#bullseye on my broken heart

[surftrips]

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

HEARTBREAKER — CHAPTER 02

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary y/n is challenged by campers and her growing feelings for luke castellan.

author's note thank you for all the support on this series! i made a masterlist here so you can easily find the parts <3 as always, comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist and lmk your thoughts :)

→ installment of this au read for context

Luke Castellan found it increasingly harder and harder to hide his feelings for you. He could no longer make eye contact with you without his face turning an embarrassing shade of red. In fact, he could hardly look at your face because somehow his eyes would always end up darting toward your lips, or even lower if you were wearing a certain tank top that day. 

“My eyes are up here, Castellan,” you quipped at him once. 

Quite frankly, it was ruining his own reputation around camp as the best swordsman and a stoic warrior. If word got out that he fell to his knees at the hands of an Ares girl, what would people think of him? 

As stories of your excellent skills got around, so did rumors about you. Everyone was interested to hear whose heart you had broken next, all because of that first fateful incident with a camper named Connor. 

Connor, son of Apollo, thought that he could challenge you to an archery competition. He had bet that if he won, he could take you out on a date. How could you resist the urge to prove him wrong?

A small crowd had gathered to watch the two of you. Some people rooted for Connor, trusting that his combat skills would be stronger because of his father. However, the innate strength and talent from your own godly father allowed you to become familiar with the bow and arrow rather quickly. 

“Careful, or one of your siblings will have to heal you later,” you warned. 

“Oh, I think you’re the one that’s going to end up at my cabin later,” Connor responded snarkily. 

You hated losing. It wasn’t an option for you. You didn’t care that Connor technically had the upper hand here, you were going to beat him regardless. 

The rules were simple: there were four targets. Whoever hit the most points, won. 

Connor went first, hitting an impressive 34 points. 

“Beat that, pretty girl.”

You tried not to cringe at his nickname for you, and confidently walked up to the front. You quickly scanned the crowd, eyes landing on the brunette-haired boy you didn't realize you were looking for. Luke smiled at you, and suddenly everyone else faded away.

Turning back toward the targets, you lined up your bow and arrow and took the first shot. You hit eight points, which was not bad, but you were going to have to do better in order to win.

Trying to hone in on your training, you closed your eyes for the next shot and trusted your instincts. You heard the arrow hitting wood and before you could open your eyes, cheers had erupted from the crowd. Bullseye. 

With 17 points left to beat Connor, you had to hit at least another bullseye. And you did just that. 

Turning to Connor, you said, “Any last words before I take this final shot?” 

“What time am I picking you up tonight?” he said, not losing hope just yet. You had to give it to him and his tireless persistence. 

Your eyes focused in on the last target, until all you could see was the gold center. It kind of looked like the sun, and reminded you of a certain someone. You released the arrow, but at the last second felt your finger flinch.

Shit, you thought. But the crowd had already begun cheering again, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You had hit eight on the last one, just enough to win. 

“Okay, who’s next?” you declared triumphantly, not missing the disappointed look on Connor's face.

After the competition, Luke walked over to congratulate you on your win. 

“Hey, that was sick!” He placed his hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, thanks!”

“You’re not beating yourself up over that last one, are you?”

“Wh- how’d you know?” You were silently cursing yourself for not making that last bullseye and blowing Connor completely out of the water. 

“I know you, Y/N. Don’t look so surprised.” 

“Okay, well, what am I thinking right now?”

“Hmmm,” he pretended to be lost in thought. “Dinner?”

“You know me so well.” 

Ever since then, various people at camp had challenged you to their own duels in an effort to ask you out, just for you to beat them time and time again.

You weren’t sure why anyone thought you would be interested in them, when you had not once expressed a want for any sort of romantic entanglements. Because that’s all they were to you, entanglements. Complicated messes that were hard to get out of.

“Okay, I need boy advice,” Annabeth announced.

“No,” you responded. This was the first of many sleepovers you, her, and Clarisse would have together. 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s my advice, do yourself a favor and just don’t.” 

“Okay, what’s the story?” the young girl asked. 

“I dated this guy once. Long story short, all men do is disappoint you. It’s not worth it.” 

“I second that,” Clarisse joined in. 

“Wait- who do you like?” you asked, processing Annabeth’s original question.

“Oh, forget it. I’m not gonna tell you guys now,” she responded.

“No, you have to tell us!” Clarisse insisted. 

When Annabeth didn’t respond, you and Clarisse began throwing pillows at her. 

“Stop! Stop!” she giggled. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you guys.” 

You and Clarisse waited with baited breath as Annabeth formed his name in her mouth. “Percy.”

Chaos ensued. You’re pretty sure that you squealed loud enough to break glass and Clarisse nearly woke up the cabin on the other side of camp. Luckily for you guys, it was a weekend that many of the campers had gone home for. 

“Why are you guys cheering?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“Because we’re happy for you! Your first crush is so exciting!” Clarisse said.

Annabeth had always been like a younger sister to you and Clarisse, and you couldn’t help but be happy for her, despite your personal feelings about love. 

“Y/N, what do you think?” Annabeth turned to you. 

“I think you don’t even need our advice. Just be yourself, I’m sure he already thinks you’re amazing.” 

The young girl beamed at you. “I thought you were anti-boys.”

“I am, if it were up to me, there would be no boys here.” 

“Not even Luke?” Annabeth asked, feigning innocence.

“Well, is he a boy?” you responded.

“Yeah, but not just any boy….” Clarisse joined in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sat up on your elbows in bed. 

“Y/N, just admit it! He’s different!” Annabeth said.

“No, he’s still just a boy,” you said, trying to convince them, or yourself. 

Annabeth and Clarisse looked at each other knowingly, but dropped the subject before upsetting you further. 

The truth was, the thought of Luke Castellan terrified you. 

At first, you didn’t want to admit it. There was no way Luke Castellan liked you, and there was absolutely no way that you liked him back. Not in any universe, above or on earth. Not after you had made it your whole mission to swear off boys completely. 

Sure, you constantly picked each other as partners in Capture the Flag, sat next to each other over bonfires, and talked to each other everyday, but nothing friends didn’t do. 

You tried to be oblivious to his longing glances at you, the way his face lit up when he saw you, but Annabeth and Clarisse were not shy in pointing out each time he smiled at you like you hung the moon and stars. 

For years, Luke had repressed his emotions for fear of being perceived as weak. But each time you came around, he wondered if love could even be equated to weakness if he had never felt anything stronger. 

Liked by lukecastellan and 170 others.

tagged annaaabeth and clarisse

ynuser with the girls 🏹💕

view all comments.

annaaabeth love youuu

clarisse so much fun!

lukecastellan ur foul for that last pic

ynuser whose side are you on

percyjackson second pic is me to you when i don't get invited to the sleepover :(

—

TAGLIST: @ravisinghs-wife @jules-loves-lukecastellan @favreader23 @clydeisalsoellie @yuminako @luxreziaa @eddiesdrummergf @whataprettyshadeofred @grace-928 @girls-and-guts @supercutszns @noodlesketchbook @birdiewriteslit @mitskiswift99 @idontevencare1223 @randomnpc456 @lucycarlisleswife @angelicdanvers @imguce @anitatvd (please lmk if you want to be added or i missed you!)

[mediumgayitalian]

He doesn’t say anything as he sits down.

He makes noise — he doesn’t want to startle him. Not that Will would mind. Of all people, Will is the only one who laughs after he jumps, when Nico pops up next to him. Even his sister, even Reyna, even every other person who has known him forever: they jump, they press their hand to their chest. Maybe smile. Scowl, if Nico is pissing them off on purpose.

But Will laughs.

Every time.

“Hi, Nico,” he whispers into his knees, eyes squeezed shut. The laughter is a little more broken this time, a little more hurt, like it has to push through the tears clogging up his throat.

Nico hums, resting his cheek on his knees, watching him.

He looks good in the sunlight, even when he’s sad. His hair is braided, today, his favourite way to wear it and Nico’s favourite way to see it. Two French braid pigtails. The elastics tying them down have the little ghost charms Nico bought him as a joke last Halloween, that he treasures unironically. He picks distractedly at his dozens of woven friendship bracelets, nervously twisting his anklets around his finger until they’re so tight they cut off the circulation. He’s not wearing shoes. His Head Medic shirt clashes horribly with his hair, as usual, but the orange is — faded, almost. More sunset than neon, like it’s been in the wash so many times the colour has bled. The black lettering has almost completely worn away. The shirt is a size too big.

Lee’s.

He sniffles. “Sorry I wasn’t there for dinner. I hope you didn’t eat by yourself. You ate, right? You should eat. It worries me when you don’t.”

His hand shakes. He slides it into the grass to try and stop it, breathing slowly and deeply. It doesn’t work.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, scooting closer. “Look at me.”

It takes a minute. When finally he peeks over the swell of his knees, his eyes are red-rimmed, tear tracks staining his freckled cheeks. Nico is reminded of streaks of red clouds of a rapid summer sunset. He tries for a smile, but it’s small, strained, and fades under Nico’s gaze. He’d look away again if Nico’s palm on his cheek didn’t hold him steady.

“You’re allowed to have hard days.”

Will shrugs. “I know.” He glances down. A new wave of wet drops from his eyes, and Nico swipes it away with his thumb, noticing as the action makes Will’s chin tremble.

“Do you?”

Will shrugs again. There’s a glassy look in his eyes that makes Nico ache. Sometimes it’s hard for him to remember how vulnerable Will is, how hurt. He tries so hard to stamp it down, and he has so much practice that he’s good at it. It’s hard to track when his shoulders droop at the end of his shifts, hard to notice the imperceptible flinches when someone tousles his hair, hard to look for the building frustration when his bullseye remains unpierced. Nico knows this is by design.

He wishes it wasn’t.

Swallowing his own knee jerk discomfort, he whispers, “You’ve done so much for me, you know that?” He leans forward and touches their foreheads together. It’s a little ridiculous, meeting his eyes from this angle — after a minute, a small smile twitches at Will’s lips, and Nico grins in victory. “You worked very hard to weasel your way into my life. Lucky for your persistent ass, that goes both ways. You can be sad in front of me. You can miss your brothers in front of me. You can be bitter in front of me. I promise, Will. I can handle it.”

“I don’t want you to see how often it happens,” Will admits in a small voice. “It’ll be harder to keep me around.”

Nico’s heart breaks.

“You are a leech,” he says firmly, pulling back to press a kiss to the bridge if his nose. He shakes Will’s head slightly, palms still pressed to either side of his face, voice stern. “My favourite leech, okay? You are stuck to me. I am keeping you around no matter how often you nag me about cardiovascular health and the perils of deep fried garbage. I am keeping you around even though you barge into my cabin at odd hours and pester me into helping you do stupid things. I am keeping you around even though you keep stealing my socks for reasons I will never understand.”

“They have little skulls on them,” Will mumbles.

“I know,” Nico says patiently. The smile on his face is so fond that he would be embarrassed, were he not full to bursting with affection. “That’s why I bought them, you little shit.”

He waits as Will weighs the words, as he twitches his hands, coming to terms with them. He tucks a flyaway hair behind his ear.

“You really like me even when I’m…like this?”

He stumbles over his words, scared in a way Nico doesn’t see from him. Hopeful, too, like he can scarcely believe Nico is still here, holding him as he cries. Nico vows to sit with him through a thousand more miserable days, until the fear is totally gone.

“I do. I promise.” He presses another kiss to the tip of Will’s nose. This time, it makes his face burn, and Nico grins.

“Okay.”

“Have some faith in me, Sunshine.” He presses another kiss, to his cheek this time, and another. “Okay?”

Will smiles at him, small and sad and absolutely breathtaking, radiant. He leans into the next kiss Nico presses to his temple.

“I have all the faith in the world in you, Nico.”

[lulunothulu]

“A Bullseye to the Heart” (Ch. 2)

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Latina Reader

Blurb: You’re with Phoenix trying to forget what happened at the bar but you’re stuck in your mind after having an anxiety attack. Being hit brought you back into the mindset of being in the past with the traumatic experience that happened a few years ago. Now, you’re starting to open up to Natasha, but you can’t tell her everything… no matter how close you two are.

Catch up here: Chapter 1

Contents: mentions of anxiety, domestic violence (mentioned!), trauma, some fluff, mental health/flashbacks (some)

Word count: 1,370

Just wanted to say thank you to everyone who loved the first part. I’ve always wanted to write fan fiction on here and I’m so glad you all have welcomed me with open arms 🥹 enjoy chapter 2!

-Lulu

Chapter 2

As you walk to Phoenix’s car, you can’t help but feel that rush of relief wash over you. It’s like what happened at the bar had freed you from Nick and instantly you can feel the tears coming. You have to stop in the middle of the parking lot to breathe them away.

“Y/N?” You hear Phoenix but her voice is muffled, so far away you feel like she’s miles away.

Your body starts to feel like you’ve been hit by a truck, everything around you turns to black. You slowly feel yourself fall back into that dark mindset you fought so hard to get out of. Flashes of men over you, knives and wicked smiles aimed at you and your body. Another flash of your body, broken and battered in the mirror of the hospital the people who found you brough you to. Your face was bruised, hardly recognizable and yet, still you.

Oh God. Please take me out of this. Don’t let me fall into–

You feel hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you.

“Y/N!” 

You blink and as quickly as it started, it ends. Phoenix stands before you, eyes wide and breathing as rapidly as you are. 

“What happened?” You ask. 

“You were having a panic attack or something,” Phoenix tells you. She rubs your arms lightly before asking, “What was that about? Are you okay?”

“I must’ve been triggered by everything,” You tell her. It’s true, you know for a fact that you were triggered especially because Nick hit you. 

This episode, however, felt different. It felt like when you first came back. When you wouldn’t let anyone but Rooster and Phoenix touch you. When you couldn’t sit in the box and let the canopy close shut because you felt like you were being closed in that dark, secluded room again.

“Let’s get to my place and we can talk about it,” Phoenix says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“If you don’t mind,” You start. “I’d rather not talk about this.”

“You have to talk about it with someone.” Phoenix leads you to her car, looking around the parking lot.

“That’s what my therapist is for,” You joke. 

Phoenix shakes her head, a small smile on her lips. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it!”

Later that night, you’re tossing and turning in bed next to Natasha. You can’t stop thinking–and dreaming–about what happened at the bar. The dream then somehow circulates to dreams about laying in the grass, body bloodied and bruised.

You don’t like to talk about it—let alone think and dream about it—but you know you have to tell someone. Maybe you’ll tell Nat when she wakes up but then again, you don’t want to burden her with the details.

Instead, you get out of bed and walk into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you grab a bottle of water and begin to drink it while you look at the pictures on Nat’s fridge. 

There’s a few of her and Rooster smiling into the camera, arms wrapped around each other, another of the whole gang smiling together with Pete on the tarmac. But the one that makes you freeze is one with you, Phoenix, and Rooster the day before your jet went down and you went missing.

You remember that day distinctly. You played it over and over in your mind.

You weren't worried about the mission. All you had to do was bomb a weapon’s shelter and then get out of there. 

Easy work. You could do it with yoru eyes closed.

That night, Rooster and Phoenix took you out to dinner at one of your favorite restaurants and you all finished the night at Hard Deck. You were happy, excited even. When the morning came around, you felt something deep in your gut. Something was going to happen and you didn’t know if it was good or bad. Either way, this mission was an open and shut kind of case. And because the mission was so easy, they sent you alone.

Shaking the memories of that day out of your mind, you walk back into Phoenix’s room to find her already sitting up and waiting for you.

“You wanna talk about why you’ve been tossing and turning?” She asks. 

“Not really,” You start. “But I assume you’re going to keep asking so I’ll just tell you.”

You climb into her bed and get comfortable, knowing that she’s watching you intensely. “I keep having dreams about what happened at the bar.”

“And?”

“Jesus Nat. I forgot how much you can read me,” you chuckle. Then turning serious you add, “I keep seeing myself how I was when they found me.”

“How was that?” Natasha whispers.

Your voice catches on your throat and you feel the sob wanting to escape. Instead, you swallow it down and make yourself say, “I was bloodied, bruised. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t—”

You can’t bring yourself to finish that sentence. You squeeze your eyes shut before feeling Nat grab your hand.

“You don’t have to tell me all of the details. Not yet at least,” she starts. “When you’re ready, you can come to me.”

“I haven’t had those types of dreams in more than three months,” You croak. “It’s just something about whenever Nick gets violent that sets me off.”

“This has happened before?” You look up from your hands to see Natasha’s eyes hard in anger.

“Yeah,” you respond. “It started a month after coming back.”

