#robert x willow

[owlehh]

Some more Willow and MacCready. Another scene from my fic, for a chapter I'm posting later today! Was using this piece as background and pose practice and spent way too long on it, but I think I'm happy with the outcome?

If you wanna read about these dirtbags, the story is on ao3 and fanfiction.

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Testify...

Where we get a flashback to the tabloid coverage in the wake of trials for Belos' inner circle post his death/defeat.

[ereardon]

Golden Hour || Ch. 8

[Bob Floyd x Bradley Bradshaw x OC]

A Bob Floyd & Bradley Bradshaw AU [Hart of Dixie inspired]

Synopsis: Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Pairing: Bob Floyd x OC; Bradley Bradshaw x OC

Tropes: Love triangle, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Angst, cursing, death

Chapter summary: Bob deals with the death of his father; Olive is surprised when Bob shows up at her doorstep in the middle of the night

WC: 2.3K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Dr. Floyd, I need a consult.” You stepped out into the hallway and turned left. Bob’s door was closed and you knocked once, twice, before pushing it open. “Floyd?”

The room was empty. Molly hurried out of her seat. “The doctor isn’t in.” 

You frowned. “It’s Tuesday. He’s always here on Tuesdays.” 

She shook her head. “It’s his father.” 

You turned to the patient on the examination table. “Mr. Johnson, I’m so sorry. I’m going to have to have you come back tomorrow.” 

He barely had his shirt rebuttoned from where you had been checking his lungs before you were out the front door of the office, jogging down the steps in your Jimmy Choos. 

***

It rained. One woman in the church said she thought the sky was crying for Dr. Floyd. And despite the fact that you hadn’t grown up with a lick of God in your life, you agreed with her. 

It rained on the roof of the small church so loud that the pastor had to practically yell into the congregation. 

It rained so hard during the burial that most people stayed back at the church potluck. Only a few people watched as they lowered the casket into the ground. 

Bob stood at the front, hair dripping wet into his face. You watched as Caroline approached him, reached for his hand, and he stepped away, brushing her aside. 

You stood in the back, near a large oak tree, and at some point it was hard to distinguish what was rain and what were tears as water streamed down your face. A part of you ached for a man you had only met once. 

Perhaps it wasn’t sadness for Robert. Perhaps it was the fact that you knew you were watching Bob lose himself as he lost his father. That was something he would never be able to get back. 

On the way to your car, a hand touched your shoulder. You turned, eyes wide. Bradley held out an umbrella and covered the two of you, your bodies close, almost touching. “Olive,” he said softly. It was the first time you had seen him since Thanksgiving. The office had gone into a frenzy with Bob out for two weeks, mourning his father’s death and preparing for the funeral. You had called, once, and it went to voicemail. You hung up before the beep. 

“Bradley,” you replied. “Hi. I didn’t see you.” 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” He frowned. “Are you alright?” 

“I hate funerals, is all.” 

“Don’t we all?” 

You nodded. “I guess so. Would be odd to like one.” 

“Are you going to the potluck at the church?” he asked. 

You shook your head. “I uh, I have a lot of work to catch up on. Charting that I haven’t gotten around to doing.” You looked out over his shoulder where Bob stood with the pastor and a few others. “Besides, I only met Dr. Floyd once. I don’t want to impose.” 

Bradley nodded. He leaned down and kissed your cheek. “I’ll call you, OK? I have a trial, out near Savannah, so I’ll be gone for the next few days. But I’ll call you when I’m back.” 

“I’d like that.” 

He handed you the umbrella. “Here, take this.” 

“Oh, no I couldn’t.” 

“Olive,” he said and his voice scratched at an inner part of your stomach. “Take the umbrella.” 

“Alright.” You watched as Bradley turned and walked back toward where Bob was standing. And just as you were about to get into the car, Bob pivoted toward where you stood in the parking lot. You held up one hand in a motionless wave. 

He turned away without reciprocating. You sighed and ducked into the driver’s seat. 

***

The knock on the door startled you out of a haphazard nap on the couch. You shot up and grimaced, back aching, as the sound continued. 

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you shouted. If it was Phoenix, she would have just barged in. You didn’t lock the door anymore. 

Swinging open the door, you gasped. 

Bob stood on your doorstep, his eyes wide, one hand on his chest, his face shiny with sweat. “I think I’m having a heart attack.” 

“What?” You looked around but he was alone. “What, I, come in.” You practically yanked him inside. “Go, sit.” He collapsed into the plush chair you had in the living room, head tipped back, breathing laboriously. 

You ran for your medical bag, pulling out the stethoscope and standing at Bob’s side. 

“Are you having chest pain?” He nodded. “Is it tightness and squeezing or sharp stabbing?” 

“Shooting pain.” 

“Is your arm tingling?” you asked and he shook his head. You bent down. “Keep breathing for me, OK?” You took his wrist in yours, flipping it upside down and feeling for his pulse. Bob’s forearms were strong with prominent veins and you felt for a moment, eyes closed, for his pulse. Tachycardic for sure, but not insanely elevated. 

“Take a deep breath,” you said, putting the earpieces into your ears and pressing the cold end of the stethoscope against Bob’s bare back, your fingertips sliding beneath his thin t-shirt. “In and out.” It was even. Slightly ragged, but not like he was struggling. “Are you nauseous?” Head shake. “Any pain in your jaw or shoulder blade?” Another shake. 

