#imagine capitol records

[bonesandchalamet]

snow melts — Coriolanus snow

masterlist | pairing: Coriolanus snow x reader

summary: Coriolanus likes to keep people at arm distance, but what does it look like when he lets someone in?

warnings: kinda fluffy(?) + BOOK SPOILER OF TBOSAS

a/n: I’m unsure if the one thing I spoiled from the book is in the movie.. if it is someone let me know! I must’ve missed it

the capitol is in walking distance. all you have to do is cross the traffic circle, pray you don’t get hit, and enter the warm building. you can see it now, you can feel the precipitation building up against your skin under the thick layers— honk!

a curse falls out of your lips. too busy daydreaming about the warm welcoming breeze of the capitol, you failed to notice the cars that’s tires crunch under the snow and spread slush around your thick boots.

days like these were meant to sit inside your warm apartment and sip hot tea. they weren’t meant for you to cross in inches deep of snow and bore yourself with lectures and reading.

but there’s one person who might make things worth it. if he’s there. you’d imagine a snow would love this weather, to watch the heavy flakes cover the capitol and dance around making peoples lives miserable, Coriolanus was a lot like snow. a bit evil, a bit cold, but at the right temperature you could melt him into mush.

the traffic clears, and finally, you can sprint across to make your way to class. it had taken far too long for you to cross to the capitol, with traffic, ice, and snow, but once you make it inside you don’t regret coming.

“gosh you look awful.” festus’s comment earns a low growl to escape your lips, it’s hard to ignore him, but coriolanus does so easily, and helps remove your layers.

“how’d you beat me here?” you ask, he’s folding your coat against his arms and flattening your static hat hair. typically, Coriolanus was on time, he’s never early, but today he must’ve had a meeting with clemnesia, or possibly sejanus, that sent him into the unplowed roads and blustery wind.

you can’t imagine how cold he must’ve been. it’s his worst kept secret with you. Tigris had made him a wool coat, but he’d been to embarrassed to wear it, and he refused a coat from your families closet. this then results in him walking in brutal conditions with nothing but his school uniform on.

“meeting with dean highbottom.” its his turn to growl. the two weren’t fond of each other, but with Coriolanus being a student, and a man with scarce amount of money, coriolanus was in no position to make enemies in the capitol. so, he did what any student would do, suck up to the dean in hopes that’ll erase all the problems.

“is it about your demerit?” you whisper the words quietly enough that not another soul could hear you. Coriolanus hadn’t told his grandmother, but only you and sejanus knew of such record.

Coriolanus rolls his eyes muttering a yes, before guiding you through the mass crowds of students into the lecture hall. feeling his hand on your back sends a wave of electricity through your body. you loved his hands on you, in anyway possible, but Coriolanus was a love starved man. it was never easy to get him to show affection.

“I should thank Tigris.”

coriolanus’ eyebrows nearly string together when you turn to look at him, “well you’re not good with showing your affection, I know she has to do with this.” you chuckle a thank you, taking your things from him and watch him march across the lecture hall to his side of the room.

Coriolanus was as cold as snow sometimes, but with you? he was always melting.

[galaxythreads]

unhinged, unconnected thoughts about the Hunger Games 1-3:

Katniss is one of The best female characters I have ever read in my life

Peeta is the definition of sad, wet paper man

I AM SO GRATEFUL THERE WERE CONSQUENCES From the games!! Like Katniss has permanent hearing damage. PEETA lost his LEG

Katniss' severe PTSD was so harsh and brutal and so so so good

Haymitch was such a little guy and I adored him for that. What I really liked about his character was that like -- he survived the Hunger Games. This was not a good thing. He was devastated by the fact that his family was killed and the only way he coped with that was by drinking. There was no getting better. There was no magic fix. It didn't just go away. Then he had to train and prepare 20 kids to go fight in the Games just like he did, knowing that he was sending them all out to die or survive like he did, and I have to imagine that toward the end, Haymitch probably hoped they died. It was easier than living

The Capitol was absolutely horrifying

The PTSD from the Games was vivid and it was so nice to see that this horrible bad thing that happened to the characters didn't just go away because they were in another book. Like it impacted their choices forever

Katniss and Peeta about to take the berries reminded me of Romeo and Juliet and I think that was probably on purpose. Neither can live without the other.

KATNISS IS FREAKING SIXTEEN AND ACTS LIKE SHE'S SIXTEEN

Katniss runs off and screams and cries and breaks down and fails and makes selfish decisions and selfless decisions and like she is SUCH A GOOD CHARACTER. Like I Honestly didn't think there would be a female character that competed with Joan Watson for #1 female for me, but Katniss is like. She's up there.

Gale was overall meh to me. He was There, but the emotional impact he had on Katniss was overall... yeah. just dots.

I'm really glad that Katniss was able to heal enough after 15 years from the Games to have kids. She wanted kids, and the mothering instinct is there, but she didn't want to bring them into a world where they wouldn't be safe. But Katniss having kids means that she does feel safe.

"you love me. Fake or real?" "real"

"sweetheart"

I literally did not realize the Hunger Games was science fiction until I got like halfway through the second one and was like oh yeah, yeah this is science fiction.

I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT THEY SENT THEM BACK TO THE GAMES IN BOOK 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

like all I'd heard about the Hunger Games was book 1, so everything after that to me was just ?????? and I was SO MAD but it made so much sense from the Capitol's perspective and I so wanted to strangle Snow.

District 13 overall annoyed me tbh, but I did get where they were coming from.

Everything in this series is so heavy. Like you feel the weight of the entire world just seeping down on you and it's actually kind of nice. I feel like the Hunger Games decided yeah, this is a dark, gloomy kinda world and then kept that tone. Books that keep the tone are SO RARE and i adore them.

PEETA PEETA PEETA

BREAD BOY

AMNEISA

PRIM DYING LIKE ???????????????????????? so good. So good. Like the whole reason Katniss went into the Games was to save her and like. She died anyway. Tragedy my beloved.

Katniss being so bad at speeches was absolutely hilarious. She is very much a speak from the heart kinda person and I'm glad that was never "fixed"

I love how a running theme in the series was that they have to document everything. There are video cameras everywhere, recording, always recording, and if they aren't it didn't happen. But Katniss is screaming IT HAPPENED IT HAPPENED anyway. Like with Rue's death.

I love that Peeta is so protective of Katniss, but would wholey hold her bow while she punched someone in the face. Like he's protective of her while respecting her strengths.

this series is dark, but I am going to reread this 4000000 times.

[rainbowmilk]

Don't Forget Me III

Warnings: Violence, Death, Language

Treech x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

series masterlist | <- Prev Next -> |

All you wanted was to get away from the people gawking at you, yet oddly enough, the Capitol boy and the rainbow girl were approaching the crowd. Hand-in-hand, no less. That's something you never thought you'd see: a girl from Twelve and a boy from the Capitol holding hands.

They started talking to a clownish-looking man. You couldn’t hear much, but you did learn their names were Lucy Gray and Coriolanus Snow. You couldn’t imagine a situation where you'd willingly talk to anyone from the Capitol. Lucy Gray, however, seemed to thrive under cameras.

Treech, also watching, said, “Y’know, I think I’d rather take my chances in the arena than have to talk to him.”

“Don’t be an ass! He doesn't look that bad,” you say while trying and failing to suppress your laugh.

He raised an eyebrow, staring at you as if you’ve just said the sky is green. “If you say so,” he teased.

The interview, or whatever you want to call it, was cut short when the metal doors swung open, and a group of Peacekeepers marched in, dragging Coriolanus out.

“Do you think he was even supposed to be in here?” You asked as you watched him get dragged out.

“Course not,” Treech smirked, “he looked ready to piss himself when he realized this was being recorded.” He said, once again making you laugh. For a minute, everything felt normal. If you close your eyes, you could pretend you are back home at the market laughing with your friends.

As the day went on, more and more people started showing up. There must’ve been a crowd of about one hundred people when you spotted the familiar red uniform. At first, you thought it was Coriolanus, but as he got closer, you saw that it was a boy with dark brown hair.

He was carrying a large backpack, which was full of food. The boy pulled a sandwich from the bag and tried to coax Marcus, the boy from Two, to take it. He wasn’t having much luck, though. Marcus wouldn’t even acknowledge him.

You were much more inclined to trust him than Coriolanus. Something about him seemed genuine, kinder even. Maybe if you approached him, he’d give you food. It couldn’t hurt to try.

Treech as if sensing your thoughts grabbed your arm. He shook his head at you, saying, “We can’t trust him. He’s Capitol.”

You wanted to argue but decided it wasn’t worth the headache. Treech could be painfully stubborn when he wanted to be.

Coriolanus came by later in the day and seated himself by the bars. A sting of jealousy hit you when you saw him hand Lucy Gray a sandwich. Why hadn’t your mentor shown up?

You didn’t have to wallow for long because Lucy Gray yelled, “You all should get one. They’re real good! Go on, Jessup!”

Her district partner, Jessup, slowly approached the boy with the sandwiches and took one from his hand. He waited until a plum followed and then walked off without a word.

Emboldened, you sprung up, pulling Treech along with you. Rushing to the fence where the boy gave each of you a sandwich and a plum. Satisfied, you walked back to the rocky patch you’d been sitting at. It’s a good thing you got there early because, within a minute, the backpack was almost depleted by the other tributes.

You had to resist the urge to devour the sandwich, forcing yourself to savor every bite. Who knew when your next meal would be? You had to enjoy it while it lasted.

As the sun set, the crowd thinned, and everyone started to settle in for the night. Most tributes opted to stay in the place they’d claimed the first day. Everybody was getting increasingly ill-tempered, yourself included, the more days you spent trapped in the zoo.

Almost on cue, two boys started fighting over a bale of hay, but Marcus broke them up. His display of strength unsettled you. How could you win against that?

I mean, you could handle an ax. Which already left you better off than most tributes. But you weren’t an expert by any means. If you had to face Marcus in the arena, you’d have no chance. Just thinking of the arena made you uneasy. Seeking comfort, you nestled up next to Treech. Letting his steady heartbeat lull you to sleep

The sun beating down on the enclosure stirred you from your slumber. Your eyes flickered open, but the influx of light has you snapping them shut again.

“Mornin,” Treech whispered, his voice still groggy.

“Mmm..too early,” you grumbled, burrowing your head deeper into his chest.

Running on a limited amount of sleep, you didn’t feel up to do anything besides stay curled up behind the rock. The morning passed by uneventfully, with few visitors stopping by. Until Peacekeepers came and corralled you onto a truck. They offered no explanation as to where you were going.

After a short ride, they unloaded all of you at a large building. You were escorted by Peacekeepers who outnumbered you two to one, which you felt was overkill, considering you had heavy shackles attached to your wrists and ankles. They led you to a table and then chained you with concrete weights, telling you to wait for your mentors.

Without much to do, you tilted your head back and surveyed the hall. It was a beautiful space with marble columns, arched windows, and a vaulted ceiling. You should feel awed, you’d never see anything like this in Seven, but it only made you miss home even more.

You glanced over to Treech, but before you could say anything, the doors opened, and twenty-four teenagers marched out. You wondered which one would be your mentor. You hoped they actually cared, but you doubted it, considering they hadn’t visited.

A tall boy who must be your mentor approached your table, sitting in the chair across from you. He introduced himself as “Pliny Harrington”. He seemed nice enough, if not a bit tactless. Maybe this won’t be that bad you allowed yourself to hope.

It was that bad. You were ready to tear your hair by the end of the session. You misheard one question, and Pliny spent the rest of the time talking to you like a toddler. The most infuriating part was his self-satisfied grin because he was so sure he was being helpful.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the session, you could’ve cried with relief. Even as the Peacekeepers rounded you back into the truck, you were just glad to be done. You’d had enough interactions with Capitol folks to last you a lifetime.

In the truck, you find yourself sitting next to Lucy Gray while she stares at you with a unreadable expression. You are not sure what to make of her.

“Hi...you’re Lucy Gray, right?” you say, wondering why she’s staring at you.

“The one and only,” she quipped back.

Over her shoulder, you could see Treech watching you, his eyes flitting between you and Lucy Gray, unsure if it was a friendly conversation. You shot him a smile, letting him know you were okay.

Lucy Gray must’ve caught the interaction because she gave you a knowing look. She leaned in and whispered, “So, what’s up with you and your district partner?”

Startled, your eyes scanned the others to make sure no one had heard, “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, “You two seem very close, plus he gets this glint in his eyes when he looks at you.”

You glanced up, and sure enough, Treech was still staring at you. He looked startled to have been caught again and looked away. “He’s just—we’ve just been friends for a while,” you say, though your voice has an annoyingly hopeful twinge to it.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that…well, you at least like him, don’t you?” She asked.

The expression on your face must answer her question because she gave you a pitying smile. Are you really that obvious? You must be. Because it seems everyone, but Treech knew at this point. Even his brothers would tease you about it.

