two were very strict on keeping up with covid restriction. For at least three months Bob was working from home, the base shutting down with only certain personnel allowed on. Marcel was still too young to be in pre-school and daycare wasn’t needed since Y/n was home most days. And when she did have business meetings to attend or studio sessions he often traveled with her. Zoom became their best friend during the lockdown, with meetings happening frequently at the beginning to figure out what they were going to do going forward.

Y/n spent weeks going through what were the best records to put on the album. If this was going to be their last for a while then she wanted it to be their best. Two songs she knew she wanted were ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’, while the other 13 were going to take time to decide. ‘Pompeii’ could definitely have people relate with how this lockdown was making them feel. On the other hand, ‘Little Black Dress’ was mostly for her, inspired by the time Bob went absolutely feral when she walked into the room wearing a little black dress.

It was one of her favorite memories.

And so the months went on and before they knew it they were welcoming a baby girl in July—right smack in the middle of a pandemic. The whole ordeal was unlike anything they ever imagined. Only Bob was allowed in the room, not even their son could come visit so little Marcel didn’t even get to meet his sister until days later. He was with Y/n’s mother who traveled down from L.A and quarantined in the weeks leading to her due date. Y/n hated hospitals, looking forward to bringing their daughter Brenda Rose home. Unfortunately no one else in their family or friends could meet the baby girl until spring of 2021 when things were starting to settle out.

That was also when The 1985s made the decision to go on hiatus, planning to release their album that summer before going on a final tour in 2022.

“This just in, pop rock group ,The 1985s, have announced a hiatus following the release of their upcoming album End of An Era set to drop at the end July. Frontwoman, Y/n L/n, posted on her Twitter a photo of the group in a sweet embrace with the caption, ‘when one chapter ends, another begins. Join us in 2022 as we say goodbye to the stage—thank you to everyone who has supported us since we were kids on MySpace. We hope to see you as we close this chapter in our lives, but don’t worry, the future can always surprise you. In the meantime, as Elvis would say, ‘The 1985s have left the building.’”

“It’s a sad day for fans of Grammy award winning rock band The 1985s. Earlier it was announced they are going on an indefinite hiatus once completing their impending world tour for their sixth studio album. Formed in 2003, the 1985s skyrocketed to the Billboard charts after debuting with their single ‘1985’ in 2005, going on to dominate the late 2000s and early 2010s with features on The Twilight Saga: Eclipse soundtrack, the 25th anniversary of We Are The World to raise charity for the Haiti earthquake, and accumulating a total of seven Grammys including taking home the big three: ‘Record of The Year,’ ‘Song of The Year,’ and ‘Album of The Year’ in 2008 for their second studio album Sugar, Spice, and A Little Bit of Rock ‘N’ Roll. The announcement of the hiatus has succeeded the news of bassist Thomas Quinn tying the knot with longtime girlfriend, Oscar Winner Amelia Bandera, who recently revealed she was pregnant with the couple’s first child. Last year frontwoman Y/n L/n welcomed a daughter with her husband—the couple’s second child since they wed in a private ceremony in 2017. And word on the street is keyboardist Pepper Renolyds is looking to adopt with partner Jenna Langdon. The married pair of the band, Xavier and Farrah Hernandez have had two children following their wedding in 2010 and have hinted at possibly wanting to have a third. It is unsure when the group is likely to regroup after 2022 comes to an end, but one thing is for sure: The 1985s have embedded their name as one of the bestselling groups of the 21st century. I’d say we could be looking at a possible induction to the Rock ‘N’ Roll Hall of Fame in the future, and a Star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.”

Now here they were, November of 2022 at Madison Square Garden to take the stage one last time. Would they ever come back? Probably, but it would be some time before they did.

So they were gonna go out with a bang.

“I have twenty minutes until my ass needs to be on stage, Robby,” Y/n mumbled between kisses, back pressed against the door of her dressing room. His mouth went to her neck, roaming his hands all over her body that was covered in her usual leather, “That’s plenty of time.” The response had her giggle, moaning when he attacked her sweet spot making him smirk.

“Then you better do double time…we’re on the clock.”

Her glam team was going to be pissed when she came out with messy hair, glistening of sweat, and slightly smudged makeup, but she didn’t care. Not when her husband was rocking her world as he had her bent over the couch. His chest pressed to her back and hair in his fist, whispering absolute filth into her ear—saying he was going to have her on stage full of him and only he would know. But Bob also gave words of praise and love.

It wasn’t the first time he snuck backstage to rile her up before a concert. When they started the American leg of the tour in California he was at almost every show and would bring her flowers. Sometimes the kids came along, other times they stayed with Phoenix, but each time Bob would either get her pent up by teasing her as the minutes counted down…or would full on rail her. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t get off on the thrill of almost getting caught….or the fact anyone passing the dressing room could figure out what they were making their own music.

This time around in The Garden their kids were with Phoenix and Rooster, who were all waiting to get to their spots on the floor after wishing her and the band good luck. The others were already there, ready to have the time of their lives with the sold out arena. Bob needed to hurry because the stage manager was going to be knocking on her door any second.

They finished with minutes to spare, out of breath and panting with a light layer of sweat coating Y/n. Fuck she looked sexy in her leather and messed up hair, glistening as the light hit her. A smug look took over Bob, winking at his wife who just shook her head with a smile, “I’m gonna miss that now that the tour is over.”

“Don’t worry, baby. We still got after party.”

The rockstar ushered him out when the stage manager appeared, the aviator delivering a smack to her ass as he told her good luck. She smacked his in return causing him to yelp, “Naughty boy.”

Yeah he got some looks from his fellow officers when they got to the floor, Jake whistling under his breath as he went to check his watch. “Jesus Bob, you two were at it for a while. Were you trying to go for baby number three? I hope she’s able to walk on stage.” The comment had Phoenix slap his shoulder, “Can you not? We have kids with us,” she gestured to not only Bob’s children but also Payback's ten year old son and Hondo’s seven year old daughter. Then there was Mickey’s girlfriend carrying their toddler with baby earmuffs, the same Brenda and Marcel were wearing. “My bad,” Jake said, though the smirk remained on his face when Bob sent him a wink.

When the show started it was the most amazing thing any of the squad had witnessed. Some of them had seen the band in their college days, but it was obvious they were gonna top what they did ten years ago. There was a light rumble to Madison Square Garden with how loud it was. Flashing lights and smoke covered the stage, the countdown with a video montage hitting zero before The 1985’s opened with ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go,’ sending everyone who was still sitting on their feet. Bob put Brenda on his shoulders, Rooster doing the same with Marcel who were clapping and pointing to their mother, “Mommy!”

“Now, I’m searching every lonely place,” Y/n belted out the first line of the chorus, moving down the stage’s elongated platform that split the floor. “Every corner calling out your name. Tryna find you, but I just don’t know.” Xavier hit the drums with Farrah’s riff, Y/n holding a hand to chest, “Where do broken hearts go?”

“Are you sleeping, baby, by yourself? Or are you giving it to someone else? Tryna find you, but I just don’t know,” Pepper and Thomas joined the vocals, “Where do broken hearts go? Where do broken hearts go?”

When the song came to an end, Y/n let the audience scream for a moment before introducing the band. “Madison Square Garden!! New York City!!” The crowd screamed again, smiles on every member. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, theys and thems and anyone in between…. welcome to the ‘End of An Era’ world tour—our final show as we close out an actual end of an era,” Y/n moves closer to her friends with a sad laugh, hearing the sounds of protest from some fans.

“Let’s start off by introducing ourselves…..Mr. Thomas Quinn on the bass!” Tom hits some chords against the audience’s cheers, Y/n doing a little dance off to the side. “Miss. Pepper Reynolds on keys everyone!” The former pianist lets her fingers move along the keys, grinning wide and waving when she finishes. “Show me what you can do, Ms. Farrah Cortez,” the guitar solo sends the crowd into a frenzy, which only increases when Y/n introduces Xavier. “And last but not least, Mr. Farrah Cortez,” laughter rings out before she corrects herself, “I meant Mr. Xavier Hernandez,” the drums go crazy when his last name leaves her lips. She waits till he’s finished to do a bow.

“And I’m Y/n L/n,” she has to pull her mic away to hide her laugh, cheers ringing from every corner in the sold out stadium. “And we’re The 1985s.”

The energy throughout the concert was insane. Even during intermission and 5-minute breaks the audience was having a blast. The dagger squad, plus Hondo and even Maverick were dancing and singing along—the older man getting a literal PowerPoint lesson from his former students on everything there was to know about the group.

Y/n was very entertained when Bob told her that night, saying Maverick aced his test they’d given him. “You gave your old instructor, the famous Captain Mitchell….a test on our band and music? And he got a 100%?” His little nod and smile had Y/n jump in his arms, kissing all over his face, “You’re so fucking adorable, Robby. I love you so much.”

The first part of the show was mostly dedicated to songs on their most recent album, including ‘Pompeii’ and ‘Little Black Dress’. The latter had Bob blushing mad during the set, especially when Y/n came over to where they were at, eyes on him and curing a finger to get him to come to the edge of the floor. There the stadium exploded when she practically laid on the platform to lean over and kiss him, the cameras catching the scene to display on the giant screens.

Blowing kisses to her kids, she got back up and finished the song, smirking at how the dagger squad were whistling and howling in cheers. “Sorry I couldn’t help myself,” she giggled, moving back to her bandmates to prepare for the next set.

Though the tour mainly focused on their songs from their latest work, they called back to some old hits, including ‘Let’s Get Lost,’ which was written for the third Twilight movie soundtrack. “We got any Twilight fans here tonight?” Y/n chuckled at the screams, “I got one thing to ask then….Team Edward or Jacob?”

‘Some Nights’ was one of her favorites to perform, feeling a wave of nostalgia each time she did. It was a fan favorite as it was their second single ever released. The band harmonized on the track, all of them showing off their vocals with the ‘Oh come on,’ part of the song.

Y/n was hesitant to sing ‘Iris’ and ‘Payphone,’ considering they were about her husband, but he assured her when they were planning the tour set list that he wouldn’t be offended. They were some of her greatest works, the audience should hear them.

They even covered the iconic, ‘Don’t You Forget About Me,’ from the Simple Minds—most notably from the movie The Breakfast Club. “I hope you never forget about us, New York,” Y/n said when they finished, “Cause we’ll never forget you.”

Finally they were coming down to the final ten minutes and they had yet to play the song that started it all. “As we come to the end of tonight’s show, we just wanna thank each and every one of you for the support and love you have shown us tonight and through the years. None of this would’ve happened without you all—and we cannot thank you enough for sticking by us, you all play a giant role in what we do. And we’re going to miss you the most as we close this chapter in our lives,” Y/n pauses, feeling the tears prick her eyes. Glancing at her friends, she could see they were fighting back their own. They knew it would be an emotional night, and now they were minutes away from stepping off the stage for the final time.

“We started this journey when we were only seventeen and eighteen—and it’s been a hell of a ride since. Next year marks twenty years since we became The 1985s, seventeen since we made our radio debut, back when MySpace was still a thing,” she has to laugh at that, “What better way to end this tour—end this chapter, than by traveling back in time to the year that started it all.”

The reaction in the dome had little Brenda have to cover her hands over her muffs because it was so loud, Bob holding her on his hip and asking if she was alright. “Loud,” she said in her small voice, causing him to mentally awe.

“I know, baby, it’s loud. But the show is almost over and then mommy will be done, then we go home. Can you hold on for one more song? It’s your favorite one,” Brenda’s eyes brightened at the mention of her favorite song, nodding frantically making him laugh. “Okay munchkin, I expect to hear you sing along—except don’t say the bad word in it, understood?”

“Yes, dada.”

Phoenix was jumping up and down with Marcel in her arms, head banging with the little boy along with Rooster and Javy. Everyone was in delight, rockin out to the final number. Brenda sang along with Bob, the crowd harmonizing with them.

“She’s seen all the classics,” Y/n belted the second verse, hands moving on her guitar, “She knows every line. Breakfast Club, Pretty In Pink, even St. Elmo’s Fire.”

“She rocked out to Wham, not a big Limp Bizkit fan. Thought she’d get a hand on a member of Duran Duran.”

Her and Farrah were leaning their backs against one another, “Where’s the mini-skirt made of snakeskin? And who’s the other guy that’s singin’ in Van Halen? When did reality become TV? Whatever happened to,” she hit a riff, “sitcoms,” she hit another, “game shows? Sing it!”

The entire squad, the kids, and Madison Square Garden echoed, “ON THE RADIO!”

“Was Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana there was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied with 19…19…1985!”

Her mini solo before the bridge had the crowd wild. Smiling the entire time, Y/n even went to the side where her friends and family were, making them all go crazy. “She hates time, make it stop. When did Motley Crue become classic rock?”

“Classic rock,” the band repeated.

“And when did Ozzy become an actor? Please make this stop,” Y/n hit a riff, “stop,” another, “stop!” Only the cheers could be heard during the slight pause before Y/n brought her hand back on the chords.

“And bring back Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. ‘Cause she’s still preoccupied—sing it!”

“1985!!!”

“One last time Madison Square Garden!!” Not a single person in them dome didn’t sing along, everyone shouting the final chorus at the top of their lungs.

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna. Way before Nirvana. There was U2 and Blondie, and music still on MTV. Her two kids in high school, they tell her that she’s uncool. But she’s still preoccupied, with 19….19….1985!!!”

All the band members continued playing an extended outro, lights flashing all around as the crowd whistled and screamed. Y/n ran over to each side of the stage before coming to the middle, waving a hand to her band who were still going hard on the instruments before raising it and finally bowing.

On the floor, Brenda still in his arms, Bob wiped away the tears falling from his cheeks with his free hand. His friends were cheering, the entire scene overwhelming for the WSO as he stared at his true love as she took her final bow. Y/n was also crying, as were her friends when they finally closed the show shouting, “Madison Square Garden—New York City we love you! Thank you so much for being here with us and being the best crowd ever. Safe travels wherever you’re going and we hope all your dreams come true. Until we meet again….as Elvis would say, The 1985s have left the building!”

The crowd was still screaming, the five adults coming to the middle of the stage holding hands in the air before bowing. Then they all met in a tearful embrace, Y/n full on sobbing with Farrah and Pepper, overcome with emotion that it was all over. Waving to the crowd, they spotted dozens of fans in their line of vision crying, some even throwing flowers onto the stage. They all went to each side of the platform to blow kisses and wave, until finally walking off into the arms of their crew who’d been with them since 2005–where another heartfelt moment took place.

As soon as their families made it backstage, Y/n was dropping to her knees to allow Brenda and Marcel to run into her open arms. “My babies!!” Peppering kisses against their cheeks, Y/n held them tight as they said words of praise. “You were amazing, mommy!” “That was so fun!”

“Thank you, baby,” she kissed Marcel’s head, looking up to see Bob staring at her with absolute love and admiration. Gently moving him and Brenda to the side, Y/n stood up, only to squeal when Bob’s hands went to her thighs to lift her up, spinning them around.