You pulled the stethoscope away and put it in your bag gently. 

“You’re not having a heart attack.” 

Bob looked up, blue eyes wide. “What?” 

“It’s a panic attack.” 

For a moment, Bob was silent. Then he shook his head furiously before grimacing. You put one hand on his knee instinctively and his blue eyes zeroed in on your fingertips on his thigh. “No.” His voice was thin, wobbly. “It’s a heart attack.” 

“Bob,” you said quietly. “We both know the symptoms of a heart attack and a panic attack overlap quite a bit. Feeling out of breath, sweating, racing pulse. Without an EKG or blood work I can’t be one hundred percent positive.” You paused. “But I’m pretty sure that an anxiety attack isn’t out of the question, given what you’re going through.” 

Bob was quiet. His eyes fluttered closed for a minute, his leg bouncing erratically. 

“If you want, I’ll drive you to the county hospital. We’ll get testing done, just to be safe.” 

“It’s a heart attack,” he repeated, standing up, accidently kicking your medical bag over. “What do you know?” Bob stomped out of the room and you rocked back onto your heels, shocked, before standing up and trailing behind him. 

The door was flung open wide, the rain still pummeling down. “Bob!” you cried out. “Bob, please!” 

He stopped walking. You sighed and stepped out from the porch, bare feet slapping against the wood steps as you made your way down the walk toward him. You circled where Bob stood. 

“He’s gone,” you said, voice rising above the sound of the rain and his blue eyes found yours. “He’s gone and that’s terrible and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. And I might have only met him once. But he loved you, with everything he had. And he wouldn’t want you to feel like this. Your world isn’t ending. I promise.” 

Bob looked up at the sky before returning his gaze to you. “Then why does it feel like I’m dying?” 

“A part of you died with him,” you said. “Just a part. A fraction. It’ll get better.” 

“What if it doesn’t?” 

“It will.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because it did for me,” you said and his eyes widened. “I was twenty. And sometimes I still pick up the phone to call him. But he’s gone and he’s been gone. And I’m still here.” You reached out and took his hand in yours. “Come inside,” you pleaded. “I’m tired of the rain.” 

“I should go.” 

“Get your ass inside,” you said and Bob’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry,” you added quickly. “But you came here for a reason. So get inside, please.” 

The two of you were soaking. Bob’s shoes trailed water into the entryway of the guest house as you wiped down your muddy bare feet. 

“Wait here,” you said, rushing off to the back of the house, stripping off your wet clothes and throwing them in the bathtub and tossing on a robe before flinging open the back closet, coughing as a plume of dust slid from the top shelf. The first week you had moved in you’d discovered that Phoenix’s brother-in-law had left some clothes in the guest house at some point. He must have been banished there more than once. 

You returned to the entryway, holding them out to Bob. “Here,” you said as he took them. “I don’t know if they’ll fit. But they’re dry.” You hesitated. “I, uh, I’ll be in there.” 

Pacing in a circle, you rushed to put things away. Living without Peter meant you could be a slob. You were still figuring out who you were without him. And that meant empty food containers and unopened boxes littered every surface. 

The door opened slowly. “Can, I, um, can I come in?” 

“Of course.” You sat down and Bob took the spot next to you on the couch. Bob Floyd had been in your living room exactly one time before. And somehow, everything since then had changed. 

“He liked you,” Bob said quietly. “My father.” 

“Really?” 

He nodded. “Said you were exactly what this town needed.” He paused. “He said you were what I needed.” 

“Bob, I—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted. 

You frowned. “Sorry for what?” 

“Being an ass. When you first got here.” 

You shrugged. “That’s how it goes, right?” 

“You’re good,” Bob replied. “You’re smart. Too smart to be here.” 

“You’re just as smart.” 

“You don’t fit in, Olive,” he replied and you opened your mouth to respond but he filled the gap. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. You’re doing just fine. But you’re better than this. You’re bigger than this.” 

“I’ve done big and better,” you said quietly. “It didn’t work out for me.” 

“Do you miss him?” he asked. 

“No.” You ran your fingers through your hair, pulling your legs up beneath your body on the couch cushion. “That sounds strange, right? The man I was going to spend the rest of my life with, and I don’t even miss him. But the further I am from Peter the more I realized that we were never each other’s soulmates. We were just two people who occupied the same space at the same time.” 

“You believe in soulmates.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement. 

“Don’t you?” 

Bob shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not very scientific of you, Dr. James.” 

“I’m not the one who misdiagnosed my own panic attack as a cardiovascular emergency.” Bob paused and your face dropped. “Shit, sorry. Too soon?” 

His blue eyes lingered on yours. “No. I was just thinking that if I hadn’t come here tonight thinking I might be dying, I’d never know that you sleep with a stuffed animal.” He pointed across the room and through the open doorway to the queen bed where a stuffed walrus sat. 

You hung your head in your hands. “Oh my God.” 

Bob laughed. The sound sparkled in the confines of the guest house. Outside, rain pelted the siding. You looked up at him. He was beautiful when he wasn’t scowling. There was something gentle in his demeanor that often got overlooked. 

You watched as his face, lit up in a grin, fall. He stood up. “I should go,” he said. “I just kind of barged in. I’m sorry.” 

“Stay.” It surprised you, even as you were saying it. It surprised Bob as well. You could tell by the way his eyebrows raised, practically touching his hairline. 