When you arrived back at the zoo, a crowd waited for you. Morning attendance was scarce, but now visitors were pouring in. Annoyed, you tried to hide yourself behind a rock to escape prying eyes.

“What were you and Twelve talkin’ about?” Treech asked, plopping himself beside you.

“It’s a secret,” you say, winking at him, hoping he doesn’t see right through you. Wanting to change the topic, you ask, “How was your mentor?”

He winced at your question “She was very irritating,” he replied. By the look on his face, he was clearly holding himself back from saying anything meaner. “How was yours?”

“God, don’t get me started,” you groan. “He talked to me like I was a five-year-old the whole time!”

You didn’t even think it was possible, but somehow, more people came as the day progressed. Unsurprisingly, Lucy Gray was by the bars entertaining the crowd. What caught your eye, though, was they seemed to be passing her food. The thought of begging for scraps made you flush with humiliation. But it was slowly becoming evident that if you wanted to eat, you’d need to perform.

Other tributes realized this as well. The girl from District 9 did a back handspring, which was rewarded with applause and a bread roll. You stared longingly at the bread, what you would give for a bite.

“Are you hungry?” Treech asked, his mouth turned into a frown.

“I’m fine,” you say, not wanting to worry him.

Treech stared at you blankly, making it clear he didn’t believe you. He stood up, fetching three walnuts off the floor, and marched up to the crowd. He made a good show of juggling the walnuts and keeping the crowd entertained. He was rewarded with a bread roll and an apple.

Once he’s finished, he tipped his hat at the crowd before rushing back to you. He looked pleased with himself as he offered the food to you.

You immediately protested, “No! Don’t worry about me. I’m not that hungry anyway.” In embarrassingly perfect timing, your stomach lets out a growl.

Treech face broke out into a smile, holding out the food again. Sighing in defeat, you ripped a chunk off the bread. As you sat eating, you heard the crowd laughing. When you turned toward the noise, you saw one of the mentors holding out a sandwich in front of her tribute to the girl from Ten, only to pull it away at the last second, much to the crowd’s amusement.

“That’s awfully cruel,” you mumbled, clutching your food protectively to your chest. You tried to block out the noise. No point in making yourself needlessly upset.

However, shrieks coming from the audience members had you snapping your head back towards the bars. You saw the girl from Ten holding a bloody knife. The Capitol girl's face was drained of color as she dropped the sandwich and clawed at her neck. Blood was pouring from her neck and down her fingers as the District 10 girl released her and gave her a small shove.

The Capitol girl stepped back, turning and reaching out, imploring the audience for help. People were either too stunned or too scared to respond. Many drew away as she fell to her knees and began to bleed out. You held no love for the Capitol, but you couldn’t help but pity the girl. It was a horrible way to die.

Coriolanus rushed towards the Capitol girl. Shouting for a medic. He must know her. Your heart dropped when you saw Peacekeepers shouldering their way toward the enclosure. The gunshots sounded almost immediately after. Bullets were fired into the cage without care of who they hit.

You sit stunned for a second as you watch the bullets pierce the District 10 girl's body. Treech practically throws himself toward you, pushing you behind the rock. The bullets continued firing, flying just past your heads.

Even when the gunshots died down, you and Treech remained on the ground. Both of you clinging tightly to one another. After enough time passed, you peeked out and saw soldiers swarming the place, clearing out the last remnants of the audience. Without warning, they swarmed the enclosure, dragging all of you to the back of the cage and lining you up with your hands on top of your heads.

As you stood there, you wondered if they were going to shoot all of you and get it over with. Maybe it would be easier if you died now. At least it would be quick.

[gloombeauty]

After two years of putting it off, I finally watch Baz Luhrmann Elvis movie. It freaking destroyed me. Every time Tom Hanks came on the screen as Col. Parker, I wanted to throw something at him.

It's historic what a destructive little monster Col. Parker was, but all the cards were laid out loud and clear in this film.

What Col. Parker did to Elvis is the same that has been done to Sky Ferreira by Capitol Records. It's despicable.

The moral of the story? Don't sign a damn thing without a lawyer in the room with you.

Elvis was literally worked to death. No wonder he couldn't take a shit for months.

I still say Austin Butler looked nothing like Elvis Presley, however, he got his spirit and soul perfectly down pact. No wonder Lisa was so behind this movie. They finally showed her father some compassion, something that was never really done on film or TV series.

Austin should have won an Oscar for this film the same way Val Kilmer should have won an Oscar playing Jim Morrison.

I can't imagine what that Priscilla movie did to Elvis' memory, especially since Lisa Marie expressed her pure hatred for that film. I'm still contemplating on seeing that one. Lana not even adding a song to the soundtrack says a lot.

[bananaofswifts]

Whether she's breaking records or breaking Ticketmaster, Taylor Swift has proven time and again that she's one of the most powerful figures in modern music — and the Eras Tour is a manifestation of that.

By TAYLOR WEATHERBY

But after witnessing it in person, it's clear that Swift is not just delivering the tour of the year — it's the tour of her generation.

Sure, Beyoncé fans can't wait for her tour this summer; Harry Styles is about to embark on the final leg of his highly successful Love On Tour trek; BLACKPINK sold out stadiums around the country too. Yet, it's hard to imagine that any other tour this year will have a cultural impact as big as the Eras Tour — something that's wildly apparent whether or not you were there.

Even before Swift hit the stage for her first night at Nashville's Nissan Stadium on May 5, her influence was felt. Practically every fan of the 70,000 in attendance (a record for the venue — more on that later) was wearing some sort of reference to their favorite Swift era: a beloved lyric, or an iconic performance or music video look. While that's not necessarily a new trend in the Swiftie world, seeing all 10 of her eras represented throughout a stadium-sized crowd was equal parts meaningful and remarkable.

As someone who has been to hundreds of tours and most of Swift's — including the Reputation Tour, which I naively referred to as "the peak of her career" — I didn't think this one would feel much different than a typical stadium show. But even when Swift was just a few songs in of her impressive three-and-a-half hour set, a feeling came over me like I wasn't just watching one of music's greats — I was part of music history.

Below, here are five reasons why the Eras Tour will go down as one of the most iconic of Swift's generation.

It's Treated Like A Holiday

In the week leading up to the shows and over the weekend, Nashville was abundant with special events in Swift's honor. From Taylor-themed trivia nights to pre- and post-show dance parties to wine lists transformed into "eras," practically every place you went was commemorating her return (she last performed in Nashville in 2018).

While it's unclear whether this kind of takeover is happening in every city — after all, she does consider Nashville a hometown, as she said on stage — it's rare to see an artist have such a ripple effect by simply just coming to town.

During her May 5 show, Swift added to the excitement by sharing the highly anticipated news that Speak Now (Taylor's Version) was coming on July 7. Upon the announcement, three of Nashville's monuments — the John Seigenthaler Pedestrian Bridge, the Tennessee State Capitol and the Alliance Bernstein building downtown — were illuminated in purple, the album's color.

It's Breaking Records Left And Right

Though Swift is no stranger to breaking records, she continues to do so with the Eras Tour. After setting the all-time attendance record at Nissan Stadium on night one of her Nashville run, Swift topped herself (something has become accustomed to on the charts as well) with another attendance record on night two.

And despite the controversial ticketing frenzy the tour caused, Swift also broke a Ticketmaster record with more than 2.4 million tickets sold — the most by an artist in a single day — in the presale alone. If Swift announces an international leg of the tour, Pollstar projects that the Eras Tour could surpass $1 billion, which would add yet another first to her ever-growing list.

It's Spawned Parking Lot Parties

As if history-making attendance and record-breaking ticket sales aren't indication enough of Swift's power, the Eras Tour is so highly in-demand that fans are sitting outside of the venue to still be part of the show. Fans crowded barricades and camped out in the parking lot of Nissan Stadium, ready to watch (and sing along) Swift on the big screen — something that has seemingly been happening in every city.

It Can't Be Stopped By The Elements

Adding to the magnitude of the Eras Tour, Swift performs 45 songs across three and a half hours. And to make her last night in Nashville even more momentous, she did almost all of that in pouring rain.

Swift didn't get to take the stage until after 10 p.m. on May 7 because of storms in the area (she normally goes on around 7:50 local time), but that didn't mean she'd be shortening her set. Carrying on until after 1:30 a.m. — even through the "element of slippiness happening," as she joked — Swift made it clear that she's determined to give each show her all regardless of the weather.

It's Simply A Feel-Good Celebration

Perhaps it was the five-year gap between the last time she toured. Perhaps it was the four new albums of material. Perhaps it was the celebratory nature of the show. Whatever inspired the vibe of the Eras Tour, I've never seen Taylor Swift or her fans so alive. The passion was tangible, the energy was magnetic.

Though Swift has always been known as an artist with a very loyal following, it was still mind-blowing to hear 70,000 people belt out every word for three hours straight. There aren't many artists whose catalogs are as equally beloved as they are extensive, especially one who hasn't even seen her 34th birthday. No matter how many albums and tours are in Swift's future, the Eras Tour captures a special moment in time — and celebrates a legend in her prime.

[writesick-lover]

Just One Date pt.2

>> part 1!

A/N: Hi guys! You absolutely loved the first part of this and I cannot express how happy that makes me :D I am so thankful for every reblog, like and comment! Here's the awaited part 2, I really hope you'll like it! Should there be a part 3?

Let me know ;D

Warning: !spoilers if you haven't read the first part!, slight hint of drugs and swear words

Special mentions: @merromimo , @justtrying2getby

➷ ➷ ➷ ➷

Cameras. 

There were cameras everywhere as soon as you stepped out of the train. The citizens of Capitol had grouped around the station as if your arrival was worth looking at, and they certainly hadn't missed the show. Your breath hitched in your throat as soon as you saw the dark voids of lenses taking you in. They recorded your every step, which eventually led to tripping and falling off the last two stairs. They also manage to eternalise the way you landed into a pair of strong arms, the chuckle the person holding you made, and when you looked up, you saw the broad shoulders of Finnick Odair, covering you from the broadcast. 

"Watch your step, honey," he whispered with a sly smirk, making you look up. Anger took over your previous shock. You knew you could easily be the talk of the Capitol. And you couldn't care less about their shenanigans as long as you had the promise of peace. Because you knew they couldn't hurt you any more than they had already done. They couldn't hurt you any more than your own district already did. But you didn't expect it from any of the victors. Not from Finnick Odair. Though the question making you go crazy at that moment was, what did you really expect? 

You didn't expect of Finnick Odair to even glance your way, ever since you saw him in the Capitol after your games. Why he was there, you don't know. He acknowledged you a few times you happened to be at the same party in Capitol. You never expected him to approach you alone. Let alone, ask you on a date. And then bring the whole nation to come and watch your downfall. No, no matter what you had done in the past and how much you had come to despise your life, you would never allow anyone to drag you down like this. You had your pride to keep that for yourself.

And that pride led you to a small dimly lit room, somewhere near the station. Your memories were blurred by the red that kept colouring your sight, your chest rising up and down rapidly, with your loud huffs of air that fell on the face in front of you. He barely breathed as you held a small knife to his throat, his hands up in surrender, but that smile, that smirk on his face, you couldn't wipe it away even with a dagger threatening his thread of life to be cut. He was a victor too, after all, but you refused to step away now. "When you approached me," you started, still panting. "I thought you confused me with someone else. When you asked me out on a date, I thought you had to be totally wasted,"

"But you came-" Finnick hissed, making you push the cold metal against his neck even more, shutting him up. "I came because I never expected you to be so out of your fucking mind!" you retorted, your voice louder. The truth was, you didn't know why you came. You thought he might really have taken an interest in you. Was it that bad? To finally be able to escape your life in your district? No more spitting on you on the streets, no more threats, no more surviving. But as the seconds went by, you were more and more convinced that was the life you deserved. 

Meanwhile, Finnick was panicking inside. This was not how he imagined it to be, your dagger on his throat, the cold metal slowly grazing his dead skin cells before it could dig into his nerves and veins. He was so caught up in himself, so naive, thinking you would just roll with all of this. Now he thought you might stab him. Your guard was up, the smile from before was gone, it was replaced by anger, fury and... fear. You were scared. So was he. He could play on that. 

"I'm not out of my mind, sugar, you don't have to worry about that. And you don't have to worry about them," he nodded towards the locked door. "They won't hurt you anymore," His eyes softened as he spoke. If you could just play this with him, they will hurt neither of you.

Your eyes widened. "I'm not... I'm not worried about them," you relaxed your grip. And you noticed; Finnick did not take advantage of that. Then you let him go completely and he bent down, caressing his sore throat. "You have a nice grip," he nodded. 

But you stayed silent, watching him warily. "I swear, I won't hurt you," he extended his arms to you. You blinked a few times before your muscles relaxed. You haven't heard that sentence in 2 years. How refreshing, to have someone say that. But at what cost. "What do you want then?" you asked, still not letting him close enough. He smiled, gently. "You remember Katniss and Peeta?"

"The new victors?"