“You were incredible!” He exclaims, stopping still but still holding her up. Their lips met in a searing kiss, “absolutely spectacular.” Her hands came up to cup his face, deepening the kiss as their children wrapped their arms around Bob’s legs. It was like they were in their own little world, oblivious to everyone celebrating around them. The band were with their kids and partners, the crew were popping off champagne.

“I love you so much, Robby,” she said against his lips, kissing him again when he said, “I love you too, baby. More than anything in this world. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

When they pulled away, Y/n was a flustered mess, mirroring that of Bob who was looking at her like she was a goddess. “Don’t give me that look, Floyd. Not until we get to the hotel.”

“Can’t help myself, darlin’,” he chuckled, adjusting her in his arms before giving her another kiss.

“Eww,” Marcel groaned, making the couple laugh into the kiss. Bob set Y/n down, but pulled her close as Brenda and Marcel squeezed in between them.

“So what’s next then?” Bob whispered in her ear. “I know you can take the girl out of rock n roll…but she’ll always be a rockstar.” Y/n laughed, pulling away to gaze deeply in his beautiful blue eyes that she fell in love with as a teenager.

“Now, we live our lives. One day at a time. Together.”

Y/n really needed to thank her mom one day. It was because of her that the woman got to live her dream. After all, she was the one still preoccupied with 1985.

……….

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001, @cutelittlepotatofry, @luckyladycreator2, @americaarse , @elenavampire21

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not-soup-333 · 11 months

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I'm Nobody's Rockstar Girlfriend (pt 1)

Hobie Brown x Fem Musician!reader Warnings: N/A Synopsis: Hobie ends up missing part of the most important gig of your career to date, and not only has it been an increasing theme, but you're getting fed up. Other Details: a little angst maybe? (happy ending tho), reader doesn't know Hobie's spider-man, use of pet names instead of y/n, established relationship, Gwen is in this but it's like Gwen in Hobie's universe so she's not a spider person, I'm assuming with earth-42 miles and other Miguel there are others of all the spider people A/N: I'm more in the metal scene than punk so wish me luck. (I am a musician tho so sorry if desc of show stuff/slang seems a little funky weird or technical.) Also, I may have accidentally gotten a little too into how much the music industry hates women a tad sorry guys. (Also if you guys want to see more please don't be afraid to send me some asks!!)

You loved Hobie Brown. Especially when he was on stage. There was something magical about being in an audience full of people and still knowing every song he sang was one that you'd heard first. Every lyric had been bounced off you before it ever made it under the stage lights. The way the light hit his dark skin always made him almost look like he was glowing. Long fingers gliding over the fretboard as he played.

You loved him even more after the performance when he made a beeline for you. Those long fingers you loved tracing designs into your hips as he asked you what you thought, the look in his eyes hoping you loved it each time.

But right now really wasn’t the time to be focusing on Hobie’s music. You were supposed to be focusing on the show you were playing tonight. As you finished checking the tuning of your guitar for the third time, you glanced out of the dingy side room you and two other bands had been shoved into. You definitely weren't looking for Hobie. Even though he'd promised he’d bring you dinner and a pep talk before the show since you’d forgotten to grab something after load-in and sound check had started. Especially when Gwen’s drum set had fallen apart halfway through her setting it up.

As your eyes scanned the large room, it was nearly packed wall to wall with people. "Be back in a minute!" You called over your shoulder to your bandmates before slamming the door behind you. (It had a habit of not closing if you didn't do it forcefully.)

Wandering the large room, you saw a lot of faces you recognized and many more you didn't. Finally after what felt like an eternity of searching you found a few of Hobie's friends standing near the far wall. Walking up, you stopped in front of the group. "Have you seen Hobie?"

One of them looked down and smiled. "Hey, what are you doing here?"

That question made you pause and glance around again. Had Hobie not invited them? You hadn’t thought about that before he’d walked up, he was usually the loudest person in the crowd during your sets. "I'm playing tonight."

"Oh! Congrats! We'll make sure to cheer for you." One of Hobie’s other friends raised his beer in agreement.

"Did Hobie not come with you then?" You felt your face heat by the question, not liking how it probably made you seem reliant on your boyfriend to them.

"Nah. He was supposed to, but then he ran off. Said he forgot something at home or something like that."

Your throat went dry with the answer and you nodded once. He didn't miss gigs. Something had to be wrong. "Oh, okay."

"I'll give him a call and let you know if I see him after the set though."

"Thanks." You mustered up as you turned away from the group. "I'll see you guys later."

As you returned backstage a few people called out a hello and you mustered up a smile before slamming the door shut behind you again and leaning against it. Gwen, looked up from her phone and saw your face, immediately turning to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Hobie’s… god I feel stupid saying this it’s just… Hobie’s not here.” You covered your face with your hands and tried to push the tears down that were welling up in your eyes. You didn’t like feeling this way. Like your heart was about to burst out of your chest simply because your boyfriend had missed a gig. You had been a fiercely independent person your whole life until you’d met Hobie about a year ago at a basement show. From that moment you’d felt like your life had been tied to his, and suddenly it was important that he missed your show.

“Oh… it’s okay I’m sure he’ll show up. He’s not the kind of guy who’d miss a gig this big for you.”

That sat heavy in your stomach for a long moment before you felt anger rise up in your throat. “This isn’t the first time he’s missed one though, and he’s been missing them more frequently lately. I mean, I haven’t missed one.”

Gwen fell silent but placed a hand on your shoulder as you continued spiraling further and further into your thoughts. “I’m almost always there for his shows and when I’m not there it’s usually some crazy circumstance, and I always listen to his songs before he plays them on stage. I’m supportive of him all the time so where is he right now? Gwen, I will not just be some rockstar’s girlfriend. I have my own career to worry about.”

Gwen nodded and her hand slid off your shoulder. “It sounds like you need to talk to him.”

“Well, I’d love to if I knew where he was!” You shouted, kicking the door right before the headliner’s manager pulled it open. “You guys go on in five.”

Turning to grab your guitar and sling it over your shoulder, you gave your band a look and said. “Let’s go prove we’re a real fucking band yeah?”

While the rest of your band nodded in agreement, Gwen just sighed and grabbed her sticks from where they lay next to her drum pad.

Nothing but adrenaline was going through your veins as you stepped out onto the stage, the bright lights making it impossible to make out most of the crowd as per usual. Still, you noticed when halfway through your set a familiar head of wicks entered the door. That was enough for you to boil over the edge. Turning to the rest of the band after the song was over you pushed the mic you’d been near away from your mouth. “Let’s finish with the new one.”

“But you haven’t been able to finish it without messing up.” Your singer said, pushing her own mic away from her mouth for the moment.

Knowing this was precious time wasted you shook your head. “Let’s do it.”

“Is this about Hobie?” Gwen said from over her cymbals as your singer turned back to the audience.

“No.” You lied. Well, only partially lied. You needed to prove yourself, but it was also a better closer than the one you all had settled for. And you’d gotten the riff at least once in practice without messing it up. “It’ll be fine. We're going to kick ass." You walked back to your amp and hit the pedal switching the channel for the next song and the show went on.

Your eyes, betraying you, continued to flit back to Hobie as he joined his friends and continued to watch you from the corner. You hated him right now, and the guts he had to show up late to the gig that could possibly be your break. But still his eyes met yours and the smile he gave you made the rest of the world melt away. If only for a moment. Because then you remembered you were mad at him and turned your focus back to your guitar.

By what was either talent or sheer adrenaline, it was the best show you’d ever played. At the end your fingers were sore, and one may have been beginning to crack, but it was good. Incredible even. As you stepped off the stage, breathing heavily and grinning. You saw Hobie leaning against the door to get backstage, arms folded over his chest and legs crossed.

When his eyes met yours he immediately pushed himself off of the wall and began walking to you, a grin on his face. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to kiss him or yell at him. “You were on top of it Love. That was amazing.”

“It would have been even better if you’d been here for the whole thing.” You replied without fully thinking. Well, you supposed it was going to be the latter now.

“I’m really sorry, something came up. I got here as fast as I could.” One of his hands went to your hip but you pushed past him.

“Unlike one of us here, I’m reliable and have to go help with load-out. Let’s talk about this later.”

“I ain’t the one picking a fight here Ma,” Hobie said, wrenching the door open and holding it for you. A twinge of annoyance had entered his voice which left you feeling both oddly satisfied and like a black hole had opened in the pit of your stomach. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it for the whole thing but I really tried to be here.”

“Yeah well, sometimes trying just isn’t enough. I’ve never missed a gig of yours. Except that one time I was really sick but that doesn’t count. And not only that, but this is the most important gig I’ve ever had.” You laid your guitar in its case and latched it shut with more force than was likely necessary. You unclipped the ring that had the key on it from your belt loop and locked the case with such a loud click for a moment you worried that you’d broken off the end in the lock before you pulled it out and put it back on your hip. “I always do my best to support you as much as I can and I haven’t been getting that in return lately. And Hobie I may love you more than even I understand but I am not just some rockstar’s girlfriend and I’m not going to be.”

“Okay.” Hobie’s face was unreadable as he reached out and grabbed your guitar case from where it still lay on the ground. Guilt already began settling in your stomach.

“Hobie-”

“Car’s in the back yeah?” His deep brown eyes didn’t look at you as he pushed the door open and walked out behind the venue.

#hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown x musician!reader #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown fanfiction #spider punk #across the spider verse #atsv #atsv fanfiction

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footygirl114 · 11 months

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19&36 Leah Williamson

Don’t hate me …

You were finally getting your big break. Having been trying to make it as an artist for the last few years you thought this day would never come. But today you would be an opening act at Wembley.

Leah definitely passed off some of your CDs and records to the right people for you, but she had always believed in you and pushed you to follow your dreams. After watching her fulfill one of hers this summer at the euros you were a bit bummed she would miss you finally living yours.

She had been your best friend for years, you both helped each other through your teens and had come out stronger than ever. You had been her biggest cheerleader for as long as you could remember, you also had been in love with her forever.

Having finally gotten the chance to play on the bug stage you knew it was time to debut the song you wrote for her. Knowing she wasn’t going to be there made it easier.

During the show you dedicated the song to “your best friend and rock” but the song was clearly not about being friends, more about being in love with your best friend and watching her achieve her dreams but wanting to be by her side.

When you came off the stage you were buzzing from the energy but also having that song finally off your conscious. What you didn’t expect was for Leah and a few of her arsenal teammates to be waiting for you.

Walking up to them you immediately ask “what about your game?”

Beth smiles and says “we rushed here after it”

You stutter out a “did you hear the whole set?”

Leah nods and doesn’t say anything else as Viv chimes in and says “let’s go catch the show”

They all follow and Leah remains standing their eyes on you. You swallow and step closer to her and grab her arm and pull her to the side down a quieter hallway where you ask “what did you think?”

“Amazing Y/N” she says quietly.

She doesn’t say anything else and your mind goes to the worst and you feel your heart tighten in your chest. “Leah?” You ask her.

“Yeah?” She says not able to meet your eyes.

You swallow and say “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel the same as I do, then I’ll leave you alone.”

She pauses eyes downcast, you feel the tears gather in yours, as she says “Y/N” and trails off.

You gather yourself and pull your hand away and slowly back up as you say “I am so sorry Leah” once you finish you turn and disappear into the backstage madness.

#ficlets #baby fics #prompts #leah williamson imagine

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shai-manahan · 1 year

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hi! feeling kinda angst-y today (ha ha 🥲) i don't know if this has been asked yet, though.

how would relationship stage ROs react when during a fight with MC, they tell MC "I wish I never met you" then seeing the heartbreak in MC's face.

🥲

First of all, happy holidays! I apologize that I have to greet you all with this response, but when inspiration strikes, I have to write. So yeah, here it is.

One of these might be present in the series, by the way, although only with MCs who would make very specific choices.

Alonzo:

They stand their ground, keeping their face impassive, seemingly unmoved. They’ve always known that this relationship never has been a good idea in the first place, and perhaps this could be their way out. Perhaps they could just go back to hating each other, hurting each other. Perhaps this way, Alonzo wouldn’t have doubts anymore.

It would be so easy.

Just walk out. Just leave, wordless. Yet, when they see that expression, that silent pain they’ve seen their partner bear for a hundred times over, they begin to falter.

“Why did you have to make this so difficult?” they ask, though they’re no longer certain whom the words are meant for.

Wesley:

Some part of them wants to take it back. Apologize for their words. Tell their partner that they didn’t mean it.

But they did, didn’t they?

Looking at the face before them, the realization comes crashing down. If they’d never met, would their partner be as loathed? Would they still be trapped into a situation with no clear way out? Would they be so susceptible to the influence of those who’d wanted to use them?

“I wish I never met you,” Wesley repeats, forcing themself to look into their partner’s eyes as they say the words. They want to stop. They want to be as honest as they have the first time they met. Explain their reasoning. Confess the things that have been bothering them.

But this was the better choice, wasn’t it? Maybe with this, their partner will finally have a new chance.

To restart.

Maybe they would be better off separate from one another, and this is the first step towards that.

Owen:

“I didn’t mean it.”

The words slip so easily from Owen’s lips. It was so easy, so lacking of effort that anyone, even his partner, would have thought he was telling the truth.

He wasn’t.

But how could he, after seeing that expression on their face?

Owen strides towards them, and with hands outstretched, he cups their cheeks, thoughts running through his mind ceaselessly. This person was someone he used to love, someone whose smiles he used to adore, someone whose actions once inspired his own.

As much as it hurts Owen to admit, he knows that they’re that person no longer.

Still, he makes himself remember those times. Relive them in his mind over and over until his arms go stiff. Look at the eyes before him. Remember.

Remember.

Tears stream down his face, his hands shaking, and he forces himself to say the words again. As much as he can. Until they turn into the truth, somehow, or until his partner realizes that it is nothing but a cowardly lie.

“I didn’t mean it.”

Jade:

Jade’s first instinct was to keep getting mad at them. How dare they act so hurt after everything that had happened? How dare they turn things around, as though this was her fault?

How dare they show this now, and not before?

But Jade has already made countless mistakes. Countless decisions she’d wished she could go back to and change. And somehow, in all this anger, in all this urge to scream and head towards another round of argument, she allows herself a moment to breathe. Think.

Look back. Look forward. And think.

“I’m sorry.” She clutches into her partner’s clothes. Softly, forceless, but almost pleading. She finds it strange, why she’s doing it, and yet she still does. She wants to cling into them until they sort it out. To not let go, not this time. But she can’t be like this, either, can she?

She can’t keep holding onto people simply because she wants her to stay. She can’t be that person anymore. “Let’s talk later, okay?”

With a deep sigh, not waiting for a response. Jade turns around and leaves. Maybe they should both cool off first, maybe then this would all be mended. Maybe there’s still a way to preserve what’s still there.

She thinks of the possibilities, the ramifications, and the anger is slowly replaced by fear.

A deep, unbidden fear that this cannot be fixed.