“What?” 

You stood, the edge of your robe catching on your foot as you untangled your limbs, a flash of upper thigh. “It’s raining like crazy out there. And I would feel like shit if I let you leave and you actually did have a heart attack.” 

Bob smirked. “OK Dr. James. I’ll stay.” 

Bob stood awkwardly near the door as you gathered a few pillows and blankets, setting them out on the couch. As you went to spread out the blankets, he stepped closer. “I’ve got it, Olive,” he whispered. 

You straightened and turned. Bob was only a foot or so away. He looked older, if that was possible. Blue eyes duller than normal. Exhaustion ran across every crevice of his face. You knew that face all too well. The feeling of not knowing what was next when your life was upside down. 

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Bob hesitated for a moment before his hands reached around your waist, laying flat against the silk of your robe. And just as you were about to pull away, Bob tugged you in tighter, dropping his head low so it rested against yours. The two of you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a moment before his grip loosened and he backed away, cheeks pink. 

“Goodnight, Olive,” he said softly. 

“Goodnight, Bob.” You walked over to the bedroom doorway and pulled the double doors shut, pressing your back against the wood, heart beating erratically. 

How had you gone from hating Bob Floyd to this in a matter of months? 

On the other side of the solid wood door, Bob sat down on the couch, his eyes trained on the closed door. He flexed his hands at his side, the memory of the way you felt beneath his fingertips unrelenting in his mind. 

You fell asleep almost instantly, the sound of the rain beating against the windows and knowing that Bob wasn’t more than twenty feet away making it the best sleep you’d had since you arrived in Willow. 

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[names-for-alters]

Hello one and all, alters and headmates! I am Charlie! I like to make lists! I also hoard names! Are you looking for a name? GREAT! You can send an ask and request a specific aesthetic or origin of name, or you can look at my list!

With that said…

…Cracks knuckles…

Findo Tach Tails Flicker Tracer Kat Iris Blu Brick Arlo Sammy Artie Finn Stein Aleksandr Vora Olive Luna Nyx Cyrus Qrow Orian Cello Onyx Skye Grim Opal Dawn Azure Fish Bones Poppy Bronze Eggs Sparky Specs Snickers Trout Navi Bingo Chili Bandit Stripe Busker Socks Brandy Frisky Winston Lucky Chucky Bently Judo Rusty Max Honey Indie Calypso Striker Merle Moxxie Vex Ant Bugger Bee Spider Tails Hook Indigo Amber Coco Coral Scarlet Ivory Jade Ruby Emerald Chuck Loden Copper Hamelin Neo Shepard Cinnamon Visor Macalister Soul Hack Hiccup Flynn Rider Astrid Jay Raven Robyn Bolt Dagger Viper Tracer Cornwall Flock Sapphire Crystal Ghost Mochi Trick Catra Rose Raven Flip Chani Racket Red Crimson Dragon Runt Scotch Tellie Gator Croc Crow Goat Duck Creeper Kuma Jet Jeep Draco Poppy Sombra Raine Squish Spike Blaze Ender Drake Sandy MK PJ DJ CJ MJ King Creak Shadow Clay Dusty Miles Dart Willow Antonius Husk Moth Cypher Jin Yin Yang Daisy Gray / Grey Alistair Halo Angel Cake Fennec Fox Null Lull Bastion Lucky Sun Star Cosmo Tweety Vox Nerys Sonic Bark Birch Oak Cherry Blossom Peaches Velvet Shell Coffee Valley Fang Moot Redpath Pudding X V Jr Ether Fig Trunk Joy Frogger Snowflake Snowball Snow Jumper Racket Flare Vendetta Loonie Coin Six Eleven Tropica Stelina Mojave Ink Sud Fender Zero Pollen Wysteria Page Ozias Rex Tortch Buck Nickel Stripe Lynch Tramp Wolf Pup Tank Jhariah Kharma Zenith Sparrow Prism Lemon Mune Lamb Pyke Diamond Parker Graves Fizz Nugget Melody Tink Blight Fangless Ambress Vulture Eclipse Luka Bangle Constance Constantine Sommar Babble Clank Bobble Chipper Aidan Slate Tin Twire Zephyr Silver Misty Faunus Atlas Birdie Brook Cedar Chip Coal Daisy Ember Faye Fate Fern Flint Harmony Helios Ivy Junx Kit Lyria Phoebe Piper Lady Beacon Elos Rumble Ida Cross Zed Scootie Smidge Clauger Happy Sonny Hath Soldier River Song Clawtor Videl Legen Onen Chunk Reid Pop Cobra Cash Clover Saris Volante Donna Belladonna Gale Chopper Morphias Vidia Loft Kape Levi Licker Howl Dustin Newt Creek Breezy Polaris Blight Archer Sirius Warren Dream Goon Cookie Ranger Amity Jericho Viggo Besko Asra Alice Olaf Mossfeld Issic Missy Rascal Creasy Nonya Hex Pita Miguel Manuel Rayburn Daisy Dash Lucky Becky Steele Cylo Featherstone Kingston Netherfield Reacher Saltburn Quick Rubble Dust Brimstone Humble Ado Grover Norvanos Leshy Blade Cooper Calcium

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[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

[shifterglitter]

Future DRs I’m Considering

Animated

One Piece (Anime & LA)