"Yes. I know how they survived this. We can do that too," he spoke softly, each word a seed in your heart, setting it ablaze. "How?" you asked too eagerly. "We will become star-crossed lovers ourselves," You gulped.

"Trust me."

He took your hand, opening the door to the outside. There were people on the sunlit streets, your hand in his soon enough catching their attention. You looked around, noticing their curious glances, the lifted eyebrows, faces of amusement. They wanted this.

Finnick spun you to face him, placing his palms firmly against your cheeks. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," you whispered, and with that, he pulled you in. Butterflies exploded in your stomach, his lips tasting sugar and ocean salt at the same time. They created a taste you could never forget. 

And if there was one thing you had to give to Finnick Odair, it was his charm. He did keep his word. He wooed you with just one date.

And that's how you happened to end up here. It took a few weeks, a few meetings, a bunch of interviews and you stood in one of the rooms in one of Capitol's mansions, the party downstairs at its peak. It took you a few kisses too, but you didn't dare to admit that it was your favorite part. 

A subtle knock on your door made you turn around as you tried to finish zipping up your dress. "Come in," you said, immediately smiling when you met Finnick's dark brown eyes. "Ready?" he asked, but you hesitated. "I don't know, I mean, what if they-"

"Hey, no what ifs, it's too late for that anyway," he came closer, placing his hands on your hips. "We'll just grab you a few drinks and you'll see how fast you'll relax," his warm breath tickled your ear as he turned your back to him, finishing your zip. "Finnick!" you hissed back instead of thank you, turning away to hide the redness on your cheeks. "I'm kidding! Just keep close to me and I'm sure you'll have the time of your life,"

"Yeah, can't wait for that," you mumbled as he gasped dramatically, your hand already in his, dragging you out and to the party.

As always, your entrance brought all the attention to you. It was like as soon as you started to appear with Finnick, his beams seemed to shine out of you too. He switched his grasp from your hand to your lower back, guiding you through the crowd, looking forward as if none of them existed. And everything seemed fine, until people actually started approaching you. You were terrified, unable to count how many times Finnick had to nudge you to relax before you could deprive his arm of any blood flow. Soon enough he was handing you a pink drink he fetched from the waiter, making you relax with every sip.

"Sleepless pills," one of the colorful guests smiled at you. 

"Huh?" you managed to say back. 

"It's a new pill from Capitol! Why sleep when you can eat this and stay up all night? Without feeling tired?" the woman squealed together with the man next to her. You looked up at Finnick to exchange shocked glances before you excused yourself, your head spinning, Finnick following you right after. "This is sick," you stated, leaning against one of the tables for support. 

"I'm trying to catch at least a few hours of sleep every night and they are creating pills to avoid it?" you couldn't believe the words you had just heard.

"Don't mind them, Y/n, you know they will never know what it is like," Finnick caressed your back gently, but his words and alcohol only made you angrier. 

"I think I need a minute," you breathed heavily, looking away from Finnick and down to the floor. "Should I get you water or something?" you heard him say, his words coming in muffled. You dragged yourself to the wall near you, sliding down your back and onto the floor. 

"I will get you-" you couldn't hear the rest, looking up and watching as Finnick's black suit disappeared in the crowd of walking rainbows. Then everything went dark.

When Finnick came back with water, you weren't there. In fact, you completely disappeared out of the hall. He looked around in panic, your name slipping down his tongue. He was ready to shout it at the crowd, maybe they noticed something while sipping the purple liquid...

Your drink was pink.

Finnick's face turned pale with realisation. And then he was shoving his way through the guests and out of the hall. 

➷ ➷ ➷

⤞ My masterlist ⤝

[saintlike05]

Does anybody think that in the Hunger Games series, the capitol would replay recordings of past Hunger Games and broadcast it on television? Like when the games weren’t taking place the capitol people were able to watch it if they liked. Each game from every year would be like a show/movie and they televised to the capital people if they ever wanted to rewatch it again. For instance if someone was bored with what’s on tv they could watch a random game. I could imagine some child say “Mom can we please rewatch the 57th games they’re my favorite!” They would probably make a party out of it too. A Hunger Game themed party where one of the activities would be to get a bowl and put numbered cards in there that rages from (1-74) maybe 75 idk (just like what the kids go through at the reaping) and whichever one they picked is the game their gonna rewatch. Or have a movie marathon of each game. Please tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this, let me know your thoughts!

Fyi I haven’t read the books so I’m not sure if they actually do this.

[hellomisst]

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes: Lucy Gray Testing Coryo After Leaving the Cabin

I watched TBOSAS this weekend and, yes, I have been planning to read the book. Actually, I am reading the book already.

But I really can't get it out of my mind. This "theory". Someone else might have already thought of it but...

Spoilers beyond this line.

It might be that Lucy Gray was testing Coryo when she left the cabin saying she'll get some katniss. She had been very suspicious when Coryo said he killed three people, when Lucy Gray only knows two. At that point, she already knows that he was lying... and she said that trust is important to her. When Coryo saw the guns while looking for fishing rods, he acted extremely creepily. I think it was at that point when Lucy Gray decided to run away.

But the thing is if she really wanted to run away, she had enough lead time for her not to be seen nor caught by Coryo even when he realized she was gone for too long and decided to go look for her. She even had time to set up a trap with the scarf and snake. When Coryo was shouting for her, she was there. The only time she realized that she really had to run away was when he started to have a meltdown and lose his mind/ sanity... or the last of his goodness.

I think what she was testing was his genuine goodness; if she can really trust him with her life or not. When Coryo decided to look for her, his initial thought and feeling was that she left him and betrayed him. He did not think that she might have been caught by the mayor or peacekeepers or just the government in general (if this was in the book, I'm not at that part yet). He did not think that she might have fallen into a trap or a hole or that she was caught by an animal. All he thought of was that he was found out and that Lucy Gray turned her back on him, when it was he who turned his back on her. I think that if he reacted differently, if he showed more concern about her wellbeing rather than his own, if he genuinely cared for her, Lucy Gray might have revealed herself saying that she had a hard time looking for a katniss that was ready to be picked and that he did not need to worry. And that her scarf had fallen when the rain swept it away and that they should look for it, but to be careful because there might be snakes somewhere.

But no. Coryo panicked and took a gun with him. He kept shouting accusations at her, kept revealing his own guilt, kept being aggressive. When he could not get an answer, when he realized he cannot own nor control her, he raged. He did say that they can talk about it, fix it, if he said or did something wrong; but his actions, tone, and gun showed the exact opposite: he was not going to trust her and that he might (will) kill her, Lucy Gray, the loose end he hoped to tame and control for the sake of love... but couldn't. All these and his raining of bullets showed Lucy Gray that she was mistaken in hoping that Coryo genuinely cared for her. All these showed that he was and will continue to be selfish and manipulative for his ambitions. The evidence was already there: Sejanus, his "brother", dead because of him and his ambitions to reign over Capitol and the whole of Panem. Which is why she ran and was (almost?) shot by Coryo. And why she sang The Hanging Tree to stir up the mockingjays and cover for her.

But then again, we really don't know what happened. The story was told in Coriolanus Snow's perspective, and for all we know, he might have been delirious that time. Maybe Lucy Gray Baird was already gone and it was some forest creature that he shot. Maybe he imagined The Hanging Tree. Maybe she was really shot but just got away and died on the way up north. Maybe she was really shot but was only grazed, so she still got away on time.

Either way, the ambiguity is amazing. There are tons of heroic tales, especially of women, that were erased from the records of history or were really not recorded for fear that they might inspire uprisings against the ruling class. The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes portray this perfectly, and why and how it happens... and The Hunger Games trilogy show what happens long after history was tried to be remade, but then marks of the past remain to see the downfall of an abusive and oppressive power.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Twenty Songs Challenge, written after being so lovingly inducted by the powerhouse that is sweet Mey, @the-ugly-swan . Challenge being to choose twenty favorited songs and write one shots based off of them with any pairing or fandom of my choosing. Being a weirdo and a little burned out in my own created universes beyond the fics already in works, I chose what currently inspired me most, obscure as it is.

Pairing: Henry “Hotspur” Percy and Lady “Kate” Mortimer Percy -early 15th century

Fandom: RPF, Shakespeare? Tom Glynn-Carney’s 5 magnificent minutes of a performance as Hotspur in <The King 2019> the armor alone was amply inspiring. The Hollow Crown fans feel free to imagine whoever, as you like. I love this historical pairing in about any iteration and the plot is drawn from both Shakespeare’s play and real history, the timeline, plot and politics being pretty self explanatory through the incorporated dialogue. NOTE- wordplay ahead with “cur” and “Kerr”, the latter being a Scottish clan holding great enmity with the Percy Family and charged with holding the Scottish side of the border. Also I kept Lady Percy’s name as “Kate” even though it was technically Elizabeth in the records.

Dynamic: a rough northern lord and his too good for him lady -a lady who has, through years of an arranged marriage gone horribly well, come to find his homespun gallantry and blunt ways more than a little intoxicating when knelt before her in amused deference. She could almost find it in herself to be gentle with him -if he hadn’t just started a rebellion whilst away from her at the Capitol.

Dedicated to my wifey @prompted-wordsmith who I did proselytize into the Percy cult one fevered evening with inestimable results, including her contribution of a few choice lines herein.

🕯As it Was ~ Hozier

“There is a roadway, muddy and foxgloved

Never I'd had life enough

My heart is screaming out

And in a few days I would be there, love

Whatever here that's left of me is yours just as it was”

Warnings: 18+ to be safe. a small amount of sexual content, flirtations, a husband and wife touching in public, verbal sparring and talk of making children and use of the word “bred”, swearing, use of the words “cock” and “cunt.”

The sound of hooves in the courtyard rouses Kate from her anxious stupor by the hearth, toilsome grain list forgotten on her lap. The scroll swishes to the floor at her abrupt standing, wafting out of her path as she rushes to the window.

First the clatter of a single, foremost, over-eager rider, followed at a lag by his retinue, skilled riders all and armored as befits the guard of a nobleman. They make such a clatter in the yard when they come in after him. Some petty part of her briefly considers the tactic of staying here in their chambers in protest, a quiet sign of disapproval with his errand, of discontent with his brusque leave taking two weeks agone.

Her Harry would find her anyway, and like it better that she were in their chambers. He would like it well she were so near the bed and like it ill she slighted him in her dutiful welcome -but he would not speak of that. Not one for speaking much, her husband, not on matters that plague her these days, weeks, months. Kate might have it out with him in the old way and slap him about and toss cold quips and get from him little more than the same benign aggravation and good humored laughs between, a couple dozen kisses to her neck and a grapple in the sheets.

That is what talk they would undertake were she to stay up here.

It is that lone, eager, forerunning clatter of his horse that speaks to her, speaks for him. Just as his sword and his reputation and his gruff graciousness has spoken well of him across these northern lands, his eagerness to return to her, to outstrip his men in haste to be back from his fool’s errand and into her embrace -it is all the declaration of devotion she may expect from him. It is the truest form, without jape lacing his tone or tonic of lust clouding his confessions.

Harry Hotspur, as fast to return to his wife as he is to meet a fight.

It is love, of the sort she has grown to be grateful for, and it is that and fear of losing it besides, that rushes her out from their chambers and down the polished steps, out to the great hall and past the giant outer doors, cursing a lousy servant or five and ordering a bath and commissioning supper and refreshments as she goes. The torch flames bend from her flight, a whoosh and a shadow stalking Alnwick Castle’s stone passageways until the gray light of evening pours into her sight from the opened great doors. Squires and stable boys clutter her path but they part as she dashes, nay, only a dignified hasten now, out into the courtyard where nearly all of this fool’s troup have dismounted.

There are doffed helms to the Lady Percy, the jangle of chain mail crinkling with bows and scraps of deference all around them, but she sees only him, with mist dripping on his nose and a face too boyish for the insolence he has returned from discharging.

“Kate.” he utters.

Will ever he say her name lazily? She hopes not, for that alone she will endure the unwarranted cheerfulness with which he greets her on this dire occasion. She has heard it said in anger, in jest and in passion, vows and quips, praise and warning. And now in cheerful pleasure as evening mist soaks her gown and the heavy clunk of her husband's footsteps clang ever near her on the paving stones.

“Lord husband.” she greets, hands folded over her freshly healed womb.

His stride falters and he rocks back on his spurred heels, an arms length away, an embrace so tangible she can see his jaw tick from the watering of his mouth. “Lord husband is it?” he repeats thoughtfully, eyes drifting down to the paving stones for a brief moment as if to recollect some forgotten crime, they flick up soon and in them is jesting scrutiny, “My lady wife rushed all this way, down five corridors and a furlong of Keep only to greet me thus?”

Did her rising breath betray her eagerness? Could he see her in the hall despite his business dismounting?

“Your cheeks are red.” he shows her mercy, some form of it. His form. “But -Lord husband, it is, nevertheless?”

“Unless you would prefer ought else?” she inquires, he had once thought this smile quite chilling, he had admitted after their first babe, now he finds it rousing, he has admitted after their third.