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mastermindlor · 8 months

Text

On Theo Raeken and Manipulation

Introduction:

The purpose of this is to explore what manipulation really does and the effects it can have on people – especially young children. And, as should be no surprise to anyone, it is also an ode to Theo Raeken. A defense of Theo Raeken, if you will. I’ll be referencing three scholarly articles, one Tumblr post, and the show Teen Wolf (obviously). But, I will admit, most of this is speculative. I’m going to try hard to keep it to canon, but I know my bias is going to be in there. But instead of stating it as fact, I’ll ask open-ended questions you can feel free to fight with me about. But this really isn’t the post I intended on making. I intended to write a pure essay on defending Theo Raeken, but that’s been done before no one listens. I thought I’d switch it up and put my Psychology degree to good use, finally. Okay, that’s enough introduction. Let’s roll.

Who is Theo Raeken?

If you don’t know, you should probably stop reading unless you really care about manipulation and its effects. I’m writing this assuming you know who Theo Raeken is and why he needs defended.

Definitions of Manipulation

All of this comes from https://www.researchgate.net/publication/344540018_PSYCHOLOGICAL_ASPECTS_OF_MANIPULATION_WITHIN_AN_INTERPERSONAL_INTERACTION_MANIPULATIONS_AND_MANIPULATORS. They refer to different types of manipulation, and use other terms for it occasionally. They start by defining “influence during interaction” – a subtype of manipulation – from psychological dictionaries as “a process when an individual is changing the behavior of another person as well as his/her attitudes, intentions, ideas, as a result of the person’s activity.” Cause and effect changes occur in the person’s mind, such as psychological characteristics of the individual*, group norms, public opinion, et cetera. Psychological impact can be explicit or implicit, depending on whether the goals of the manipulator are communicated in advance and not hidden. This is clearly the case in season 5 – Theo knows all about the Dread Doctors’ plan – but whose to say it was always like this? You can assume perhaps it was, if he knew what he was doing it for when he took Tara’s heart. But just because they told him one thing doesn’t mean they told him everything – did he know of their master plan when he was 8/9/10 (I wish canon gave us an actual age)? We have no way of knowing this, so for the sake of this article we’re going with the assumption both occurred at different stages. But implicit (covert) psychological influence emphasizes its destructive characteristics. Meaning, manipulation, at its core, can be positive or negative, depending on what the person is being manipulated to do. But obviously Theo wasn’t selected to do benevolent things, so we can get a sense of implicit manipulation here.

There is a latent impact in manipulation that can make the victim susceptible to pursuing various goals and intentions of the initiator. I talked to Des (the wonderful @bendystrah) about this particular point. Once again, what we know about Theo’s childhood is very limited. We don’t know what all he did for the ten-ish years he was with them. We don’t know what all they did to him. We don’t know a lot. But this point is saying the victim can be persuaded into doing what the perpetrator wants, even if they’re not their own goals or intentions. I bring up this point for a reason. We all know in season 5 he was acting on his own free will most of the time (does he even have free will still? Or has it been totally warped and convoluted?), but we know little about what happened with Tara. We know how she died, and why she died, and who is responsible for her death (well, I’m about to refute that one actually). What we don’t know is if Theo woke up one morning and went, “Huh, I kinda want Tara’s heart actually.” You can hate Theo and claim he did, but again, we have zero evidence that points to the fact Theo was already an evil child. We all know he was being visited by the Dread Doctors before Tara’s death, so I think it’s pretty obvious they were the ones who wanted Tara’s heart to make Theo a genetic chimera. Why her heart? Why them? We don’t know that, but we do know their goals and intentions – to make Theo a genetic chimera – and they get Theo to do the dirty work for them for whatever reason. So, in this point, I am claiming it’s possible Theo was completely manipulated into doing this and didn’t have any intentions of ever doing it until he was visited by the Dread Doctors. I mean, this is literally laid out in 5x16, so I’m just talking to talk. If you aren’t insane like me and don’t remember every Theo scene in an episode by just its number, it’s where he’s talking to Stiles in the sewers.

STILES: The guy who murdered his own sister when he was nine?

THEO: Yeah, I was nine years old. I also believed a guy in a red suit came down the chimney to deliver presents. So when three people in leather masks showed up and said that my sister wanted me to have her heart, I believed them, too.

So we know what the goals and intentions of the Dread Doctors are. It’s not hard to assume Theo is telling the truth in this scene (for a number of different reasons, including why lie and it lines up nicely with our theory), and, if he is, it goes to show he was psychologically influenced into doing this.

Furthermore, manipulation is always negative. Even if the goals were altruistic – which they are clearly not here – the process of manipulation is a negative one. This doesn’t really tie into our thesis here, but it is important to note.

The object of manipulation is viewed “as a means of achieving one’s own goals . . . without taking into account the interests, will, desire of the other side.” Meaning: the Dread Doctors didn’t care what Theo wanted. He was not their equal. They didn’t sit around a table and gently ask Theo what his interests, will, and desire was. We’ll never know Theo’s true interests, will, and desire before it was warped* into something else.

Okay, this next point is a bit complicated and is giving me a little bit of a headache (and I’m also a little high, which is so fun to admit to in an essay). But basically, “the manipulative impact focused on personality structures is characterized by the actualization of an interpersonal conflict, when the recipient of the manipulation is held responsible for the choice made through suffering in doubt.” So let’s break that down. That’s basically saying, there’s an impact of manipulation in which the victim is held responsible for what they did while being manipulated and thus feels interpersonal conflict. And obviously Theo is. No one ever argues the point that he killed his sister. And I’m not claiming otherwise, so don’t come at me yet, but this definition is claiming the victim of the manipulation is not at fault for their actions, but the person manipulating them is. And, as a result of this, the victim has interpersonal conflict. I mean, do I even need to say it? Theo’s entire Hell is this interpersonal conflict. To continue, it is claimed that “this type of manipulation the exploitation of the personality, because here . . . the desire [is] to shift the responsibility for the committed actions to the recipient, while the manipulator gets the win.” Once again, this claims the victim is not responsible for their actions, but the perpetrator(s) of the manipulation is. Now is where it gets tricky, and starts to give me a headache. It is said in these cases “it is extremely important for the manipular to create an illusion of choice for the agent of influence” and “when a person is sure that he/she is acting of his/her own free will, he/she will do much more than when he/she knows that he/she is fulfilling someone else’s decisions imposed on him/her.” Okay. I took a break (finally) and now I’m back. Knuckles cracked and everything. So, what this is talking about is when the manipulator wants something but, for whatever reason, doesn’t want to do it themselves and thus use the victim as a conduit to carry out their crime. They make it feel like the victim’s idea, because this makes the victim more likely to do it. I talked to Des about this one too, and what conclusion I came to was how this could possibly – possibly, still no coming at me yet – be the case with Theo’s desire to kill Scott. We know Theo wants Scott dead for his powers. But do the Dread Doctors also want him dead? That, here, is the key question. Me and Des think yes, as having Scott out of the way would make their work easier. But they don’t care so much that they’ll do it themselves. But what if they, really, want Theo to kill Scott? We don’t know if they do or don’t, so we can’t say for sure either way. I’ve done a little research on this but can’t seem to find any solid conclusions on the matter (trust me when I say I looked). So this one isn’t really sturdy, but it’s an interesting theory that the Dread Doctors allowed Theo to feel like he was making his own choices when really he was just helping the Dread Doctors carry out their plans. Maybe they, too, wanted the chaos and discord within the Pack. Now, obviously bringing the Chimeras back wasn’t their goal – hello, why kill them, then? – but I believe they also could’ve stopped Theo had they wanted to. They could’ve stopped Theo from doing anything if they had wanted to. The fact that they didn’t doesn’t point to them being nice and chill and just letting Theo do what he wants. To me, this is more likely stemming from the fact that, somehow, this all fit into their master plan – or, at least, didn’t interfere with it. But, like I said, if they wanted to stop Theo from doing any of this, they could’ve. Which makes me wonder if Theo’s free will wasn’t as free as it appears.

This article also mentions how authority is a particularly sound influence, but I will also explore a similar topic later on so I won’t bother with it now.

*This definition refers to the fact manipulation can cause changes in the psychological characteristics. Now, as a later source mentions, we will never know the full story of Theo’s childhood. All we know is what the show tells us, which isn’t a lot. But we can assume he wasn’t, like, one of those “evil children” who were just “born that way.” Because Scott or Stiles would’ve mentioned that, if he’d gone around killing animals or something. You can argue they didn’t know, but we also have literally zero evidence that he did do anything like that, so it’s a weird assumption to make. He had asthma, and played Little League, and no one ever mentions anything blaringly wrong with his early childhood. What I’m getting at here is a change in psychological characteristics. Maybe Theo was evil before, and that’s why the Dread Doctors targeted him. Or maybe he wasn’t, and went through actual psychological changes in his characteristics which caused him to act differently than he ever would have had he not been put on this path.

*In season 5, his interests, will, and desire are having a Pack and having power. These are his intentions and goals. First of all, I want to note that none of his goals are “murder.” Does murder fall into his plan? Absolutely. He’s clearly very much okay with it. But it’s not like his motivations are as shallow as “killing is fun!” He has reasons to kill Tracy and Josh, and reasons for wanting Scott dead. You can argue what he did to Scott was the worst thing he did, because he killed him out of emotion, not gaining anything from it. I know I’m basically saying premeditated murder is better, but that’s not what I mean. I just mean it isn’t like he originally set out to kill people for a good time. Killing people just happened to be the way to get what he wanted. Furthermore, who knows what his intentions would’ve been had he not lived the life he did? His intentions were formed as reactions. Wanting a Pack was a response to, well, not having one. And wanting power was a response to having none. If he’d been able to live a normal life, there’s no reason to assume he would’ve ever had aspirations like that.

Who is Manipulated?

Everything in this section comes from https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC8905186/. This article, actually, does not explore the heading at all. It explores radicalization in a religious sense in prisoners who were manipulated. But, the data in the article made it worth using for our purposes here. Starting with the fact “that the process of radicalization follows several phases, during which the recruiters indoctrinate and prepare young people for the use of violence.” And that sentence is what this section is really about: youth. This section will demonstrate how crucial of a factor age is, and what that says about Theo.

“According to this model, recruiters identify their targets in vulnerable contexts.” What this means is that the victim is usually already vulnerable in the eyes of the manipulator. Now, we don’t know why the Dread Doctors chose Theo. We know, like, three things about his early childhood, and none of those three things are even his age. But one of the three things is that he had asthma. Okay, you say, so did Scott. Well, maybe the Dread Doctors were looking for someone who had asthma and also a sibling. That sounds unlikely, but I’m simply illustrating the point that it is a possible weakness he had in his health, making him potentially already vulnerable. Or maybe he had shitty parents. Or maybe he had great parents. We don’t know anything else about his childhood. So we can’t really confirm this point, but what’s important is that we can also not deny it.

Next, “the first phase is psychological submission (emotional radicalization), whereby the young person loses their autonomy and becomes dependent.” Well, this is pretty obvious. The Dread Doctors took Theo away from his parents, and thus he became entirely dependent on them. What else is an 8/9/10 year old supposed to do? He has to depend on them, he has no other options. He can’t just depend on himself, because how is an 8/9/10 year old supposed to have or make money? How’s he supposed to eat? Where is he supposed to sleep? So, yeah, he’s dependent. But, this is also “achieved by using persuasive and aggressive communication strategies, such as social isolation and inducing confusion between reality and fantasy.” We definitely can check the social isolation. Now’s where one of the Tumblr articles comes in. In this post (https://demonzdust.tumblr.com/post/178486817906/part-i-introduction-theo-before-the-dread) the author states that, “We know that the Dread Doctors kidnap and experiment on people while they are still conscious. We also know that they are capable of inducing hallucinations. They can do all of this unbeknownst to others. That leaves them with a lot of tools to shape a young Theo into what they wanted.” I reference this post because it says what I wanted to say better and more succinctly than I could. Especially the part regarding the hallucinations, and how that ties into the article’s point about inducing confusion between reality and fantasy. Like we’ve said, we don’t know what all the Dread Doctors did to Theo. But it’s entirely possible they confused his reality and fantasy, at least for a period of time.

Now we get more into the actual article, which is about religious radicalization. But we’re going to spin this into a Theo context. “Finally, in the third phase of violent disinhibition and legitimization (violent radicalization), the recruit validates the use of violence by associating with the mistreatment and oppression allegedly suffered by their new group, identifies the enemy, and shifts responsibility by making an attack essential to improving their situation.” Okay, that was a lot of words. Let’s break it down. In short, for there to be violent radicalization, setting a clear enemy and making the victim feel like attacking that enemy is the only way to improve their situation must be present. This goes back to my earlier point about the Dread Doctors and possibly wanting Scott dead/chaos and discord in the Pack. Did the Dread Doctors convince him this Pack consisting of his old friends was the enemy? Did they make him think they needed to be disbanded for Theo to get his own Pack and the power he’s craving? We don’t know. We can’t say yes, but we also can’t say no.

Next is where we get into the youth aspect of this section. Youth is noted as “a particularly relevant stage in the radicalization process.” We know Theo is young. As young as 8 when this started, and around 18 during season 5. This article talks about 20-28 being young, so Theo would fall into the category of being extremely young. If youth is a relevant age in radicalizing 20-28 year olds, what exactly does it do to someone who might be 8 years old? The article continues by stating, “Age could be considered a risk factor for radicalization.” Which just means that Theo had a risk factor already before ever being visited by the Dread Doctors. Why? Why is being young more of a risk factor? Well, I’m glad you asked, because I have answers.

The experience of more extreme and variable emotions

Greater threat/stress sensitivity

Commitment with violence

Basically, young people experience more extreme and variable emotions due to “deficits in both emotional regulation and emotion reactivity (sensitivity).” This also applies to the second point, and why threat/stress sensitivity is greater. Now, the last part is more for adolescents than a child. But it states that the youth are more likely to engage in risky behaviors and commit more violence than other age groups. Now, these are not reasons Theo is the way he is. Everyone is a child/adolescent at some point. But these are risk factors, and they could have played a role in making Theo more susceptible to manipulation and violence.

Barely Even Human

Yeah, I know it was cruel to name this section that. But it fits. Everything in this section comes from https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/ethics-manipulation/. This article defines manipulation as “radical programming or reprogramming of all or most of an agent’s beliefs, desires, and other mental states.” The thought is that “that manipulative influences bypass the target’s capacity for rational deliberation.” This is implying that the Dread Doctors and their manipulation of Theo could’ve bypassed his ability to really think about the choices he was making. This has long-lasting implications. If we believe this to be true, it is possible that the Theo we see simply doesn’t have a “capacity for rational deliberation.” Meaning, he acts in irrational ways, or ways that look irrational to others but seem rational to him because he lacks the ability to purposefully and calculatingly make decisions. Instead, he acts in a way that meets his most basic survival needs. And what does a wolf need? A Pack. And what does someone who has been manipulated for a decade need? Power. He needs a Pack and power, and thus those are his goals. Are they rationally deliberated goals? We don’t know, but this article suggests the possibility that the answer is no.

“Manipulation is commonly used aggressively, as a way to harm the manipulator’s target, or at least to benefit the manipulator at the target’s expense.” This point doesn’t have a lot to do with the points I’m making in this essay, but it does make me sad for Theo.