Yu Yu Hakusho

Pokemon

Bee and Puppycat

ATLAB

Demon Slayer

Trinity Blood

Magi & The Adventures of Sinbad

Hunter X Hunter

A Sports & Comedy anime Mashup

Lilo and Stitch

My own Disney Princess animated musical

Books

To Be Claimed series by Willow Winters

Leviathan Fitness series by Ashley Bennett

Crescent City by SJM

Something in Tiffany Roberts' universe

Something in Katee Robert's universe

Something in Kaven Hirning's universe

The Mystic Crecent series by Hannah Kate Stallo

Something in Molly Doyle's universe

Mystic Bayou Series by Molly Harper

Dark Series by Christine Feehan

Something in Harley Laroux's universe

Zodiac Academy by the Twisted Sisters

Branches (A book inspired by Twilight) by Tatiana Carey

Harry Potter series (Ugh, i know)

I want my own Vlad Dracula story

Commisions

Wearwolf Romance

Kitsune Romance

MHIRA (Audio story by Hallow_VA)

Movies

Scooby Doo

The Goonies

Star Wars

Addams Family and The Munsters Xover

Knives Out

Games

The World of Darkness

The Arcana

Guilty Gear

Monster Hunter

I'll add more later

[orangeinecstasy]

one word ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟrobert keating

✧: part two

paring: robert x fem!oc

summery: some times luck is on your side, and kate just happens to find this out after her show.

a/n: hey everyone! so i originally uploaded these to wattpad, but i wanted to have a bit of a platform change. please let me know what you guys think. my requests are currently open so pleas feel free to send in an idea you have. enjoy!

wc: > 1k

*reblogs, likes, and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

My ears ring as I feel the final vibrations of our last song melt from my drumsticks down into my arms. It's like I'm on another planet. Then, as my breath steadies, my vision becomes clearer.

I stand, walking to the front of the stage and slipping my sticks into the back pocket of my baggy jeans before taking my band members' hands into my own. Yes, we recognize that this is slightly fancier, but the girls and I have always done it. Letting the energy between us flow as we bow. Once our hands unclasp, my smile grows more prominent as I reach into my back pocket, splitting my sticks from their usual pair and throwing them to the people closest in the crowd. Finally, my fingertips touch my lips as I give the crowd a 'goodbye kiss' before I finally exit the stage.

"Tonight was fucking amazing!" Willow, the band's bassist, says as she throws herself on the couch, hands pushing her hair back as a small chuckle leaves her lips. Kira, our lead singer, takes Willow's and I's hands as she speaks, "Yeah, who knew that so many people would want to see four girls going by The Honeysuckles. I'm so proud of us."

Ahh, The Honeysuckles. My band. My first love. I remember when the three of us picked out that name. We were sixteen, determined to become a band. To make it. We would always ramble, bad name after bad name until we ended on The Honeysuckles. It's so funny how one word can significantly impact your life—one silly little word.

"I say it's time to go out for drinks!" Fawn, our final member and lead guitarist, says as she sets her guitar in its case.

The rest of us nod in agreement as we pack our things. It was always a band tradition for us to go out after a good show. So once we were all packed up, we headed out to a nearby pub.

It was a beautiful early spring night in Dublin. The cobblestone streets were wet with dew. Our boots gently clicked down it, music and chatter spilling out of restaurants dotted along the street. After a couple of minutes of walking, we finally reached the pub.

"I'll go get us some drinks if you guys find a table," I yell slightly, having to talk over the crowd's chatter already in the small pub. The girls nod, saying a quick "see you soon" before splitting off from me.

Slipping my jacket off, I walk up to the bar, turning my horseshoe ring located on my pinky finger. It was a nervous habit I had picked up once I started wearing it. However, there was something about it that always seemed to make me feel comforted - even in the most stressful situations.

After a moment, the bartender approached me, "Four Guinness, please," I smiled, still twisting my ring. Once they stepped away to fill my order, I looked around, trying to fill the time between waiting and being able to get drunk. That's when something caught my eye. A hand sat next to me on the counter with a similar yet slightly larger horseshoe ring on their pinky finger.

"Holy shit!" laughing to myself, I gently tap the person's shoulder. Once they turned around, I was met with the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen that put me in a slight trance that the other had to snap me out of.

"Uh, yeah?" he says, blue eyes staring intensely into mine, his hand with the horseshoe ring now wrapped around his dark, half-empty glass of Guinness.

"Oh, sorry," a nervous chuckle slipped through my berry-stained lips. "I just wanted to say that you have good taste" As I speak, I hold up my hand, showing the blue-eyed boy my almost matching ring. "Oh my fucking god, that's crazy!" laughing, he holds his hand next to mine, eyes darting between the two rings. "I never would've thought I'd meet someone with the same ring as me." He smiles, eyes meeting mine once again as a gentle flush presents itself on his cheeks. "Hey, Great minds think alike! I'm Kate. It's nice to meet you" I hold out my ring hand, which he takes in his own, shaking it gently.

"Robert," he smiles.

It's so interesting how one word can impact your life—one silly little word.