“Oh, Y/N.”

“Remember that day Rooster had to carry me out of the F14?” You don’t wait for her to respond, you know she remembers. “There were bruises all over my back and legs.”

You snicker coldly before adding, “He’s very good at hurting me where no one can see it.”

“He’s in the navy too, right? Why didn’t you report him?” She asks. 

“I couldn’t,” you whisper.

“What does he have on you?” 

You shake your head, looking back down at your hands before you feel the tears fall. Your shoulder slump and begin to shake as you start to cry. You never told anyone that Nick was hurting you not to protect him but because deep down, you felt like you deserved it. You deserved to be hurt. You failed the mission and that was your punishment. You were caught and you deserved to hurt as much as you did for those four months you were kept and missing to the world.

You can feel Nat scoot closer to you, wrapping her arms around you and bringing you both down into the pillows.

You let her. 

You let her hold you. You let her softly tell you it’s okay. You let her squeeze you tight and wipe your eyes dry. 

Even when you’ve stopped crying, Natasha doesn’t let you go. You’re sniffing when she says, “We need to tell Bradley.”

“No,” you tell her. “He’ll make things worse and besides, Nick should be out of my apartment by the morning.”

“You need to get a restraining order too,” she tells you. “Can’t hurt, right?”

“I’d have to tell his commanding officer and honestly, I think he’ll leave me alone. Especially with you guys around,” you tell her. 

“Okay,” she says. “Can we go back to sleep? Rooster wanted to go for a run tomorrow morning. Well, today should I say.”

“Sure.”

An hour later, you’re still awake. You stare up at the ceiling and let Nat cuddle you in her sleep. You secretly like it, though. Hugs and cuddles from Phoenix are rare so you take whatever she’ll give you.

You check your phone to see some texts from Nick–begging you to forgive him like he always does–and another couple from Rooster and surprisingly, Bob. You click on the one from Bob and smile when you see two pictures of Fanboy, Coyote, Payback, Rooster, Bob, and Hangman–Jake–smiling at the camera. The second one consists of them making weird faces and captioned, “We hope this makes you smile, Y/N.”

You quickly type back a response, save the pictures to your camera roll, and close the messages app, tossing your phone onto the bed beside you and sighing to yourself.

What a weird day.

Next part

tags: @akilatwt @russopalette

[slut4sugu]

— 𝐒𝐎𝐒. 𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 !

─── . ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡ SOME WORDS FROM KAM: I just want to thank all of your for 100+ followers! It has been so much fun writing for you all and I greatly appreciate the support! So now I hope you all enjoy this milestone event!!

─── . ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀ ♡ SOME WARNINGS: some of these works will have mature content so minors Dni! I will label the ones that are sfw and nsfw, happy reading and thank you all so much again!

Here is SZA’s full SOS album in case you wanna listen to it however you want </3

NO.1 - SOS.

MDNI !

I CAN DO YOU BETTER [feat!] hobie brown

Lyrics : bestfriend!hobie x black fem reader, readers ex on the phone, fingering, hobie being evil </3, use of names like: doll, pretty thing, princess, cunnilingus, cursing, mentions of weed and alcohol use, bit of a slow burn

Summary: Your bestfriend hobie comforts you after getting broken up over the phone with your ex, and gives you the treatment you’ve always deserved.

NO. 2 - KILL BILL.

MDNI !

Come Back Darlin feat! [feat!] rue Bennett

Lyrics : ex!rue x fem!black reader, mentions smoking, makeout session, rue being slightly sappy, thigh riding, being almost caught by Gia, fluff at the end </3, cursing

Summary: you broke up with rue because her addiction was too concerning and you felt as though she would never change no matter what you said to her. After an argument you broke up, though as weeks then months passed rue started to realized your her drug. The strongest there fuckin is.

NO. 3 - SEEK & DESTROY.

BULLSEYE [feat!] assassin Toji x fem!black reader

Lyrics: Toji being hot as usual, reader having to treat his scars, suggestiveness, fluff, use of the name: doll, pretty, baby, princess, ma, toji being a sweetheart, use of guns, cursing.

Summary: you didn’t know what toji specifically did for work until you started to put pieces together, the excessive guns, weaponry, especially the scars. Then one night your boyfriend of 2 years sat you down an told you everything.

NO. 4 - LOW.

SHOW OFF [ feat!] 42!miles x fem!blackreader

Lyrics: miles being protective of you as per usual, jealousy themes, cursing, rio being suspicious, slight angst then fluff, reader being worried for miles, miles spoiling reader, slight suggestiveness

Summary: you found out that miles was the prowler, and assured him you would still want to be with him despite what he does as a ‘job’. But because you know he makes your relationship a secret, so that not even uncle Aron would know.

NO. 5 - SMOKING ON MY EX PACK.

MDNI !

F*CK OFF [ feat!] suna x fem!black reader

Lyrics: atsumu being a dick, angst to fluff, smoking, stoner suna, skipping school, alottt of cursing, fighting between atsumu n suna, suna being a sweetheart to reader, cheating themes, mentions of a abusive relationship between atsumu and reader

Summary: After a long awaited break up with a toxic atsumu, you struggle to love yourself again. So your old friend comes to ease your mental pain, and real ease some tension.

NO. 6 GOOD DAYS.

MDNI !

MY HEART [ feat!] ? x fem!black reader (it’s a surprise <33)

Lyrics: ? being an absolute sweetheart, use of vibrator, slight age gap, reader is in her late 20’s and ? is in her early 30’s, cunnilingus, edging, aftercare, use of names: Honey, princess, sweetheart, baby

Summary: ? met you one day at a concert and couldn’t take her eyes off your cute outfit for the whole show, after getting your insta, meet ups begin to happen in discreet locations and reserved buildings before turning into stays in her penthouse.

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Bullseye

Robin wasn't against marriage. The president was rather insistent that he get married and carry on the bloodline. Producing stronger archers for the next generation.

Most called him a prodigy, but truthfully, he wouldn't have gotten far without his nee-chan. She was the one who trained him. He wouldn't be half as good if not for her.

He didn't really understand the sad look in Bachiko's eyes when his engagement was finally announced. "I'm sorry Robbie..." Why was she so sad?

Just because he was getting married, it didn't mean he had to stop doing the things he loved. Besides, the president was the one who picked his bride. He was sure that everything would work out!

He dashed to the training grounds excitedly. He was supposed to meet her today! He wondered what she'd be like? Would it take time to win her over? Would she be sweet?

Whose to say? One moment, he's zipping by the next he crash lands into a pit. He lands on his back, staring up at the sky, confused. Did one of his cousins dig a hole?

A shadow peers over him. It's not anyone he recognizes. Her long hair flowing past her shoulder as she leans over, getting a better look at him. His jaw drops, and he can only stare back.

His heartbeat is pounding rapidly in his chest. He wonders if she can hear it echoing? She continues looking at him and then... he hears it. She laughs.

It's the most gorgeous sound he's ever heard. She sits on the edge of the hole, kicking her feet amused. An amused look crossing her pretty features. This had to be her.

This had to be the one he was going to spend the rest of his life with. He literally springs into action, jumping into her lap and knocking her over. He grins brightly. "Hi! I'm Robin, your future husband!"

She stares up at him amused. She's taller than him, her long hair fanning out behind her. She pokes him in the nose with a manicured nail. "My... you're confident."

He chuckles and leans closer, so their nose to nose. "I aim to please!" He suddenly feels himself being tossed up into the air. His eyes widen. She rolls away.

He swings upside-down, getting his barings. A snare. First a pit, now a snare? Did she? She stands in front of him. He's at perfect eye level with her. She hums and walks around him.

He watches her use her magic. Trap magic is different than any kind of magic he's seen. An array of ropes flaring out and stringing around him like a web.

He laughs and activates his own magic. The angle is awkward, but his aim is true. An outline of arrows surrounds her silhouette. She looks at him in awe.

And he can see the hearts in her eyes. His arrow never misses. A bullseye straight through the heart! He knew it would all work out!

He was so glad that the president assigned him such a cool wife! He couldn't wait to tell all his peers! His wife was the prettiest, smartest demon ever. He manages to cut the snare and rush over to her.

She simply smiles at him. And just when he's about to reach her... he crashes it the tree behind her. His head spins as he looks up at her. Her gorgeous leather wings fanned out behind her.

Was this... a game? He loved games! His chaotic grin spreads across his face. She gives a sharp flick of her wings and takes off. His unleashes behind her and soars into the air after her.

She's fast, and she seems to know every trick in the book. It makes him want to catch her even more. Just a little more. Almost there. He reaches his hand out and grasps her ankle.

He let's out a shout of victory too soon. Her tail wraps around his waist and flicks him away. He hadn't realized how close they were to the clans stronghold. That is until he came crashing through the window.

The president stares at him for a moment. Holding his pipe out. "Are you enjoying yourself, my boy?" He asked. Robin sprang up quickly. "She's amazing! I'm gonna try again!"

Just before he can jump through the broken window, she lands in the frame, her tail waving behind her. She tilts her head at him. "What a silly imp you are..."

She crosses her legs and leans against the wall. "Really!" Does that mean she likes him? He can't stop the stars in his eyes. She giggles. "You're quite stupid, aren't you? Mmm... I like that in a demon."

"You do!" He cheers. "Please take good care of me... Robbie-Chan." He feels ready to explode and do a thousand victory laps. He can do that. He'll gladly take care of his new spouse!

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirty-Eight

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Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Notes: I just graduated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HOORAAAAYYY! I'm finally FREE NOW TO WRITE AS MUCH GOBBLEDUPFANFICSASIWANT AND IM SO HAPPY! SIHV is no longer under hiatus ;ppppp (not proofread properly as i was so excited to update everyone on this story hahahahdsjs)

Chapter Thirty-Eight: A Doctor’s Steady Hands

“Is it this one?”

I unhook my head from beneath a curved plane of metal, wiping the machine oil from my face with my sleeve. I examine the mishap of tools in Bepo’s paws, scrambling to keep them all hooked between his claws.

“Uh, yeah, that one,” I say, nodding at the screwdriver with the yellow handle. Bepo carefully flexes his cushioned paw to pluck one out from the other, then proceeds to stuff the rest of the tools – and the equipment box, mind you, in the front pocket of his overalls. 

Swiftly, I disappear under the side of what used to be Law’s beloved ship and begin to assess the damage. A soft curse comes out of my mouth, incredulously asking myself how Luffy could have damaged this beautiful piece so badly.

Sighing, I begin dismantling damaged parts with a hard-set scowl indented on my face – a scowl I haven’t been able to get of rid for about a week now. Gramps always used to tease me for being so transparent with my feelings, how I’d always wear my heart on my sleeve – and even thinking back on that memory doesn’t help with sobering up my mood, either.

I sneak a look at Bepo who’s looking incredibly out of place at the makeshift workshop we’ve made for ourselves. He looks down, staring down at his paws with a frown set on his face – almost as if he wants to ask me something but doesn’t know when the right time would be. Guilt pangs in my chest, knowing that Bepo doesn’t know what to do with how I am right now. It’s a pretty big personality shock to him, seeing how much I’ve changed compared from when I was a happy-go-lucky kid; a young tweenager with hope in her eyes, now turned young adult with angry fine lines peppered into her skin. It must have broken whatever pretence he had of me in his head. 

Regardless, he still showed up today. Hell, he even offered to be my little work assistant, completely aware of my recent bad temper - still willing to be there for me. It doesn’t help matters that I’m unhelpfully being gossiped about by Usopp to physically anyone he could talk to.

‘I don’t know, I’m kinda worried, ya know?’ Usopp mutters not-too-secretively in the bullseye centre of our temporary camp. ‘Ever since Zoro stormed out of that weird lake magic, they’ve both been acting off…’

‘And not to mention, ever since she turned into that scary Luffy form, she’s been so different,’ Usopp urges. ‘I don’t know if we can trust her from exploding into that-that… THING again. WAAA, I’M SCARED!’

Nami slaps him on the back of his neck, the sound ricocheting against the jagged stalactite ceiling as she eyes him down, anger in her eyes. ‘Oh, shut up, will you? Raya’s still Raya, and she’s one of us. Get that into that thick skull of yours.’

“Yo, Raya!” Franky’s voice echoes from a few miles ahead of me. His large body is somehow perfectly cramped beneath the belly of the Polar Tang, his fists slamming into the metal simultaneously as his head twists 180 degrees towards me. “We’re finally working together, huh? I can’t lie to you; it’s making me feel hella excited!”

I don’t know how he managed to do it, but a surprised laugh breaks out from my mouth; I didn’t know I meant so much to him, it almost makes me feel bad for not working with him sooner.

“Me too,” I say whilst my hands get busy removing each screw from the disfigured plane of metal. “I’m sorry we haven’t done this sooner, Frank.”

He rolls his eyes at me and bats a mechanical hand with a grease cloth clamped over it. “Are ya kidding me? You’ve been through hell and back, Raya. Take it easy. I’ve got an insane number of blueprints to work with you soon.”

I shake my head, turning back onto my partition of the work. He’s too forgiving, sometimes. Too carefree… I wish I was like that.

“Did I just imagine things?” A cool voice reverberates behind Bepo and I. “Did Raya’s face finally do something other than scowl?”

I twist my head so fast I hit my head against the ship, scowling at the figure who made me jump about eighty feet out of my own skin. Law looks down at me with a sly smile twitching at the ends of his mouth, his tattooed arms folded together against his chest.

“No, there it is again,” he continues. “That scowl. I must’ve imagined things.”

“C’mon Law, don’t tease her.” Bepo sighs.

Law turns to stare at his first mate, his mouth slightly ajar. He quickly closes it again, noticing I’ve been smirking at him like a kid who just got some well-deserved payback. “Well, you’ve never ordered me around before.”

I furiously rub at the sore spot on my head, still giving him a shit-eating grin, before my eyes lower to his clothes. Blue work overalls overlay a white shirt on his torso, a huge pocket resting at his belly. I raise a brow, not expecting anyone besides Franky and Bepo to be working with me today.

“Did I mess the memo? I didn’t know we were roleplaying as mechanics today.” My lips twitch into a faint smirk, making Law dismissively scowl at me.

“Well, I prefer to be around my possessions from now on. Since, you know, the last time I trusted you with one, you’d engaged with some more… interesting excursions,” he snaps.

That made me shut right up. I turn around and get busy, ignoring the heat growing on my face.

Bepo eyes the both of us with suspicion. “What? What was that supposed to mean? Law?”

Before Law can wave him off, another voice enters the workshop cavern with a tinge of irritation laced in his words.

“Oi, Trafalgar. Where you want me to put these?”

My heart instantly stops from hearing that cursed voice. I can just tell by his footsteps that they’re his. Fuck.

I don’t look around, pretend to be all cool and nonchalant while I’m actually screaming inside, but no one can excuse the fumbling my fingers are doing, my hand unable to unscrew a section I easily did a few moments ago.

Law faintly turns his head and side-eyes the samurai with a raised brow. “Why are you shouting, Roronoa? We can hear you just fine.”

I breathe in shallowly, feeling a minute sense of fear from his presence. My eyes train on the plane of metal above me, not daring to look in his direction.

‘You don’t scare me, Kozuki.’

You don’t scare me, Kozuki. It rings in my head constantly, even when my eyes grow heavy, my mind startled awake, in one of the dragon’s sleeping holes.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki. But you should be scared of me. I grit my teeth, jaw clenching then unclenching. That’s what he meant, right? He’s threatening me.

“You roped me into bein’ your work slave, this is what you’ll get,’ Zoro retorts, his eye piercing Law’s. Law only smirks in response and rests his frame against his tattered ship.

“No brain, only brawn. I’m not surprised,” Law smoothly bites back. I choke out a laugh, yet immediately shut up when I see Zoro’s eye drink in my crouched frame.

I quickly get back to work, my fingers deftly peeling off the unscrewed plane of metal. There’s an odd silence between all three of them, and I can just tell that Zoro’s still pinned his lion-like gaze on me.

“Are you just going to stare with your mouth wide open,” Law remarks, his feet suspiciously stationing themselves over my crouched body. “Or are you going pass those boxes to Frank?”

I hear Zoro bristle, seeming to be taken off guard. "You’re making things up," he grumbles, though the fluster in his voice betrays him. He finally shifts his gaze from me and turns his attention to the boxes at his feet, nudging one of them with his boot.

"Could've fooled me," Law replies, the smirk never leaving his face. There's a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he watches Zoro struggle to find a retort.