“Another natural way to account for the wrongness of manipulation would be to claim that it violates, undermines, or is otherwise antithetical to the target’s personal autonomy.” This is, more or less, what we talked about earlier. That Theo may never have made any of the decisions he made if not for the Dread Doctors. This implies none of this was done out of his own personal desire to do so, and that it may very well be things he never would have done otherwise. The article goes onto further state that, “It is natural to regard [manipulation] as interfering with autonomous decision-making. The idea that manipulation is wrong because it undermines autonomous choice is implicit in discussions of manipulation as a potential invalidator of consent.” Meaning, Theo’s consent wasn’t important during the time he spent with the Dread Doctors. The Dread Doctors didn’t take it into consideration. This doesn’t mean he actively did things he didn’t consent to doing, but it does bring up the possibility for further discussion.

Lastly, this article states that, “In this view, manipulation involves treating the target as a device to be operated rather than an agent to be reasoned with.” We already know the Dread Doctors viewed Theo as an object. Whether he could be a success or a failure. They never cared about him as a person, merely as a tool to do things they couldn’t/didn’t want to do. If you view Theo this way – as a device to be operated – it takes away some of the blame placed upon him for his actions. He was wound up and made to go, simply put.

Conclusions

TL;DR: Manipulation is bad. Don’t do it. Theo was manipulated, and primed to be so because of his status as a youth. In this essay, we explored his actions and the possibilities behind why they occurred. Our conclusions are that it’s entirely possible he was completely manipulated by the Dread Doctors and thus acted as a puppet whilst they pulled the strings.

If you disagree with anything I said, let me know. But not just in a “screw you you’re stupid” way. Let’s have an actual conversation.

I hope you enjoyed this at least a little bit, or learned something from this. This is Kay, signing off (for now . . . ).

xoxo, kay

#theo raeken #teen wolf #meta #babygirl

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queer-whatchamacallit · 8 months

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I just rewatched 1x02 of The Bear, and took notes to get deeper into these fucked up silly guy’s heads, so here we go!!

Tw: workplace abuse, intentional emeto

The staff at EMP wear white tops, black pants, and a blue apron which Carm continued after his switch to The Beef

With both the “why?” bit and “Do you like working with fucking idiots?” “I’ll do better,” the only accepted response is that a mistake was made and it was their fault

“Do you like working with fucking idiots?” “I’ll do better.” “Say ‘yes Chef’” both serve to paint Carm as a fucking idiot and to show Chef as always deserving his respect

There’s a constant flip flop between absolutely tearing Carm to shreds and making him feel like dirt beneath Chef’s shoe for the problem that occurred and making sure he’s keeping work flowing at a rate and quality that’s acceptable to Chef (which it never will be)

I’m sure you’ve seen the “Chef saying ‘you should be dead’ was off screen so you can’t tell if it was actually Chef or if that was in Carmy’s head,” and I lean more toward the latter. I know it’s plausible (which is really fucked up), but I just like the narrative possibilities for Carm starting to hear Chef’s voice. It sounds different too. It’s whispered, but Chef had to be careful about who heard that one more than everything else, so idk

His eyes are kinda hazy through the whole thing, and when it’s over, he stalls for a second before blinking hard and brushing it off. He still sounds kind of off-kilter after though.

There’s a time skip I never noticed before where one moment, he’s desperately calling hands, and the next, they’re cleaning up after service. Maybe unintentional but maybe slipping in a little of that s1 unreality and showing that Carmy misses time sometimes

Marcus just loves messing with Richie, first his cologne and second “DeVry, we’re serious about success!!” and he’s so real for that

SYDNEY: [mocking laughter] <333

Carm doesn’t actually clean the floors with a toothbrush, he had a rag which feels… weird. His floor-cleaning toothbrush is such a staple in fics

He walks to and from work

On his coffee table, he has an ash tray, a mason jar of water, and some clutter I couldn’t make out

“YOU KILLED MICHAEL” on the order tickets is an interesting one. I’d probably tie this most easily to the train of thought that he wasn’t there, but he could have helped, and if he never left, Michael would still be alive. Maybe he thinks the pressure of having to deal with him as a kid contributed or that his success as a high end chef made Mike feel like shit by comparison, but idk, there’s a lot of ways you could go here

“That’s um… a lot of words.” We have a work day here and reading about managing his business is not fast and exciting and Carmy is a little blood-sniffing shark, if he stops moving, he’ll die. Fr kinda love him for this but am pissed at him for just shoving it back to Syd

“Is my hair on fire?” I had to look up a definition, but Carmy’s starting to wonder if he’s just totally fucked and if The Beef can make it out of this. It’s interesting to see him so unsure of whether he’s going to make it. “Not yet, no, but you need help,” just feels nice. It’s both sugar-coated and completely accurate

I love Ebra for just listening to T rant about how much she hates Syd, and later, he just fuckin rocks it when Syd calls orders out. Ebra’s one of my favs <33

Syd with her journal shows the first signs of her impatience and Richie interrupting her with the inspector I think finally flipped the switch of her just absolutely despising him

Them getting a C and seeing everyone go through the 5 stages of grief is so funny omg

Syd breaking up fights and stubborn idiot-proofing by getting the right caulk was so hot girl of her

“Fak, fix that fuckin sound.” I want to know what made the difference between this and the “I don’t mind it” alarm during the s2 Cicero meeting

“He’s a baby. Don’t get Carmen into trouble, y’know? I was a baby too once, Sydney. Nobody gave a fuck.” This is pretty self explanatory, but… yeah ouch

Carm’s willing to vent to Jimmy about work with the slightest encouragement. Might point to them having a closer relationship, or maybe Carm would vent about work to whoever will listen

“I asked you where you’ve been.” So he hasn’t seen Cicero or his mom since moving back, and I feel like him and Nat had at least texted or called before 1x01 but probably not seen each other, could be wrong on that though. So he just dove headfirst into the restaurant the second he got back to Chicago, and hasn’t even talked to the family he’s been self-isolating from for the past 5 years

I love Carm’s phone password being 11111

Edit: I’m watching this ep yet again, and the flowers on the table in the scene with Pete are the same from his cooking show dream in 1x08!!! Maybe tying in that he feels like his slow breakdown is being seen by everyone he knows, not just those connected just by cooking. Or maybe it’s connecting his conversation with Sugar to how he was also struggling especially hard at the time of the dream, but then, I feel like it would be in Sugar’s kitchen when they’re talking about it. Idk but I love this detail a lot

Sugar doesn’t seem to treat Pete super great :’(. She kinda pushes him away after he hands her the phone, and he instantly assumes that she’s telling him to shut the fuck up. She is the sibling trying hardest to change and be healthier, but she did indeed inherit that Berzatto temper and fast pace to the point of rudeness

Carm’s “Did you hear I apologized? :D” is so funny to me

Carm will vent to Sugar when something happens that’s more in the mental side of things. He wants to be casual about it, doesn’t want to think too hard into how deeply fucked he is, but he needed to talk to someone about almost setting his apartment on fire

Apparently he sleep cooks “sometimes,” and that wasn’t the only time

We know that the breathing difficulties started “sometime in New York maybe?” and I feel like crying out of nowhere is a little more recent, but the nightmares could’ve started at any time, or maybe he was saying New York for all 3, who knows

“I don’t want to bother you.” When considering who to tell what, he does consider his perceived burden on the other person

“I was throwing up every day before work… kinda dug it.” This quote has naturally festered in my brain for the past couple months because it says so much about him. He experiences stress nausea and maybe it became an intentional way of gaining control and consistency in an environment that fought so hard to make him feel faceless and powerless. It shows how far he is willing to go for this. He’ll do whatever it takes, including making himself vomit from anxiety. In his mind, it helps him become a better chef. Could also illustrate his likely connection between perfection and suffering. He kinda dug it. He felt like that self-destruction was necessary for him to excel. I could go on all day

He stayed there because “People loved the food. It felt good.” Here’s his stated motivation. His actual motivation is some messed up combination of that and lot of stuff he talks about in his Al-Anon speech: the excitement of being that good at something for once, just keeping going, hoping that one day, Mikey would acknowledge how good he was at it. People loving the food was confirmation that he was really fucking good at this. More than anything though, he wanted Mike to love the food

When the health inspector reveals that a pack of cigarettes was left by the stove, it doesn’t cross his mind that it was him. He was the CDC at EMP, he wouldn’t make a mistake like that, but he did, and now, this is just reinforcing how fucked everything’s gotten, especially himself. He’s just the type of person who leaves cigarettes by stovetops now

And yeah, that’s 1x02 - Hands all good and done!! Again, I don’t know how far I’ll get with these, but they’re very fun

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ellohcee · 1 year

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Rough sketches for a idea I started brewing a while ago, context under the cut

Jasper watches from the wings as the band performs, a good gaggle of them on an equally eclectic gaggle of instruments. A large group that he’s seen around the club before but never heard sing until today and he’s regretting waiting so long to watch one of their shows. They have such an energy to them, like they’re all just there to have fun playing music together. They range from lightly bouncing feet on some to a couple of the guys towards the back just absolutely cutting loose in a way that Jasper has to give props to.

But there’s one man in particular who’s captured his interest. One of the two lead singers, who seems to glow like the sun itself has come to manifest in the club and outshine every stage light focused on his group.

Next to him, currently oblivious to his spiral, Gwen puffs out a sigh as they wait. “I hate this folksy shit,” she grumbles softly, not sounding too genuinely annoyed about the music itself, but maybe more so just waiting for their rotation to start.

Jasper doesn’t respond, still watching the ginger as he moves with the energy of the group. That’s the thing that really interests him about their band, they don’t just stand in one spot and perform, or even do their own thing, they all move around and weave towards and away from each other, flowing effortlessly in a dance for such a crowded stage. At least when the tone of the song calls for it.

They range from stomp your feet energy to soft, morose tones, and no matter what the singer is performing, Jasper can’t look away from him. His voice is warm, smooth like honey, and it’s during those calmer songs that it can really be distinguished. When the energy softens down to a gentle lull, holding the audience entranced in such a cloud of rapt and hushed attention, it really lets the singers shine. Their voices lend well to each other, harmonizing, both of their tones different but still soft and sweet.

And like the flipping of a switch, the mood shifts suddenly but not at all harsh. They pick one more energetic song for the last of the set, their performance made so enjoyable just for how much fun they seem to have together, ramping the crowd back up.

Once they finish their last song and express thanks and goodnights to the cheering crowd, the band begins to filter off the stage.

The ginger is looking over his shoulder, saying something to one of his band mates as he trots down the steps with a delighted smile, full of that familiar joyful rush of a live performance that Jasper knows well. When he turns his head to look forward, he catches eyes with Jasper and pauses as they stare at each other, the rest of the band filtering around their singer. Jasper inhales slowly through his nose, lost in the man’s eyes, a lovely sea green that catch in a warm glow, his cheeks full of freckles and a flush from exertion and stage lights.

Finally, the man seems to come back to himself and smiles brightly, making Jasper’s heart skip a beat and oh fuck, if he wasn’t already done for he’s definitely a goner now.

“Good luck!” the ginger chirps, before turning to trot after his band, leaving Jasper breathless and all kinds of crushing.

The whole time Gwen watches this interaction curiously, looking between the ginger and her bandmate’s starry-eyed stare, the pieces clicking into place before Jasper can pull himself together.

She suddenly smirks, elbowing Jasper and startling him. “What?” he gasps, breath catching roughly in his throat from the abrupt action.

Gwen’s smirk widens and she clicks her tongue, waggling her eyebrows.

Jasper catches on as he comes out of the trance, his cheeks flushing pink as he laughs, at how knowing her expression is and how quickly she’d gone in for the kill. “Oh shut up!” he grins, finally pulling himself together and following her up onstage as she merely barks out a laugh.

#ellodraws #jaspvid #band au #imagine Oh Hellos vibe for David's band #Jasper's is kind of like uhhh indie rock idk what the genre is i'm thinking of #apologies to gwen for leaving her out but it's 2am #it's okay she gets Clem

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kjack89 · 1 year

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A Continual State of Ambivalence

For @handahbear, for my 10 year anniversary/4k followers giveaway, who requested a sequel to my kinda-sorta Mrs. Maisel/Lenny Bruce AU, The Only Honest Art Form (tumblr | AO3). Hope you enjoy!

1950s comedian AU, E/R, developing relationship.

If there was one thing that Enjolras was known for, it was his tenacity.

Which was why he found himself yet again making his way down the few stairs that led to probably the most unexpected of his recent haunts: the comedy club where Grantaire performed.

This time, though, he came prepared, a dollar-fifty already in his hand and a tight smile already on his face as he pushed the door open. But while he was again greeted by the pile of coats and unlit cigar that made up Grantaire’s manager, Éponine, there was no sight of the man himself, an unfamiliar, and distinctly less funny, comedian on stage.

“A buck fifty—” Éponine started, breaking off when she saw it was Enjolras. “Oh. It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Enjolras confirmed.

“Back again.”

Enjolras frowned. He hardly thought that the two times he’d been to the club since his first visit merited the tone she used when she said ‘again’. “Yes,” he said, with slight impatience.

She didn’t seem to notice though, just chewing on her cigar almost contemplatively. “He’s not on tonight,” she offered finally, and it took a lot of effort for Enjolras to not roll his eyes.

“I kind of put that together myself, thanks,” he said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt.

Evidently not very successfully, since Éponine took the cigar out of her mouth to remark coolly, “Yeah, yet you still show up here to sit on that barstool and order two beers that you don’t drink in hopes that he might pop up.”

Enjolras felt himself flush, just slightly. “So?”

“So,” Éponine said, stressing the single syllable, “there’s an easier way.”

“Like what?”

Éponine gave him an almost pitying look. “Like asking me when the next time is that he’s performing here.”

Enjolras’s flush deepened. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Éponine echoed, with just a slight mocking bite. “Which won’t be for awhile, by the way.” Enjolras felt inexplicably stricken by that, and something of that must have shown on his face, as Éponine added, “He’s on the road. Performing in Florida at the moment.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Florida?” he repeated.

Éponine arched an eyebrow. “Yeah, state at the southern end of the country, juts out into the ocean? Smart kid like you, figured you might have heard of it.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “I’ve heard of it, thanks,” he said shortly. “I just can’t imagine Grantaire in Florida.”

“You met him once and you think you’ve got him all figured out?” Éponine asked with dry amusement.

Enjolras wasn’t entirely convinced that anyone had Grantaire figured out, and shook his head. “Of course not.”

“Good,” she said. “Because he’d hate to think he was without an air of mystery.

Well, that Enjolras had at least figured out after only one meeting. He chose not to mention that, though, instead asking, “So when is he back?”

Éponine shrugged. “Dunno,” she said. “Depends on how well the tour goes.”

Enjolras hadn’t expected much more than that, and so jerked a nod even as he started turning back towards the door. “Ok, well—”

“You got a number?” Éponine asked abruptly, and Enjolras paused.

“Sorry?”