[popgirlshowdown]

the tumblr pop girl showdown and it's the same but there's 96 more artists so it's not

ROUND 1 LINEUP

billie eilish vs naomi elizabeth taylor swift vs nicola roberts lady gaga vs hannah diamond rihanna vs namasenda sabrina carpenter vs isabella lovestory ariana grande vs nicole dollanganger dua lipa vs kilo kish sza vs pussy riot shakira vs rebecca black adele vs brooke candy lana del rey vs natalia kills/cruel youth katy perry vs cheetah girls/3lw beyoncé/ destiny's child / the carters vs kelela miley cyrus/ hannah montana vs lindsey lohan doja cat vs hemlocke springs olivia rodrigo vs bree runway chappell roan vs lauren jaureggi charli xcx vs arca camila cabello vs slayyyter ellie goulding vs sky ferreria halsey vs allie x britney spears vs sophie madonna vs loona tate mcrae vs chloe x halle selena gomez vs monaleo kesha vs japanese breakfast/michelle zauner rosalía vs muna megan thee stallion vs shygirl ava max vs hilary duff anitta vs paris hilton cardi b vs janelle monae becky g vs fka twigs mitski vs hayley kiyoko natasha bedingfield vs caroline polachek christina aguilera vs rina sawavama nelly furtado vs flo jennifer lopez vs björk raye vs rico nasty mariah carey vs solange avril lavigne vs tommy genesis zara larsson vs princess nokia tini vs girls generation whitney houston vs poppy maria becerra vs ethel cain tyla vs fiona apple florence welch/florence & the machine vs baby tate dolly parton vs azealia banks gracie abrams vs robyn young miko vs st. vincent kim petras vs haim haley williams/paramore vs nessa barrett kacey musgraves vs ashniko amy whinehouse vs tatu lorde vs donna summer clairo vs ayesha erotica latto vs janet jackson julieta venegas vs renee rapp beabadoobee vs addison rae cyndi lauper vs grimes céline dion vs victoria monét pinkpantheress vs villano antillano carly rae jepson vs red velvet kehlani vs diana ross emilia vs aaliyah gwen stefani/ no doubt vs doechii blackpink vs maggie rogers tinashe vs lily allen kylie minougue vs thalía madison beer vs saweetie little mix vs selena ludmilla vs marina diamandis/ marina & the diamonds tove lo vs elyanna laufey vs rita ora melanie martinez vs bad gyal aurora vs phoebe bridgers/ boygenius spice girls vs tokischa fergie vs normani willow vs cher lizzo vs flo milli kate bush vs pussycat dolls

[yaboirezzy]

Oh damn...I forgot I had an inbox

Okay so let me remember how many:

Amphibia

-Sashannarcy/Calamity Trio (Anne x Sasha x Marcy)

-Spraddivy/Chaos Trio (Sprig x Ivy x Maddie)

-MechanicFighter (Polly x Pearl)

-Yulivia/Gown n' Dagger (Olivia x Yunnan)

-IT Romance (Ally x Jess)

-Grimesylvipop/Old Timer Trio (Hop Pop x Grime x Sylvia)

-Barrelleifdrias/Divorce Trio (Leif x Andrias x Barrel)

The Owl House

-Lumity/Sweet Potatoes (Luz x Amity)

-Huntlow/GoldenFlora (Willow x Hunter)

-Raeda/HarpyMelody (Eda x Raine) + Camilraeda/Mom Trio (Eda x Raine x Camila)

-Veesha/RavenSlug (Vee x Masha)

-Gustholomule/GusMatt (Gus x Mattholomule)

-Skarney/Melody and The Beast (Skara x Viney

The Ghost and Molly McGee

-Mollycule/MollyPoly (Molly x Oliver x Libby x Andrea)

-Scrinx/Ghostly Exes (Scratch x Jinx)

Hilda

-Frilda/AdventureWitch (Hilda x Frida) + Frildavid/Trollberg Trio (Hilda x Frida x David)

-Kaisanna/Sketchbook Ship (Johanna x Kaisa) + Kaigerdanna/Trollberg's Mom Trio (Johanna x Kaisa x Gerda)

The Loud House + Casagrandes

-Ronniecoln/OrangePurple (Lincoln x Ronnie Anne)

-Slyde/Bestie-to-Main Duo (Clyde x Sid)

-Clidonniecoln/Chaos Squad (Lincoln x Ronnie Anne x Clyde x Sid)

-Lobby/Eldest Duo (Lori x Bobby)

-Chazni/Mall Duo (Leni x Chaz)

-Saluna/Rockstars Duo(Luna x Sam)

-Lubenny/Comedy Duo(Luan x Benny)

-Lynncisco/Athlete Duo (Lynn x Francisco)

-Lucky/GingerRaven (Lucy x Rocky)

-Skiana/Toolbox Duo (Lana x Skippy)

-Lolinston/Majesty Duo (Lola x Winston)

-Livid/Science Duo (Lisa x David)

-Carldelaide/Double Trouble (Carl x Adelaide)

Little Witch Academia

-Diakko/Starlight Magic (Akko x Diana)

-Sulotte/SpiritMushroom (Sucy x Lotte)

-Hamanda/Her Rebel (Amanda x Hannah)

-Barblotte/Nightfall (Lotte x Barbara)

-Consucy/Shroombot (Sucy x Constanze)

-HannahBarbara/Diana's Emotional Support Witches (Hannah x Barbara)

-Poly New Nine/RGB Team

Naruto

-Poly Konoha 12/The Leaf Pile

My Hero Academia

-Poly Class 1-A/Fam 1-A

Spooky Month

-Goldenlavender (Lila x Jaune)

-Candybats (Kevin x Streber)

-Sketchhatz (Susie x Robert)

Erma

-Connerma/GingerYokai (Erma x Connor) + Connsiderma/GingerRatYokai (Erma x Connor x Sidney)

-Terramy/Amerry (Amy x Terry)

-Samiko/YokaiBooks (Emiko x Sam)

-FumiHaru/The Princess and The Kappa (Fumiko x Haru)

-EnaKenji/FloatingCyclops (Ena x Kenji)

-Amitsu/Amomo/GoldenYokai (Amy x Mitsu/Momo)

Sonic

-Sonadow/'See Sonic Prime' (Sonic x Shadow)

-Knuxouge/All Because of An Emerald (Knuckles x Rouge)

-Tailsmo/Wholesomeness in 'X' (Tails x Cosmo)

Yes I am perfectly fine why do you ask?