“If it please you.” his shifting stance is noisy, his tabard and sword and still clutched helm a racket of accouterments in the pattering rain.

“I have any number to offer,” she concedes, stepping nearer, a lady’s step, covering one third of the ground between them that he might vanquish in a single stride. Still, he waits. “Knucklehead.” she whispers, her breath a fog and her insult as lost as vapor in the ears of his watching men, her bearing alone must satisfy their curiosity, as must his growing smirk and rising color, “Jackenape.” Another step until each little scar on his face is visible and the little canyons each raindrop make of them. She saw his finger twitching where it grasped his visor “Cur.”

There was the slightest flinch between his brows at that, a furrow that smoothed as his mirthful lips flattened out. “Careful now, lady wife, with words like Kerr* thrown about, my men might think you presumptuous, their lady gone and married to some other, a Scottish laird at that. So sure of my death already, sweet Kate, that you must speak of Kerrs in mine own yard? Ha, ‘pon my word you are qu-“

“Hush!” Her hand, fresh warmed as it was by recent hearthside and rich velvets pressed frimly to his lips, a tingle shooting straight to her toes at touching him at last. He was silent then, only the puff of breath against her fast chilling fingertips. “Tease me not so,” she begged, her own mirth gone out in her eyes, her arch look turned to grief, “not when you are just returned from an errand all but ensuring such an end. It is too cruel, even of you. Handle me kindly, Percy, as you always have, in words this time, if not in embrace.”

He seemed to ponder this before raising that hand not occupied with his helm, clumsy and clad in gauntlet as it was, to her wrist, wrapping the chilled and layered steel round her pale flesh and gently tugging her hand from his lips, only so far as to press it to his cheek instead, their audience of men at arms unheeded. “I betook myself to London,” he enunciated, as if it were their first night all over again and his thick borderland drawl too strong for her courtly ears to decipher, “to remind a king of his debts.”

“And tell me!” she cried fiercely, a choked, barely quieted protest as her hands dug into the wet leather of his jerkin, wrist twisted from the steel grasp, “What errand is that but a fool’s? Have you no fear at all left in this bruised carcass? Do I patch up an animated corpse time and again from your wars only for it never to have soul and feeling and wisdom in it? Do I, Harry? Gone to remind a king? How do you dare such?”

“It is he who has dared too much!” he cried back, loudly where her’s had been choked, a ringing and rebauld defense, worthy of a man who would chastise his monarch in full view of council. “First his debts, and now my son’s land! We did not make children so as to watch like blithe cowards as their birthright is bequeathed out from under our feet -piecemeal!- to a courtly cunt whose only recommendation is his alacrity to pucker and bow.”

Kate glanced about her at the men making show of industry, piddling at harnesses and armaments, walking horses in circles. Her husband's words could be no worse than what he had said to the King’s own face, anyone without stomach to become a rebel would have stayed behind in the Capitol, sensing dissension brewing. Lady Percy could perceive none missing from his number. So, a war it was to be, then.

“So, a new generation of Percys is to play at kingmaking.” she summarized.

“We make no boast of it.” Harry protested in turn.

“No,” said she, “why would you with how poorly your last choice has served you?”

That caused a start from him, a step forward that was neither gallant nor eager but angry as man to man. Kate, still with hands fisted in the crooks of his armor, stepped with him, backwards to his hall. “It is your brother with the better claim.” he showed his plan at last, a slow and conniving admission, one not common for his brash ways and straightforward mind.

Kate gasped at the implication. “Edmund?”

“He was proper heir, all along.”

“Your father-“ she chose her wording carefully, “-did not agree.”

“My father’s preference is not law.”

“It is mistaken for such, often.” Kate smirked in reply. “And Edmund is not suited-“

“-Edmund is not the turd now stealing from his vassals!” her Harry rejoined, his helmet pressed to her chest, “Edmund will do.” he reiterated once more.

Kate stared at his temper, the signs of it in his flaring nose and his wild eyes, the cure was between her thighs but watching mist drops fall from unblinking lashes was sweet prelude indeed. “Edmund,” she replied quietly and in a manner to be heeded, “is not willing or suited, he prefers instead to listen to welsh bards and lay upon the lap of his savage wife.”

Her Harry rolled his eyes at her truth, an admission, or the closest to one, she would ever receive. As if battling some great inner turmoil she watched him purse his lips and heave out a sigh before in a sudden movement the helm was tossed to the ground -much to the scramble and reaction of a half a dozen squires who ran to pick it up from its puddle- and suddenly steel hands were upon her hips, tugging her near to him even as she shied away, her face turned in a pantomime of demureness. “Strange,” he said and his tone suggested he still pondered her report of her brother's amorous preoccupations, “-and her lap so less Devine than mine own wife’s.”

“Then why do you haste from it so often?” she whined, delivering a smack against his belted tabard, right where the lions paraded across his right breast.

“Only a man dying of thirst appreciates that water has a flavor.” he reasoned and Kate allowed the open mouthed kisses that crept down her neck, her face turned stubbornly still to the south wall. The blacksmith's roof will be in need of new thatching soon, before spring. Before war.

She feels stubble against her tender skin, bracketing those pretty lips she once derided him for. No warrior ought to have lips like that, it was not seemly, not when maidens were denied such richness, such fullness, such rosy hue. But there is roughness about his lips and on his jaw as it tucks into the juncture at her shoulder, that show of clavicle her dress allows drawing him in like a siren’s song. He must’ve rode hard the entire way, no inns or refreshment, no shaving or baths, straight to her as from a battlefield. The King’s city is just as loathsome as any field of carnage, but he went to free her brother, to get a ransom, to reclaim their stolen land, to remind a king.

He did it for her, and the babes she gave him.

Kate turns her face from the blacksmith's thatch and raises her hand to his face, tenderly stroking the three days' beard that's grown as he's been on the road, riding hard to get to her. They have backed nearly to the hall’s mouth, the drip of rain off the gutter patters behind her on the threshold, Kate knows he can smell supper and hear the clatter of their children racing to meet him on still chubby legs. How different is the love of home, man to woman, Harry would sooner fight for it and she would cower within. Her thumb swipes at the raindrops making farce of tears upon his cheek.

"Princess," he breathes against her palm as he crushes her into his chest, still half armored and agonized for it as he cannot feel her softness with the cuirass, the leather, the chainmail. There are curves and bosoms and soft flesh he knows too well just on the other side of this awful barrier.

Princess will be her title if his treason succeeds, if her brother wears that cursed crown. “Princess”. It sours her mouth, but it is kind of him to wish it for her.

"You will come back, Harry.” she commands of him, she declares the outcome of this brewing war, “Soaked in the blood of feckless scum, you will come back and put another babe in me. A little prince or princess," she hisses in his ear, and she can tell he freezes at that, her concession to his treason, still as stone in his metal casings.

His eyes are ever so blue as they search hers.

"So I forbid any recklessness, my Lord Husband. Because I want this - " and her hand slips beneath his jerkin and the hem of mail to squeeze his cockstand most assuredly, as assuredly as she was that he would be sporting one for her, gripping it as one might grasp a chalice of wine during a toast "- and the rest of you, in one piece." Harry slumps against her shoulder, panting into the chilled hair and too heavy for her little frame. "Or so help me God." she intones, sharper than any steel he wields. "Swear it, Harry." She gives him another punishing squeeze, and he groans, agonized, as his mouth meets with the softness of her bound bosom, his knees the hardness of the stone cobbles. If she hadn't promised a use for his cock, he'd think she was liable to geld him herself at his presumption to seat and unseat a king, but now that he is out of her grip, for a moment, and looks up at her with such longing he fears his soul has left his chest for hers.

"So help me God." he agrees, it is in providence’s hands, after all, and in Kate’s clasped one’s atop his head.

“Fool.” she says once more as she bends over him, gently pressing a hand to the back of his head, pressing his face to her belly and her chilled fingers to his sopping hair, “It is not my brother these men fight for, nor for me. Not when it is you that calls them to it.”

“For what then?” He mumbles into her womb, hands heavy on her hips, the courtyard’s occupants dispersed into the shadows of the eaves, but a couple dozen peering eyes twinkle towards them in the twilight’s gloom.

“How often have I heard it said here, in this very courtyard.” Kate scoffs, observing the strength knelt so adoringly before her, “Have I dreamed each cry of ‘no prince save he be a Percy?’ Ha, to think they fight for a Mortimer, indeed. Ha!”

Harry staggers to his feet at this poke, it is, as are so many of his Kate’s wounds, half torment, half praise. His blood pounds with the elixir of her acknowledgment of his capability. “It is well then, Kate Mortimer,” he recites, daring now to put his lips very near her own, to nuzzle his strong nose with her hawkish one, to tip a chin and bat an eyelash against her wet cheek, “it is well that you are Percy now yourself, through and through, wed-“ his lips meet hers in a brush she chases after, “-and bred.”

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

Hope all five of you who read that enjoyed it. 😆 I know it’s a fragment but as I’m nothing but hyper fixated when some interests resurrects in me, I’ll probably be back with more of them. Drop a note below if you’d like to be on a taglist for such developments.

[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

[meekmedea]

hello!! i absolutely love your time-travel au!! i saw on one of your posts that you said you have a lot of thoughts on the dovecote family- i was wondering if you’d be willing to share any of those thoughts?

Hi!! So happy to hear you've been enjoying the time-travel au :)

I'd love to share Dovecote family thoughts and to hear your (and also everyone's) thoughts as well!

So without further adieu...

Dovecote Family Lore

Some background info - TBOSAS mentions the old guard for some families in the book and I sort of took that idea and ran haha

So within the various families that make up the old guard, I like to imagine a hierarchy exists within them. There's families at the very top and also minor houses

And all these families that are part of the old guard have family crests and even Latin mottos to distinguish themselves from the nouveau riche and the lower classes (both Capitol and District) Is it a bit pretentious? Yes. But that's part of the fun

I see 'Dovecote' as one of the minor houses - old enough for the Latin motto and family crest, but not as prestigious as 'Ravinstill' or even 'Phibbs'

family crest ideas: a dove? a pair of them? idk but I'd like to incorporate the bird into it

motto ideas: I have like way too many, but these are my current favourites (My translations might be a bit rough 😅)

Alis grave nil (nothing [is] heavy with wings)

Ad astra per aspera (to the stars through difficulties)

Amata bene (well loved)