“A phone number,” Éponine said. “You are familiar with the concept of a phone, right?”

Enjolras turned back to fully face her. “You really think I’m stupid, don’t you?”

For the first time all night, Éponine grinned. “I think you’d have to be to keep trying to get Grantaire to come to one of your little activist meetings,” she said, and Enjolras blinked, surprised that Grantaire had told her what they had briefly discussed during their first, and thus far only, meeting. “But all things considered, no, if anything you’re smarter than most of the idiots who try to meet up with Grantaire after a show.”

Enjolras was so taken aback by the unexpected almost-compliment that he just stared at her blankly for a moment before she cleared her throat and said pointedly, “So about that phone number…”

“Right,” Enjolras said quickly, flushing again, and he patted his pockets for a pen. Éponine let him flounder for a moment before holding out one for him, and he grabbed it, now performing the same search for a piece of paper. “And you’ll call when he’s back in town?”

“Something like that, anyway,” Éponine said, saving him once again by handing him a matchbook, and, when he looked confused, flipping the cover open to indicate he should write his number inside. “Listen, can I offer you some free advice?”

It was Enjolras’s turn to give her a bemused look. “Free?” he repeated, with mock-incredulity.

She smirked. “Fine, let’s say buck-fifty advice and your cover paid for it.” Then her smile faded. “Look, I’ve known Grantaire for years and I love him like a brother.”

“I sense a but coming.”

Éponine just shook her head. “But a clean-cut kid like you—”

“I can take care of myself,” Enjolras interrupted. “And besides, it isn’t like that.”

She didn’t look remotely convinced. “Uh-huh,” she said, sounding even less convinced than she looked. “Just – don’t give me your number if you’re not sure.”

“I’m sure,” Enjolras said firmly, handing the matchbook back to her. “I look forward to your call.”

She pocketed it, a troubled look on her face, and Enjolras offered a small nod before finally turning and leaving, taking the steps two at a time up to the street, and feeling more determined than ever.

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — —

Of course, two weeks without a phone call from Éponine began testing the limits of even Enjolras’s tenacity, and it was on a particularly morose Thursday afternoon as Enjolras sat brooding on the couch in his parents’ apartment on the Upper East Side that the phone rang.

And just as he had for the past two weeks, Enjolras instantly straightened, craning his neck to see his mother hurry to the phone, frowning slightly as she did. “Enjolras residence,” she answered in her usual clipped tone. Her frown deepened. “I’m sorry, who are you looking for?”

Enjolras was on his feet in an instant, something like panic running through him as his mother said impatiently, “We’re all named Enjolras, you’ll need to be more specific.”

He practically sprinted to his mother’s side. “It’s for me,” he hissed, but she just tried to shoo him off.

“If you don’t know his first name, I’m not certain I should pass you over to him,” she said snippily.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Mother!”

His mother hmphed, but finally said, “Fine, fine, here,” before passing the phone over to him.

Enjolras glared at her until she retreated out of the room, though he was pretty sure she just went to pick up the extension. “Éponine?” he said into the phone, trying not to sound as breathless as he, rather inexplicably, felt.

His question was met with a familiar, low laugh, and Enjolras’s heart did a somersault in his chest. “No,” Grantaire said, “but, uh, I can get her if you’d rather talk to her.”

Enjolras grinned. “That’s ok, thanks,” he said. “I think she’s tired of talking to me.”

“Her loss,” Grantaire said. Then, “You go by your last name?”

“Long story,” Enjolras said shortly. He paused before saying pointedly, “Look, we don’t exactly have a lot of time since I’m pretty sure my mother’s listening in, so, uh…”

“In that case, let me cut to the chase,” Grantaire said. “I’ll be up in your neck of the woods this evening. Want to get dinner?”

Enjolras blinked. “With you?” he blurted stupidly.

“No, with Éponine,” Grantaire said dryly, and Enjolras barked a laugh. “Donohue’s, tonight at 8?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, still a little breathless. “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

“See you there – Apollo.”

Enjolras hung up and had to resist the urge to lean against the wall and grin like an idiot. Thankfully, that urge passed quickly, especially as his mother reemerged from the direction of her bedroom, only confirming Enjolras’s suspicion that she’d been listening in. “Who was that?” she asked.

“No one,” Enjolras said, more from instinct than anything else, and when she just gave him a look, he sighed and amended, “A friend.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Your friends don’t usually call here.”

“Because they usually know better,” Enjolras muttered. “This is a, uh, new friend.”

“Hmm,” his mother said, looking unconvinced. “He sounds coarse, dear. Be careful with that one.”

He was strangely reminded of Éponine’s words of warning, which really only went to show that neither knew him well at all. Warning Enjolras away from something, or someone, was the surest way to get every rebellious bone in his body all the more convinced.

So he just gave his mother a tight smile. “I always am.”

— — — — —

Enjolras nervously smoothed a hand down the front of his jacket as he approached the maître d' stand. “Hi,” he said, his voice squeaking, just slightly. “I, um, I’m meeting someone—”

“Of course,” the maître d' said smoothly. “We’ve been told you’d be joining us. Please follow me.”

He led a somewhat-baffled Enjolras back into the restaurant, and Enjolras relaxed when he saw Grantaire lounging in his seat at a prime table in the corner of the restaurant, a cigarette in one hand and a half-drunk martini in the other. He looked as rumpled as Enjolras remembered, and even more tired, but he still broke into a grin that made Enjolras’s heart pound in his chest when he looked up at him.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” the maître d' said, pulling out Enjolras’s chair for him.

Enjolras arched an eyebrow at Grantaire as he sat. “Looks like you’re better known than I gave you credit for,” he said.

Grantaire laughed lightly. “I don’t think you can make the police blotter as many times as I have without gaining at least a little notoriety,” he said dismissively. He handed the menu in front of him to Enjolras. “Here. Order whatever you want, it’s on me.”

“You don’t have to—” Enjolras started, but Grantaire waved him off.

“It’s a policy of mine not to make someone else pay for my drinking habit.”

Enjolras was fully prepared to argue further but the waiter chose that moment to arrive, first offering Enjolras a cocktail, which he declined, before taking their order. “Um, I’ll have the lamb chops,” Enjolras said.

The waiter nodded and looked expectantly at Grantaire, who just tapped his martini. “Another of these,” he said, “and keep ‘em coming.” He took a long drag on his cigarette before glancing at Enjolras. “What?”

“I thought you invited me for dinner,” Enjolras said.

“I did.”

Enjolras frowned. “Doesn’t dinner normally imply some kind of food?” he said, trying not to sound disapproving.

Grantaire just shrugged languidly. “For you, maybe,” he said. “I prefer a liquid diet.”

Enjolras pursed his lips slightly. “You look like you could use some real food,” he said, mainly because Grantaire did, looking even more wan up close than he had when Enjolras had first seen him.

“Strange,” Grantaire remarked, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray and fumbling in his jacket pocket for his cigarette case.

“What?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire lit another cigarette and stuck it in his mouth, mumbling around it to tell Enjolras, “Your mouth is moving and yet it’s my mother’s voice I hear.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Hilarious.”

“That is, rather literally, my occupation,” Grantaire reminded him wryly. “In what few venues will have me, at least.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Do you think the, uh, subject matter of your last few shows has anything to do with that?” he asked carefully, trying not to allude too openly to Grantaire’s comments on homosexuality while they were in public.

Grantaire took a contemplative drag on his cigarette before shaking his head. “No.“

“Really?” Enjolras said, surprised.

“I only started openly talking about certain…lavender subjects, shall we say, when most places refused to book me,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “Figured I couldn’t do any more damage to my reputation than I already had.” Enjolras wasn’t entirely sure that was the case, but he didn’t get a chance to make that argument one way or another before Grantaire forced a smile and leaned forward. “But enough about me. Tell me about you.”

“About me?”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Yeah. Seeing as how the only thing I know about you is you're hopelessly naïve and live with your parents.”

Enjolras felt himself flush. “I– It's temporary,” he muttered, certain his cheeks were burning red.

Judging by the way Grantaire smirked, he was right. “Which part? The living with your parents or the hopeless naïveté?”

“I don't agree with the supposition of the latter, so obviously the former,” Enjolras said, a little sharper than intended. “I'm just staying with my folks until I can get a little money together and move out.”

Grantaire nodded. “Ah. Noble.” He drained his martini and almost immediately the waiter was at their table with another. “So does that mean you have a job?”

Enjolras’s flush deepened. “Um. Not really.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “So how do you plan to get a little money together?” he asked, before something like realization brightened in his face. “Wait, how old are you?”

“I'm 23,” Enjolras said, curious where this was headed.

Grantaire’s smirk returned. “And now it makes sense. I assume your trust fund matures at 25?” Enjolras glared at him, but Grantaire just laughed. “Don't look so put out, kid. I say get it while the getting's good.”

“It's just – it's not like that,” Enjolras said, though he wasn’t certain the actual explanation, that his father wanted to him to go to law school and when he refused, his mother wouldn’t let him get an actual job for fear it would make the family look like they were hurting for money, would have him come out looking any better. “And you seem to know an awful lot about it. Did you manage to blow through your trust fund already?”

Grantaire laughed. “Fuck no,” he said cheerfully. “I didn’t get a dime from my family. But I've been the rebellion of enough upper crust men in their 20s to know the signs.”

He didn’t say it as an accusation but Enjolras still frowned. “That's not – I'm not using you as some kind of rebellion.”

“No?” Grantaire said mildly. “Then why are you here?”

Enjolras felt like he had been constantly on the wrong foot for this entire conversation thus far. “I– you called and invited me,” he said, flustered.

“I did,” Grantaire said, taking a sip of his martini and giving Enjolras a searching look. “But you don’t seem like the type to come when you’re called.”

“Normally I’m not,” Enjolras said. “But I felt like we didn’t get to finish our conversation the other night.”

There was something sour in Grantaire’s smirk. “So this is just about converting me to your cause?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Enjolras said, feeling like he might finally have at least even footing if not, however briefly, the upper hand. “Why’d you call me?”

Grantaire’s smile faded. “You left your number,” he said, sounding almost surprised by the question.

“And you don’t seem like the type to actually use a guy’s number,” Enjolras shot back.

Grantaire snorted into his martini. “Touché.” He shook his head slowly. “I guess it wasn’t over for me either.” He gave Enjolras another searching look. “But I’m still not sure what made you want to convert me in the first place.”

“Well for starters, I didn’t think it would be a conversion. The things you said about free speech…” Enjolras trailed off and shook his head. “I guess I just liked what I heard.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, eyeing Enjolras with something appreciative in his expression. “I can dig that.”

Enjolras glanced at him. “What, you liked the things I said, too?” he asked, mostly teasing since he knew better than that.

Grantaire’s smile widened. “No. But I sure liked the way you said them.”

Enjolras flushed again, but for an entirely different reason, and looked away. “Saying something like that could get you in trouble,” he said finally.

Grantaire just sat back in his seat, a small smile still playing on his lips. “When it comes to you, I think I’m already in trouble.”

Enjolras was saved from having to come up with some kind of response by the arrival of their dinner – or rather, his dinner, and for better or for worse, they both managed to steer the conversation back onto somewhat neutral territory during the meal. Grantaire asked questions about Les Amis and the work they did, and while he seemed more amused than anything, Enjolras at least felt like he was listening. Which might just be the first step in an otherwise lengthy process of getting Grantaire to maybe, one day, care.

But all too soon, Enjolras had finished eating, and he glanced almost nervously at Grantaire, who was finishing up another martini (Enjolras had long since lost count). “So what now?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Well, when it comes to your cause, I think we're at an impasse.”

Enjolras wasn’t remotely surprised to hear that. “Just means I'll have to try harder to convince you,” he said.

Grantaire’s eyes darkened. “God, I hope so.”

Enjolras was used to it enough now that only the back of his neck flared red. “But what I actually meant was, uh, what now for the rest of the night?”

Something unreadable flashed across Grantaire’s expression, so quickly that Enjolras almost didn’t catch it. “Why?” he asked mildly. “You want dessert?”

It was so far out of what Enjolras had been doing a terrible job at implying that he gaped at Grantaire. “No, I—” He broke off, frustrated, before asking, with no small amount of exasperation, “What do you want?”

Grantaire gave him an almost pitying look. “That's a dumb question.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “What do you—”

“You know what I want,” Grantaire interrupted. “I know what I want. Hell, the waiter two tables over who's been giving me the nod since I got here knows what I want.” He leaned forward. “So the question is, what do you want?”

Enjolras’s heart was beating so hard in his chest that he almost thought Grantaire could hear it, and he wet his lips before saying quietly, “I want what you want.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened and he forced a laugh. “Well now I'm not convinced you know what I want.”

“I do know,” Enjolras said, a little stubbornly. “And I want that, too. At least for tonight.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Have you ever done this before?”

It wasn’t that Enjolras hadn’t been expecting the question, but it still rankled, just a little. “Yes.”

Grantaire’s lips twitched. “Have you ever done this before with someone other than a guy in college that one time who later claimed that he was drunk and told you if you ever mentioned it again, he'd kill you?” Enjolras flushed and looked away, and Grantaire nodded. “That's what I thought.” His lips twisted wryly. “That guy'll probably end up a US Senator.”

“Or a Supreme Court justice,” Enjolras muttered bitterly.

“Or head of the fucking FBI.” Enjolras glanced up at him, half-smiling, and was relieved to find Grantaire was as well. “So,” Grantaire said, swirling his martini. “You still want to do this?”

Truth be told, Enjolras had been thinking about this almost as much as he’d been thinking about trying to convince Grantaire to come to a Les Amis meeting, so he didn’t hesitate before saying firmly, “Yes.” And he didn’t hesitate before adding, “But I want something in return.”

“I don't pay,” Grantaire said instantly, so quickly that Enjolras wondered how many times he’d faced that proposition before.

“And I'm not looking for money,” Enjolras said. He took a deep breath before saying, just as firmly as before, “I want you to come to one of our meetings.”

Grantaire sat back in his seat, his expression unreadable. “Coercion ain't consent, kid,” he said flatly. “And trading favors feels an awful lot like you doing something you don't actually want to do. I’m not interested in that.”

Considering that Grantaire had been hitting on him since practically the first second they’d met, Enjolras was taken aback by the flat dismissal, and he took a moment to reply. “You may not believe me, but I want this,” he said, his voice low, because he did. Not just because he wanted Grantaire to come to a meeting, but because talking to Grantaire this evening showed someone who was sharp, and witty, and surprisingly passionate, and as much as Grantaire tried to disavow his comedy routine, it had taken hardly any time at all for Enjolras to know better. And even if he didn’t have much experience in this realm, he knew he didn’t want the night to end. “Besides, the way I see it, you'll end up sticking around long enough to come to a meeting with me anyway.”

Grantaire cracked a smile. “You think you're that good?”

“No. I think I'm probably shit,” Enjolras said bluntly, and Grantaire choked a laugh. “But that just means you'll have ample opportunity to teach me how to be better.”