[sorchathered]

WIP ask game

RULES: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thanks for tagging me @bobgasm and @bobfloydsbabe 🥰

1. I cross my heart- Country Star Rhett!Abbott x reader

2. Excuse me, you look like you love me- Jake Seresin x reader

3. The willows never stopped weeping for you- Tyler Owens x OC

4. Nothing breaks like a heart- Boone x reader

5. Heart in your hands chapter 3- Robert Floyd x reader

Tagging- @sebsxphia @sio-ina-bottle @mynameismckenziemae @teacupsandtopgun @trickphotography2 @withahappyrefrain @sailor-aviator (🖕)

[steelbluehome]

FandomWire

Robert Downey Jr. and Scarlett Johansson Returning to Marvel Studio to Dub The Avengers is More Special Than Many Fans Realize

This effort is not just another feather in Marvel’s cap; it is a soaring eagle, taking flight for a significant noble cause.

Written by: Siddhika

Reviewed by: Sayantan

PUBLISHED JULY 6, 2024, 6:42 AM

SUMMARY

The Avengers, including Robert Downey Jr. and Scarlett Johansson, have reunited for a special collaboration.

The collaboration, which took 15 months, showcases the power of cultural preservation and linguistic reclamation.

The team has dubbed their highly acclaimed film in the Lakota language.

At a time when superheroes leap from the comic book pages onto the big screen, forging unbreakable connections with fans of all ages, who could’ve imagined that bringing together the original dynamic cast of The Avengers would be anything less than a smash-hit blockbuster revelation? 

Yet, here we are, witnessing a spectacle that’s more heartwarming than any on-screen showdown—Robert Downey Jr. and Scarlett Johansson are returning to Marvel Studios to dub The Avengers in the Lakota language, proving that the real superpower lies in cultural preservation & linguistic reclamation.

Garnering insights from the latest scoop & considering the meticulous labor that took 15 months, with 62 dedicated Lakota-Dakota language speakers collaborating alongside Hollywood’s finest, this dub is far more than just a special feature. 

Behind-the-Scenes: The Avengers Reassemble for Lakota Recording

In a move that would leave fans saying “Holy cow!” Marvel Studio has given us something truly special – a new dub of The Avengers in the Lakota language. And what’s even more amazing is that the original cast members, including Scarlett Johansson and Robert Downey Jr., have returned to reprise their roles. It’s like a superhero reunion straight out of our wildest dreams.

The Avengers Are Getting Assembled Again; After Robert Downey Jr., Another MCU Star Wishes to Make His MCU Return in Avengers Movie

The noble initiative of Grey Willow Music Studios & Production has brought together a constellation of stars such as Jeremy Renner, Chris Hemsworth, and Mark Ruffalo, to name a few, for a phenomenal project: dubbing the entire Joss Whedon’s 2012 flick in the historically rich Lakota language. 

With the collaborative spirit of over 62 Lakota-Dakota language speakers, cultural essence didn’t just mimic the original; it imbued it with an authenticity that resonates deeply within the Native community (see X). But how did a casual joke become a visionary endeavor, you ask? Well, Ruffalo is actually credited with starting the project (via ICT News Org).

Watching the latest Marvel video is fascinating, not only because Chris Evans, Downey Jr., and the others are revisiting their characters in a new language, but also due to their efforts that have gone into ensuring that their performances are authentic to the Lakota voice. In a clip, Ray Taken Alive, an executive producer and Lakota translator, said: 

"Our ancestors, they were punished for speaking our language. So, our language, it went kind of underground. It was spoken in bedrooms when the matrons were not there at boarding schools. It was spoken in dark rooms where nobody could hear them but it was still spoken."

That being said, this project is a celebration of language and culture.

Mark Ruffalo’s Contribution in Bringing Back The Avengers

When the idea of a Lakota-dubbed version of The Avengers first came up by the Grey Willow Music sound production crew as a joke, little did they know that it would soon become a reality. With the help of Mark Ruffalo, the dream of creating a version of The Avengers that was truly “By Natives, For Natives” was brought to life. According to ICT News Org, the company’s (Grey Willow) President and founder, Lawrence Archambault said:

"Mark Ruffalo was a huge help in introducing us to Disney-Marvel Studios. When we started talking, we said we wanted everything — our language recordings, translations and our actors – to be ‘By Natives, For Natives.’ That’s our motto."

The Avengers in Lakota on Disney+ has been a hard work of love for many individuals and organizations, including Dallas Nelson, Archambault, Ray Taken Alive, Grey Willow Studios. Their dedication has culminated in a project that will not only entertain audiences but also showcase the rich cultural heritage of the Lakota people.