Zoro’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, it looks like he's about to snap back with something sharp. But instead, he just exhales heavily through his nose and lifts one of the boxes as if it's nothing. "Whatever. You could’ve picked someone else for this," he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

As he starts walking towards Franky, I can't help but glance at him from the corner of my eye. There’s something different in the way he carries himself today, an edge to his movements that makes my heart pound just a bit faster. It’s not fear—not exactly. It's something else, something furiously too intimate to be just anger.

"Don't drop those, Roronoa. We don’t have spares," Law continues to mock, earning another jaw-tick from Zoro.

As his shadow becomes more and more smaller, I finally let out the strained breath I’ve been holding, my hands a little steadier now. But, still, the weight of his presence lingers, those same tan muscles my hands stroked over being a mere few steps away makes it harder to concentrate.

"Well, this is cozy," Law says, his voice low as he crouches down closely, his eyes flickering with mischief. "Maybe we should do this more often."

I shoot him a look, trying to suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. I skid the plane of damaged metal across the rocky floor, thrusting it with enough force to hit it against his thick-soled boot. "Don’t push it, Trafalgar," I mutter, though the corners of my mouth betray my nonchalance.

In all of a sudden, Bepo crouches next to Trafalgar and imploringly looks at me. “Look… Raya. Can we please talk?” He whispers, his eyes nervously shifting towards Franky’s direction to make sure he’s not paying attention. His gaze flickers over to Zoro, who finds purchase on a rocky crevice right in the centre of the workshop, his arms folding to his chest tensely, tanned muscle flexing. I watch him intently, realising that he looks to be asleep - almost as if he’s taken the perfect chance to doze off. A bit too much of a perfect chance, in my opinion.

I sigh, rubbing the raggedy cloth against my oil-stained cheek as I look away. I knew it, of course, that this conversation was inevitable. Bepo, knowing the entire truth – and Law, in direct extension – were both biding their time to gauge me out for more information.

I hand Bepo the screwdriver, silently gesturing for the small wrench that prods out of his belly-pocket. Impatiently, Law quickly picks it out and deposits it in my hand before Bepo even realises what’s happening.

I don’t know what comes over me but when I look, and really look at my childhood friend’s desperate eyes, I soften my tone.

“Of course, we can,” I mumble, my eyes lowering, avoiding his deeply troubled gaze.

“Keep working,” Law mutters lowly. His eyes train on Franky who once in a while looks over to compare his progress with mine. Zoro’s eyes are still closed, his breathing paced, but there’s still something suspicious about the way he’s holding himself too tensely for my liking.

I turn my head to the millions of nuts and bolts I’ll have to begin laboriously undoing, sighing inwardly. I love workmanship, but man, sometimes it can be boring.

“Keep talking, Bepo,” Law continues.

Bepo fiddles with his work shirt, looking down with a frown on his face. There’s a small beat of silence, the only sounds made are from Franky slicing a metal piece with his laser eyes, before Bepo looks back up at me.

“What happened, Raya?” He swallows, searching for the right way to word the questions that hungrily race through his head. He curses a little to himself. “G-god, that’s an open ended question, I know, but… so much has happened, and now you’re part of Luffy’s crew? Why was– well, Gramps targeted? And-and… what the hell did you transform into before?”

I pause, letting Bepo's questions hang in the air. My fingers keep working, twisting the small wrench, though my mind is racing faster than my hands. The questions he’s asked are the ones I’ve been dreading, but also the ones I knew I couldn’t avoid forever. They’re the kind of questions that dig deep, uncovering layers of the past that I’ve buried under years of anger, fear, and guilt.

I can feel Law's gaze on me, and I know he’s just as curious, though he’s better at hiding it. Franky seems to have disappeared in the pursuit of more materials in a different cavern, leaving a different type of silence, one more threatening, in his wake. Even Zoro’s steady breathing, despite his seemingly relaxed state, feels like a pressure pushing me towards answers I’m not sure I’m ready to give.

But Bepo deserves the truth. Maybe they all do.

I clear my throat softly, choosing my words with care. "It’s… a lot. Look, when I was a kid, I had no idea what was really going on; I just knew that every time the Cp-0 came knocking on our door, we had to relocate to a different island and build up our workshop again. Gramps… he knew things, had secrets that I didn’t understand back then that I think I’m slowly uncovering. He tried to protect me, but in the end… He got taken."

I can feel the weight of their attention, even though no one’s directly looking at me. Law’s quiet demeanour, Zoro’s stillness, Bepo’s concerned eyes—they’re all listening, even if they’re trying to be subtle about it.

“That’s the same thing that happened to-”

“Penguin, I see,” Bepo finishes Law sentence, his mouth pursed into a fuzzy, sombre line.

I nod, playing with my fingers. "As for why I’m with Luffy now… I didn’t plan it. I was trying to stay low, to avoid getting involved in anything that could draw attention to me. But things don’t always go as planned. Luffy… well, you know how he is. He promised me that we’d go finding Gramps if I did join him.”

Bepo looks like he’s putting all the pieces together, his eyes searching the tattered ship for answers. Distantly, his voice comes out, slightly uncertain.

“So, that’s why Law went to ask Luffy for an alliance.”

I nod again, not knowing what else to say.

Bepo nods, slowly, trying to process my words, but I can see he’s still deeply troubled. His gaze flickers to the metal I’m working on, then back to me. “But why the alias? Why are you hiding yourself from them?”

I grit my teeth, my eyes trained to a stray bolt, my sentences coming out in quick-paced bullet points. “I don’t want to be known by that name anymore. I hate it. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Law quirks up a brow. “Quite the opposite, Raya. You know that could put them in danger, right? If they’re not prepared with what’s coming after you, it could be incredibly detrimental.”

I pause. He’s right, of course. I’ve been so focused on hiding, on keeping my past buried, that I hadn’t fully considered the consequences of keeping the truth from them.

I push that thought away and my resolve tightens. “You saw what I transformed into. I’ll keep the people coming after me at bay, without the crew even realising what went awry.”

“If you were part of my crew, I’d instantly throw you out,” Law coolly says, his torso shifting against the Polar Tang.

I let out a dry laugh. “Even if you tried to recruit me, I wouldn’t join you. Stay humble, doc.”

Law's expression remains neutral, but there's a glint in his eyes that shows he’s not entirely unaffected by my retort. He crosses his arms and leans back against the ship, seemingly unbothered, but I know him well enough to catch the subtle tension in his posture.

“You’re being obtuse, Raya. Not to mention incredibly selfish,” he bluntly states, not even trying to sugar-coat his words. “And if what Bepo’s told me about you is true, then that’s uncharacteristic of you. This'll affect everyone around you, exactly the way your Gramps had been. Taken, by a lifeless vessel, with two bulbous eyes.”

He leans in closer, his eyes now glinting more angrily, his voice lowering to a whisper. “At least your Gramps knew what he was getting into. He had a choice. And you, Raya, are not giving the same one to your crewmates.”

Fuck. Not once, but twice this asshole's statement rings true to me. If something were to happen, if the past I’ve been running from finally catches up to me, they could be caught off guard, unprepared for the shitstorm that I've happily brought along on board

I take a deep breath and meet Law’s eyes. “I never said I was a good person.”

Law's gaze hardens, Zoro’s body twitches, and for a moment, the air between us feels thick with tension. His eyes bore into mine, searching for something—maybe regret, maybe resolve. He doesn’t find either.

“I did some reading earlier,” Law breathes out coolly. “Of a person named Tyr. Tyr was ordinary. Incredibly so – mainly kept to himself, worked at a local mine, brought back food to his table without amiss. He didn’t have to work so hard, callous his hands day after day to scrounge up such measly coin to survive, but he did. He did it for his wife and two children, because he loved them so deeply, and he couldn’t see them suffer.

But that same Tyr also had no awareness of his lineage. Who he was didn’t concern him. He was a bastard’s child, no last name, his mother withered to dust during his childbirth. Until one day, a group of men dressed in black barged into his house and attempted to drag his wife and children away. You know what happened to that same old Tyr?”

I hold in a breath, not even daring to look at him. Even Zoro’s feigned equal breathing stops for a moment. I don’t respond, don’t even want to know about Tyr’s fate, but Law keeps on going.

“He turned into exactly what you are, Raya,” he says, his words quickening, tumbling out of his mouth with no regret. “And you know what he did?” Law leans in, his breath hitting my cheek coldly. “He was so consumed with his power, so lost in his own bottomless, consumed soul, he killed and tortured not only those men, but his two precious children and the wife that he adored more than anything.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face, the wrench slipping slightly in my grip – but Law keeps on going.

“So the thing about ‘Retribution’ is that you can be good. Dish it out to the deserved, change those who are able to be reformed. You can reign it in Raya,” he breathes out.

His eyes then darken, pinning me under his wrecked ship. “Or you can go off the rails. Go so off the rails, you’ll only be able to see red and red alone, and that power will quite certainly consume you, turn you, into the embodiment of Hell, just like good-natured, ordinary Tyr did. You’ll torture everyone, anyone, in sight, without even being aware of your own actions. Because all you will think about in that head of yours, echoing in every sick crevice, is of revenge, revenge, revenge. Pain, pain and even some more. So, if you don’t think you’re a good person now, what will you be when you transform?”

The silence that follows Law's words feels suffocating, like a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. Tyr. The image of him, once a loving family man, transformed into a monster by the same power that now courses through my veins, is impossible to shake. My hands begin to shake.

I can feel the pain in the air, not just from me but from everyone around. Bepo’s usually soft and comforting presence is tinged with anxiety, his paws fidgeting restlessly as he waits for me to respond.

And Zoro… my heart thumps harder, unable to swallow the lump in my throat as I catch his gaze. He isn’t even trying to feign sleep anymore. He stares at me, only steps away, his fingers itching as if to unsheathe his sword and plunge it into me.

Realisation floods into me, my skin prickling in shock as I turn from Zoro to Law. “You brought him here on purpose, didn’t you?” I whisper.

Law’s expression doesn't change, but the flicker of something in his eyes confirms my suspicion. He knew. He knew that Zoro would be here, that he would want to hear everything. A part of me wants to be furious, to lash out at him for orchestrating this, but another part—a deeper, quieter part—knows that this was inevitable. I just didn't want to face it.

Zoro’s gaze is piercing, unflinching, as he stares at me. The air between us is palpable, like a live wire crackling with trepidation. His hand hovers near his swords, and for a moment, I can’t tell if it's a reflex or a genuine threat. The thought chills me to the core.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki.

I know he’s not one to draw his blade without reason, but the way his eyes bore into mine makes it clear that he’s weighing every word, every movement, every breath.

You don’t scare me, Kozuki, but you sure as hell should be worried about me.

Law finally breaks the silence, his voice as calm and steady as ever, his fingers still remaining comfortable against his lap. As if seeing what was going through my head, he twitches his head behind to Zoro, and mutters out, “He didn’t know I was roping him into this, and neither did Bepo. If you want to lash out, do it to me. Not them.”

I swallow hard, the chill between us almost suffocating. My eyes flick between Bepo, Zoro, and Law, each of them representing different facets of my life—my past, my present, and the uncertain future that looms ahead. Law’s calm, calculating demeanour clashes with Zoro’s barely restrained fury, and Bepo’s concern only amplifies the weight of it all.

Zoro’s gaze pierces through me as those damned words echo through my head again, unyielding. ‘You don’t scare me, Kozuki.’

“What the fuck, Trafalgar,” Zoro suddenly manages to bite out, the veins in his hand flexing in tandem to his rushing thoughts.

“You deserved to know,” Law says, his gaze still stuck on me. “Out of your entire crew, you’re the one who’s least likely to be reckless with danger. And this time, that danger is Raya.”

“I listen to Luffy, and Luffy only.”

“Bullshit. Look at you - your hands are itching for a sword.”

Zoro grits down on his teeth, his gaze on me slightly wavering, almost as if he’s feeling a sense of guilt wash over him. My mouth slightly opens in surprise – maybe a little bit of betrayal surging through me as I understand Law’s statement rings true to him.

I bark out an incredulous laugh, looking at both men. Bepo seems to be in looking between Law and I, torn on whether to stand by his captain or his childhood friend.

“So, what, you’re going to kill me?” I bite out, my hand tightening so hard I feel the wrench tear into my skin. “Throw out the rotten fruit? Go on, I’d like to see you try.”

“No.” Law steps forward until he towers over me, dark eyes flickering down to my face. Zoro almost growls out seeing how close Law is, how our bodies almost touch but both of us are too busy to hear him.

As I release a breath, the wind slowly begins to pick up around me, as if challenging Law to fight. My hair flits upwards into the air with small embers of fire that seep through many miscellaneous strands of brown. My eyes remain on him, sizing him up, wondering how it would feel if I could just plunge this wrench into his chest and taste his blood.

My eyes widen slightly at my intrusive thoughts, shock paralysing me and rooting me to the floor. Never in my life have I…

Law only observes me with a curled down frown, his ink black hair whipping from the rising wind.

“It’s happening, isn’t it?” He murmurs lowly, lips pursed only ever so slightly. “You thought of something unsavoury.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I rise my chin up at him.

He kisses his teeth and grabs my wrist, his tattooed fingers curling over my skin tightly, as if knowing I would try to slip out and run away. A blue light seep from beneath his finger pads, my tan skin consuming its colour like an incubus. A sound, almost faint, whirls around me; a feminine voice uttering out words in a language that was definitely not born from the grounds of earth.

“Don’t fuck with me, Raya. Stop it with the dumbass defiant act,” he warns, the light underneath his hand glowing with more colour.

“Then why don’t you be a lovely doctor and move your hands away,” I retort.

Zoro growls at Law with outrage and boulders his way past Bepo - who looks like he’s about to pass out – and grabs him by the same glowing wrist that lays on me.

“Take your fucking hands off her before I cut them off,” he murmurs lowly, his eyes slitted demonically.

Law, outraged, whips his head around at Zoro. “What do you think you-“

But it’s too late. The glow in Law’s hands and fingers grows larger, bigger, taking up all the air in the room until even the fire that lights up the stalactite ceiling disappears.

It feels like the world around us has taken a deep breath and gasped out, snuffing our vision out.

It’s dark, almost like a black void has consumed me. There’s nothing but black, black, and black, assaulting my vision in drowning shades. My head turns this way and that way, my eyes hungrily, desperately, searching for something, and the sounds of someone scrambling on the floor resound in the chillingly silent cavern.

“L-Law! What’s happened?” Bepo desperately calls out, his heavy footsteps aimlessly thundering around me. I let out a strangled gasp, my eyes subconsciously widening almost as if trying to consume something, anything that I can see.

I hear Law from below me, on the floor, his heavy boots struggling to find purchase to stand up. Whatever he was casting threw him to the ground, his groans an outcome of his power.

A hot breath flattens against my skin, prickling my hair on my neck, making me instantly look up and try to figure out the source.

“Calm down,” Zoro mutters to me, his breath tickling the shell of my ear, my face coming into contact with what could be his hard chest. His rough fingers curl over my wrist, held so tightly it feels like he won’t dare to let go.

Unable to think, I comply and breathe in slowly through my mouth. Law sounds to be standing on his feet, slightly stumbling in blindness, before he growls out,

“You fucked up, Zoro.”

I furrow my brows together, my head whipping to Trafalgar’s direction, but before I can respond, Law bites out another remark.

“Look down.”

With nothing else I can do, I lower my head and my eyes come into contact with my wrist. A small, faint flicker of blue light encircles around my skin like a cuff, laying on my skin so tightly it almost becomes even painful to twist it.

It flickers again as it gains more energy, more colour, until the thin ring of light transforms into a shackled cuff. It glows in the darkness, giving light to my surroundings, my breath catching in my throat as I look around. My eyes instantly lock on to Law, who has his jaw clenched tightly. But a slight twinge of sardonic humour glints in his eyes as he turns to Zoro, who’s looking furiously at him, his grip on me unrelenting.

“Law? What-what did you do?” Bepo squeaks out, his eyes bulging out of his skull. “What just happened?!”

“What the fuck is this?” I demand, staring down at my wrist.

Law sighs heavily, ignoring both Bepo and I. He doesn’t look away from Zoro’s intense gaze, almost frowning in betrayal. “Roronoa, do you really think I would’ve killed her?”

I hear Zoro’s teeth grit together almost too painfully before he says, “You were too close to her for my liking.”

Law rolls his eyes, trying to clear the surprised glint in them. “Well,” Law muses, his finger pointing at Zoro’s wrist. “You won’t be having that problem anymore.”

Immediately, we all look down to Zoro’s wrist.