He said it a little too forcefully to be considered flirting, but Grantaire’s smile still widened appreciatively. “Now that is spoken like someone who wants what I want.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “I told you so.”

“Fine,” Grantaire said, draining his martini. “If, as you say, I end up sticking around long enough for it to matter, then we'll see.”

“And in the meantime?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire gestured to their waiter. “In the meantime, we let these fine folks flip the table.”

He stood and Enjolras scrambled to follow, hanging back awkwardly as Grantaire conversed in an undertone with the waiter before he nodded towards the door. Enjolras glanced sideways at him as they left the restaurant. “Aren’t you going to invite me back to your place?” he asked in an undertone.

Grantaire didn’t look over at him, stepping forward to hail a cab. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Oh.”

Given everything they had just discussed, Enjolras wasn’t entirely sure how he’d misinterpreted things, but thankfully, Grantaire seemed to pick up on his confusion, and he turned back to him. “Two men leaving a club together in the Village wouldn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. In this part of town…”

The fact that they had somehow managed to switch places in terms of who was being more cautious didn’t escape Enjolras. “So you’re looking out for me?”

Grantaire half-smiled. “I’m trying to, kid. I meant what I said before – I have no desire to add to your rap sheet.”

“I can manage that on my own, thanks,” Enjolras said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “So then what are we doing now?”

“Now, I shake your hand and we part ways,” Grantaire said, cocking his head slightly. “You take the cab downtown while I catch the A train, and we meet up at my front door.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “Why do I have to take a cab?”

“Because I don’t have that kind of money at the moment.”

Enjolras felt a sudden jolt of guilt that he hadn’t pushed back harder at letting Grantaire pay for dinner. “I’m—”

Grantaire waved him off. “It’s a somewhat voluntary vow of poverty. Besides, I’d rather spend what I have on you than on me.”

“What if we both take the cab?” Enjolras offered. “My treat.”

Grantaire shook his head. “Kid—”

“You think I care what any of these people think of us?” Enjolras asked. “You think I care if NYPD, the FBI, fuck, HUAC or Hoover himself drags me in?”

“I know you think you don’t,” Grantaire said honestly. “But you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

Enjolras just gave him a look. “You say that like you’re 85 years old, not 35. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, too.”

“Maybe,” Grantaire said noncommittally. He reached up to rest a heavy hand on the back of Enjolras’s neck, just for a moment, his thumb brushing against the fine hairs at the nape of his neck. “I could ruin you,” he murmured, so softly that Enjolras almost didn’t hear him. Then he took a step back, his hand falling to his side. “For so long the only person I’ve had to worry about ruining is myself, and I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. But ruining you…” His expression twisted. “I don’t even think I could get a good joke out of it, which is the worst part.”

Enjolras recognized the self-deprecation for what it was, and he wanted so badly to kiss him, but for all his bravado, he didn’t dare. There’d be time for that later, when they got to Grantaire’s, hurried kisses as Grantaire pressed him against the door, both of them scrambling to undress, and heady, slow kisses as they lay entwined on his bed.

Kisses that would let them both forget, for even a moment, that, as Grantaire so heavily eviscerated in his comedy, the world would do everything in its power to tear them apart.

He settled for resting his hand on Grantaire’s arm. “Come on,” he said, his voice low. “Let me take you home.”

Grantaire hesitated for just a moment more before nodding, and together they walked to the waiting cab, the backs of their hands just brushing together as they walked.

Enjolras already had a hell of a rap sheet. At least this potential charge was one he was determined to thoroughly enjoy.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #éponine #les mis #les miserables #fanfiction #1950s AU #comedian au #time period homophobia #the marvelous mrs maisel au #lenny bruce!Grantaire #developing relationship

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gayassbish · 5 months

Text

BACKSTAGE WITH XINYAN! MODERN AU

From the CHRISTMAS event! Find it here! | 1.8k Words

Genre: Fluff!

Reader: Gender Neutral | *Reader is pretty flirty

Synopsis: Imagine having a girlfriend that’s in band… and one day during winter… you just happen to get locked backstage together!

XINYAN travels… a lot. Her being the lead singer and a guitarist of a band- is a big roller coaster! And you being Xinyan’s biggest supporter has you going to a lot of new places when Xinyan and her bandmates do different concerts here and there.

But then there’s those times when Xinyan’s career and lifestyle also proves itself to be a challenge. You can’t always travel with her, which leads to the two of you to manage the long distance time to time.

However, thankfully, this tour was not one of those dreadful occasions that separate you from your lover! Hence, why here you are, in the middle of a beautiful-foreign country that’s going through its chilly season! But to your luck, this concert venue is indoors, safe from the crispy cold air.

You’re backstage, talking to your girlfriend who is sat in front of the vanity table getting her makeup done alongside her band mates… and she looks beautiful.

Her usual double buns are pulled into a top bun and she wears heavy black eye liner to match this album’s rocker-biker-girl aesthetic. “I’m not gonna lie.. I’m getting a little jealous to have other people seeing you like this.” You’re standing over Xinyan, admiring her beauty.

Xinyan looks up from her phone and tilts her head to the side like a dog would when it’s confused. “You do know all the songs I write are about you, right?” She gives a small chuckle at your needless concern.

“I knowww… but still… sometimes I wish you were for my eyes only, you know?” You whine to her, and Xinyan can’t help but be amused at your jealousy.

Her career hasn’t been an easy one, and you know it. You’ve been by her side when it was just her in the garage with a couple of her friends, been by her side when she struggled to pay bills because her music wasn’t getting enough attraction, been by her side through the hate comments on the “unique genre” of her music, and now? You’re still by her side as she’s one of the newest big hits!

Therefore, Xinyan couldn’t be more grateful for you… and she makes the effort to show that. No matter the amount of fame she may receive or how busy she gets with her career finally taking off, you will always be her priority! That’s why she thinks your concerns are a little silly cause deep down inside you know she only has eyes for you.

Her only thought, worry, and wish is all you.

“Alright guys you’re up.” The stage manager comes into the vanity room as the band is all finished with costume and make up.

One by one, the crew quickly makes for the stage and Xinyan and you follow. And just when she’s about to go up on stage she asks,“You’ll watch me?”

“My eyes won’t go off of you.” You smile at her and give her a flying kiss with the palm of your hand, not wanting to spoil her makeup with a real one.

Xinyan catches the kiss in the air with her hand, bringing it to her mouth to kiss it back before she heads up stage.

The hours of loud bass, screams from the audience, and music all come to an end as Xinyan and her band mates kill it! You knew that they would though, they always do.

As the crowd disperses once the band gives them their final goodbyes, Xinyan heads backstage, all pumped up from the adrenaline of being in front of thousands.

“Y/N!” Xinyan runs over to you, a little sweat dripping down her head as she hugs you. “It was a packed house! More people even came to this one than our hometown!” Xinyan beams at you and you can’t help but match her enthusiasm back.

“I know right! You looked beautiful, sounded beautiful, and played beautifully!” You sling your arm around Xinyan’s, showing her your big smile as you can’t help but match her own.

Xinyan, too shy from your explosion of compliments, has been rendered speechless! Instead, she gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Some of her black lipstick coming off as you get all giddy.

You both make your way to the vanity rooms, but not without some more kisses and squeals as the post-concert haze really hits you both.

The dimly lighted room is empty, left with only you. Xinyan comes out from the bathroom, all refreshed, to join you. Her big energetic smile from the concert is still lingering on her face when she sees you.

“Where is everyone?” Xinyan questions as she makes her way to the couch you’re sat upon, cuddling up into your arms.

“Probably at the after party.” You look down at her in your arms from the phone in your hands and she laughs at her party strong friends. You guys spend the next hour or so chatting about your day, in no rush to go home or anywhere else, just enjoying each other’s company in the moment.

The quality time spent together is cut short when you hear the ventilators of the heater shutting off… the vanity lights shutting and only the single emergency light bulb remaining.

“AHH!” Xinyan instantly reacts to the loud sound of the ventilators shutting down as she squeezes up into your arms. “What just happened???” She looks at you spoked and you laugh at your scaredy cat of a girlfriend.

“Babe, ease up, the stage manger probably started closing the place up. We should get going too, it’s getting late.” You attempt to leave Xinyan’s side to get up, but her grip on your arm won’t budge. “Babe, come on, you don’t want to stay locked up here forever, do you?” She shakes her head a ‘no’ and you guys walk together to the door.

You first pull the door handle but then it won’t budge. “That’s funny… I swear this door was a pull, but maybe it’s a push.” You mumble to yourself, trying to open the door in a multitude of ways till you realize…

You’ve been locked out.

“Ahahhaha… why won’t the door open?” Xinyan asks half dumb founded and half petrified.

You try to calm your girlfriend by explaining the situation. “Well we’ve been locked out but-“

Xinyan quickly cuts you off, mumbling to herself, “I swear to god if there’s a ghost-“

“Oh relax there’s no such thing as ghosts!” You snip her off before she gets into her head too much, not wanting her to stress herself out after having such a good day. You, being the logical one in the relationship, add “They probably just forgot we were still in here. But that’s okay! Let’s just call someone to unlock us.” You turn to Xinyan who still looks a little anxious about the whole situation. Xinyan bites her nails, so you place your hand on her shoulder to calm her. “Trust me, everything is going to be okay.” Xinyan finds solace in your eyes and takes a deep breath to calm herself down.

“You’re right.. plus they can’t have driven that far already.” Xinyan gets out her phone and scrolls through her list of contacts. You watch her nibble again on her thumb. She starts pacing back and forth while listening anxiously to the the ringing on her phone.

After a while of waiting for someone to pick up, and to no luck, the chilly air from outside starts to fill the room. The heaters being shut down have left you both frigid.

“…They’re not picking up.” Xinyan turns to you after she tried calling each and every one of her group members.

“Okay no worries, let’s keep trying… but let’s get something to cover up while we wait.” You bite back a shiver as you warm yourself up by rubbing your arms.

Xinyan follows you like a duckling to its mama, tentively observing how you handle the situation.

“And viola!” You grab a bunch of the costumes and place them on top of you on the couch. “It’s not a blanket but it’ll do!” You pat the side next to you, gesturing Xinyan to come cuddle up under the clothes.

Xinyan takes a sigh of relief as she comes to snuggle up alongside you. “Thank whoever brought you into my life because I wouldn’t have made it to this point locked alone.” Xinyan shakes her head to herself and it gives you a hard laugh.

“HA- what would you do without me?” You give her a flirty smirk and watch her look at awe at you.

“What would I do…” Xinyan speaks ever so softly. She looks from one of your eyes to the other, and she finds herself slowly leaning in to you…

And you lean in back… meeting her halfway as you grab her neck. Kissing her steadily but lovingly.

You both move in synch. If she bites your lip, then you bite hers back. You both start to feel the worry of getting out of here fading away as you sink into eachother’s embraces. Enjoying this moment of feeling each other’s lips on top of another.

“Hey…” You break the kiss to make eye contact with Xinyan who is just inches away from you, “It’s not so bad being locked up like this… with you.” You bite your lip and watch your Xinyan turning into a flustered mess because of you <3.

She breaks eye contact, looking at anything that is not you right now as she quickly changes the topic. “Uhhh— but what about food… and… and we’d have to wait till the stage manager comes back tomorrow morning and what if you get hungry?” Xinyan starts speaking really fast as you listen very attentively.

Pretending to take her ruffled up self seriously you nod along and give out a few “mhmm”’s to her rant until she finally calms down to look back at you as you are barley holding your laughter back. “I swear… Xinyan…,” you start, laughing in between your words, “I have everything I need right in front of me… so don’t worry, kay?” You shoot her a smile and she nods. “Now, where were we?” And before Xinyan can even react, you grab her by the collar and crash your lips onto hers once again.

Xinyan gets lost into the sense of you as you find yourself in the presence of her... again. Questions of: will the room get colder throughout the night; what are you both going to eat; did Xinyan’s band mates really leave the two of you behind, all fade away. To you, the important questions don’t matter, and instead you’d like to ask if the night is still young… and to that the is a most definite yes.

A/N: Ignore me. I’m just waiting till I’m 18 to write the nastiest Xinyan smut ever-

#genshin fluff #genshin women x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin wlw #genshin x reader #xinyan #xinyan x reader #genshin women #christmas event #genshin fanfic #genshin nblw

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atlas-thorn · 2 years

Text

June flowers

photo credits to films news feed

summary: Loki is in love with June, but in pushing her away is incredibly cruel, and when finally confronted, he breaks down. She chooses Bucky who also loves her.

authors note: this is angsty as hell, sorry in advance

warnings: angst, bullying, violence, abuse mentions, happy-ish ending.

pairing: bucky X oc

word count: 7500+

It was a beautiful morning when I awoke. The sun was filtering in the blinds at an angle that left lines of light on the wall. Everything was sore, a large bruise sweated on my side. It was an ugly blue, still in its beginning stages. The mission was a sucsess overall, but fuck I never wanted to scream more than when that super soilder punched me so hard I went flying. Bucky was there in an instant and the man had been punched back twice as hard.

I was sure at least two ribs were cracked. I hadn’t gone to the med bay yet, loki was there and I didn’t want to have to deal with it. I didn’t want any of those rude comments or snide remarks, I’d rather deal with a few broken ribs for a little while longer than be called names. He hated me, it was so obvious that he hated me. I wasn’t sure why, at first I thought it was an off day, but he really did. And that hurt.

Kindness doesn’t come easy, but it’s something I had always tried to show, even when he was mean to me for weeks, I still gave him my kindness, I still sometimes do. I don’t go out of my way to do it, but if there is something little and simple, I’ll do it. The other avengers get a little bit more kindness than him, especially bucky, the man who was slowly worming his way into my heart.

It was a little bit soul crushing the way Loki treated me, as if I was a worm. And as much as I’d love to say it didn’t affect me, it was starting to get to me. The way my stomach looked like ‘I had eaten too much cake’ the scar on my face ‘made me look like I'd been mauled by a bear’ even though I’d finally been more confident about it.

Bucky had helped me become more confident. His compliments and gentle smiles are reserved for me.

The deep red line that disfigured my face, it was jagged and ugly, light a lightning bolt from my left temple, across my eye then my nose, stopping right after my cheekbone. It was like a shallow ravine, and depending on the season it could go from a white line to an ugly pink. The cold always made it pinker, and when I went into the war,from outside it would turn pink for ages. When I was ill it was easy to tell because it would become pink. Sometimes it would get incredibly inflamed.

I wish it had healed better, but sometimes you have to roll with the punches. I sometimes covered it up with a bit of makeup but even that wouldn't help sometimes. For a while I just wore a mask, but it rubbed the scar raw more than once. I wish i had my powers before it happened, maybe i could have stopped it. But realistically I know I couldn't have. Hydra had not been kind to me. But they had given me fight and power. I could bend and use light as a weapon, as well as control plants to an extent, but that was a later discovery. One id only figured out during a fight where I'd been injured and vines wrapped around the man and tore him in two. I didn't mean to. I promise I didn't.