Cor aut mors (heart or death)

~~~~~

Also THIS idea that the Dovecote family is well-respected amongst the old-guard, but nobody knows where they first made their money/wealth and where exactly it comes from right now

I think it'd be funny if nobody in the Capitol can agree on how the Dovecotes are part of the old guard. They just sort of appeared one day on records and that was that

Nevertheless there are theories: some say the family is built on blood money (ie. a crime family /mercenaries /assassins elevated to the old guard either through blackmail or some notorious deed). There's some that think they're some vassal house that was elevated to this standing for some good deed or other 

Also Dovecote clementines 🤭 (I keep adding this to a lot of my other AUs)

They're as tied to the Dovecotes as roses are tied to the Snows

The fruit are especially sweet when compared to the average clementine and nobody has a clue where their supply comes from

They have it year round even when they're not in season

It's a semi-recent thing, it started in Clemensia's parents' time as teenagers

For the Dovecotes, the clementines are a way to communicate things - there is no one thing it represents (ie. I love you / be careful / you are dear to me etc. )

Random lore about our Dovecote family members in this AU

Clemensia is an only child

Endymion Dovecote and Aelia Dovecote née Beauchamps have a running joke whose charm Clemmie inherited (it's Endymion, the Dovecote genes are strong here)

like father, like daughter, especially the Dovecote smile. Also both of them seem to be able to befriend anyone, they really do have friends everywhere

Endymion is an indulgent husband and father

I had this in a different AU, but I liked it enough to want to maybe add it here; how part of the Dovecotes being sort of anonymous in their circles is because of their control on the media - unless Endymion approves it, nothing about the family is published. Especially if it's about his daughter

Because the movie promo had Clemmie talk about D1 and D5, I decided to connect D1 to her mother's family.

Her mother (Aelia) comes from a merchant family - so, wealthy but not part of the old guard. The Beauchamp family owns a jewelry business, Lavinium. And pre-war that was THE place for the elite to shop at

Clemensia stands in line to inherit the business from her maternal uncle (family inheritance in the Beauchamp family can be messy hehe. Doesn't help that her uncle has no children of his own and instead has 2 sisters with their own children)

Actually there's this one dialogue I have about Clemensia between Livia Cardew and her own father - inspired by that line in Dune

Livia has a bit of a motive here to be Clemmie's friend and to stay her friend

Livia's mother owns the biggest bank in Panem, there's no way she doesn't hear from her parents about her classmates' family's finances

Livia's father is probably one of the only people to have a semi-good grasp on what the Dovecote finances are like because he manages the accounts

Because the Capitol is still recovering, Lavinium isn't earning as much as it had pre-war. And the Dovecote accounts don't have any deposits from them either

Livia's father: I hear you've recently become good friends with the Dovecote girl. Well done. Make sure to keep her close.

Livia (age 8): Because she's a possible heir to Lavinium?

Livia's father: No. Because she is Endymion's daughter.

Yet the Dovecote family is considered is recovering quicker than anyone can explain

The salary of the secretary of energy pays well, but not that well.

Dovecote family rumours are hard at work again haha

[ilguna]

☼ confession (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; ' hi love! could i request a finnick imaging where the reader and finn have feelings for each other and the reader is kinda quiet and then finnick gets slightly frustrated trying to admit his feelings to the reader (because he can’t find the right words) and then he starts to walk away all defeated and sad and then the reader like admits they feelings for him and surprises finnick?? sorry i know this is really detailed 🤭thank you!! ‘

warnings; swearing, hints at prostitution

wc; 3k

notes; pre-74th hunger games. takes place before the 73rd hunger games but after the 72nd.

–

The absolute worst part about being a victor in a career district is the fact that you have a status to uphold. Which means getting up early, running the boarding school with Finnick, and then staying late to get ready for the next day. By the time you get home, you have to go to bed.

And this doesn’t include all the little side problems that come with it. The peacekeepers know the power they have over you. They might not be allowed to officially bust the school, but they come around for bribes anyway. Not that they actually make any dent into the funds, it’s just extremely irritating.

The students are almost all the same, cocky but unprepared. As if the knowledge on how to build a fire, find water, hunt, will magically appear inside of their heads. Then they try to treat you as if your tactics are outdated, since the boarding school doesn’t have the technology that the Capitol has. Which isn’t a money problem, you could afford to have this stupid place renovated ten times over, it’s the issue of getting busted and shut down. You can’t be obvious with it. To them, that doesn’t matter.

Also, it apparently doesn’t matter that District Four has one of the highest turnover rates right now. All they can see is the amount of people they’ve lost in recent years, rather than the fact that even District One and Two are falling behind. 

Everyone tries to wow over the fact that Enobaria won the 62nd, Gloss the 63rd and Cashmere, the 64th. To them, it’s impressive if someone rips out a throat and siblings win back to back. They forget that Finnick won the 65th hunger games, the youngest ever. And you were hot on his heels, 66th games, most kills in a single game. Two record-breaking tributes aren’t as satisfying, unless they’re in your bed.

Anyway, Annie won the 70th games, and just last year—72nd games—you had a boy win. While One and Two have only had one victor each since their spotlight. It’s a little infuriating to have teenagers talk down to you, when you only won six years ago. You’re not as old as they’re making you out to be.

No matter how badly you wish you could ditch the school, you can’t. You have a role to fulfill, just like your mentors.

As you swing the door shut behind you, you continue to walk into the school. You and Finnick alternate between being the openers every other month, mostly because there’s not really a need for two people. You go through the building, turning on every lightswitch imaginable, while also checking rooms to make sure they haven’t been broken into.

Over time, it’s been less frequent, but back when you were in here as a student, there’d constantly be broken windows, missing equipment. Originally, Mags had thought that it was peacekeepers that were doing it. Really, it was anxious parents trying to get the place shutdown, in fear of the entire district being punished for having it running.

The Capitol doesn’t care, they never have. This building’s been operating since before the fiftieth Hunger Games, if President Snow wanted to do anything about it, he would’ve by now. Except, the Capitol loves their seafood, like how they love their jewelry and furniture. They’re not going to go make stupid decisions just because one district is winning more than the other’s.

The break-ins stopped when you and Finnick stepped in to take ownership after your wins. You were almost going to let it continue to happen, until someone left a death threat at your door. Being sixteen years-old, fresh out of the arena, and not a single fuck to give, you came up with a plan.

All it took was showing up to each and every house that had ever stolen from the boarding school, baseball bat in hand, threatening to make them repay every penny, for everyone else to get the memo. And you didn’t even break a single bone, not that you would have, either. It was all for show.

People were scared of you back then, and they still are now. Even Finnick—your best friend—isn’t all that super close to you, as much as you wish he were. Although, maybe it’s for the best.

You wander to the kitchen area, finding it spotless, thanks to Finnick. It’s another reason why you switch between opening, because you also take turns closing. It allows him to sleep in more, while it doesn’t really affect you. You stay behind to keep him company at night, he hates closing up by himself.

You get to work preparing lunch, since the front doors won’t unlock until around noon. The kids, twelve to fourteen, go home at around six to get dinner and go to bed. The teenagers typically stay until nine, sometimes ten if you and Finnick get distracted. And you get to do this all year, except for when the Hunger Games come around.

A couple hours later, and you see the door opening. Finnick’s running a hand through his wet hair, a sheepish smile on his face, “Good afternoon.”

“Hey.” You smile, “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot my keys.” He comes closer, leaning against the stainless steel counters. Most of it is covered in flour, he chooses the small area that’s clear, “Can I borrow yours to unlock the doors?”

You roll your eyes, dusting off your hands. You snag the keys from your belt loop, tossing it at him, “Where’d you leave them this time? Annie’s?”

Finnick scoffs, “No, they’re here somewhere, I just have to find where.”

“Right.” You get back to rolling the dough, “Let me know if you need help.”

“What’re you making this time?” He asks, face twisted.

“Apple pie, I bought the ice cream a couple days ago.” You pause, and then stop moving again. Finnick does this thing where he’ll suck in his bottom lip when he’s unsure. “Alright, spit it out.”

Finnick waves his hand, backing off, “We can talk about it later.”

“If you say so. I should be done in an hour.”

Finnick nods, leaving the kitchen. This isn’t the first time he’s done this to you in the past month. Whatever it is, you have a feeling it’s also why he hasn’t been hanging out with you as often. Every time you try, he’s already got plans to go and see Annie. Which is fine, you don’t have a monopoly over Finnick’s freetime, and there was a period of time where you didn’t want to hang out with him, either.

Like you said earlier, he doesn’t normally like closing by himself. Lately, it’s all he wants to do.

After you get lunch and the dessert done, you let it cool while you clean up. The mess isn’t too terribly bad, considering what it’s like normally when you put more effort in. You carry plates and silverware out into the dining hall, carefully stacking them. You put trays on one end, something you had to invest in after you started making multiple dishes.

You then lay out the food, wipe the tables down, and take your time getting to the main training room. Even from down the hallway, you can hear the Capitol music to keep the room from being too quiet. It’s Friday, leading into the weekend. They don’t normally learn anything, only practice the areas they felt weak in. When they go home tonight, you and finnick will prepare for Monday, and then sit out the weekend.

You slide in the door, arms crossed as you watch the kids run around. There’s little sections laid out across the large room, separated by walls. It makes the room less open and echoey, a problem that had been bothering you for years as a teenager. You fixed it as soon as your name came onto the contract.

Finnick’s off in the weapon section, an area you two frequent to make sure they’re being safe. It’s not the older ones you have to look out for, it’s the new kids that immediately go for the most dangerous item in the room. It’s irritating, but you want them to explore and figure out their strengths.

Wandering over, you smile at a few of the teenagers that stop long enough to greet you, ask what’s for lunch, or want help with what they’re practicing. By the time you make it over to Finnick, he’s finally realized that you’re here.

“Ready to dismiss?” You ask, Finnick nods.

“Yeah, sounds good.”

You walk back to the front of the room, turning off the music. It grabs most, if not all, attention without having to yell. Still, there’s always that last couple of people who don’t catch the idea, “It’s time for lunch, clean up your area and return all towels to the hamper. We’ll leave when the room’s put together.”

It takes less than ten minutes, they all move quickly. In no time, a crowd’s gathered at the door, which you gladly push open to let them out. They know to head to the dining hall by themselves. You watch as the last person leaves through the door, leaving only Finnick.

He’s distracted, stuffing a few missed towels back into the hamper. It’s on wheels, making it easy to move. You take it from him, and begin down the hallway.

“Hey,” He says, jogging to catch up with you, “I want to talk to you real quick.”

“Sure.” You agree, pushing open the laundry room door. Finnick holds it for you while you go inside, “What’s up?”

He holds out your keys, returning them, “I should probably give these to you first, before I forget.”

You make a face, “This is what you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, no.” He says, you take the keys, “I—um—it’s more important than that.”

You wait, but he doesn’t go any further, “And?”

Finnick sucks in his bottom lip again, “Are you going to stay with me tonight?”

“I try to, lately you’ve been blowing me off.” You try to sound casual as you’re throwing sweat towels in the washing machine. The truth is that you’re peeved. You always ask him if he wants you to stay, he’s the one that’s been saying no.

“Sorry, it’s just easier to think when I’m alone.” He rubs the back of his neck, “I should go check on the dining hall.”

“Whatever.” You shrug, turning your back to him.

The only indication of Finnick leaving is the sound of the door clicking shut. You let out a breath, frustrated with him. Easier to think when he’s alone? As if, he never shuts up about his thoughts unless you’re telling him to. And that’s only when you have a headache.

Either way, you finish what you’re doing and join Finnick in the dining hall for a good fifteen minutes. The kids finish eating, which means you and Finnick do a trade-off, where he’ll do the dishes and make the kitchen spotless again. You get to teach a mini lesson and let them do whatever they want to do for the rest of the day, combined with some survival games.

It’s pretty easy, for the most part you sit on a stool and observe. They don’t normally misbehave with you here, Finnick’s got the easy going personality that allows him to be walked on. There’s a difference between the two of you, you won’t tolerate it, and Finnick gives warnings.

Finnick comes back two hours later, right on time for you to begin one of the three games you have planned for the kids. You pick out twenty-four popsicle sticks with names on them, allowing a random range of ages. And then, one at a time, you go down the list, each giving them a Capitol scenario that will decide their time inside of the arena depending on their answers. They all pass this round.

An hour later, you bring them back to give them an arena scenario, and the ones who don’t survive are eliminated. Whether that be dumb answers or luck that’s run out, they have to go back to general training. By the end of this round, there’s only eight students remaining.

The little teenagers get sent home on time, with the exception of the few that were selected for your mock Hunger Games. Finnick goes ahead and gives a call to the parents while you watch the room.

Just before class ends, you have the room cleaned up. The eight surviving students come to the front of the room, each given some sort of prop weapon. You set the sixteen dead students off to the side to watch. The rest of the students are given the option to gamble on a tribute to win the next Friday off, or lose out on the dessert you’ll serve.

Most of them gamble. You sit back on your stool, clipboard in hand, Finnick’s standing nearby, “Alright, you’ve all made it to the final bloodbath. Winner gets to pick out what they want for lunch next Friday, plus a hundred dollars. You all know the rules, no hair pulling, no hits below the belt.”