A faint twin blue flickers against his large wrist, gaining more and more light to restrict his skin into a painfully tight circle. He moves his wrist reflexively, hissing out a curse as it also drags my wrist in his direction. I topple over with a yelp, my elbow barraging into his chest.

Instantly, my face falters. I look closely at the cuff around my skin, the way it sections out into a pattern of interlocked chains, growing and growing to meet Zoro’s. Zoro’s face contorts into a horrified realisation that mirrors mine, his wrist – and in extension, mine - tugging in front of his face as if to test the theory out.

My head whips up as I murderously look at Trafalgar.

“Oh, you did not do what I just think you did,” I snap.

Trafalgar only smiles at me, devoid of any humour. “He should’ve moved out of the way.”

[six-white-venus]

the worst trait of me and my family is probably this: we never learned to say the word sorry.

i) my best friend and i, we are no people. knives? maybe. liars? definitely. but people? i’m not so sure.

knives were never forged to be tender (what a shame, what a shame) and we too, fall and slay what we meant to protect. him and i, we go for the throat when we clash. we hurt and bleed and oh, i should be terrified, i should be running for my life, but all i am is tired and a bit lonely and would really like his arms around me.

( “can we please stop fighting now.”

“oh god yes please.”)

because time and time again, this man has held my heart in his hands and cleaned its festering wounds with cotton dipped in alcohol (always the healer, always the lover) and wrapped gauze around them with clinical precision. and i have walked through the maze of his head and tended to his withering garden, have dragged the sun and fresh air and all the oceans to the barren land to make it bloom (always the poet, always the lover).

him and i, we have never needed words because we are knives forged in the same fire and at the end of the day, we both know that he will be the one who wordlessly stitches my broken heart and i will be the one who sings him to sleep.

ii) let me paint you a picture:

blue that fades into red that fades into black that fades into blue that fades into red. loud, clashing and nonsensical. a pit in your stomach that was dug with desperation and blunt fingernails. how do you colour anger that is also pain, grief, hate, love, fear and truth? the smell of the paint is foul and clogs your windpipes. blunt fingernails and blue and black and madness. can you bear to look at what you created without flinching?

that’s what anger looks like on my father. a horror. a mottled bruise. a hellfire.

all his life, my father has been scorned, belittled, beaten, spat on. his mother didn’t love him right because her mother didn’t love her right. my dad loves like he hates. something is fucked in his head and heart and his words fade into black and blue and red and this shitshow always ends with me sobbing, bleeding, dying on the floor. my father watches with his hackles raised and his eyes red and wide and glowing. once wounded, an animal never sheathes its claws. it strikes the ones it loves and walks away with its head held high and hands trembling.

but here’s what happens when the curtains close: he pulls me into his arms and brings me tea. he wipes away my tears with hands that has moved mountains to make me smile. he kisses my forehead and tells me that his mom didn’t love him right. my grief is like anger and indignation and love. i wrap my arms around him and cry all the tears he never had the luxury to. who should say sorry, really? is it him or his mom or his mom’s mom or this stupid fucking world? my father has never said the word sorry. he never needed to. this is what love looks like on us. a horror. a mottled bruise. a hellfire.

iii) despite it all, i am not usually an angry person. i take after my father and my mother, after all. i rage like my mother (quick, loud, fire that burns out almost as quickly as it sparked to life) and fight like my father (aim, shoot, bullseye). my sister does something even mildly upsetting and before i know it, i’m cursing her to be miserable till she dies. not even an hour later i’m draping myself over her shoulder and bugging her till she rolls her eyes and smiles ever so slightly.

(“do you have no shame?”

“yeah no i don’t think so.”)

my family and i, we never learned to say the word sorry. because the word sorry never meant sorry, not to us. because at the end of the day, that’s all it is: a word. and it sticks to the back of my tongue and the dents of my molars and gets tangled in my mouth when i try to spit it out. so i grab it by its throat and thread it into my being. i find it so much easier to hide my pathetic inability to do one thing that doesn’t scream that there's something wrong with me with the truth of another three words:

“i love you”

and they are always echoed back to me, just a few million times more tender, in ways only we can understand.

“yeah, i know.”

“that’s great, but there’s no escaping dishes duty.”

“oh, shut up, you.”

“what’s that for?”

a pause and a hum.

“i love you too.”

[wehaveimagineshere]

First time doing this, hope I'm doing It right. I was curious If I could request some Astarion x Male!Tav Rogue scenarios ? Just some angst and fluff, whatever crosses your mind c:

Heya! Ren here! I saw "scenario" and figured you were looking for me. You didn't specify an admin, so hopefully we guessed right!

You didn't give a specified prompt, so I went with the first thing that came to mind! A little angst, a little fluff, hopefully it's up your alley!

~*~*~

With just the moonlight filtering through the windows to guide your aim, you line up your dagger once more, the makeshift target at the other end of the common room already littered with holes.

A steady inhale. Aim. A steady exhale. Throw.

Bullseye. The blade slides easily into the wood, right next to the two other daggers already thrown true.

With a sigh, you plop down onto the nearby chair, the awaiting bottle of wine quickly in your hand, the drink sliding down your throat, an attempt to ease the thoughts circling over and over in your mind.

Astarion broken underneath that mansion. That cry that had ripped from him had nearly shattered your heart, his dead abuser's blood soaking into your knees as you settled beside him, fingers digging into your pants at the want to comfort but not knowing if he wanted touch.

Karlach's sob behind you. Astarion's forced levity as he ushered everyone to leave. The turmoil in his eyes, the tightness in his smile.

It all kept circling around and around and around.

He'd went straight to his room upon return and hadn't come out since. He needed time to process, to figure out his thoughts and emotions, and you didn't fault him for it. Not for one second.

It just left you restless. Worried. So you'd taken to mindless, quiet activity on the Inn's second floor's common room, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind just a little quieter.

Taking up another dagger from your obscene collection, you start fiddling with the table, digging the point into the wood. Spin the blade. Run your fingers over the hilt. Carve out a small dick into the wood. Spin the blade again. Add a pair of balls to your dick.

A latch unlocking has you going still, obscene artwork forgotten as you peer behind you.

You weren't sure if Astarion could ever look anything but freshly kept. Even with blood splattering his face and clothes on many occasion, cuts and bruises peppering his skin that thankfully quickly healed, his hair had always stayed put. His eyes had always had that amused crinkle, his lips pulled into a small, knowing smile.

Even in the poor lighting you can see his dead eyes, his tired face. His ruffled hair as if he hasn't stopped running his fingers through it since you'd last seen him. The paleness to an already pale complexion.

You stay seated, quiet, allowing him the opportunity to pretend he hasn't seen you, even as your hands start to shake, your chest tighten. Twitchy fingers flip the dagger in familiar tricks instead of reaching out.

He crosses the room on silent feet, slowly sliding into the seat next to you, head bowing, shoulders hunching and elbows keeping his upper body upraised.

Setting down your dagger, you ask quietly, "Want to talk about it?"

A half hearted scoff escapes him. "Talk about it?" A pause, then quietly, "Where would I even begin?"

Leaning forward casually and shifting so you're facing him, you lay a hand down on the table, palm up. When he doesn't move, you wiggle your fingers. Shift your hand closer and wiggle them again.

"What are you doing?" he snipes, the bite missing.

"Letting you know my hand is ready for prime holding time."

His eyes meet yours, a small indignant spark lighting his hues that make you smile. "That is the stupidest thing I've heard, darling."

Now you lift your hand between you, raising an eyebrow and wiggle your fingers once more. The look he gives you screams more of his usual self as he rolls his eyes, fighting a smile as he takes your hand and presses it against the table.

Palm against palm. Fingers sliding to interlock.

"I hate that it works," you hear him murmurs, and you can't help but chuckle.

Quiet settles again and you let it, your thumb sliding over his hand as you give him all the time he needs.

"For years," he starts quietly, eyes staring at your hands, "I've wanted nothing more than to tear his heart out. To give him just a taste of the pain he'd given me. It kept me sane, as sane as I could be." A pause. "I've done it. He'd dead. I've killed him."

"But?" you prompt when he falls silent again.

"But, I..." He looks to you fully then, expression so open and lost it cleaves your chest in two. "I thought I would feel...powerful. In control. But all I feel is... Emptiness. Relief, yes, yet..." His brows furrow. "What do I do now?"

"Anything you want," you respond. Gesturing to the table, you add, "I carved a dick in the table."

He blinks. "Yes," he says dryly. "You did."

A shrug. "And Cazador can't say shit about it."

"Why did I come to you for advice?" he asks with a sigh, amusement lighting his eyes. "I pour my heart out and you tell me about a table dick."

"I think it's a nice dick."

"Yes, yes, it's a nice dick, now can we go back to the part where I was talking about myself?"

You grin. "By all means."

He huffs, but his voice is lighter. "Cazador's gone, and I find myself with a future I only dared dream of."

"You have the chance to figure it out now," you say. "There's no timeline."

He hums in quiet approval. "You're right. I no longer have to look over my shoulder." Another pause. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You always make me voice everything, don't you?" He shakes your joined hands in mock irritation. "You helped. You trusted me when it was an objectively stupid thing to do. And I'm here now because of it."

Another shrug. "Give me a kiss and we'll call it even."

That smile crosses his lips, the one that always makes your heart sing. "You are an idiot, I hope you know." He leans in. "I would request a much more favorable gift if I were in your shoes."

"Yeah?" you ask, voice dropping. "Like what?"

"Money. A favor." You can feel his breath mingle with your own. "Nothing as simple as a single kiss."

"I wouldn't ask for a kiss from anyone else."

"Good."

The trust he showed you tonight fills your heart and you can only hope he can feel just half of that gratitude as you slide your hand to the back of his neck, deepening the kiss that sends tingles through every inch of your body.

[howlingday]

jaune is spiderman au) grandpa arc meets one of jaune's enemies, bullseye while on a date with grandma arc. grandpa arc: "what's with the get up pal? this a stick up or are ya just ugly?" grandpa arc: go ahead take my wallet chief ozpin hasn't paid me since my run in with mayor need, or as I like to call him..." granpa arc: **throws a rock at the villains head** "CHUCK!" **pulls out 500 magnum revolver** grandpa arc: "thanks for the cross hair looks both of us are getting blown tonight!" BLAM BLAM BLAM grandpa arc: "common dear I need a drink" **walks away with grandma arc** meanwhile with jaune jaune: "why the hell don't any of my villains stick around?"

Chapter 2 - Lethal Protection

Ren walked into the dorm to find newspapers spread all over the floor. Jaune lifted one, bringing it closer, before setting it down to write in his notebook nearby. He gave a hum before turning to another newspaper and repeating the process.

"I hope this isn't for an assignment."

"No, more of a... personal project." Jaune didn't look up, though his expression did show that Ren had broken his focus. "Snipe Hunt died this morning. Gunshot."

"Which one was he again?"

"Bullseye." Jaune answered quickly. "Was gonna assassinate the headmaster but I managed to stop him."

"By being late to Pyrrha's award ceremony."

"I sAID..." Jaune's voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I said I was sorry, and she forgave me."

"She forgives everyone, Jaune." Ren shook his head. "But instead of giving you a lecture on being a good friend, I have to ask; why are you so interested in Bullseye's death if he was shot? Last I checked, he wasn't exactly the most popular guy in town."

"No, he wasn't." Jaune lifted another page. "But the fact that the news keeps calling it a murder makes me feel uncomfortable."

"Maybe we could call Lisa Lavender and ask her call it something else instead."

"I'm serious, Ren." Jaune set the pages down and gave his roommate a serious look. "Snipe was a killer. He was a bad guy, and that's something I've figured out BEFORE he tried to kill me. But if someone is going around, killing bad guys without the police or any huntsmen or huntresses involved, then it just means there's one more killer out there that I have to stop."

Ren was quiet for a moment. He'd been with Jaune in this vigilante business since catching him sneaking into the room late one night. Come next morning, he and Jaune agreed to keep quiet on both accounts, Ren about his criminal roommate and Jaune whenever he's sneaking back in for the night. Ever since, Ren had let Jaune go about his business as a crime-fighter. It was a very simple "quiet and neutral" agreement.

However, the way Jaune was speaking now was unlike anything Ren had seen before from him. Normally meek and mild, letting Cardin or Yang or even Nora pick on him while either sighing or laughing the issue off. You could step on his shoe and the worst he'd do is ask you to please get off. Here, though, Jaune had a look in his eyes that said, 'I'm doing this and you can't stop me'. Ren was actually impressed.

"Jaune?" The uncostumed hero looked to him. "What can I do to help?"

--------------------------------------------------

"Are you okay, honey?"

"Mm."

"I know you were only protecting Jaune. Your heart was in the right place."

"Mhm."

"Do you... Do you need anything?"

"...Need to talk to Jaune."

--------------------------------------------------

"So, what's the plan?" Nora chirped into Pyrrha's ear. "Break into the police station? Rough up some witnesses? Ooh~! Maybe send a message to all the goons to come forward~?"

Pyrrha tapped her earpiece. "I was thinking something less dramatic."

Jumping from the roof, she hopped from wall to windowsill to fire escape to dumpster until she landed on the ground. The same ground where the costumed criminal, "Bullseye," was murdered. Not two weeks ago, the Huntsman Spider had managed to thwart his attempt to murder her headmaster, and now he was dead by something so... simple. She scanned the crime-scene, noting where the police had left their markers for notable evidence locations.

She looked over to see Nora was still distracting the police officers by asking inane questions. Things of a range from 'How you become a police officer' to 'What if you break a law in another city and flee to Vale' nature. Pyrrha had to work fast if she wanted to avoid being caught, getting them both in trouble for different, yet connected reasons.

Pyrrha noted the chalk outline with the legs pointing to the entrance of the alley, meaning the assassin was either facing his opponent or was shot in the back while fleeing. The police reports on the news said that three gunshots were heard at the time of the murder. Loud gunshots, meaning it had to be a large gun. Closing her eyes, she twitched her fingers for her semblance to pick up anything.

Dumpsters. Fire escape. A few small things like paperclips and bolts, but nothing like a bullet. She frowned. Either the police already had the shells, which was possible, or whatever bullets were used didn't expel shells, which wouldn't make sense since only huntsmen were allowed to have weapons like that. This was a murder, though, so...

"Thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Officers! I'll be sure to buy you a DONUT for your troubles~!" Pyrrha flinched. It was time to go. Carefully moving to the shadows where she could more easily escape, Pyrrha began her climb to the rooftops.

"So, how did it go?" Nora asked in Pyrrha's ear.

"Not good." Pyrrha replied. "Being a vigilante is a lot harder than it looks."

"Then maybe you should give up." Pyrrha whirled around and swung at the dark-cloaked figure behind her. Her attack was blocked, but that wouldn't stop her. She swung her other fist in, catching the thugs in their armored sided, making them grunt and let go. Pyrrha kept her fists up, only held back by the figure holding up their hand. "I'm not here to fight you."

"Pyrrha? Pyrrha, what's going on?"

Pyrrha thought for a moment about how best to respond. She could tell Nora that she was under attack right now, making the two jump into combative states and potentially make things worse. Otherwise...

"I tripped." Pyrrha said into her earpiece. The figure across from her rubbed their side where they were punched.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll meet you at rendezvous point."

"The what?"

"The place we're meeting up."

"Alright," Nora said, "I'm getting cocoa!"

"Thank you for not getting her involved." The figure said.

"I can easily change that with a phone call, now talk." Pyrrha glared through her goggles. Could she beat this opponent? The punch Pyrrha landed earlier told her yes, but she preferred to err on the side of caution when she could. "Who are you?"

"I'm... Black." The figure said. "I'm a vigilante."

"Why are you here?"

"To stop you from being one."

"What?"

"This isn't a game..." The air was left open as an introduction, which Pyrrha gladly gave with her fists to her hips.

"I'm the Red Huntress!"

"Right... The Red... Huntress..." It was clear Black didn't care for the simple name Pyrrha gave herself. "This isn't a game. People can get hurt out here. People DO get hurt out here."

"If it's so dangerous, then why are you doing it?" Pyrrha asked.

"Because I need to." Black said. "The White Fang are up to something in this city, and I need to be the one to stop it."

"Just you?" Pyrrha asked. "Seems a bit selfish, if you ask me."

"I didn't ask you, and you are literally wearing just goggles and a cape." Black said with a groan. By contrast, the dark-cloaked figure was wearing bulletproof... everything over a black bodysuit. If Pyrrha didn't know any better, she'd assume Black was a special operations member separated from their team. They gave a sigh. "Look... What will it take for you to go home?"

Pyrrha thought for a moment. "What can you tell me about the murder that happened this morning?"