I groaned as i rolled to the edge of the bed and stood. I let out a cough which only hurt more. I was wearing my colorful pajamas, and as much as I would have liked to change that was just unrealistic. So i left my room without bothering with anything. The kitchen was my first destination. I had hoped that the area would be empty but my hopes were quickly quenched as i heard voices. At least three. My head pounded too hard to really tell them apart so i just walked in. Thor, steve, toni, loki and nat were seated on the sofa area chatting away. I greeted them quietly and opened a pre-made breakfast I'd made a few days before. Meal prep sucked but i liked to not have to cook as much in the week.

Nat stood and came to sit next to me at the kitchen island. “You doing ok? You took a hard hit” she asked tentatively “and you are a lot quieter than usual, and later up” as usual nothing slipped past her.

I nodded tensely “hurts to talk, breathe, and do pretty much anything” I replied and let my head hit the marble counter, loving the cooling feeling. “I didn't want to go to the med bay last night but I'll go after I've eaten” my next sentence was to cut off my coughing. It was so violent I was nearly crying, and then there was blood, only a bit but it was certainly enough to catch nats attention.

“Shit” she yelled out, causing everyone to rush over. Even Loki looked concerned, it was odd. I waved them off and stood, still coughing a bit.

“I'm fine” I wheezed out.

“You're clearly not,” Loki snarled. He was right but i shot him a venomous look that sent him back a few steps. Without any warning steve scooped me up. I groaned and nearly punched him. He jogged along quickly.

“I could have just walked,” I bantered as the coughing stopped. “My legs are fine” I smiled at him and he looked at me. A hint of anger crossed his eyes.

“You should have gone last night” he chastised. “You're clearly hurt and I should have made you go” I rolled my eyes at this as we finally entered the med bay. Dr Cho was there and ready, as if this was the biggest emergency in the world. “You really should have gone when we got back from germany” i gave him a sharp look.

“Fuck you” i replied as he sat me down. His stunned silence made me laugh. I don't think i'd ever said that to anyone, but the laughing brought the coughing and a little bit more blood. I prided myself on being kind so there was clearly something wrong. Nat walked in and rushed over to me as DR cho looked over me.

“There is something really wrong with her Dr cho” Steve said, his face betraying his worry. “I dont think shes ever been mean in her life” his joke landed on deaf ears as i groaned.

Nat looked at us both musically “she was mean?” she asked, confused as hell. Not knowing you to be one to say anything unkind.

He pointed an accusatory at me “she told me to fuck off” he jested, nats eyes widdened. Cussing was not something I did.

“Probably deserved it '' came tony's voice from behind “whats up, i heard our sunflower wasn't doing too hot” the endearing nickname didn't hide his worry. There was something clearly very wrong if I said something like that. Bucky came rushing in and stumbling next to me and clasping my hand, much to doctor Chos unhappiness as she continued to scan me.

Dr cho injected something into me and i felt the pain ebb. I looked up at the trio and glared. They all looked cautious. “Nothing is too wrong, some of the bruising reached the lungs and burst a few capillaries, the coughing is just causing more blood to come out. Isn't much I can do, and there isn't much blood, she will be fine with some bed rest, she's got nanites injected so it should take 3 days to be for the most part ok, 7 to be completely healed” she announced. A sigh echoed around the room as they all looked relieved. I closed my eyes.

“Sunshine” Bucky whispered. I looked at him, annoyed as hell about all of this. “You're gonna be ok” I looked at him as if he had grown three heads.

“I have cracked ribs not hearing loss” i sassed, toni laughed and shook his head “i could have done this all on my own you know? No need to go out your way ``I sighed as the pain went away more and more. They were all still a little weary.

It was all their turn to look at me as if I had another head “as if you wouldn't do this for any of us in a moment '' Tony rolled his eyes. I was getting into a bad mood very quickly. Normally if I felt myself getting into a mood I would retreat to the garden and calm myself off, but here I was, stuck with multiple idiots doting on me. I felt bad the second the thought came around. They were just trying to help and I was moody as hell. Being in pain simply wasn't fun. “Plus we had to make sure our sunflour was ok” this made me smile a bit, and they all let some tension go.

“You’re my gal June, you know I had to come” that made me roll my eyes. But it made my heart skip a beat in a beautiful way. He really was worming his way in.

“Can i go back to my room yet?” i asked. Dr cho nodded and i pushed myself off the bed. Before i could go anywhere Bucky scooped me up again. I glared at him, but at least this time it didn't hurt as much “buck i swear if any of you pick me up again without asking we're going to have issues” his eyes widened and he nodded quickly. The others again, were stunned “i'm in a shit mood ok? sorry” that sent tony into a spiral of laughter as Bucky gently carried me bridal style out the room. Thor, loki and peter stood awkwardly outside. My impulse control went out the window for a moment as i flipped them off. Peters eyes widened, thor took a scared step back and loki simply stared. “I'm not a spectacle” I called out as Steve kept on walking.

“She's in a bad mood. '' Toni announced, “Write this day down in the history books boys because that has never happened before” I rolled my eyes as we took a few more twists and turns. Bucky's eyes looked worriedly at me. I reached up and patted his head like I had done so many times before and smiled a little kind smile.

“Sorry Bucky bee” I whispered as we got to my door. He shook his head and laughed. It was an odd feeling “i know you're trying to help and that wasn't nice of me”

“Here you are, with internal bleeding, cracked ribs and you're apologizing for being in a bad mood? This is the first time you've been really hurt in forever, i don't blame you” we entered my room and he laid me out gently. “Apology accepted ONLY if you actually follow the doctors orders” I groaned as he watched me “sunshine you know you're family to all of us, we're just worried” I rolled my eyes, feeling a bit hurt “you’re our sunshine, we have to protect you” this annoyed me. I was 23, not 12. But I bit my tongue and just allowed the good in what he said to get through. He held his breath for a few seconds. He was so close to me, I thought he might kiss me“Tell Friday if you need me” and with that he was out the door. I groaned and looked at the ceiling. It wasn’t as if you were head over heels for the Sargent, but it was slowly getting there.

I scowled and just lay there. “Friday please play the music i like” the familiar tunes started. Tony had many times told me ‘you don't need to be nice on friday. She doesn't have emotions’ but it felt right to say please and thank you to her.

The next three days were a blur of everyone checking in and looking after me. It didn't bother me as much as the fact that loki came in to make jabs at me. I threw my lamp at him, which shut him up and he had not visited since. He was really starting to make me hate myself again. I felt heavy and depressed. My mood hasn't really gotten better; everyone was trying their best to cheer me up, but it wasn't working well, the only one who could manage to cheer me up was Bucky. He brought books to read and would let me rest my head on his lap, he even rubbed my head gently. It was lovely. At one point I had fallen asleep with him sat there, and when I woke up, he had maneuvered himself so that he too could rest. When he woke he blushed and apologized leaving quickly. It was sweet.

But I was stuck in this stupid bed, it was at least the last day of it. And as Friday announced my imprisonment was over I jumped out of bed and threw one some clothes and went to my garden. It was a fast walk, an attempt at running proved I wasn’t as healed as I hoped but I was there quickly enough. I collapsed to the ground and hugged the earth. The plants spoke to me, and comforted me. My mood improved but I still was feeling agitated, so I let myself lay in the sun, soaking up her rays as I let the earth and sun heal me. Bucky loved it here too, and sometimes if he was lucky I’d make some plants especially for him. But who was I kidding, I would do it even if he wasn’t lucky.

The garden wasn’t large, but nonetheless I was grateful for this little bit of heaven outside the avengers compound. It stood out starkly from the area around it, and it was a place most of the group liked to go to relax. It was a safe space for most of us. I let my hold on my power go and just let myself emit a glow, and let the grass around me grow taller and taller. It would have been a strange sight to see. It took an effort to be able to leash it at all times, and if for a while I didn’t get to let it out, it started to ache. I reigned all my power in and put a cork on the bottle. It was nice. That changed quickly as I felt footsteps along the ground. I sat up from my cradle of grass expecting to see Bucky and found Loki looking at me pointedly.

“What” I snapped. He was taken aback. The only other time I’d spoken to him like that was when a lamp met its untimely end. Bucky had cleaned it up, the total sweetie.

“You look stupid” he snarled. My chest clenched tightly as I lay back down onto the now overgrown grass. “Maybe do some work instead of being lazy” he chided. Tears Pricked my eyes so I turned onto my side and curled up. I’d rather look stupid than look weak. “Gods why do we put up with you”

He walked closer To me. A sob broke from my lip. I couldn’t control it. I lifted my arm up and bushes started to grow quickly around me, and then the vines and grass followed. I grew a tree around me, and wrapped myself in its roots. I was done with all this. There were so many layers between us I couldn’t really make out his shouts. But I didn’t care. I just laid there and cried, glowing like a firefly. My ribs hurt badly. I felt him tearing at the outsides but I simply wrapped myself tighter in roots till I was essentially in a tree trunk of a great oak. My light lit up the beautiful insides but my eyes could barely see a blur. I pushed myself up and clutched my legs close. I let out a scream of anger and slammed my head back into the tree. Once, twice, three times till my head was swimming so badly I couldn’t hit it again. I clawed at my skin which felt like it was on fire. As if ants had crawled under my skin. That phrase was one used many times in my childhood. It was used when they slashed up my face so that I could never leave them. I clutched fistfuls of my hair and tugged at it. There was thumping outside the tree, there were at least 6 people. I kept the tree strong. Three days worth of not using my powers once made it easy to maintain. The well was full.

I slammed my fists into the bark and watched as my knuckles bled. All I could think about was his hands on me. The man who gave me the scar. I let out another yell and kicked out. Slamming into everything around me. His eyes haunted me. A deep brown that I could never unsee. And then It was as if I was paralyzed. Watching me getting my scar from an outside view. I watched as he doused me in water, I was already shivering. The carved across my face, mt trying to struggle away from him. My plants were failing. I couldn’t concentrate. And then there was a small hole. It got bigger and bigger as an ax hacked away at it. I watched as Bucky's face appeared. I shrunk away from him. He moved back and hacked away some more. I didn’t try to grow it back. I didn’t have a chance. He was here. I knew he was here for me. This time to take out my eye like he promised if I ever tried to leave again.

When the hole was big enough Bucky scooped me out and pulled me close. My team was standing around me as I hyperventilated. All looks of pity in their eyes. I tried to get away from Bucky but his arm held fast. Tony checked out my wounds as I struggled. Bucky whispered sweet words in my ear. “You’re safe” he murmured. He kept me close until I was no longer having the panic attack. I hadn’t had one in well over a year. My chest hurt so badly. I whimpered as Bucky stood and curled in closer to him. He draped his jacket over me, I looked at the faces around me.

Loki stood there looking devastated and with a bruise forming on his cheek. I looked at him dead eyed. He opened his mouth burns punch from nat shut him up “shut the fuck up, don’t speak to her again” he was splayed out on the ground as Bucky started to move. The team followed close behind. The vibranium arm I had come to find so beautiful cradled me close. As if I could break at any second. I looked up at Bucky, and caught him glancing down at me. I stared through him.

I felt myself being placed down. I didn’t move, I didn’t struggle, I simply let myself disassociate. I knew there were things happening around me, but nothing registered.

I felt someone shake me gently and turned to stare at Toby holding a plate with various fruits. My senses came back and I realized I was on my favorite portion of the sofa, a blanket wrapped around me bucky holding me close. I shifted a bit and took the plate with a small smile. “Thank you,”I whispered. Tony's eyes lit up as he patted my head.

“Can’t let our little sunflower be hungry” I smiled a little wider as I ate a slice of apple. Bucky rubbed my back gently. “Are you ok?” he asked. I nodded gently and sighed.

“Feeling better than 5 minutes ago” I responded “honestly I’m not feeling too great”

Bucky pulled me in closer and I let my head rest on his chest. “Want to talk about it doll” he whispered. I shook my head. Tony walked away, leaving me and Bucky together. I turned and looked at him, tears stinging my eyes as I placed the plate down and buried my face into his neck. “It’s ok sunshine, let it all out” he soothed. I just sat there and let myself cry.

“He used to always say those sorts of things,” I whispered. Bucky tensed up for a moment. I’d discussed most of my past with him. He ran his fingers through my hair and cradled me close. “And when Loki said it, it was like he was there. My body felt like it had ants under my skin biting me” he hummed and continued to untangle my hair. “I was there, I was being tortured again by him.”

“I’ll never understand how a father could ever do that to his child,” Bucky muttered. I just shoot my head. “I want my child to grow up loved” I nodded at that. “I want them to have a beautiful mother who loves them, and is kind, someone like you” I lifted my face from his neck and looked at him. “You deserved so much more” I gave him a tender smile and scooted off him a bit. He whined and tried to pull me closer but I rearranged myself so I could lay my head in his lap and look up at him.

“I’m trying to make myself believe I deserved better but it’s hard” I admitted. His brows furrowed. He grabbed a slice of mango this time and held it to my mouth. I ate it gratefully “I still have nightmares, you know that” he did. Many a night was spent in the living room playing board games or reading with him after we had woken up. Sometimes I was alone doing it, sometimes he was. I had told him about a few of them. “Sometimes they leak into my days” he nodded and started to trace little patterns on my arm.

“I know the feeling” he replied. “I hope someday you see yourself how I see you” I smiled and reached out to hold his hand.

“And how do you see me?” I teased, not expecting a response, but his eyes got serious.

“You are stunning, the way you smile and it lights up the room. You do all sorts of little things for people even if they don’t notice” I looked at him incredulously “it’s pretty obvious you’re the reason why all my favorite midnight foods are always stacked up, and I know you’re the one who leaves the little care packages for all of us when we’re struggling” my face heated up and I covered most of it with my hands. He gently peeled them away and looked me in the eyes. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met” I smiled at him. My heart is humming happily. “I-“ he hesitated. I looked at him and placed my hand on his cheek, running my fingers across his cheekbone. We had moments like this before but none this tender and vulnerable.

“I think I’m in love with you” I blurted out all of a sudden. His eyes grew wide as he held me a little closer. “You don’t have to say anything, or even feel the same, but you are so precious to me” his smile lit up the room as he leaned down and gently kissed me.

“You took the words right out my mouth” he jested. I lit up as he pulled me into a seated position so I was semi straddling me. He took my chin and gently moved it so I was looking him in the eyes. “You are so stunning” he whispered and kissed my cheek. My cheeks stung with heat. “You are so kind” he kissed my other cheek “and I’m in love with you” he gave me one final peck on the cheek before pulling me in right. I sighed happily and let myself be bundled up. “I trust you,” he murmured. I was honored.

“I trust you” I replied and nuzzled his neck. I didn’t notice loki watching us. I didn’t notice his tears. And in that moment Loki's heart broke a little. I’m his haste to push you away. He has pushed you into someone else's arms.

The next few days were spent with Bucky watching carefully over me until I felt no pain. He helped me do everything, including laundry. He rubbed my back and gave me frequent pecks on the lips. The team had noticed instantly and were all congratulating us. Tony threatened bucky, and Steve clapped bucky on the back saying “finally” I smiled a lot more in those days, getting closer and closer to myself. I’d only seen loki in passing and bucky often scared him off with a look. I was grateful to the team for keeping him away from me. I didn't think I'd be able to face him, and I was sure if he made another comment I could rip him in half. There were no missions for me for a bit, all of our schedules were relatively clear. An off season for the bad guys I suppose.