You count down from five, and on one, they begin to attack each other. It’s a little funny, watching them go at each other like animals. Maybe a little cathartic, if you have to admit it. All you know is that the teenagers also get a kick out of it, even the ones on the sidelines. They’re cheering, screaming, clapping, the only thing they can’t do is give advice.

One by one, they’re picked off, until a seventeen year old girl is left. She’s covered in sweat, but she’s holding up her sword as if she’s actually won. Then she points the sword at you.

“I challenge you, (Y/n). If I win, the losing betters get dessert anyway.” She’s out of breath, “If I lose, I only get to choose lunch and dessert, no hundred.”

You slowly smile, sliding off of the stool. You place the clipboard down, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I am.” She backs away slightly to give you room to pick out a weapon from the previous discarded ones on the floor, “You always tell us how easy it is to take down an opponent, but I don’t believe you.”

You let out a small laugh, picking a machete off of the floor to match her sword. Hers will reach out further, but that doesn’t matter to you. You could pick the knife, and still end up as a winner.

“That’s because you think too much.” You swing the machete in your hand, “The trick is to act.”

She opens her mouth to speak, holding the sword out off to the side, no longer protecting her body with the blade. You throw the machete at her, watch as it smacks into her chest, and then falls to the floor. In less than five seconds.

Some of the teenagers laugh, which causes others to follow. You point to the dead students, “Alright, clean up your weapons. You’re all dismissed.”

Finnick leads them out, you stay behind to make sure everyone leaves. The winner of your mock games stays around long enough to tell you what she wants next Friday, and then leaves after. You meet Finnick at the front doors, lock them up, and then the two of you do a sweep of the entire building together.

“Office or dining hall?” You ask, “Also, did you switch the towels earlier?”

“I did it while I was making phone calls.” He waves his hand, “And all you have to do tonight is sign papers. The rest is done.”

“Cool.” You follow him to the office, “Still wanna ask that question?”

“Yeah, but not right now.” He seems better, at least.

“You and Annie dating?” You guess.

He glares at you slightly, “No, we aren’t.”

You squint at him in response. He holds open the office door, “I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t have to.” He mocks.

You sign paperwork, it’s pretty boring, stuff he’s already signed. The usual about shipments of food to confirm you still need it. You write a list of what you’ll need for next week, and pass it off to Finnick to take care of. He’ll probably get it done this weekend so that he doesn’t have to worry about it later.

Once you’re done, you two leave out the back door, double check to make sure all doors are locked, and then start the long walk home. The night air is cool against your arms, and the stars are shining particularly bright tonight. You hum most of the way, not letting Finnick’s silence bother you.

It isn’t until you’ve reached Victor’s Village, does he finally stop, “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately, (Y/n). I don’t know…” He rubs the back of his neck, face twisted, “We’ve known each other—” He pauses again, shaking his head, “Never mind, I can’t do this tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He starts off toward his house, you shove your hands into your pockets, “I love you, Finnick.”

He stops to look at you, his face is a gentle shade of red.

“That’s it, right?” You ask, “Because I feel the same way.”

He stares at you for a second, almost like he can’t believe you beat him to the punch. Or the fact that you actually feel the same way. But then he smiles, and the dimples appear on his cheeks again, and he’s nodding.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

“Good, because this would be awkward.” You wander to him, he laughs, “You wanna come over?”

Finnick nods, holding out his hand, you take it, leaning your head against his arm.

[feminist-space]

How Cigna Saves Millions by Having Its Doctors Reject Claims Without Reading Them

by Patrick Rucker, Maya Miller and David Armstrong for ProPublica

March 25, 5 a.m. EDT

Internal documents and former company executives reveal how Cigna doctors reject patients’ claims without opening their files. “We literally click and submit,” one former company doctor said.

When a stubborn pain in Nick van Terheyden’s bones would not subside, his doctor had a hunch what was wrong.

Without enough vitamin D in the blood, the body will pull that vital nutrient from the bones. Left untreated, a vitamin D deficiency can lead to osteoporosis.

A blood test in the fall of 2021 confirmed the doctor’s diagnosis, and van Terheyden expected his company’s insurance plan, managed by Cigna, to cover the cost of the bloodwork. Instead, Cigna sent van Terheyden a letter explaining that it would not pay for the $350 test because it was not “medically necessary.”

The letter was signed by one of Cigna’s medical directors, a doctor employed by the company to review insurance claims.

Something about the denial letter did not sit well with van Terheyden, a 58-year-old Maryland resident. “This was a clinical decision being second-guessed by someone with no knowledge of me,” said van Terheyden, a physician himself and a specialist who had worked in emergency care in the United Kingdom.

The vague wording made van Terheyden suspect that Dr. Cheryl Dopke, the medical director who signed it, had not taken much care with his case.

Van Terheyden was right to be suspicious. His claim was just one of roughly 60,000 that Dopke denied in a single month last year, according to internal Cigna records reviewed by ProPublica and The Capitol Forum.

The rejection of van Terheyden’s claim was typical for Cigna, one of the country’s largest insurers. The company has built a system that allows its doctors to instantly reject a claim on medical grounds without opening the patient file, leaving people with unexpected bills, according to corporate documents and interviews with former Cigna officials. Over a period of two months last year, Cigna doctors denied over 300,000 requests for payments using this method, spending an average of 1.2 seconds on each case, the documents show. The company has reported it covers or administers health care plans for 18 million people.

Before health insurers reject claims for medical reasons, company doctors must review them, according to insurance laws and regulations in many states. Medical directors are expected to examine patient records, review coverage policies and use their expertise to decide whether to approve or deny claims, regulators said. This process helps avoid unfair denials.

But the Cigna review system that blocked van Terheyden’s claim bypasses those steps. Medical directors do not see any patient records or put their medical judgment to use, said former company employees familiar with the system. Instead, a computer does the work. A Cigna algorithm flags mismatches between diagnoses and what the company considers acceptable tests and procedures for those ailments. Company doctors then sign off on the denials in batches, according to interviews with former employees who spoke on condition of anonymity.

“We literally click and submit,” one former Cigna doctor said. “It takes all of 10 seconds to do 50 at a time.”

Not all claims are processed through this review system. For those that are, it is unclear how many are approved and how many are funneled to doctors for automatic denial.

Insurance experts questioned Cigna’s review system.

Patients expect insurers to treat them fairly and meaningfully review each claim, said Dave Jones, California’s former insurance commissioner. Under California regulations, insurers must consider patient claims using a “thorough, fair and objective investigation.”

“It’s hard to imagine that spending only seconds to review medical records complies with the California law,” said Jones. “At a minimum, I believe it warrants an investigation.”

Within Cigna, some executives questioned whether rendering such speedy denials satisfied the law, according to one former executive who spoke on condition of anonymity because he still works with insurers.

“We thought it might fall into a legal gray zone,” said the former Cigna official, who helped conceive the program. “We sent the idea to legal, and they sent it back saying it was OK.”

Cigna adopted its review system more than a decade ago, but insurance executives say similar systems have existed in various forms throughout the industry.

In a written response, Cigna said the reporting by ProPublica and The Capitol Forum was “biased and incomplete.”

Cigna said its review system was created to “accelerate payment of claims for certain routine screenings,” Cigna wrote. “This allows us to automatically approve claims when they are submitted with correct diagnosis codes.”

When asked if its review process, known as PXDX, lets Cigna doctors reject claims without examining them, the company said that description was “incorrect.” It repeatedly declined to answer further questions or provide additional details. (ProPublica employees’ health insurance is provided by Cigna.)

Former Cigna doctors confirmed that the review system was used to quickly reject claims. An internal corporate spreadsheet, viewed by the news organizations, lists names of Cigna’s medical directors and the number of cases each handled in a column headlined “PxDx.” The former doctors said the figures represent total denials. Cigna did not respond to detailed questions about the numbers.

Cigna's explanation that its review system was designed to approve claims didn’t make sense to one former company executive. “They were paying all these claims before. Then they weren’t,” said Ron Howrigon, who now runs a company that helps private doctors in disputes with insurance companies. “You’re talking about a system built to deny claims.”

Cigna emphasized that its system does not prevent a patient from receiving care — it only decides when the insurer won’t pay. “Reviews occur after the service has been provided to the patient and does not result in any denials of care,” the statement said.

"Our company is committed to improving health outcomes, driving value for our clients and customers, and supporting our team of highly-skilled Medical Directors,” the company said.

PXDX

Cigna’s review system was developed more than a decade ago by a former pediatrician.

After leaving his practice, Dr. Alan Muney spent the next several decades advising insurers and private equity firms on how to wring savings out of health plans.

In 2010, Muney was managing health insurance for companies owned by Blackstone, the private equity firm, when Cigna tapped him to help spot savings in its operation, he said.

Insurers have wide authority to reject claims for care, but processing those denials can cost a few hundred dollars each, former executives said. Typically, claims are entered into the insurance system, screened by a nurse and reviewed by a medical director.

For lower-dollar claims, it was cheaper for Cigna to simply pay the bill, Muney said.

“They don’t want to spend money to review a whole bunch of stuff that costs more to review than it does to just pay for it,” Muney said.

Muney and his team had solved the problem once before. At UnitedHealthcare, where Muney was an executive, he said his group built a similar system to let its doctors quickly deny claims in bulk.

In response to questions, UnitedHealthcare said it uses technology that allows it to make “fast, efficient and streamlined coverage decisions based on members benefit plans and clinical criteria in compliance with state and federal laws.” The company did not directly address whether it uses a system similar to Cigna.

At Cigna, Muney and his team created a list of tests and procedures approved for use with certain illnesses. The system would automatically turn down payment for a treatment that didn’t match one of the conditions on the list. Denials were then sent to medical directors, who would reject these claims with no review of the patient file.

Cigna eventually designated the list “PXDX” — corporate shorthand for procedure-to-diagnosis. The list saved money in two ways. It allowed Cigna to begin turning down claims that it had once paid. And it made it cheaper to turn down claims, because the company’s doctors never had to open a file or conduct any in-depth review. They simply denied the claims in bulk with an electronic signature.

“The PXDX stuff is not reviewed by a doc or nurse or anything like that,” Muney said.

The review system was designed to prevent claims for care that Cigna considered unneeded or even harmful to the patient, Muney said. The policy simply allowed Cigna to cheaply identify claims that it had a right to deny.

Muney said that it would be an “administrative hassle” to require company doctors to manually review each claim rejection. And it would mean hiring many more medical directors.

“That adds administrative expense to medicine,” he said. “It’s not efficient.”

But two former Cigna doctors, who did not want to be identified by name for fear of breaking confidentiality agreements with Cigna, said the system was unfair to patients. They said the claims automatically routed for denial lacked such basic information as race and gender.

“It was very frustrating,” one doctor said.

Some state regulators questioned Cigna’s PXDX system.

In Maryland, where van Terheyden lives, state insurance officials said the PXDX system as described by a reporter raises “some red flags.”

The state’s law regulating group health plans purchased by employers requires that insurance company doctors be objective and flexible when they sit down to evaluate each case.

If Cigna medical directors are “truly rubber-stamping the output of the matching software without any additional review, it would be difficult for the medical director to comply with these requirements,” the Maryland Insurance Administration wrote in response to questions.

Medicare and Medicaid have a system that automatically prevents improper payment of claims that are wrongly coded. It does not reject payment on medical grounds.

Within the world of private insurance, Muney is certain that the PXDX formula has boosted the corporate bottom line. “It has undoubtedly saved billions of dollars,” he said.

Insurers benefit from the savings, but everyone stands to gain when health care costs are lowered and unneeded care is denied, he said.

Speedy Reviews

Cigna carefully tracks how many patient claims its medical directors handle each month. Twelve times a year, medical directors receive a scorecard in the form of a spreadsheet that shows just how fast they have cleared PXDX cases.

Dopke, the doctor who turned down van Terheyden, rejected 121,000 claims in the first two months of 2022, according to the scorecard.

Dr. Richard Capek, another Cigna medical director, handled more than 80,000 instant denials in the same time span, the spreadsheet showed.

Dr. Paul Rossi has been a medical director at Cigna for over 30 years. Early last year, the physician denied more than 63,000 PXDX claims in two months.

Rossi, Dopke and Capek did not respond to attempts to contact them.

Howrigon, the former Cigna executive, said that although he was not involved in developing PXDX, he can understand the economics behind it.

“Put yourself in the shoes of the insurer,” Howrigon said. “Why not just deny them all and see which ones come back on appeal? From a cost perspective, it makes sense.”

Cigna knows that many patients will pay such bills rather than deal with the hassle of appealing a rejection, according to Howrigon and other former employees of the company. The PXDX list is focused on tests and treatments that typically cost a few hundred dollars each, said former Cigna employees.

“Insurers are very good at knowing when they can deny a claim and patients will grumble but still write a check,” Howrigon said.

Muney and other former Cigna executives emphasized that the PXDX system does leave room for the patient and their doctor to appeal a medical director’s decision to deny a claim.

But Cigna does not expect many appeals. In one corporate document, Cigna estimated that only 5% of people would appeal a denial resulting from a PXDX review.

“A Negative Customer Experience”

In 2014, Cigna considered adding a new procedure to the PXDX list to be flagged for automatic denials.