-------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Grandpa!"

"Hey, little hunter!" Jaune's grandfather chuckled. Since Jaune left for Beacon, this had become his go-to greeting for him. "How's the high life with your fancy edu-macation?"

Jaune rolled his eyes. "Not bad." Jaune said. "How's the retired life?"

"Slow and boring." He groaned. "And, uh, what about..."

"I'm not alone, Grandpa, but..." Jaune didn't start this vigilante thing alone. He'd gotten the armor for the costume from his grandfather taking the old family shield and getting it cut down into smaller pieces to be sewn onto cloth. With it, Jaune looked like a superhero, someone who could do more good outside the law than he could do in. Grandpa, a retired huntsman and police officer, had friends on the force still who could help him out now and again with information. "I've got a friend wanting to help me."

"A friend, huh?"

"Hello, sir." Ren greeted. "My name is Lie Ren."

"Ren, huh?" Grandpa made a tapping sound on his end. "And how'd you get roped into this, Ren?"

"I caught Jaune when he was sneaking back into our dorm."

"Ugh... I shoulda known... Jaune was never good at keeping quiet."

"He can keep quiet," Ren defended, earning a grin from Jaune, "but only after you tell him to." Jaune's smile fell.

"Ha! That's true!" Jaune's smile fell harder.

"Anyways," Jaune tried to steer the conversation, "I was calling because I needed your help with something."

"Of course you do. It's never to check up on your grandma and me. You gotta need something!" Ren gave a worried look to Jaune.

"Because when I call you any other time you just go, 'uh-huh' and ''mhm'!"

"Mhm..." Grandpa replied, giving a chuckle. "So, what can I help ya with?"

"It's about a murder that happened." Jaune asked. "I was wondering if you could help me out?"

"What have ya got so far?"

"Just a victim and a CoD."

"Uh-huh? And those are?"

"Snipe Hunt, aka Bullseye, killed by a gunshot. He's the one I told you about before, remember?" The line went quiet. "Grandpa?"

"Mhm."

"Are you okay, Mr. Arc?" Ren asked.

"I'm fine." He yawned. "It's just getting late for me."

"Oh, well, I'll let you get your rest then, Grandpa."

"No, no, I can still talk. Or at least give you some advice."

"Okay..." Jaune could feel his legs twitch with excitement as he waited for the advice.

"Some cases need more time to be looked into. Eventually, everything will figure itself out. That's what I learned on the force."

"...That's it? Just sit around and wait?"

"I said I could give you some advice. Never said it was good advice. Maybe if you look for the good in the bad, you might learn something?"

"Good in the bad..." Ren cupped his chin. "You said you learned this lesson on the force, then maybe the police would know more."

"Huh... They would, wouldn't they?" Jaune gave a smirk. "And there's that police understudy program floating around, too. Maybe I could find my way into the police records and figure out from there!"

"Maybe." Jaune couldn't see, but he could tell when his grandpa was smiling. "It's getting late. I'll tell grandma you said hi."

"See ya, Grandpa!"

"Goodbye, Mr. Arc, sir. It was nice meeting you."

"G'night, boys."

--------------------------------------------------

Jack Arc hung up the phone. His smile fade and he let out a sigh. Looking by it, he saw the murder weapon seated on the other side. He shook his head, picking it up in his large, calloused hands. The cold metal helped him think.

"It's heavier today." His hand lowered. "So heavy."

[jishyucks]

only fools. ‣ hrj

‣ pairing: huang renjun x reader

‣ genre: FLUFF, sorta angsty? idk, co-leads to lovers? is tht even a thing?

‣ wc: 2.2k

‣ summary: Renjun's made one promise to himself ever since the play's production started: I promise not to fall in love with my fellow cast member. But after months of working alongside you, he finds that this promise was something he couldn't keep.

‣ warnings?: sorta sorta cheesyyy?, mentioned that reader's smaller than Renjun, Shrek (loml?jkjk) mention

‣ an: I finally wrote something after having writer's block for ten million years I s2g,,, tht being said I'm not sure if this is the best I can do but I do believe it's really cute ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀) so I hope you enjoy it!

‣ tags: @mosviqu @sleeping-sirens

Dress rehearsals start in a mere thirteen minutes yet Renjun is sitting at the top corner of the football field’s bleachers in hopes that none of his castmates could find him.

He’s disappointed in himself because he’s being unprofessional. He knows damn well that if he did the same thing in the real world, it wouldn’t be accepted. Sure, it’s not acceptable now… the production is set for next week, yet he’s here wondering if he should even show up for rehearsals because of his own damn feelings.

Fuck feelings, he thinks, They’re stupid anyway. 

Renjun kicks the edge of the seat in front of him and watches as the football team finishes up with their warm-up. He’s not sure how long they’ve been running in circles, but judging from how the coach yells for them to finish strong, he could guess it’s been close to fifteen minutes. 

Fuck feelings, Renjun repeats to himself. 

He feels like beating himself up over the very fact that he broke a promise that he made to himself at the beginning of the show’s production. 

I promise not to fall in love with my fellow cast-member.

It was a simple promise that he thought would be easy to fulfill. Renjun was never one to develop feelings easily, which was exactly why he easily forgot the fact that feelings are something you couldn’t plan. Ever.

The reason it even came to existence was because his other castmate and best friend, Jaemin, had pointed out that this production was ‘romantic-full’—whatever that meant in his books—and that he was in some dangerous position of developing feelings for his co-lead. 

He clearly remembers waving off his ridiculous reminders, simply because Renjun’s already been in countless productions and not one of them did he develop feelings for another cast member that could be deemed greater than that of friends. The idea was stupid.

But he made the promise anyway.

Just in case, he told himself. 

Then this brings Renjun to now. With a broken promise dangling right in front of his face and feelings sitting rather irritatingly at the centre of his heart like a bullseye. 

Renjun blames you for it all. For the way his heart beats around your presence, for the way the butterflies erupt at even the slightest touch of your hand, and the way he loses all composure the millisecond you smile his way. 

Renjun doesn’t even know how it even got to this point.

But then again, it’s absurdly clear. The roles you both play, the late nights rehearsing just to get cues right, the impromptu hangouts after rehearsals… his relationship with you has grown over the past few months and he can’t really blame his heart for giving way for you. 

In fact, it would have been much more worrying if he didn’t develop feelings for you. Especially since it was you. He would be a total fool not to fall for someone like you. 

Nonetheless, Renjun’s frustrated over breaking the one and only promise he made for himself because now, after accepting these newfound feelings, he’s practically deathly afraid to face you. If he sees you now, he knows he’s going to make a fool of himself. 

“Okay, bring it in!” The coach’s voice was rather loud despite him being twenty steps below Renjun.  

He sighs and grabs a glimpse of the time. Eight more minutes until rehearsals and it was a good walk across campus just to get to the theatre. 

There’s a feeling in his leg that was itching for him to stand up and go, but he ignores it, instead laying down against the warm metal seat before throwing an arm over his eyes to block them from the sun. 

Renjun bangs his heels against the seat causing the whole bench to shake. He has to shift in his position so he doesn’t fall off. Then he groans and whispers a ‘what am I going to do?’ under his breath. 

Because that was the real question. What is he going to do? He’s unsure whether to wait it out and let the feelings disappear on their own or take his chances with you—if you even reciprocate these feelings. He can’t just avoid you until the entire production is over because he is one of the show’s main leads. Renjun worked hard for this role and he can’t just let the understudy do it all for him because of his feelings for you were getting in the way.

Renjun knows for a fact that actors and actresses have gone through the same thing he’s going through… but how the hell did they manage to get through it? 

He wonders if there was a book or YouTube video of some sort that provided him helpful steps on how to solve the situation in under 10 minutes—but one can only dream. 

Renjun lets white noise overrun his head as he lays in a still position for who knows how long, feeling the breeze move past him gently. It was a cool breeze, but it balances out the sun that was beating down directly onto his skin. 

Peripherally, Renjun can hear the sound of steps against the bleachers, but he quickly dismisses it, immediately assuming it was another student on their way up to isolate themselves like he was. 

But, boy, was he wrong. 

“There you are.”

Renjun’s heart thumps against his rib cage at the sound of your voice and he quickly sits up. “Y/N! What are you doing here?” His vocal pitch is three levels higher than usual, almost giving away the nerves that now have taken over his system. 

How should he even act around you? This shouldn’t even be hard. He’s been around you almost every day for the past few months, and he’s an actor for god’s sake. He can simply fake it ‘til he makes it. 

“And you don’t expect me to ask you the same thing,” you give him a look and wheeze, “You were supposed to be there like half an hour ago, y’know. You should be glad I volunteered to find you because they were going to send Doyoung and you know how scary he gets when he’s mad.” 

When you realize that Renjun wasn’t going to budge anytime soon, you sit next to him with almost no room left between your shoulder and his. You wait for a short moment for Renjun to reply, but you’re only returned with silence and the groaning of sweaty men down at the field, “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I am,” Renjun waves off your concern and stands up, “Let’s get to rehearsal.” He shuffles past you and makes his way down the stairs. Renjun’s quick to reach the bottom, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re close behind. 

“You’re lying,” you say when you finally catch up. It was blunt, but it was because you don’t have a single fibre of doubt in your body. 

Renjun shakes his head, “I’m not lying.” When he notices that you’re catching up, he speeds up just a tad bit to keep you from gaining any sort of eye contact. He’s not even sure why he’s doing this when he knows that he eventually has to make eye contact with you during rehearsal. 

“Yes, you are,” you retort, “Huang Renjun of all people wouldn’t willingly show up to practice late. There’s something wrong and you already know I’m going to try and get it out of you.”

Renjun chooses not to say anything, afraid that he’s accidentally going to give you hints of his dilemma. He focuses on the way his feet taked steps as you both find your way to the theatre. 

“So, what is it?” You start, “Is it homework? Roommate problems? Nerves?… No, it can’t be nerves…” You’re practically skipping to keep his pace. He can hear you rambling beneath your breath and he lets you be, refusing to give in too easily.

When you’re returned with silence for the nth time, you switch gears and let out a loud, rather deep, sigh. “Renjun, I’m being serious right now. I know something’s wrong. And it’s not because you’re showing up late to practice on purpose, but it’s because you can’t even look me in the eye.” 

“We’re going to be late,” he mumbles. Renjun’s walking so fast that he’s almost jogging. 

“Oh, c’mon, as if we’re not already late,” you roll your eyes and reach for Renjun’s wrist, forcing the both of you to stop in your tracks, “We’re not going until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you,” Renjun repeats, “There’s nothing wrong. Now, let’s go.”

Renjun attempts to wiggle out of your grasp but you simply just tug on his arm to reinforce it, “And I told you that we’re not going until you answer my question. What’s wrong?” You sigh, “Renjun if you don’t tell me now, my head’s going to be preoccupied during rehearsal. Do this for you and for me.” 

Renjun’s stuck. He’s not sure whether to tell you now, lie now and tell you later, or simply just not tell you (hard stop). All these options have one possible outcome in common and it was how he would possibly regret it all. 

“If you’re trying to decide whether you should tell me or not, I vote for the first option,” you say. Renjun hates how you can read him like a book—well, except for his feelings for you. If you could, then this entire situation would have been easier to handle. 

Renjun searches the empty hallway as if there would be an answer written bright and clear on the walls. He’s stuck and he needs to act quick. He doesn’t have all the time in the world anymore. 

Then, his eyes land on your hand still holding onto his wrist. 

Swiftly, Renjun slides his wrist down towards him. But instead of taking his arm back, he makes the impulsive action of intertwining his fingers with yours, holding your hand as if it were made of glass. 

“What’s wrong is that I can only do this,” Renjun gulps nervously. He hasn’t made the effort to look at your reaction just yet, eyes trained on his hand holding yours. He’s slightly relieved that you haven’t pulled your hand back. But then again it could just be you in shock. 

He gains the confidence to hold your smaller hand tighter before tugging you towards him. The two of you are practically chest to chest, so close that if Renjun simply leaned down, he could plant a kiss on your forehead. “This.” 

Renjun’s heart is pounding right against his chest and he knows you can hear it. But he continues and brings his forehead down to graze your own, “And… this.”

Renjun pulls away and it’s like all of his confidence is sucked out of him, “…as stupid characters in that stupid play while I’m here wishing that it could be more!” A brief silence lingers between the two of you before he turns to leave, but you’re quick to yank him back by the elbow. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your brows furrow. Although it may come off as you being completely lost, you truly weren’t. You just wanted clarification and words that will confirm what you think Renjun is meaning to say. 

A huff leaves Renjun’s lips and he searches the walls once again. He can’t repeat the same things he’s already done, so now he needs to resort to words. 

“Y/N, we’re co-leads in a romance story!” There’s a hint of frustration in Renjun’s voice and at that point you can tell that this has truly been bothering him, “We practiced our lines together, hung out after, hell, I’ve learned the weirdest facts about you—that you open chip bags from the bottom because that’s where all the flavour is, how you take pictures of green onions in soup that look like hearts, that you’ve watched the second Shrek movie a bajillion times just to watch the fight scene at the end… Y/N, everyday for the past few months I was practically handed the opportunity to fall for you… and I would be a fool to not fall for you.”

Renjun lets his head fall forward and his bangs flop over his eyes, “I was planning on waiting until after the final show to tell you because I didn’t want to ruin the hard work that everyone’s put into the production just cause of my feelings… but I guess my feelings won.”

He waits for you to reply, bracing himself for the worst ever possible reaction from you. Renjun’s already imagining a rejection—a gentle one, of course—but when he sees your hand reach out for his own, he feels a pang of hope sitting deep in his chest.

Renjun feels you hold his hand tight, squeezing it before using it to draw him towards you. He lets himself stumble forward before planting his feet right in front of yours. Your toes are almost touching, so you shuffle forward so that they are. With this gesture, Renjun finally allows himself to make eye contact with you. 

There’s a sense of relief when he catches a proper sight of your face, a soft smile sitting upon your lips. And when you finally see that Renjun’s looking back at you, your smile grows ten times larger. 

“Well, then I guess I’d also be a fool if I hadn’t fallen for you, either.”

[anonymousewrites]

Adolescent Antichrist (Book 5) Chapter Four

Father Figure! Lucifer x Teen! Reader

Demon! OC x Reader

Chapter Four: Celestial Family Issues Strike Again

Summary: (Y/N) confronts Michael.

            “I’m Michael.”

            The clipped, southern accent, so lacking in the smooth speech Lucifer had, spoke the words (Y/N) had known in their heart: this wasn’t Lucifer. This was an angel, yes, but this one lied.

            “Michael?” they repeated, narrowing their eyes.

            Michael sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course my brother didn’t talk about me. Always was self-centered.”

            “Don’t think you’re special, he doesn’t talk about any angels,” said (Y/N), unimpressed by his attempt to anger them.

            Little did Michael know, (Y/N) was fantastic at being angry and still handling their shit. It was Celestials and everyone else from the Bible that made problems and then couldn’t fix them themselves.

            Michael sneered, and (Y/N) was quite satisfied to see that he was easier to perturb than Lucifer. They could work with that. (Admittedly, they shouldn’t be upsetting a Celestial since they also had terrible anger-management skills, but what did (Y/N) care?)

            “Well, he left his family, and now he left you, so we’re on the same level,” said Michael.

            “You guys threw him out,” snapped (Y/N).

            “He deserved it,” said Michael. “He wanted power that wasn’t his to take.”

            “And yet you’re the one down here trying to be him. Seems like you want power,” said (Y/N).

            Michael’s jaw tightened, and (Y/N) recognized the identical expression from Lucifer (mostly when Cain had been an issue and flirting with Chloe). They had hit the bullseye head-on.

            “I’m here to mess up his power,” said Michael defensively. “I don’t need anything that he has.”

            “Then leave,” said (Y/N) sharply. “If this was just you being a shitty brother, then just leave. You got found out. The game’s up. Go away.”

            Michael stepped forward, and (Y/N) tensed. “You think just because Lucifer’s brat knows who I am that anything is over? I’m still here. He’s still in Hell.”

            “Why do you care about Lucifer? You’re right, he’s not here. So what you do doesn’t matter. Just leave,” said (Y/N).

            They just wanted Michael to go. They were furious at him, but they just wanted him to leave. He had already hurt them by making them think Lucifer returned and creating a lie. All they wanted was for him to leave.

            Michael grinned. “Just because he’s in Hell doesn’t mean he doesn’t know when his toys get a little broken.”

            The shadows quivered as (Y/N) heard the words. Cocking their head, they regarded him darkly.