“Sunshine?” Bucky said as I stood in the kitchen cooking. I hummed happily as he wrapped his arms around me. “You know i could have cooked breakfast for us doll” i rolled my eyes as i placed another pancake on the steadily increasing pile.

“Its for all of us silly” i responded. “Plus you were sleeping so sweetly” he slept beside you that night. We were both just happy to cuddle and be close. We had both slept so deeply and soundly. Not a nightmare in sight. Sam walked in and made a fake gagging sound, which earned him a vicious glare from bucky.

“Shut it sam” he growled burying his face in my hair. I chuckled.

“I didn't say a thing. '' he responded snidely “sunny are those pancakes?” he asked. Bucky's nostrils flared angrily. “Are you making us all pancakes!?” He let out a squeal as he dashed over to the table.

“Yes birdie, I’m making everyone pancakes” I announced. I rolled my eyes and placed one of the big plates filled with pancakes in the center. Sam instantly had 3 and was scoffing them down. “Friday please tell the team there are pancakes”

“Yes miss June” Friday responded

“Thank you Friday” I replied to her. Sam gave me an odd look. “Oh shush sam you bird” I teased. Tony was the first through the door, he rushed in and sat at the table, dishing out some pancakes to himself, covering them in syrup. “You guys are acting like we’re gonna run out” I commented as bucky joined them. Another pancake was ready for the table. Everyone trailed in slowly, Peter had stayed the night at the compound and came in looking groggy. Last but not least loki. Everyone fell silent as he sat down. As I finished off the batter I took the seat between nat and bucky, loki sitting nearly across from me.

“Thanks sunflower,” nat said, nudging me with her arm. I nudged her back and smiled.

“Thank you miss June ma'am, '' Peter said, and everyone took it as their cue to thank me, all except loki. Thor poked his brother with a scowl.

He cleared his throat “thanks” I gave him a small smile as we all started to finish up.

“Nose goes for dishes, '' Tony shouted. I was not fast enough, Loki and I were last. I gave him a look. “Sorry flower, reindeer, you’re it” I opened and closed my mouth and got up with a huff. Bucky gave Tony a warning look.

“No more pancakes for you then tony” tony made puppy eyes and stuck his tongue out. Loki stood and helped with the plates. I didn’t see a word for him as I started to rinse them off.

“Can we talk?” Loki asked. I gave him a side eye. The team was filling out, but Bucky stayed, keeping a close eye on us “alone?” He gestures to bucky. I looked over at Bucky and nodded. He stood up and walked by me, kissing me on the forehead briefly.

“Shout for me if you need me” he declared, glaring at loki.

“What?” I asked.

“I’m sorry about a few days ago,” Loki said quickly. I looked at him stunned and took a few steps back.

“You don’t have to lie to me loki. We all know you don’t like me, you hate me even, and whoever put you up to saying sorry, should know I don’t want it” I looked at him coldly.

“I truly am sorry” he whispered, looking at his feet. “I don’t hate you,” he murmured.

“Really?” I snarled “so all of that was because you like me and don’t hate me? God loki you make me fucking hate myself” I turned away from him and continued on the dishes. “Tell whoever sent you, you said sorry. I May forgive you one day, but don’t for a second thing I will forget” he looked heart broken.

“I love you June,” he blurted out. I was so shocked I broke a plate and slashed my hand open. I cussed under my breath and brought my hand out of the water.

“Loki, how you treat me isn’t love” I whispered “if you loved me you’d make me feel loved, you make me feel like a worm” I shook my head.

His eyes welled up with tears as he watched my hand drip blood. “I’m so sorry love” he whispered, coming closer to me. I flinched away and it looked like he had been hit. He fell on his knees in front of me. “I’ll do anything to earn your forgiveness, your kindness again” I looked away from him and squeezed my eyes shut. I willed my tears to not fall, and my heart to slow. “I was scared of being in love with you, I was scared you’d break my heart, or I’d break yours”

“Loki you broke me over and over just so I would stay away from you” it was barely a whisper but it shook the walls. “Stay away from me” I said, a little louder. “If this is what your love looks like I fear for the people you hate”

His head dropped, I finally looked at him again as he shook with sobs “please” he pleaded.

“Loki I may have considered you a friend once. Even when you weren’t kind to me. I was kind to you. I even made Tony stop with the cruel pranks because I saw how much it hurt you. And then you became worse and worse to me. I nearly quit the team because it was so bad” I admitted. It was hard to say to him. “I think there was a time where I could have loved you” and that admission was even harder. “When I thought you just weren’t used to me, or needed more space than I could give, but that changed '' his devastated sobs filled the room.

“I’ve ruined everything” he cried out. I walked up to him and rested my good hand on his shoulder. He pulled me in and buried his face into my stomach, using me to dry his tears and quit his sobs. I let him. “But please, at least let me love you from afar”

I closed my eyes “loki, if you don’t ever treat me that way again, we can work our way to friends but I do not trust you” he pulled me in closer and I nearly fell. My hand was still bleeding. With some difficulties I pulled away from him. “If you want to earn my forgiveness, start by being kind” and with that I walked out the room.

“I love you” he cried out just before the door slipped closed behind me.

I caught bucky eavesdropping, it didn’t bother me at that moment. I just walked by him, my hand still Dropping blood and headed to the med bay. “Shit doll your hand!” I looked at him and threw myself into him and let out a gurgling sob. I felt his arms lift me and I didn’t complain. Not even when he set me down in the med bay and got a doctor to Stitch me up.

“Home please” I whispered after it was all done. He nodded and lifted me again, taking me to his room and clutching me close.

“Doll?” He whispered as I continued to cry.

“Yes?” I whimpered. Looking up at his face. A tear slipped out his eyes and I wiped it away “don’t cry my rose”

“I can’t help it, whenever I see you cry I get sad on your behalf, I get angry on your behalf” he replied nuzzling me lightly “I hope you know I adore you” he ran his finger across my scar, something he had taken to doing when we were in private whispering sweet nothings to each other. “I hope you know that I’d hurt you” I nodded as he placed his palm on my face. He started to kiss my scar. I tried to pull away like I had the last time but he didn’t let me, and I relaxed into him. The last time I had told him ‘I don’t want something as beautiful as your lips, on something that ugly’

“Don’t be upset on my behalf” I huffed out as he pulled me on top of him so I was half curled on him, and half curled on the bed. “I hope you know I would always choose you” I alluded to Loki's confession that felt heavy on me. I felt guilty.

“I know”

“No matter what”

“I know,” he said again.

I pushed off him and moved to his dresser. “Closed eyes please” I whispered as I stole one of his many shirts and boxers and put them on. He hadn’t seen me fully naked yet, and my insecurities were evident. As I looked over I saw he had also stripped down to just his boxers. His eyes were wide “babyyyy” I whined. He had seen my scarred back. “Stawp” i walked over and flopped next to him, grabbing his metal hand and placing it on my cheek. “They’re just scars” I whispered as I traced where his flesh met the arm, sending a little bit of light and heat into it. He smiled and kissed me gently, pulling me down and cuddling me close.

“You’re safe with me” he said as he tightened his hold.

“I’m safe with you” I mimicked. Something we had done many a time “you’re safe with me”

“I’m safe with you,” he responded. I nodded and nestled in “i don’t think I’d be able to control myself if he hurt you again”

I shook my head sadly. “I don't think he will,” my voice was soft.

“Mine” he murmured and nuzzled my neck. I laughed and relaxed.

“Yours” I said with a smile, quickly dozing off.

In the following weeks Loki had gone out of his way to be kind. It was jarring. He was really being wonderful but Bucky always kept a close eye on him. The moments we had together became more and more common as I essentially moved into his room. It was strange to be so close to someone who I had thought would never want to share this type of space with me. But it was beautiful.

But as things always do, things changed. “Hello you beautiful, stunning and kind sunflower, I brought you some flowers from the market you like” loki said and placed the vase on the kitchen counter as I finished up the last of my meal prep for the week, which now had doubled seeing as the human incarnation of a golden retriever likes to eat it with me.

“Thank you loki, but please keep the endearments to a minimum, we talked about this” it had made me and bucky uncomfortable, mostly me. “Just June please”

He nodded and smiled. “I got you another gift, Thor retrieved it from Asgard for me” I looked at him quizzically as he pulled out an ornate wooden box. He handed it over sheepishly and when I opened it I was too stunned to speak. A beautiful golden sun pendant sat there, with a chain to go with it. It was encrusted with little white gems, with a large one at its center. I looked at him strangely.

“What is this?” I whispered “you know I can’t accept this' ' I pushed my hand out towards him with the box.

“Please beau- June” he corrected himself mid sentence “I’m going to be leaving for a while. I’m not sure how long, but this necklace will let me know that you are safe” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“Where are you going?” I asked quizzically.

“Thor and I are needed in Asgard” he whispered “I just can’t bear the thought of something happening you and me not knowing until it’s too late” I nodded my head gently and clutched the box tightly “this is goodbye for now”

“Goodbye loki, be well” he smiled gently and walked off. Bucky walked in a few minutes later and watched me eye the box.

“What ch’a got?” He asked, wrapping his arms right around my waist and planting his face in my neck.

“Loki is leaving for a while” I responded, avoiding some of the questions.

“I heard” came his tentative response. I opened the box and showed him the necklace.

“Apparently this necklace will let him know if I’m safe or not. I’m not sure about it frankly” I leaned my head back “would you be on with me wearing it? I’d feel bad if I didn’t, this looks incredibly expensive” he growled gently into my neck.

“Fine, but only because I trust you so much. '' I chucked at that. “Mine” he murmured and put me gently. I held his arms around my waist and nodded. He took it from me and placed it around my neck. It hummed faintly with what I assumed was magic. I smiled and gave him a light kiss.

“Yours” I responded. His smile lit up the world as he nuzzled into my neck. It was moments like that, which I desperately wished I could save in a bottle and keep forever. The little moments of love. I held him close to me for a while longer till we both decided to lay on the sofa together.

“I wish we could give this life up,” he murmured. I looked at him strangely. “start a little family, somewhere no one will know us” I smiled at him and kissed him ever so gently.

“One day we will” I promised. And at the time, I had really thought that we would.

Weeks later a large mission came in “You’re Not going!” Bucky said loudly as it was announced me, him, Sam, Steve and tony would be raiding a hydra base. “I don’t want you going there” I rolled my eyes at him. This was something that had happened a few times, and every now and then I had stayed behind, but only because he managed to get a replacement for me. I hated not going but he begged and begged until I caved. But this time was different.

“Bucky you know I need to” I whispered and held his hand “you know that I do” I squeezed it. The base was the same one I was dragged into and abused. And I needed that closure. I needed to see it all again and say goodbye. I needed to go in there and have the control that I did now.

“No way in hell I’m letting you go though that” he barked. “What if you get hurt?” he fretted over me. Others were filling out slowly, and watching cautiously. I felt a bit awkward. Not used to anyone showing this amount of concern.

“Bucky” I soothed “I need to do this for me” he dropped his head and let it hang “you know it'll be good for me, plus if I get hurt then I promise you get to nurse me to health and I won’t complain once”

He caved and said “ok but I’m sticking with you” I rolled my eyes as we stood and headed to the gear room. He stayed glued to my side as I picked up my guns, knives and body armor. It was Kevlar but still flexible, it was my stealth suit which was black instead of the near white one I wore on more public missions. I was ready in minutes and bucky watched me as I nervously fidgeted on the way to the jet.

The ride was short, we listened to music but when we finally landed I was on edge.

“You guys know the drill, '' Tony announced. We all murdered out agreements as we exited. I kept low as we barged through the door, I took out two men, bucky close behind. The halls were so familiar. I felt as if it was all closing in on me.

“On your 7” bucky warned as more approached. We were a distraction. As we powered through I came across the door I dreaded. The place I’d been held. I froze up. The sun I had painted on the door had nearly all chipped off. I couldn’t move, and then we were surrounded. I struggled to breathe for a moment.

12 men started to take us on and I struggled. The first one took a knife through the throat, the next two were shot by me. There were only a few left when I felt white hot pain lance through my middle, then another jab through my chest. I felt myself fall as if I was another person. Bucky took the rest out and was clutching me close.

“No no no no” Bucky murmured. “June is down, we need backup” he yelled into his ear piece. I looked at him strangely as I placed my hand on my chest, it felt warm and sticky.

“I’m sorry” was all I could muster. It all felt like it was slow motion. I didn’t actually think it would happen like this. Not here, not with the man I love. It was the place I so desperately wished to destroy, yet here I was, dying.

“No no baby this is my fault” his eyes watered “hold on you’re gonna be ok”

“Bucky?” I groaned as he put pressure on my chest making me cough. He looked desperate.

“What is it doll? '' he caressed my head in his lap.

“I love you” was the first time I had said it. It would be the last. I knew that moment I was done for.

“I love you too,” he responded. “Please baby stay with me” honestly I didn’t want to. I felt so good and warm. I shook my head sadly. I held his hand close.

“I think I’m going to die” I whispered, and I was fucking terrified. “I’m scared” my eyes blurred with tears and his frantic yells got louder.

“You’re Not going to die here June, I won’t let you die here” he kissed me gently and continued to put pressure on my wound.

“I’ll miss you” I said sadly, holding his hand that tried to no avail to quench the bleeding. I was running out of time quickly “you’re my hero James” it was a simple sentence but sent him into a spiral of sobs. I was getting warm and sleepy. It was getting harder and harder to stay away from the dark.

“Don’t leave me,” he begged. I smiled at him, a heart broken smile that I so hoped conveyed all the love I have for him. I willed all my hopes, dreams, and sheer love into that look, before I closed my eyes. I could hear his yelling and pleading. But I let myself go. I didn’t want to fight anymore.

Death wasn’t so bad. Not as bad as I had expected it to be. Floating around as a ghost was kind of nice. Yes it was lonely, but it was also nice. People moved onto the next stage of the afterlife often but I seemed to be still tied here.

XxXx

I lifted out my body as I heard him scream my name. I watched the others arrive as he was already mourning, and I watched Loki arrive a few minutes after the rest, wild eyed. I tried to comfort them all, but my words landed empty. His scream shook the earth. I felt bad for him. He had loved me, and I had never loved him. And now he never could see me again.

My funeral was nice. My friends all came to pay tribute, and there was a public funeral so the media could share the message. I wanted a party, I’d told them all that as a half serious joke many times, they celebrated with me. I enjoyed sitting with them. “I will wait for you in June” Bucky had promised. Loki wasn’t around. But I knew he had taken it badly.

He was truthful, as annoyed as it made me. I wanted him happy. But I was also a little grateful to keep him with me longer.

It had been years of watching when Bucky finally joined me. “June?” He asked. He looked young again.

“It’s me,” I replied. And when he scooped me up, I felt us heat up, and be dragged to the next stage of our lives, together at last.

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