Autonomic nervous system testing can help tell if an ailing patient is suffering from nerve damage caused by diabetes or a variety of autoimmune diseases. It’s not a very involved procedure — taking about an hour — and it costs a few hundred dollars per test.

The test is versatile and noninvasive, requiring no needles. The patient goes through a handful of checks of heart rate, sweat response, equilibrium and other basic body functions.

At the time, Cigna was paying for every claim for the nerve test without bothering to look at the patient file, according to a corporate presentation. Cigna officials were weighing the cost and benefits of adding the procedure to the list. “What is happening now?” the presentation asked. “Pay for all conditions without review.”

By adding the nerve test to the PXDX list, Cigna officials estimated, the insurer would turn down more than 17,800 claims a year that it had once covered. It would pay for the test for certain conditions, but deny payment for others.

These denials would “create a negative customer experience” and a “potential for increased out of pocket costs," the company presentation acknowledged.

But they would save roughly $2.4 million a year in medical costs, the presentation said.

Cigna added the test to the list.

“It’s Not Good Medicine”

By the time van Terheyden received his first denial notice from Cigna early last year, he had some answers about his diagnosis. The blood test that Cigna had deemed “not medically necessary” had confirmed a vitamin D deficiency. His doctor had been right, and recommended supplements to boost van Terheyden’s vitamin level.

Still, van Terheyden kept pushing his appeal with Cigna in a process that grew more baffling. First, a different Cigna doctor reviewed the case and stood by the original denial. The blood test was unnecessary, Cigna insisted, because van Terheyden had never before been found to lack sufficient vitamin D.

“Records did not show you had a previously documented Vitamin D deficiency,” stated a denial letter issued by Cigna in April. How was van Terheyden supposed to document a vitamin D deficiency without a test? The letter was signed by a Cigna medical director named Barry Brenner.

Brenner did not respond to requests for comment.

Then, as allowed by his plan, van Terheyden took Cigna’s rejection to an external review by an independent reviewer.

In late June — seven months after the blood test — an outside doctor not working for Cigna reviewed van Terheyden’s medical record and determined the test was justified.

The blood test in question “confirms the diagnosis of Vit-D deficiency,” read the report from MCMC, a company that provides independent medical reviews. Cigna eventually paid van Terheyden’s bill. “This patient is at risk of bone fracture without proper supplementations,” MCMC’s reviewer wrote. “Testing was medically necessary and appropriate.”

Van Terheyden had known nothing about the vagaries of the PXDX denial system before he received the $350 bill. But he did sense that very few patients pushed as hard as he had done in his appeals.

As a physician, van Terheyden said, he’s dumbfounded by the company’s policies.

“It’s not good medicine. It’s not caring for patients. You end up asking yourself: Why would they do this if their ultimate goal is to care for the patient?” he said.

“Intellectually, I can understand it. As a physician, I can’t. To me, it feels wrong.”

[alarrytale]

Meanwhile the others were held back, burdened with false unfavourable images and had to claw their way out of the ditch. They weren't given the same chance to shine, because Sony though there could only be one successful star out of 1D. They also held the others back to have everyone's focus on H. ///

Liam had David Beckham's manager and a great deal with UMG. Nobody was telling him he couldn't make it because he has an excellent voice. Capitol Records was delighted to sign Niall and gave him the same opportunities Harry had. Straight into touring, first to release a single. Nobody told Niall he couldn't make it and RCA certainly didn't tell Zayn that either. When he was signed the CEO called him an 'icon' and his first single was more successful than SOTT.

Only Louis was told by the music press that he wouldn't have a solo career but that was based on his shaky vocals. If the industry really thought he had no chance nobody would have signed him.

Hi, anon!

I'm not saying they weren't given a shot at success. They all were, despite the odds. They were all from a very successful band, were talented, lovely boys and with huge fanbase backing. Of course other labels would jump on that, there were money to be made on them. But the other four boys didn’t have the perfectly curated image, the international recognisable face and notoriety, preperation time nor the billion dollar label deal. They were all fortunate to sign good-ish label deals, but had to rebrand to fix their images (as well as they could, Sony still controls it). They also needed to compete against each other because they didn’t have gp recognition like H had.

Imagine how different things would be if Zayn was the one tasked with dating TS to help 1D break America, or if Louis was the one in the BBC deal with Nick Grimshaw, or if Niall was the one to attend fashion shows, if H was made to date E and Liam dated Kendall Jenner. Sony gave all this to Harry so that he'd be ready to go solo after 1D.

Liam got Beckham's manager who'd never managed a music artist before, only sport stars. It showed. Liam also brought with him an image of people's least favourite member, with an addiction due to the way they were treated in the band, and little name recognition in the US. The label and management struggled to create an image for him and find a fitting sound that the fans responded well to. Remember the payne chain era? The controversy around his bi song? It showed inexperience and lack of understanding of trends and fandom by both label and management.

Niall got a good deal but he was still stuck with Mo*est who was hated by the entire fandom. He was able to successfully rebrand, because his previous image wasn't in tatters. He got rid of the blond hair, dressed better and found his sound pretty quick. He's dated/been linked to other celebrities and gotten his name out there like Pal*in. Hail*e and Sele*a, and he's "bff"'s with Shawn. He's also been a judge on the voice that have exposed him to american audiences. He still haven't been given the opportunities that H has. He wasn't hung from a helicopter in his first music video. He isn't writing songs with max martin. He's on a budget.

Zayn jumped ship and had a really good start to his solo career. That song is a banger. Turned out his time in 1D was traumatic enough that he'd gotten anxiety and adopted some not good coping mechanisms that hindered his career developement. I think he was tired of fame and his fake mysterious image and needed time out of the spotlight. He needed to prioritise himself and his mental health.

I've discussed Louis so many times, that i won't repeat myself and we all know what he's been through and is still going through.

[gloombeauty]

This is what Halsey posted the other day in her instagram stories. I posted it on my page, sharing my opinion how I didn't think Columbia Records would be happy to see this kind of anti-semitic messaging coming from one of their own artists. The entire Halsey fan community on this platform attacked and bullied me. I had to stop following them and block them. People who I thought were my friends. Horrible backstabbing anti-semitic monsters. All I stated were facts. The CEO and COO are Jewish. The A&R person at Columbia is Jewish. Clive Davis is the founder and is also Jewish. Halsey's manager is Jewish. But according to Halsey fans on here, that makes me a racist because I stated the fact these people working on Halsey's career are Jewish. It got so bad I had to change my name. Maybe you have better luck posting the facts.

First of all, you should never delete your opinion on your blog. If people don't like what you have to say, they can easily skim past your page or you can make them fuck off by blocking them.

I have no problem telling Halsey fans to go choke on a baklava before I click on that block button. The fact that Halsey fans in general lack their own personality and decided to be one of those "they/them" and "bi" this or that or whatever - just because their idiotic hero is all those things, is very telling. These people aren't even teenagers anymore. They are in their mid 20's - early 30's. They grew up with Halsey. The hilarious part of all this is that Halsey isn't any of those things. She's not bi and she sure as hell isn't a "they" but you know how annoying Millennials and Gen Z are. They find a problem and drama for everything. Halsey's whole brand has always been the annoying loudmouth obnoxious social justice warrior. You would think that having a kid would stop all that foolishness but no - she's chooses to be a one of those "they" people. Even after popping a baby out of her actual vagina.

In my opinion, Halsey is plummeting fast when it comes to her music career. She's lucky her makeup line is doing very well because as far as her music? That is a dead on arrival effort. I don't think Columbia will be able to pull a Capitol Records - taking an almost two year old song (Without Me) and throwing it into a new album (Manic) and stealing the hit single's successful streaming numbers and sales. That's how Manic didn't flop. But does anyone (outside of her psychotic fan base) truly gives a crap about Manic? Hell no. The reviews for that album were mostly negative. Pitchfork even said what an awful album it was and she went on Twitter wishing the basement where Pitchfork is located would crumble. What she didn't know is that Pitchfork is located at the Freedom Tower in New York City. That's the same location the Twin Towers use to be. The same Towers that were destroyed on September 11, 2001. How stupid did she look saying something like that? Very. She hasn't used Twitter/X as much as she use to after that. She was too busy exploiting Evan Peters on her IG at the time.

She had the gift of Trent Reznor and Atticus Finch producing her album and it bombed. Usually, everything Trent touches turns to gold, but what he produced for Halsey flopped. It flopped hard. A first in Trent Reznor's career. That means a lot of people just don't like Halsey. Imagine had it been Amy Lee instead of Halsey? It would have made a big difference.

Now, as much as Halsey's fans like to ignore this fact (or stay stupid - your pick) the people running her music career now are all mostly Jewish. Ron Perry, the present CEO for Columbia Records is Jewish. Halsey's manager, Jason Aron is Jewish. When Jason was posting about supporting Israel, donations, his family in Israel, etc. - Halsey's psychotic fans came into his IG page and started threatening this poor man's life. They were calling him an evil Zionist and other disgusting choice words.

Halsey's fans are demonic and yes, they are all antisemitic. Except maybe for a very small percentage like 0000.1% of the fanbase. The only Halsey fan that I seen on Tumblr that is normal, sane and not antisemitic is you. I'm sure out there, on other social media platforms there's more nice fans like you. The thing is, they aren't obnoxious or demonically loud as the antisemitic ones who scream "Free Palestine!!!" on every Halsey post.

That's why I feel Halsey posted this disgusting Gaza/Palestine propaganda garbage on her IG. To appease her disgusting fan base, who are 99% antisemitic. She's going to need them to buy/stream her new music. If she doesn't do well, Columbia will drop her in a heartbeat. The same way Capitol chose not to renew her contract. Capitol are dicks for what they have done to Katy Perry and Sky Ferreira, but look at all the money they spent on If I Can't Have Love, I want Power. Close to 25 million dollars - and it flopped! The next single she released So Good flopped. That's why they refused to renew her contract. I don't blame them at all.

So now, more then ever, she will need all her little antisemitic fans to support her new music.

Also, knowing that her manager is Jewish, why would she ever post something so disgusting against his people? I'm sure Ron Perry didn't celebrate that IG story either. He's probably sitting somewhere regretting that he signed her.

Do yourself a favor and block every single Halsey account on Tumblr. Trust none of them to be "your friend" because they aren't anyone's friend. Get a real friend in the real world. Finding friends on Tumblr isn't it.

[llliiinnnaaa]

Reprisal | Chapter Twenty-One

coriolanus snow x gaul oc

Summary: Ten years after the Tenth Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow is under Dr. Volumnia Gaul’s wing as a Gamemaker alongside her niece. Unbeknownst to either of them, they’re both being prepared for a much greater task.

Warning: This story will contain explicit violence against adults and children alike (I mean, it’s Dr. Gaul AND Snow) as well as explicit language, and sexual situations.

***This fic is in no way, shape, or form, me endorsing or co-signing the horrific shit Snow does, nor am I trying to romanticize it. Also, apathy and will be the main driving force of any remnants of a relationship between my OC and Snow’s character. So if you’re interested in something very romantic and fluffy…it’s not gonna be this.

Thank you for reading, I hope you like it!

     The days following their arrival in District Nine followed as planned.

Tawny retained her grip on her slipping mental wellbeing, facing the smiling, welcoming faces of the Mayor of District Three and District Six with the same stiff lip that only relaxed to offer a facade of cordialness in the disguise of a smile and gentle tone.

No more tirades of her brothers, nor threat of additional reparations, she merely acts as an accessory to the Capitol, allowing Snow to speak all on his own—which he silently thanked her for with a glint of his eyes in her direction at both stops. 

Other than that, he hasn’t paid her any attention, nor has she paid any to him.

They don’t dine together, nor do they socialize with Mr. Marius in the main living quarters together. If Tawny enters the same space he’s in, she either immediately turns on her heel and flees, or he stands and dismisses himself. 

His reasoning is merely keeping peace and proper conduct, acting accordingly as future President who cannot allow himself to be led by his prick.

Her reasoning is her bruised ego, feeling the harsh sting of his rejection.

For months it was him who chased her, fiending for the thrilling high she brought with her like a morphling addict chasing the next hit of paradise. 

She had taken being wanted for granted, feeling hideous and undesirable the moment he turned her away, not looking at her since, unless on their Capitol dealings, and those looks are not personal the way she knew they could be.

Each night she calls home to speak to her mother and father, every other night she gets in contact with Pias, deliberately lewd in her words to provoke Snow—whilst also imagining whoever has the liberty of listening to the possibly recorded phone call turning bright with blush. 

It always ends with her gushing about her love for her fiance—laying the lie on thick to disguise her disgust for the man that had taken part in killing her daughter—her brown eyes glaring at her former lover as he speaks quietly to his own significant other. 

She knows when he’s overheard her phone calls, however, when he slams the phone on the hook and ignores her. 

Little does she know he loses himself to his own hand in the privacy of the shower each night, imagining her wrapped around him tightly, sobbing his name as he punishes her for her ridiculous behavior that seemingly no one else seems to take notice of except him . 

Because she only means for him to notice .

By the time they arrive in District Twelve, he’s seering at the sight of her. 

Adorned in black—a distinct shade of it to express mourning, to be exact—she steps into the living quarters, black gloves adorning her hands, as a smug expression on her face as he eyes Coriolanus up and down. 

“Are we attending a funeral?” He snips at her, Philo halting the sip of his tea as he watches the two of them. 

“I’m wearing it in memory of your father.” She says, casually, wanting to add, Since you’ve forbade us from verbally mentioning those we love that the rebels have robbed from us, but deciding not to stoke him to anger. 