            “Breaking his ‘toys?’ ” The words were light but holding a lot of emotion.

            Michael grinned. “Chloe Decker. You. Who knows what could happen.”

            Thwip!

            Lashing out, razor-quick, the shadows grabbed for Michael. He paused in surprise, but his black wings (so different from Lucifer’s brilliant white feathers) erupted from his back and carried him away from the shadows.

            Michael dodged in the air, but (Y/N) wasn’t done. Their red wings burst from their back, and they launched through the air. Michael twisted away, but (Y/N) pushed off the wall. Their wings beat powerfully against the air, and they were in front of Michael in the next moment.

            They grabbed him and slammed him down on the ground. With only wings, Michael, although he had experience flying, was at a slight disadvantage. While (Y/N) hit his head against the ground, the shadows grabbed him to restrain him.

            “Don’t threaten Chloe. Don’t threaten me. Don’t threaten Lucifer!” they shouted, shadows crawling up the walls and blotting out the light.

            “You brat,” snarled Michael. Beating his wings against the ground, he dislodged the shadows and threw (Y/N) back.

            They hit a table hard, and it cracked, breaking. Hitting the ground, (Y/N) yelped as fractured wood cut their wings and arms. They groaned and tried to push themself up. Their wings fluttered in an attempt to pull them up. As they regained their focus, though, Michael was approaching with a fury in his eyes that made (Y/N) flinch back. They’d seen that look in people’s eyes before—in their biological “family.”

            “If I have to do some real damage to get Lucifer’s attention, then so be it,” sneered Michael. “He likes drama, right? I can give him some.”

            Panic gripped (Y/N)’s heart. Scrambling back, instinct took over as Michael surged towards them with a single powerful flap of his dark wings. Shadows ripped up from the ground in a wave of pure darkness, overcoming even the color of Michael’s wings.

            “Don’t touch me!” screamed (Y/N), squeezing their eyes shut.

            The entire room shook as shadows pulled from every surface, shattering glass, metal, and wood. Pieces of all of it slammed into Michael in a tidal wave, sending him flying. Michael let out a shout of pain as he hit the ground and the shadows pummeled him into the ground.

            (Y/N) flinched and pulled back more as he screamed. Opening their eyes, they stared in fright at Michael. Their eyes widened. A large, bleeding wound cut across his face. Next to him, carried in the storm of shadows (Y/N) had summoned, one of Em’s demon blades lay bloody on the floor.

            Michael pressed a shaky hand to his face. It came away red. His eyes raised to meet (Y/N)’s. Silence reigned.

            Frozen, (Y/N) stared back. And then, shakily, they stood. Their red wings folded behind them as they looked at Michael. Narrowing their eyes into a glare, (Y/N) forced strength into their words.

            “Get out of my home, Michael,” said (Y/N).

            Michael gritted his teeth, and his wings extended. In his eyes remained a fury that promised more trouble for (Y/N) and everyone else connected with them and Lucifer. But with a single flap of his wings, the angel disappeared to who-knows-where.

            (Y/N) was left alone. Exhausted, their wings retracted, and they collapsed onto the couch.

            Ding!

            The elevator doors beeped as they slid open.

            I swear to God, if this is another problem, I’m going to throw it off the terrace, thought (Y/N), lifting their head.

            “Holy shit, Birdie, are you okay?!”

            Well, that’s not bad. (Y/N)’s heartbeat quickened as Em ran over to their side.

            “I’m fine, I just broke the table and window for fun,” said (Y/N).

            “(Y/N), the sarcasm isn’t really helpful when it’s obvious something happened,” said Chloe.

            “Oh, hi, Chloe,” said (Y/N).

            “Birdie, just tell us what happened,” said Em. They held (Y/N)’s shoulders tightly and nearly shook them. “I’ve been calling for ages, but you weren’t answering!”

            “They were so worried they called me,” said Chloe, looking around. “Obviously, they were right to be.”

            “Seriously, what happened?” said Em, letting (Y/N) go.

            “I was right. Lucifer wasn’t himself,” said (Y/N).

            “What?” asked Chloe. “What’s wrong with him?”

            “It’s not Lucifer,” said (Y/N). “It’s his brother, Michael. He was trying to mess up Lucifer’s life by being him or whatever.”

            “Oh my god, and he did this?” said Chloe, looking around.

            “Well, kind of, it was him and me,” said (Y/N), shrugging.

            “Where is he? I need to talk to him,” said Em, standing and looking around for any of her weapons.

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re not doing anything,” said Chloe. “We can’t even convince anyone he’s not Lucifer.”

            “I solved that problem,” said (Y/N).

            Chloe and Em looked at them.

            They shrugged. “I accidentally scarred his face.”

            “You scarred an angel’s face?” Em’s eyes widened.

            “It was an accident!” said (Y/N) defensively. “I didn’t want to.”

            “You clash with authority and other mean people,” said Em.

            “I don’t go looking for fights; fights look for me.”

            Sighing, Chloe knelt by (Y/N) and Em. “We’re glad you’re okay, (Y/N). Really. But next time, make sure someone’s with you. If you had gotten hurt, none of us could’ve forgiven ourselves.”

            “Seriously, Birdie. We want you safe,” said Em.

            (Y/N) turned red as Em looked at them and nodded shortly. “Uh, yeah. You’re probably right,” they admitted.

            “What do we do next?” asked Em, looking at Chloe.

            “You make sure they’re not hurt and hiding it,” said Chloe, clocking (Y/N)’s habits instantly. “I’m going to call Linda to warn her.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I’m going to let Amenadiel know what one of his brothers is up to.”

            Celestial family issues strike again, thought (Y/N).

l

            “Michael.”

            Michael gritted his teeth before putting on a smile to face Amenadiel as he walked up behind him. “Looks like the cats out of the bag.”

            Amenadiel’s expression remained solemn, but his eyes flicked to Michael’s new scar.

            “Oh, yeah, you see that? Lucifer’s brat did that,” said Michael sourly, downing his drink.

            “You shouldn’t have tried to trick them. They still haven’t mastered their abilities,” said Amenadiel. “I’m sorry you’re hurt, Michael, but you shouldn’t have done what you did. And you shouldn’t have used fear to get into everyone’s heads, including mine.” He looked at the cut. “That’s what happens when you do what you shouldn’t. Eventually, you get hurt.”

            “Spare me,” said Michael, rolling his eyes. “I don’t need the righteous speech. I still live in the Silver City, unlike you.”

            Amenadiel narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I don’t live there, and you do. So you should go home, Michael. Just go home, heal, and let all of this go. You don’t belong here.”

            “Right, right. And when I do go home, I could also tell Remy it’s time to come back, ‘cause you know who else doesn’t belong here?” Michael cocked his head. Fear was his specialty. He knew what made Amenadiel tick and knew precisely where to twist the knife. “That’s right. Your son, Chucky. And, you know, Lucifer’s brat, (Y/N), isn’t exactly human, either. Maybe it’s time for them to go to the Silver City.”

            “I’m not afraid of you, Michael,” said Amenadiel. “Now go home.”

            Michael downed his drink. “Lucifer’s life sucks anyways.” He stood. “Only thing worse is his kid.”

            Amenadiel refused to let Michael leave feeling self-satisfied. “Oh, I think you doth protest too much.” Michael paused and looked back at him. “You see, you pride yourself on exploiting everyone’s fears, but we’ve always known yours. You’re terrified that Lucifer is better than you. That he’ll always be better than you.”

            “Please,” scoffed Michael, but his face was frozen at the words Amenadiel spoke. “Our brother? The Devil? The-the-the guy that was cast out of Heaven for all eternity?”

            “Exactly, Michael, because despite even that, you know, deep down…he’ll always end up winning,” said Amenadiel. “He found friends. He found a woman to love. He created a family with an amazing kid. And you can’t stand that he created all that on his own, despite everything else he’s done.”

            Michael’s jaw clenched. “We’ll see.”

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[fadingdaggerr]

home

part one | part two | part three | part four

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: every journey ends with you coming home | 8.1k

warnings: got s8 spoilers, canon-typical violence, angst, mentions of death/dead bodies (non-descriptive), injury, lesbians being lil gay creatures, making out, mini-epilogue-ish ending :)

note: tada, tis the end the the home series! thank you so much for the love on this little series, i enjoyed writing it so much. brienne holds a special place in my heart, and so does the skyforth now. god i gave it so much lore on accident. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this last chapter. love ya

the battle of the bastards had resulted in tremendous loss for every side of the battle, but lady sansa was determined to get her home back. with her will alone, she brought the knights of the vale, littlefinger still willing to do anything and everything to keep her loyalty. sansa’s soldiers were still late, hundreds were dead, gone. rickon, her own kin. nearly one hundred skyforth, and wildlings too. the boltons lost more, sansa saw to that. you couldn’t help but admire her strength, she had grown from the ‘little bird’ as the hound called her into a bird of prey.

the move from castle black to the lands around winterfell had allowed for better hunting, as well as more space to spread out the village. the battle has left you with varying injuries, broken ribs and arm, lacerations across your entire body, but this meant nothing when it came to the loss of your men. larkin and brienne hovered over you for weeks, bringing things to you, taking things you held, offering arms to help you walk. my ribs are broken, not my legs! you had finally shouted at brienne, quickly muttering an apology. she was just happy to see your personality return after weeks of conversations that were meek and quiet from your pain.

brienne had felt selfish for missing you while you recovered. she missed your fireside conversations, your compliments, your voice, you. gods, you had several broken bones, injuries galore, and you were grieving the loss of so many friends, and here she was missing hers. she missed you and you were just outside the castle. she could only bear so many nights of this until she had forced you to leave your bed and walk around with her. you spent most of your time in your tent, not letting anyone in and only leaving when no one was around. this had been the first time she had seen you again.

sitting together at the fire, there was a comfortable silence. you had leaned your head against her shoulder, and she was sure nothing was better.

—

preparation for the long night was starting to feel like a lost cause, it felt like the only saving grace were daenerys's dragons, but you couldn’t admit this. no matter how many daggers landed in the bullseye, or how many arrows split into one another, it hadn’t felt like enough. larkin was training for hours on end, practicing with podrick and the others as much as possible, but brienne knew. she saw the look in your eyes every time he’d trained as of late.

“he’s not going to fight, is he?” she asks you quietly, keeping her gaze on the training in front of you both. the sun was coming down now, meaning the night training would begin soon, but larkin was an overachiever much like you.

“no. i intend to keep my promise to his mother, i’m not letting him get himself killed. he’ll stay in the catacombs with the others,” you reply, you’re stern in your tone but your rapid blinking gives you away. she knows that you’re going to feel bad when he finds out. you love him and hate to disappoint him, but you’re not sacrificing him, not a chance. she only nods in response.

you nod to the right, silently asking her to follow and she does, she always does. she can tell there was more you wanted to say, something you didn’t want anyone else to hear. when you stop next to a fire, she feels happiness bloom in her chest. this was your spot. you and her next to the fire, discussing anything and everything. it was a welcome pattern in her world, and one in yours as well.

you exhale deep breath, “i don’t want him to have to watch me die.” brienne’s eyes dart to you, she can see the tears in your eyes threatening to glide down your cheeks, but your face remains cold, unphased. she doesn’t know what to say to you. she didn’t have a child, she couldn’t imagine what you were feeling.

“you don’t know that you will,” she says, mostly for herself. the thought of you dying is not a welcome one. she thinks that she would kill death if he came for you.

“you’re right, i don’t know that i will, but i do know that it’s likely. he doesn’t need to see another parent die, once was well more than enough.” brienne almost smiled, she hadn’t heard you refer to larkin as your son, or you as his parent before. perhaps it was the impending doom that softened you to the title, but more likely you just stopped lying to yourself and accepted that you were a parent. something that you hadn’t thought you’d be or dreamt of, but something that you had accepted. 

“then you’ll just have to survive then,” brienne finally smiles once she says this. 

you turn to her, returning the smile with a faint one before replying, “i’ve got a reason to try.” your lips form a tightline, forcing you to keep whatever you wanted to say back into your mind. brienne pretends not to notice.

—

tormund giantsbane was a massive walking headache that seemed to follow you around. when the tents had been set up, extra tents were given to the free-folk. this worked well for everyone, except for you it seemed. being friends with brienne only meant that talking to you about her was all the man seemed capable of. he commented on her body, her skill, her eyes, her height, for hours and hours. was he wrong in what he saw? no, not at all. were you glad someone else saw her beauty? of course! but was the fact that someone else wanted her making you dream of cutting him limb-by-limb? oh, absolutely. he had yet to talk down upon her, so you were forced to listen to him until your ears bled.

“i wish to make babies with her,” tormund says bluntly. all conversation halts, everyone either looking at you in fear or at him in humor. larkin fake gags next to you, making ragnall chuckle. you elbow the boy while staring at your plate, biting your tongue to keep the venom from spitting.

“you were thinking it too,” larkin whispers.

“which part?” ragnall says with a quiet laugh. your arm reaches around to smack him upside the head, motherfucker muttered under your breath.

you hurry the rest of your food into your mouth, before standing to leave. you could not bear to listen to another second, killing him was getting too tempting. larkin asked where you were going, only to be met with a grumbled outside. you make your way through the snow to the targets, hoping you could channel your aggression elsewhere.

my woman, you’ve returned to me. center target. my blonde beauty. center target. do you think she’d like to know why my name is giant? center target. you pictured his face in each one. his comments made her uncomfortable, she didn’t have to say anything for you to know that. you lied to yourself and told yourself that was the only reason he angered you, you also tried this lie on ragnall who promptly told you he wouldn’t “work for liars and fools.”

“did that post do something of offense?”

you nearly jump out of your skin, hand over your heart, “fucking hell woman! warn me next time.”

brienne laughs lightly, “i tried, but it seems you were too heavy into quite the assault on those targets. what’s wrong?”

“i respect the free-folk, but god damn would muzzling that red one do the world some good,” you sigh out, it’s as close to the truth that you can offer, “he’s lucky he isn’t harmful in his words, that’s about the only thing saving his ginger ass right now.” brienne nearly cackles at your word choice.

“are you starting to regret having them move into the village?”

you shake your head, “not at all, maybe just him. the rest are normal people who don’t talk about who they want to ‘make babies with’ while i’m eating. cultural differences or not, who needs to listen to that over and over again?”

brienne’s eyes are wide as ever as she blurts, “making babies?”

“you’re biggest fan apparently has very big plans for your future together, it’s all i hear about these days,” you say as brienne’s face screws up in disgust and embarrassment. you can’t help but smile at her, finding the face she was making to be quite cute. she groans to herself, a muttered fucking gods under her breath. “i take it you don’t share his appreciation?” you joke, earning a smack to the arm in response.

“i’m only joking, no need for violence,” you both laugh, “what brings you to my humble and irritating abode?”

“i was going to get a drink, but you weren’t there. i was not in the mood to deal with all of them alone,” you chuckle and nod in agreement at her statement, “feeling even more proud of my decision knowing the topic of conversation.”

you cringe, hearing tormund’s words in your head again, “men have seemed to have only mastered cruel words and incredibly uncomfortable ones. unfortunately, i think your groupie may take the top prize for the second one.”

brienne’s face goes from playful to thoughtful, almost insecure, “i thought something other than callous words would feel better, but it still feels like mockery all the same. It’s just mockery with a goal of a quick fuck.”

you can only nod at her words, you hadn’t experienced her life. even as a noble woman of a respected house, she had been belittled, only her father saw her potential for so long. others only saw her as a fighter, the great brienne of tarth, the very same they would sing horrible songs about.

you take a deep breath before asking, “do you remember what i said the first time we met?”

“those suitors were fools?” she offers, “the whole lot of them, if i remember correctly.”

you smile to yourself, “yes. i’d like to amend my statement and say that men are fools, every last one. especially the ones who don’t see you, actually see you.” these words seem to render brienne speechless. she silently thanks the night’s darkness for covering her warmed cheeks, a part of her wanted to ask what you saw. her bravery seems to fold when it comes to you, and her question dies in her throat, waiting for another day.

—

rangers come back with news that the night king will be upon winterfell by sunrise. jon snow delivers this information to everyone with clenched fists and teeth. the king of the north spoke of preparations, orders given to each faction of his army, he spoke with house and group leaders to give direction for troops. brienne stood behind sansa, facing you. she watched as you listened to jon, eyebrows furrowed, eyes fixed on the man. she had never truly seen you in commander mode, only ever being with you in the calm between storms until now. she noted larkin’s presence, you had finally told him he would not be fighting once the rangers returned.