So, grab your popcorn and gather your friends – this is a Marvel moment like no other. The Avengers are back, and this time, they’re speaking in a language that has waited too long to be heard.

The Avengers’ Lakota language dub is now available on Disney+.

[weclassybouquetfun]

Maybe if Matt Damon wore Versace instead of Dior, we could unite the TALENTED MR. RIPLEY / RIPLEY universe.

2024's RIPLEY's Tom Ripley (Andrew Scott) with 199's THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY's Dickie Greenleaf (Jude Law) and Donatella Versace.

Speaking on merging universes, has anyone introduced Troye Sivan (who played young Wolverine in X-MEN ORIGINS: WOLVERINE) to Hugh Jackman?

Hugh going Met Gala solo after split from wife Deborra-Lee Furness

Troye in vintage Prada

The Wrap Up: Who Wore What

Go on Girls, Give Us Nothing: Team Chloe!

Sienna Miller, Greta Gerwig, Emma Mackey and Zoe Saldana

Wisdom Kaye in custom Robert Wun

Eddie Redmayne and Hannah Bagshawe in Steve O Smith.

Morgan Spector (Willy Chavarria) and wife Rebecca Hall (in Danielle Frankel)

Mindy Kaling in Gaurav Gupta Couture

Elle Fanning in Balmain

Olivier Rousteing, Creative Director of Balmain

Lil Nas X in Luar

Elizabeth Debicki in Dior

Jaden and Willow Smith

Brie Larson

Rita Ora in Tom Ford and Taika Waititi in Marni

Nicki Minaj in Marni

Harris Dickinson in Prada

Michael Shannon in Balenciaga

Emily Ratajkowski in Versace

Alexandria Daddario

Ben Platt and Noah Galvin

Cardi B

Cardi and Shakira

[mybworlds]

Chapter 9: Kissed by fire

Pairing: The Hound x Sansa Stark

Summary: Sansa and Sandor meet the brotherhood without banners and Sansa reunites with her sister Arya.

Chapter Warnings: language, violence

Masterlist

Before to start... thank you to follow me, if you want to be tagged in the next chapters, please let me know! if you want to ask me smt, you can write down here or you can inbox me. Please remember English is not my first language. And in this chapter you can read many abstracts of the chapter thirty four of "A Storm of Swords" book; I put them in italics.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Her eyes had grown accustomed to blackness. When a man pulled the hood off her head, the ruddy glare inside the hollow hill made Sansa blink.

A huge firepit had been dug in the center of the earthen floor, and its flames rose swirling and crackling toward the smoke-stained ceiling. People were emerging from between those roots as she watched; edging out from the shadows for a look at the captives, stepping from the mouths of pitch-black tunnels on all sides. In one place on the far side of the fire, the roots formed a kind of stairway up to a hollow in the earth where a man sat almost lost in the tangle of weirwood.

Big as the fire was, the cave was bigger; it was hard to tell where it began and where it ended. Sansa saw men and women and little children, all of them watching her warily.

"Who are you?" Sansa asked frightened as she looked around.

"Sansa?" a voice made her turn to the left, Sansa could not believe her eyes and ears, it was her sister Arya, she was alive. Sansa stood up and went to meet her sister hugging her, Arya did not return the hug, she remained rigidly composed in her position.

Sansa dissolved the embrace "I thought-I thought you were dead!"

"But here I am!" she replied coldly, Sansa looked at all those men, women and children, who were they?

"What is this place?" a strong-looking, dark-haired young man asked sitting next to Arya.

"A place where neither wolves nor lions can disturb us." Thoros of Myr replied.

Sansa and Arya shivered even as one hid it from the other.

Sansa looked around for the Hound and saw him standing by the fire with a hood over his head and his hands bound.

“How did you take him?” the priest asked.

“The dogs caught the scent. He was sleeping off a drunk under a willow tree, if you believe it.”

“Betrayed by his own kind.” Thoros turned to the prisoner and yanked his hood off. “Welcome to our humble hall, dog. It is not so grand as Robert’s throne room, but the company is better.”

The shifting flames painted Sandor Clegane’s burned face with orange shadows, so he looked even more terrible than he did in daylight. When he pulled at the rope that bound his wrists, flakes of dry blood fell off.

The Hound’s mouth twitched. “I know you,” he said to Thoros.

“You did. In mêlées, you’d curse my flaming sword, though thrice I overthrew you with it.”

“We are brothers here,” Thoros of Myr declared. “Holy brothers, sworn to the realm, to our god, and to each other.”

“The brotherhood without banners.” someone shouted “The knights of the hollow hill.”

“Knights?” Clegane made the word a sneer. “Dondarrion’s a knight, but the rest of you are the sorriest lot of outlaws and broken men I’ve ever seen. I shit better men than you.”

“Any knight can make a knight,” said the scarecrow that was Beric Dondarrion, “and every man you see before you has felt a sword upon his shoulder. We are the forgotten fellowship.”

“Send me on my way and I’ll forget you too,” Clegane rasped. “But if you mean to murder me, then bloody well get on with it. You took my sword, my horse, and my gold, so take my life and be done with it . . . but spare me this pious bleating.”

“You will die soon enough, dog,” promised Thoros, “but it shan’t be murder, only justice.”

Sansa's eyes widened in terror at the idea that Sandor - the Hound - could be killed.