“Go change.” He says flatly. “Something more uplifting.”

Glancing down at her outfit, severing her tongue between her teeth, she finally nods.

“Okay.” It’s nearly strangled leaving her throat in a polite tone, turning on her heels to go back to her room to change. 

Instead, she shuts the door behind her and sits on the bed, taking in a few deep breath to compose herself.

She wants to go home, and the days are stretching by so slowly that she can’t fathom being trapped with him for another handful of them. 

When their escorts of Peacekeepers come to collect them, Snow takes it upon himself to retrieve Tawny, hastily making his way to her door, only for her to open it before his knuckles can make contact with the wood. 

It’s a red dress she wears now, with matching heels, the very color of the flag of Panem and the simplicity of it pleases him. 

No muss, no fuss, no tantrums or petty statements to be made in her attire this time. 

It’s just red. 

“They’re here.” He says lowly, eyes still holding hers, deliberately working not to roam over her. 

Again, she nods, refusing to speak anymore to him.

     Commander Hoff is standing with a proud smile at the sight of Coriolanus Snow as he exits the train car—the nip in the air stronger than when they first arrived—Dr. Gaul and Mr. Marius trailing behind him.

Snow’s cold and stoic demeanor shifts when he sees the man, a genuine smile coming to his handsome face in a way Tawny hadn’t seen in ages from him.

“Mr. Snow.” Hoff greets him cordially, extending his hand to grasp ahold of his former Private. 

“Commander,” Snow replies lightly, stepping aside to introduce Tawny and Philo. “This is Mr. Philo Marius, my exemplary apprentice through the last year as a Gamemaker, and this,” Tawny tenses when his hand holds at her back to usher her toward Commander Hoff once the man is done shaking Philo’s hand, “Is Dr. Tawny Gaul — one of our most prestigious Gamescientists in the Capitol.” 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Dr. Gaul. Truly a pleasure.” He nods to the woman and she forces a smile, replying swiftly, “Thank you. You as well.” 

They’re escorted in a town car, snow that’s muddied from coal pollution littering the ground, making Tawny wish she had grabbed a thicker coat.

The car is imported from the Captiol surely, as District Twelve had never had anything so fine at its convenience, and upon squeezing in together, Tawny and Snow find themselves too close for comfort.

They smush into the backseat, his long, lanky right leg pressed smug against her left.

Shoulder to shoulder, tight and uncomfortable. 

It’s as miserable for her as it is for him, her smooth skin exposed little by little the longer they sit as her skirt rides up her thighs more and more with each bump in the road or sharp turn.

And upon a sudden, abrupt stop caused by a railroad crossing, his hand leaves his own lap and grabs at her knee.

Upon the feel of his fingers gripped so tightly into her flesh, a shock rolls through her and settles between her legs, a familiar, dull throb growing more and more intense as his hand lingers on her.

No one has noticed, Hoff and another Peacekeepr up front while Philo sits on the left side of Snow, looking out the window with a curious gaze of the foreign environment. 

Her breath grows heavier though she keeps it quiet, her chest rising and falling as he keeps his expression neutral.

Slowly, his fingers creep higher, causing to squirm just slightly, wishing she could wantonly splay her legs open and let him touch her however he pleases. 

Only they stop on the inside of her thigh, barely at the middle of it, a near whimper leaving her when he pulls his hand away, a stroke of his ego occurring when she almost grabs his wrist to keep him. 

But then she comes to her senses, forcing herself to regain her composure, and by the time they arrive at the Mayor’s home, she’s subtly gasping for fresh air as she practically stumbles from the car. 

“Just a warning, Snow,” Hoff says, shutting the car door behind him. “Mayor Lipp hasn’t quite been the same since his wife’s death. She couldn’t handle the grief of losing their daughter and . . .” He trails off, unable to speak of her suicide. 

A tug at Tawny’s heart somewhat surprises her.

“If he speaks out of turn, or appears inebriated , he may very well be.” Hoff finishes.

“Understood.” Snow nods. 

The four of them step onto the porch of the large house made of white wood, Hoff knocking at the door.

While they wait, Snow glances at Philo and Tawny, the latter looking at him like a wounded puppy. 

He nearly smirks, hoping to have gotten back at her for the times she has caused him to screw himself for relief. 

The upturn of his lips fades, however, with the image of her desperately plunging her fingers in and out of her soaked cunt, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tries to deliver relief to herself.

Gritting his teeth together, he corrects the image in his mind, instead replacing it with that of his hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, her beautiful face in the mattress to muffle her screams as he bends her over the bed, buried to the hilt in her, forcing her to come until it’s painful, until she’s made a mess of the entire room, her own spent running down both of their legs.

They’d shower, rest briefly and do it all over again, no matter how sore they’d be, or fucked out she would get, crying but pleading for him not to stop, repeating how good he felt, how she was his.

The already uncomfortable tightness of his trousers since grabbing her in the car, turns painful.

For a split second, the blink of her eyes, she catches him looking at her.

The way he had during their affair, the lust, the want, the longing.

It’s gone as soon he reaches out himself and knocks on the door once more to hurry this ordeal along. 

The door opens, leaving only the screen door between Mayor Lipp and the group of Capitol visitors. 

He’s not even dressed, not truly. 

A white tank top and his briefs. 

Tawny averts her eyes from the sight of the man’s indecency. 

“Mayor Lipp,” Hoff starts, cordially. “This is Coriolanus Snow, Dr. Tawny Gaul, and Mr. Philo Marius from the Capitol…they’re here on behalf of the unsettled nature of District Twelve before the elections.” He explains to the hazy Mayor, his drunken eyes lingering on Tawny before falling to Coriolanus. 

“ You .” He points, lips nearly slurring the single word. “I know you.”

Anxiousness roots itself in his gut, flashes of the past he had worked endlessly to forget, to bury, seem to be dug up before his very eyes. 

At least he assumes. 

“You were a Peacekeeper when those rebels killed my little girl.” 

Tawny eyes shift to Coriolanus as he somewhat feels a bit more relief. 

“Yes.” He confirms, looking to Hoff. 

Awkward silence looms in the air before the Mayor clears his throat and looks behind himself, stepping back to invite his company inside. 

“Please, come in, just…excuse the mess.”

Empty whiskey bottles litter the home, stray laundry scattered here and there, to the extent that Tawny has to toss aside a shirt to sit on the sofa, blue eyes staring as she does so, looking up at him before he settles beside her. 

“Would any of you like a drink?” Lipp inquires, holding another bottle that’s partly empty already. 

“No, thank you.” Snow replies politely despite his distaste for the Mayor drinking so early in the morning. 

No wonder so much has been able to happen right under their noses—the mayor is too drunk to pay attention to much of anything. 

“Why are you here, again?” He asks, next, sitting with his bottle, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Rebel activity has increased here in Twelve. With an election around the corner, the Capitol just wanted to establish a mutual understanding .” Coriolanus answers, raising his brows. 

Again, Lipp glares at Tawny, then Philo, before settling on Coriolanus.

“The Capitol , or you , Mr. Snow?” He presses, wanting to muck through the formalities. “Being as you are the Capitol at this point.”

The future President is sitting on his couch and threatening him to ensure District Twelve doesn’t rebel. 

“I’m only a candidate, Mayor Lipp.” It’s humble coming from him of all people, the faux humility to his tone nearly causing Tawny to scoff. 

“Your fiancé doesn’t mind you showboating with his competition, Dr. Gaul?” Lipp shifts the subject, focusing on her. 

Tawny can hear the skepticism in his voice. 

“He’s endorsing him, Mayor Lipp.” She retorts sweetly, as if it’s all handled and thought through.

As if Pias won’t be infuriated with the decision to plant Snow at the head of Panem. 

“Is he, now?” He asks, next, glancing around. “Where is he?”

“He had matters to tend to in the Capitol and was unable to join us.” It’s not a lie, not completely, at least. 

“Hmm.” He leans back, drinking his poison straight from its dusty, blurry brown bottle as the fire in the hearth dwindles somewhat. “I hate to be a waste of your time, truly, but I assure you there is no matter of rebellion in Twelve. Not after my daughter.” He assures them blankly. 

Tawny bites at the inside of her cheek, relating too closely to the way Mayor Lipp carries himself.

If she hadn’t had a reputation to uphold, she too would have fallen into a bottle and never climbed out of it after she lost Tullia. 

It’s now that she somewhat spits in the face of Snow’s order of not getting personal as she stands and moves around the wooden coffee table to sit across from him, adding softly, “I understand, Mayor Lipp. Truly. It’s a horrible thing to lose a child to the hands of monsters.” 

Coriolanus bristles at her words, glaring at her.

Mayor Lipp keeps his face stoic, stern, strong, for a moment. 

Her empathy reels a twisted expression from him as his eyes squeeze shut, tears toppling forth.

Snow sighs out, rubbing his forehead briefly, trying to find how this will be explained:

Yes, the tour went wonderfully. Tawny had a heart-to-heart with the wealthiest alcoholic of District Twelve .

“The twisted part…” He trails off, having to let a few sobs out before collecting himself once more, the sight lodging a lump in her throat. “...We never truly found the gun…or the person responsible.”

Nausea rises at the back of Snow’s throat at the words, Hoff meeting his gaze with an expression of remorse—guilt, perhaps, for not being able to bring forth justice for Mayfair.

The look only confirms to Snow that his expression reads that of sympathy, as well. 

Not impending doom of being randomly found out ten years later. 

“Mr. Snow’s Presidency will prevent anything like you and I have suffered to happen, again. So many believe that the reason tragedies such as this occurred was due to too much leniency from our former Presidential cabinet.” It’s a soothing promise, Snow leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as if wanting to hear her brag about him closer up. 

Philo sits silently as Tawny goes on, shamelessly stroking Snow’s ego as if it’s a form of foreplay they’re all bearing witness to. 

How protective he is, how vigilant , how she doesn’t fear having more children in the future because she knows they’ll be safe in a Panem guided by Coriolanus Snow …that their daughters’ deaths won’t be in vain because every moment Coriolanus will spend as President will be dedicated to honoring them, keeping their memory alive in every executive decision made.

Hoff nods with each word, fully in agreement as Coriolanus had been his star pupil, his most diligent and thorough. 

She sells him, peddles him, as convincingly as a high-dollar Capitol whore peddles high-dollar cunt. 

Once their visit has come to a close, Mayor Lipp has his bottle set aside, shaking Coriolanus’ hand, thanking him for taking the time to visit—clearly not understanding that this was all mandatory—and he hugs Tawny.

It’s excused due to his liquor-fueled daze, but the ride back to the train is even heavier than it was on the way. 

Snow’s floating from how perfectly Tawny spoke of him.

Floating so effortlessly, in fact, that he completely ignores the opportunity given to call home, deciding to blame it on the snow interrupting phone lines—should Livia ask tomorrow night—stepping directly onto the train, following closely behind Tawny.

She sheds her coat, stretching and yawning simultaneously whilst kicking her heels off. 

“I am freezing.” She declares to Snow and Philo. “I’m about to get a hot shower and then I’ll be back for dinner.” 

“I’m so exhausted I might just do the same and go to bed.” Philo retorts, walking with her until he reaches his own bedroom. 

Coriolanus needed something to do to keep himself from barging in to shower with her, ultimately deciding to go to his own bathroom and scrub himself of the pollution and snow. 

Once he’s finished, he eats what he can, gathering a roll to offer her for his behavior earlier in the morning—his behavior the last few days, actually.

Tawny’s plucking the pins from her hair she had used to keep it from getting wet when a knock at her door pulls her attention away from herself, tying her robe around her before sliding the door open. 

Coriolanus extends the napkin-wrapped roll to her, only for her to raise her brows and glance from it to him. 

Knowing it’s more-so a front, an excuse to come see her, she accepts it and steps aside, not a word between the two being spoken as he reaches around her and slides the door shut, locking it. 

She sets the roll aside, once more reaching her hand up to pull another pin from her head, only to find it’s stuck in her hair. 

Wincing, she pauses, trying to configure how to pull it loose without breaking any strands. 

“Allow me.” He offers, stepping behind her before she can argue, gently untangling the raven hair from the silver, doing so with each one left until her hair is free. 

“Thank you.” She whispers, her voice catching in her throat from holding her breath throughout the process of him touching her so gently, carefully. 

“I suppose I should be thanking you, too.” He speaks lowly, his breath fanning her neck as he moves her hair to one shoulder, causing her brown eyes to flutter close, the hitch in her breath bringing a smirk to his lips as his hands reach around her waist to pluck the belt of her robe loose. “Speaking so highly of me.” He continues, fingertips running across her skin to catch on the silky fabric at her shoulders. 

It pools at their feet, his palms smoothing down her arms, his lips pressing to her shoulder. 

His cock engorges when she grinds her ass into his crotch, her head resting on his shoulder as she assures him, “I meant every word of it,” while his hands grab at her breasts, fingers rolling over her nipples teasingly, causing her mouth to fall open.

“You want me to be President?” He knows her answer, the mere power in the possibility has her legs squeezing together to aid some form of friction, his right hand sparking at her skin as it descends between her legs, circling her slick clit, her hand grabbing his wrist as she fervently nods, whining out a pathetic, “Yes,” before biting into her lip. 

“Aren’t you sweet .” He grins as he holds back his own groan as he looks down at the outline of his cock against the plump curve of her ass. 

He steps back from her just enough to get his hand between them, freeing his length to run it along her wet folds, the thick tip of it having her reaching between her legs to try to angle it into her, the pinch of it pushing a hiss from her as he grins.

It’s a cute attempt, angling herself once more, Coriolanus’ chest rising and falling as he grabs her hips, watching her try to stuff him into herself. After the third time of discomfort despite her throbbing, slickend cunt, he chuckles, grabbing a fistful of her hair to pull her back against him.

“You can’t take it, yet.” He speaks it in a taunt, as if it’s a reminder she’s forgotten—as if the months spent apart has rid her of the details of their time spent together. 

His tongue and teeth leave a sweltering path in its wake on her neck, her hand reaching behind her to wrap around him, his length slippery from her attempts, the action stalling his own movements as she once more rubs her thighs together and pleads in a sultry tone, “Make me take it.” 

His teeth scrape against hers as his grip in her hair only tightens, Tawny turning to face him, wrapping around him the moment he grasps at her, her legs snaking around him, her arms capturing his shoulders, her greedy mouth assaulting his own.