“skyforth archers will join the wall, swordsmen and riders will be on the ground. our climbers are archers and dagger throwers, they’ll be best suited in towers and high points,” you relay to jon, “i’ll stay on the wall as well, i’ll have access to my archers and climbers from there, section leaders can handle the others.” he agrees with your plan, glad he had waited for your eyes to stop scanning the air as you painted the layout of the troops in your mind.

“maybe this one is a real commander after all,” tormund jests.

“exactly, the commander, not the placeholder. unlike yourself for mance rayder,” you snap back as you rise from the table, a “follow-me” motion sent over your shoulder to ragnall. he follows with a silent laugh and a shake of his head. he looks back at brienne as he leaves the room, raising his brows before stepping out to follow you.

some hours later, a rider approaching winterfell was announced. no one else was expected, making everyone’s hands subconsciously hover over their weapons. a brown stead with a single rider comes through the doors, dismounting the horse and lowering his hood, his face finally comes into view. jaime fucking lannister.

you just about groan when brienne vouches jaime at the hearing. she trusted him, would fight with him, the same she said about you. what felt like a personal nod of trust, and for you, devotion, was stripped away of any real meaning. larkin stepped back slightly and held the crook of your elbow, “breathe slowly, commander.”

at his words, you realize your breathing was erratic at best. your mind finally came back to your body, clammy palms and ears ringing. you kept a straight face the best you could, looking more angry than calm, but it was better than the anguish that bubbled up within you. a moment you had held onto for months, one that comforted you in dark nights, ripped away. ripped away by the very person who gave you the memory. you hear the murmurs of bullshit and is she fucking mad? from the men behind you. the slightest turn of your head silenced them, the sharp stare told them all they needed to know. no fucking around tonight.

when the meeting was dismissed, you turned immediately, ale was the only thing on your mind now. you told oskar you were going to be alone, and to tell men to enjoy what would be a last night for many. you roamed the halls of winterfell, finding a quiet room with a hearth and some lounge chairs. a grateful smile for the inviting quarters passes your lips as you start a fire and sit on a couch while cradling your drink. this wouldn’t be a bad last night, you’d be warm at least. you couldn't tell how much time had passed, only snapping out of your comforting dazeat the door creaking. opening one eye, you turn to see ser davos in the doorway.

“apologies, i was just looking for a quiet place. i’ll leave you,” he says kindly as he turns to leave.

“don’t be foolish, ser. you can join me in my silence,” you say with a little waving motion. he smiles a little, coming to sit across from you.

“not one for the larger festivities down stairs?” he asks.

“we can celebrate when we win, i’d rather a more relaxed night if it’s to be my last,” you say calmly, death was not a foe. it was an inevitable force, the least you could do was greet him with slightly less malice. ser davos nods in understanding, he’d known death’s door, he was as well acquainted as you were.

another finds your small, warm sanctuary. this time, there’s no apology, no leaving. looking back you see blonde hair slicked back, blue eyes looking between you and davos. you nod to the seat next to you, and she moves over to sit there. she looks into the fire for a moment, eyes scanning the flames for answers to an unknown question before looking back to you.

“larkin was looking for you. i told him i would find you for him. did i, or will you find him later?” she asks, knowing that you’re still grappling with leaving him.

“he’ll find me, if he doesn’t podrick will find you, and here i’ll be,” you say, tilting your head towards her. she huffs a small laugh, and this makes you smile slightly. your prediction seems to come to fruition as podrick steps in the room, eyes landing on you. he steps back out and you hear a muffled told you they’d be in here before larkin comes in.

he perches himself on the arm of couch, leaning into you with an arm around your shoulders, “i’m sorry i was a dick earlier.” he didn’t need to say more, you knew why he had exploded on you. you’d never been yelled at like that before, let alone by him.

“it’s forgotten. thank you for coming back,” you respond, leaning into him as well. he wasn’t your son by blood, but by the gods would you love and protect him as if he were. you smack his hand as it reaches for ale, “one, one singular, cup. hear me, fool?”

you miss how brienne smiles at the scene, how your love for the boy was stronger than any need to uphold your image as a mighty commander. she saw how there were very few things that had lowered your guard, she had observed them all over the last few months you’d spent in winterfell together. larkin was always a soft spot, and most children at that. you would always squat to their heights, you spoke to them all like they were adults. you had an odd soft spot for lyanna mormont, who had said she thought you were one of the few decent leaders left in westeros. brienne liked to think you had a sort of soft spot for her. you never joked about her appearance, or anything she talked about. you always looked her in the eyes when she spoke, full attention, like nothing else mattered.

loud voices disrupt the peace you both found in this moment, only now noticing that both lannister brothers and tormund were now in the room. brienne notices now larkin looks at you, then her very briefly, before muttering something to you. whatever he says makes you swat him away, making him slightly topple off his perch.

as the night carries on, happier chatter turns to reminiscing on journeys and triumphs. you talk about your first victory in skyforth, then the first when you became commander. upon podrick’s request you spoke of how you went from fighter to strategist to commander, and the fates of the two men who thought they could easily disrespect you. brienne chuckles as she watches all the men in the room gawk and sit a little straighter in their seats, you just look at her, appreciating the sight.

tyrion discusses the victories of ser davos, podrick, and jaime. his eyes freeze on brienne, “ser brienne of tarth, defeated the hound- pardon me, lady brienne.”

“she’s not a ser?” tormund turns to her, “you’re not a knight?”

“women can’t be knights, it's tradition,” she responds dejectedly.

the wildling quickly says, “fuck tradition.”

you raise your glass, “that has got to be the most intelligent thing i have ever heard you say, tormund. damn right, fuck tradition.” tormund clinks his horn against your cup with a loud laugh.

brienne rolls her eyes, “i didn’t even want to be a knight.” you and podrick both look at her, faces screaming liar!

tormund leans into brienne’s space, you grip your cup tighter. “i’m no king, but if i were i’d knight you ten times over.” the intelligence apparently leaped out the window after one comment.

“aye!” larkin says quickly, “respect for the lady, you moron.”

you shove back a chuckle, “meathead is right, watch yourself,” you ignore brienne’s gaze, “and any knight can make another knight, it’s not just the king. is that correct or am i making that up, tyrion?” you point your question to the man next to davos.

before he can answer, jaime turns around, “no, you’re right. i’ll prove it.”

he unsheaths his sword, commanding brienne to the center of the room. she’s apprehensive, her eyes move to you without much thought. you’re already looking at her, your eyes in hers. she watches you with shaking breath as you mouth go. 

you watch as brienne bends to one knee in front of jaime. her head rises to face him, azurite eyes looking towards him. her left shoulder, “in the name of the warrior, i charge you to be brave,” her right, “in the name of the father, i charge you to be just,” her left once more, “in the name of the mother, i charge you to defend the innocent.” brienne’s tears are visible from your seat, your own forming in your eyes because gods, they’re finally starting to see her. “arise, brienne of tarth,” jaime’s words feel golden, “a knight of the seven kingdoms.”

you can’t contain the joy inside of you that overflows as you see brienne become who she truly is, a real knight, the truest. you clap quickly and loudly, the others joining. she looks at you with watery eyes, and in this moment you can’t be angry anymore. she’s smiling, a real, big, toothy grin, nothing else matters now. you raise your glass, “ser brienne of tarth!” and a chorus follows, a sea of congratulations go towards her.

you go to fill your cup, eyes closing as you rest against the wall. you brienne look around, eyes following her path until she found you. she walks up to you, her eyes now on the floor. “ser brienne, fancy meeting you here.’

she laughs shyly before asking, “can we talk? away from all of them?”

you grab her arm and start walking, “of course.”

—

you reach her quarters after following her quiet directions she gives along the way. she immediately goes to start the fire, and you sit on the edge of her bed as you watch. you watch as the flames grow, and the light warms her face, the orange hue on her pale skin was one of the few wonders in your world.

once she’s satisfied with the fire, she sits next to you, “i have a question.”

you smile faintly as you look at her, “i’ll answer anything you ask me.”

brienne desperately tries to calm her frenzied heart as she asks what had been on her mind for weeks now, “what do you see? when you say they don’t actually see me, what do you see that they don’t?”

she watches as your face drops, eyes going to your hands that were now clenched in your lap. you swallow the cowardice that rose in your throat, telling you to just say she was a great fighter and leave it at that, but lying to her wasn’t an option, not when you’d likely never get the chance to tell her by the time the sun rises. you tear your gaze from your lap and bring them back to her big, blue eyes, shimmering sapphires begging for an answer.

she deserves to know. you swallow your pride, turning to face her properly, knees knocking into hers. “i see grace, in your nobility and your movement. i see strength in too many ways to count, but i see it the most in your honor. you are the most honorable person in westeros, as i said before, oathkeeper is a name fitting of both you and the blade,” you grab her hand, forcing her to look you in the eyes, “but i see more than just an honorable knight,” you smile at her title.

“and what’s that?” she says quietly, nearly a whisper.

“the most enchanting and gracious being, one so much so that it follows my dreams. you are my dream, brienne,” her hand grips yours tightly as you continue, “when i told you that you were beautiful, i meant every word. in my eyes, there is nothing in the world or beyond more fitting for the title,” brienne is looking into you with an intensity that tells you she’s deciding whether she believes you or not. you take a deep breath, “that is what i see.”

the knight’s mouth opens and closes, not words able to find their way out. never had you seen her so flustered, you could only take this shyness as confirmation of her belief, if she hadn’t she would have already been yelling at you. you release one hand from her grasp, with a slight struggle, but a quick squeeze and a brush over her knuckles finally frees you. a hooked index finger rests under her chin, the tip of your thumb hovering just under her bottom lip.

pulling her face in, you place a soft kiss to her blushing cheek, barely a centimeter away from her wanting lips. you linger for a moment, “if we survive this war, i will spend the rest of my days telling you everything i see. i swear it.”

before brienne can respond, horns begin sounding loudly. the night king had arrived.

—

everything was a blur. fire and smoke clouded the air. blood saturated your clothes, some yours, some not. men and women, dead and gone, littered the ground, but no tears fell for them. you ran across the wall, pulling a bow and quiver with you and you found a half-way decent vantage point. the dead climbed the walls, so you could only go higher and higher, firing as you climbed. your aim was rough, adrenaline and dirt making you miss vital shots.

a cold hand grips your calf, pulling you down with sharp nails ripping your skin. you scream in anger and pain, grabbing a dagger from your back and blindly stabbing at the walker’s hands. it was nothing to it, it kept it’s assault and you thrashed and kicked powerfully, nearly knocking the grip loose.

your eyes close as the pain grows, at least i had one hell of a last night, passes your thoughts. and just as you nearly take matters into your own hands, the walker drops, and your hands frantically grip the wall so as to not fall with him. you scan around, other walkers dropped to the ground, littering the ground along with your own dead. shaking hands and legs move on their own to carry you down the tower at a controlled pace, landing you on the wall. you peer over the edge, every wight was slumped against the castle, unmoving, truly dead at last. it’s over, it’s fucking over.

a firm grip on your arm shakes you from your mind, you turn to see a now one-armed dorin. you swiftly grab him, pulling him into your arms, one hand gripping his torn jacket, the other soothing his hair. you whisper questions to him, his arm, other injuries, but he’s too tired to give you real answers, so you just hold him.

his head rises from your shoulder, “the wights… they got into the catacombs. i don’t know how many remain.” your face falls, he knows what your thinking and is already ahead of you, “go, find him.” and by the gods you run, you had never run with so much purpose. you jumped over boxes and weapons and bodies, jumping over the railing, using it to climb down and drop to the ground. larkin was the only thing that mattered, your son, your boy.

you run to the catacombs, skipping stairs and hurdled in. but it was empty of life, only walkers and victims left. not a single body was the curly haired teenager with the scar across his cheek from his own dagger. you sprint back to the yard, desperately scanning for him. “larkin! LARKIN!” you scream as you run, “BOY!” you yell again with cupped hands. the tears that had been building since you saw dorin’s face were falling freely now, your sobs were choking you as you searched.

red hair catches your attention, sansa, by the gods she was alive. you sprint to her, a hand coming to her shoulder. she turns to you, placing her hand on yours, “he’s alive.” your sigh of relief makes another sob rip from you, your hands come to cover your face.

“he ran to find you i presume, the second the wights fell, he bolted,” tyrion speaks from beside the stark girl, your hands leave your face. you nod his way, passing him with a pat on the shoulder in thanks.

you continue searching until you hear a loud cry of your name from behind you, only three people  truly knew it. you turned, eyes landing on curly hair and big brown eyes that were filled with held back tears. bodies colliding with a thud and nearly toppling over, you cradle the boy to you, kissing his head repeatedly, muttering i’m here, we’re alive, i love you. he’s shaking against you, bloodied hands seizing your shirt like you could disappear at any moment.

“where were you? why didn’t you stay with sansa? are you hurt?” you pull away from him, inspecting his hands, “what did you do? where else are you hurt?” you grab his face, his face clouded from tears that had yet to stop falling from your eyes.

“i had to stop them from getting to her, i couldn’t leave sansa undefended. i was beating it back just as they fell, i’m okay. are you?”

you chuckle, “i’m alive, and mostly intact. you didn’t answer me, where were you, why weren’t you with sansa and tyrion?”

“i was looking for you, or podrick, or brienne. i needed to know you were alive, had to see for myself,” he answers through a tear-clogged voice. you pull him in, rubbing his back, silently asking for an answer, “i found them, they’re alive. she’s alive.” a choked sob leaves you again, holding your son tighter to you before pulling away.

—

turning the corner into the great hall the next night fills your senses. boisterous laughter and conversation, the clinking of glasses, the smell of ale, wine, and smoldering fire. you watched as people laughed, threw their arms around one another, kissed cheeks and lips. all of it quickly faded, all the voices sounded like they were underwater, you couldn’t see anyone. it all evaporates, and all you can see is blonde hair and a black tunic, a cup in her hand, a smile on her lips. it’s as if a spotlight was upon her, drawing you to her like a moth to a flame. 

podrick sees you before the rest, knocking brienne’s knee with his own. she looks at his with a questioning expression, only answered by his head cocking to whatever was behind him. brienne turns with a grunt, annoyed with the lack of straight-forward answer. her world stops, similarly to yours. the second your eyes meet, her mouth drops open, then forms into a huge, toothy smile. you’re quick to return it and pick up your pace, already having a place next to her and podrick circled the table and sat next to jaime instead.

“you’re here,” brienne says quietly, but her happiness is evident.

“so are you,” you respond with a smile, placing a hand on her knee and giving it a quick squeeze under the table before grabbing a cup and pouring some ale for yourself.

brienne’s eyes never leave you, knowing that your words and actions mean more now, she can’t seem to find it in herself to look away. she watches as you talk with the others, notes how you don’t really look them in the eyes and mess with your cup when you speak, how you close your eyes when you laugh, bump shoulders with her when she was the one to make you chuckle. she especially liked how you’d look at her when she’d laugh and your gaze would linger for a few seconds before turning back to the group. she came to the conclusion that nothing could ever be as exquisite as you smiling with your eyes looking into hers, nothing would ever be as warm and inviting as your touch.

after an hour, you silently chugged the rest of your cup, then slid from your seat, “i’ll be seeing myself out. i’m glad to have you all still here with us, truly. have a good rest of your night, gentlemen,” you turn and bow your head slightly, “ser brienne.” she stares silently as you spin on your heel and leave, a small smile thrown over your shoulder. a cough pulls her from your frame.

“you gonna do something about that or should we just give you a rag for the drool on your chin?” jaime says from across the table, an amused look across his face. podrick snorts at the joke, but brienne’s glare has him covering it with a fake cough, making tyrion snicker.

“i’m afraid i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says as she takes a large sip from her own ale, “so drop it.”

a loud laugh leaves jaime’s mouth, “sure, you’re just staring longingly into the distance daydreaming about… nothing? i didn’t take you for a coward and a liar, interesting how time has changed you.”

she promptly stands from the table, “i’m not going to listen to this. goodnight, gentlemen.” and with that she leaves, not wanting to hear what they had to say about you, or how she was leaving the same way you did, not the way that would bring her to her own quarters.

she reaches your tent within a few minutes, she wasn’t long behind you anyways. she shook away her insecurities, knocking on the post outside the tent. her heart rate picked up when she heard a gentle come in from the other side of the curtain. she steps in, knocking the snow from her boots behind her. you’re sitting up in your bed, untying your own shoes, your cloak was resting on the back of a chair in the corner. you looked smaller, less imposing, but she knew better. her own cloak was stripped from her shoulders as she moved to sit next to you, joining you in removing her own boots. she didn’t plan on leaving soon unless you asked her, and gods she hoped you wouldn’t. 

“i was wondering when you’d show up, i figured i’d see you in the morning,” you say as you pull off your last boot with a rough, man-handling grip. brienne chuckles and the grunt that escapes you and you reel back a bit from the force.

“i would much rather be here than in the hall with a bunch of drunk idiots,” she replies, removing her final boot with more ease than you had.

“i’m flattered, kind ser. you abandoned a many drunk idiots for a singular, much-less-drunk idiot, i should be thankful a knight of the seven kingdoms appreciates my company,” you laugh, laughing harder when she bumps your shoulder as she tries not to burst out as well.

she shakes her head, “i’d always prefer your company over others.”

her statement ceases your laughter, your affect becoming more serious, “i’d choose you, over all of them.” she turns to you now, eyes full of something that you can’t place, almost wonder, almost disbelief, “surely you know that by now?”

brienne’s long lashes flutter in front of her eyes a few times, you’re speaking so honestly, so truly. she has thousands of things to say and none of them were enough to describe the feeling growing in her chest as she looks at you. “i’d choose you too, no matter the cause.”

the air was so thick, you couldn’t move. her own gravitational force keeping you in her orbit, seas of aquamarine holding you close. your hand rises, pushing a lock of blonde hair back in formation, gently smoothing it down. your hand traces down, fingers tracing her left ear, gliding with a barely-there touch over the scar from your first encounter. brienne closes her eyes, bathing in the silent affection with a small smile on her lips. your fingers continue the dance over her features, hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing over her skin. this prompts her eyes to open again.

your jaw clenches as you try to get the courage to say something to her. brienne notices, hand coming up to yours on her cheek, resting on your wrist with a gentle grip. she was so gentle, so beautiful. you decided in this very moment there were no words in any languages that could capture the sight in front of you, and you selfishly loved the fact that no one would ever get to experience this moment the way you do. her whisper of your name pulled you from your daydreaming.

deep breath in, deep breath out, “i have no loyalties to any lands. not the north, certainly not king’s landing, i was torn from tarth before i could ever truly experience it, i barely travel to the stormlands as it is,” you pause, anxiety filling your throat, but brienne’s fingers tracing up and down your wrist sooth your rapid heart. “it has taken me most of my life to realize that all these places do not matter in the slightest. they are just flora and earth, we certainly don’t care about that, we care about the concept of home, family. i haven’t a relative left, yet i have all these ridiculous brothers,” brienne laughs breathily at your words, “and though he is not of my blood, i have a son of nearly sixteen. i have the family bit, but i realize after five and a half fucking years, that i finally found my home and i foolishly let her walk away, so i decided i would follow her to my death, if that is what the fates had in store for me.”

you didn’t realize tears had escaped your eyes until brienne’s hand moved to wipe them away, before letting it fall to the curve where your neck meets your shoulders. “you… you are utterly mad,” she says, but you can feel the adoration in her words, making you grin and sniffle away your tears. “gods, you are utterly mad and irrational and impulsive, and apparently have a death wish,” she takes a deep breath, “all this, yet every single night i dreamt of finding you again and never leaving. i dreamt of having a different oath all together, one that swore me to you until my heart stopped beating.”

your free hand rises to brienne’s jaw, hers rests on your thigh. time seems to for you both, taking in each other’s words. she fills your senses, her touch was so inviting, her eyes were hypnotic and deep, pulling you in like tidal waves to the sea. telling her you loved her would never suffice, it was enough, it didn’t quite reach the depth of your devotion. only one thing seemed fitting.

you move from your seat on the bed, her hands fall from your skin. lowering yourself to one knee, looking into her confused eyes. one arm behind your back, one resting on her knee, “ser brienne of tarth, i swear by the old gods and the new to stay by your side, no matter what may happen in our world or in rest of it. i will defend your honor and self, and with complete devotion i will pledge my life to yours, if you will have me.”

her hands go from her lap to cradle your face, moving to kneel on the floor beside you, “only if you’ll allow me to do the same for you. i swear by the old gods and the new, i will protect and defend you, you and your boy. devote myself to you, heart and mind.” heart and mind, heart and mind.

you instantly pull her in, lips crashing together. nearly six years of longing, dancing around each other, gone the second she kisses you back. your lips move frantically together, all desire and love. you grip the front of her tunic, keeping her flush against you as her hands hold your face closer. she’s so soft, her lips, her hands, and her gods her tongue. she was addicting, but nothing compared to the noises that came from her as you ran your hands over her stomach under her tunic. you wanted, needed more of her. she had become your life source, the hole in your chest had completely disappeared, filled with only brienne.

the knight was on cloud nine. she felt drunk off of your lips, more than alcohol had ever affected her. your hands against the skin of her abdomen had her reeling, nearly moaning at your touch alone. she had dreamed of this more than she could say, imagined the feel of your lips, how they’d feel against her own, her neck, her chest. she can only pull you in closer, toppling you both over onto the floor, but she doesn’t let this deter her. she pulls you back in, feeling you smile against her lips as you straddle her waist, one arm holding you up a bit as the other holds her face. she greedily lets her hands run down your body, lightly squeezing your thighs and hips over your clothes, running her hands along your frame. you’re real.

oxygen is less important than you and your hot mouth, much less than your tongue tracing the scar on her lip. your kisses slow much to her displeasure, you pull away but keep your eyes closed. you place a feather light kiss to her lips before pulling away, dropping to hide your face in her shoulder. you hear her breath hitch when you place a gentle kiss to the skin of her neck, only allowing yourself the one for now. her arms wrap around your waist, holding you close, loving the weight of you on top of her. it was warm, grounding.

you speak into her, “you realize you’re stuck with me now, right?”

she chuckles, the vibration of her chest making you smile, “you say it as if that wasn’t my intention.” your head rises from her shoulder to press a sound kiss to her lips, as you pull away she speaks, “are we going to stay laying on the ground?”

it’s your turn to laugh, “depends. if we get up, are you staying with or leaving me?”

brienne’s hips lift and turn, switching your position so she’s now on top of you, strong arms hold her just above you, “how foolish would i be to leave you?” she dips down to kiss you again, and again, then once more for good measure, “we won’t find out.”

you find that laying in your bed with brienne is now your new favorite experience. you lay against her side, her hand drawing invisible patterns on your lower back under your shirt. your own fingers were gently tracing her neck and down to her collarbones, following patterns of faint freckles that lost their vibrance in the cold climate and low sunlight of the north. the string up her tunic was right there, begging you to untie the top of her shirt to follow the freckles of her chest. twirling one of the laces in your hand, you look at her with a silent question, only receiving a silent nod with wide eyes in return.

brienne’s mind felt like it was stuck in a trance, your soft touch was mesmerizing, the occasional soft kisses to her cheek and jaw were clouding her every thought. your fingers slowly, gently untied the top laces of her tunic, permission-seeking eyes looking into hers with each pull of the string. when you had gotten to her sternum, you ceased your movements, then slowly dragged your finger back up to her face. she grabs your hand, bringing it to her kiss-swollen lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. your eyes sparkle at her action, and you can feel your face warming.

brienne’s overwhelmed by the blatant love for her that swirls in your eyes, her hand drops yours to grab your face, pulling you to her lips once again. she couldn’t get enough of your lips against hers, arms wrapped around you to keep you close. she whines as you suddenly pull away from her, but she immediately takes it back as soft kisses dance down her cheek, over her jaw, dipping to her neck. these weren’t kisses of lust, she was sure of it, but ones to let her know how much you cared. she was lost in her bliss, that she barely hears your mumblings through the fog. so beautiful as you pass over her collarbones, gods i adore you before you press a kiss at the center of her chest. you quickly kiss your way back up to her lips, greeted welcomingly by her tongue and smile. she surprises even herself by pulling away first this time.

her words tumble from her mouth, “you are mine, and i am yours.”

your smile grows quick and wide, her words going straight to your heart and into your soul. “there’s nothing i’d rather be,” you whisper, cuddling your face into her neck once again. 

—

the following weeks had resulted in the death of daenerys targaryen, first of her name. jaime had left two days after the long night, riding to king’s landing for cersei, both lost beneath the rubble of the red keep. brienne said nothing, anger of his betrayal and the sadness of his death battled each other until she sobbed in your arms after a couple days of holding it all in. the leaders of the remaining houses elected bran stark as the king of the seven, now six kingdoms. the north was her own kingdom, as it had long fought to return to.

the small council was formed, tyrion remained hand of the king as punishment for the conspiracy to kill daenerys. samwell tarly was grand maester, lord bronn the master of coin, your friend ser davos as master of ships. your brienne was appointed as the lord commander of the king’s guard, which you had expected, but still kissed her excitedly when you were alone after hearing the news.

today, she had you walking with her, side-by-side in her golden armor. she had only told you that your presence had been requested by the king, nothing more. larkin was trailing behind you both, watching the way you interacted, he most definitely noted the lack of awkwardness that had previously surrounded you both.

entering the council room, you bow to bran, “good morning, your grace.”

“good morning, commander. lord commander,” he nods to each of you, “larkin.”

the boy’s head pops up, curly bouncing, “hello, your grace.”

“has ser brienne told you the reason for your summons?” bran asks.

“no, your grace. she’s been quite tight-lipped despite my pestering,” you jest.

“in the formation of my small council, i seem to have three seats available. from what i’ve been told, you have quite the number of little spies around the kingdoms,” your eyes shoot to brienne at the king’s words, “completely unnoticed, well-managed. not even varys detected their presence, which is no small feat.”

you clear your throat, “thank you, your grace. they were only here to alert me of any major changes so that we could move accordingly, stay out of battle areas.”

“they’ve done well,” bran rests his hands on the table, “i’d like to offer you a seat at this council, as my master of whispers. i trust you’ll be honest and loyal in what is reported to you, i have been told in great detail of your leadership.” brienne closes her eyes momentarily, already knowing you’ll have something to say about this later. 

through wide eyes and a shaky voice you respond, “i’d be honored to accept your offer, your grace. thank you, i will serve you loyally.” 

“i know you will, you’re all dismissed.”

walking out, larkin is practically bouncing off the walls, “master of whispers, the master of whispers. this is insane, this is so amazing. can i go tell everyone?”

you laugh at him, “please do, i have something i have to do here.” he’s already gone before you’re fully done speaking, you shake your head laughing more.

brienne speaks up from beside you, “what is it that you have to do here?”

you scan the hall before grabbing her arm and bringing her down a corridor. you push her against a wall out of sight from the world, and tug her to your lip hurriedly. pulling away, you breathily say, “i love you.” she tries to pull you back in but you push her back, “uh-uh, that’s all you get. price for not preparing me for that, you ass.”

she laughs heartily, “i wasn’t supposed to tell you, it was the king’s orders!” she kisses your cheek as you roll your eyes at her, “i love you too, by the way,” another peck to the cheek, “incredibly so.”

you lean into her lips, not being able to stay away. you mumble against her, “i’m holding you to that.”

let me know if you guys would be interested in more skyforth!reader, i actually really love writing about it! feedback is appreciated as always my little queers

tag list: @lord6-6fandom @fishyikes @soulflame6 @machi-avelli @thoroughly--confused @the-bagel24 @one-pining-queer @naraly0808 @camilapc08 @senzafine6 @slightlymalicedme @another-unoriginal-username @eliscannotdance @jodie-in-a-box @yuilesbn @friskyfisher

[averagewriter-inthedark]

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.

——————————————————

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

[harrie-fic-center]

bucky barnes

a siren's song by totallynotasheidagent

a twice broken man by wkemeup

amended love by lucindaam

as above, so below by weareallstoriesintheend_3

as fate would have it by scribeofmorpheus

astronomy in reverse by pansley

auf wiederseh'n, my dear by lustresky

baby, it's bad out there by intrepidacious

back to bourbon street by wkemeup

battle scarred: aftermath by darke15 ♡

bitter coffee by pilotisms

bullseye by belladonnabarnes

by any other name by wkemeup

changed times, old fashioned love by kidney_bean

classified by rulerofmyworld

coffee stained confusion by larislynn

crawl home to her by wkemeup

crawl home to her by sambvcks

crimson by bunsterjones

don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms by mallory

don't sit under the apple tree (with anyone else but me) by nellblazer

double entendre by starspangledmanwithaplan

dreaming in june by bymoni

duck and cover by pilotisms

eclipse by wkemeup

empathy (there's none of that here) by tieressian

epiphany. by gingerthestormwitch

ever since new york by bunnysbucky

falcon and the winter soldier by cjsinkythoughts

flowers bloom by revengingbarnes

game of survival by the_sad_hatter

gloxina by storiesaboutvan

god among men by abovethesmokestacks

good for the soul by justanothersong

graveyard by wkemeup

guiding light by wkemeup

harmless by shuruisneakers

havoc by floatingpetals

heal me, baby by wkemeup

hearts don't lie by daekyra

heaven by belladonnabarnes

heaven sent by wehaveabucky-archive

honey by silentwinter

honey and chamomlie by wkemeup

if it isn't love, it's still in the neighborhood by thegreenfairy246

in the embers by wkemeup

into the mirrorverse by desertwoods

i'm with you by wkemeup

just a glimmer by 17daybreak

kiss of death by overly_obsessed

little lion man by wkemeup

love, honor, and obey by constantwriter85

mercenary by papiposicle

mission of mercy by fictivefrolic

mocha by alisdas

[marvelgirlstories]

And here it is... Enjoy Xxx

Stole my heart

Part 2 Part 1

Warnings: bad language, fighting

The next day you went to the training rooms. You had no particular reason for this, you just needed something to do. Also you needed to think. Bucky shouldn't be able to remember you, but here we are.

You sighed as you punched the punching bag, memories running through your head like a freight train. You stopped in your tracks. No,not freight train, now everything you think about leads back to the past, your punching only getting faster. With one final punch, the bag lay broken on the floor.

Suddenly you heard clapping behind you:

"Wow, what's going on in your head?", a voice from behind you said. "Do you want to end up like Tony?", you asked in return. In your past you were trained to know who was coming or behind you by knowing their footsteps or voice. "Ok, I'm sorry", Steve said. "Are we annoying you if we train here?", Bucky added. They came down here, not expecting to find anyone as it was very hot, but instead they found you fighting a punching bag in a sports bra and leggings. "No. I can't really expect to have this all to my self", you answered.

"Ok. We'll try to stay out of your way" You smiled and then turned your attention back to the punching bag, dragging it out of the way and then hanging up a new one. This time you tried not to hit it too hard.

Why was he not affected by it all, or was he just that good at hiding. I mean you were also that good, but...

You knew you were being watched by Steve, who was meant to be helping Bucky. You didn't care, you knew how to control your body language. But you moved to the shooting range, why? You didn't know why.

You loaded the gun up, cocked it and then fired it. Bullseye and again and again.

"Y/N!", a voice called, you turned facing Steve, still holding the gun. "Yes?", you said, firing the gun while looking him straight in the eye. Bullseye! "Wanna fight?" You knew he was going to ask this, wanting to see why Fury thought you were so good. "Sure", you answered, not wanting to disappoint. What was wrong with you? Normally you would of turned that down, but somehow you wanted it.

As you stepped into the ring, you actually felt nervous. You were up against a Supersoldier for fucks sake. "Ok.", Bucky said,"Whoever has their opponent down at the end of 3 minutes wins. Are you ready?" Steve said yes and looked at you awaiting your reply. "Yes", you said. "And go" Steve dove for you, you dove for him he got you and threw you to the ground, holding your arms pinned to your sides. He turned and grinned at Bucky. "Rule Number one", you said, "never take your eyes of your opponent" With that you swung round, taking him by surprise. You were pretty evenly matched, so it went on like this for about two minutes. Then you suddenly went for his legs, knowing the weakest part of the body. With two seconds to go you were the one with him on the floor, before he completely flipped you. Then Bucky yelled: Stop! and there was nothing you can do.

"Nice game!", Steve said. "Thank you", you replied, before stepping out of the ring, grabbing your stuff from next to the punching bag and leaving. Just as you were going to step out of the door, you turned. "See you around. Both of you.", were your last words.

"She knows something we don't.", Bucky said,"Be careful." "How do you know her?", Steve asked. "I have a long history"

This feels worse than the first one but here you go. If you want to be tagged, just say and I am open for requests as I don't have many ideas.

I will be on holiday the next week, so I don't know how often I will post.

Anyone have an idea, what Y/N's past is??

Anyways, bye 💖💖💖

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@felicitylemon @kandis-mom @animegirlgeeky @cjand10 @capswife @tripletstephaniescp