“Aye,” said the Mad Huntsman, “and a kinder fate than you deserve for all your kind have done. Lions, you call yourselves. At Sherrer and the Mummer’s Ford, girls of six and seven years were raped, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched. No lion ever killed so cruel.”

“I was not at Sherrer, nor the Mummer’s Ford,” the Hound told him. “Lay your dead children at some other door.”

Thoros answered him. “Do you deny that House Clegane was built upon dead children? I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne. By rights your arms should bear two bloody infants in place of those ugly dogs.”

The Hound’s mouth twitched. “Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?”

“Murder is a crime.”

“Who did I murder?”

An endless string of names resounded along the cave walls, and Sansa looked worriedly at the Hound.

“Enough.” The Hound’s face was tight with anger. “You’re making noise. These names mean nothing. Who were they?”

“People,” said Lord Beric. “People great and small, young and old. Good people and bad people, who died on the points of Lannister spears or saw their bellies opened by Lannister swords.”

“It wasn’t my sword in their bellies. Any man who says it was is a bloody liar.”

“You serve the Lannisters of Casterly Rock,” said Thoros.

“Once. Me and thousands more. Is each of us guilty of the crimes of the others?” Clegane spat. “Might be you are knights after all. You lie like knights, maybe you murder like knights.”

Arya screamed “You are a murderer! You killed Mycah, don’t say you never did. You murdered him!”

The Hound stared at her with no flicker of recognition. “And who was this Mycah, boy?”

“I’m not a boy! But Mycah was. He was a butcher’s boy and you killed him. Jory said you cut him near in half, and he never even had a sword.”

“Who’s this now?” someone asked.

The Hound answered. “Seven hells. The little sister---" Sandor's eyes sought Sansa's, who immediately returned the gaze.

“The girl has named you a murderer. Do you deny killing this butcher’s boy, Mycah?”

The big man shrugged. “I was Joffrey’s sworn shield. The butcher’s boy attacked a prince of the blood.”

“That’s a lie! It was me. I hit Joffrey and threw Lion’s Paw in the river. Mycah just ran away, like I told him.”

“Did you see the boy attack Prince Joffrey?” Lord Beric Dondarrion asked the Hound.

“I heard it from the royal lips. It’s not my place to question princes.” Clegane jerked his hands toward Arya. “This one’s own sister told the same tale when she stood before your precious Robert.”

“Sansa’s just a liar,” Arya said, furious at her sister all over again. “It wasn’t like she said. It wasn’t.” the Stark shouted, forgetting that her sister Sansa was in the cave with them.

Thoros drew Lord Beric aside. The two men stood talking in low whispers, Dondarrion turned back to the Hound. “You stand accused of murder, but no one here knows the truth or falsehood of the charge, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light may do that now. I sentence you to trial by battle.”

The Hound frowned suspiciously, as if he did not trust his ears. “Are you a fool or a madman?”

“Neither. I am a just lord. Prove your innocence with a blade, and you shall be free to go.”

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief, the Hound was virtually unbeatable with the sword, everyone knew it, including her sister Arya who was furious.

“So who will it be?”

“It’s me you’ll face,” said Lord Beric Dondarrion.

Thoros brought the Hound his swordbelt.

The Hound ripped the sword free and threw away the scabbard.

The Hound made to step toward his foe, Thoros of Myr stopped him. “First we pray.” He turned toward the fire and lifted his arms. “Lord of Light, look down upon us.”

All around the cave, the brotherhood without banners lifted their own voices in response. “Lord of Light, defend us.”

“Lord of Light, protect us in the darkness.”

“Lord of Light, shine your face upon us.”

“Light your flame among us, R’hllor,” said the red priest. “Show us the truth or falseness of this man.

Strike him down if he is guilty, and give strength to his sword if he is true. Lord of Light, give us wisdom.”

“For the night is dark,” the others chanted, “and full of terrors.”

And then the sword took fire.

The Hound retreated half a step totally shocked at the sight of his flaming sword, Sansa for her part was totally astonished.

The Hound charged him, he moved fast enough.

The flaming sword leapt up to meet the cold one, long streamers of fire trailing in its wake like the ribbons the Hound had spoken of. Steel rang on steel. No sooner was his first slash blocked than

Clegane made another, but this time Lord Beric’s shield got in the way, and wood chips flew from the force of the blow. Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from right and left, and each one Dondarrion blocked. Each move Lord Beric made fanned them and made them burn the brighter, until it seemed as though the lightning lord stood within a cage of fire.

Now it was Lord Beric attacking, filling the air with ropes of fire, driving the bigger man back on his heels. Clegane caught one blow high on his shield, and a painted dog lost a head. He countercut, and Dondarrion interposed his own shield and launched a fiery backslash. The outlaw brotherhood shouted on their leader. “He’s yours!” Sansa heard, and “At him! At him! At him!” The Hound parried a cut at his head, grimacing as the heat of the flames beat against his face. He grunted and cursed and reeled away.

Lord Beric gave him no respite. Hard on the big man’s heels he followed, his arm never still. The swords clashed and sprang apart and clashed again, splinters flew from the lightning shield while swirling flames kissed the dogs once, and twice, and thrice. The Hound moved to his right, but Dondarrion blocked him with a quick sidestep and drove him back the other way . . . toward the sullen red blaze of the firepit.

Three steps up and two back, a move to the left that Lord Beric blocked, two more forward and one back, clang and clang, and the big oaken shields took blow after blow after blow. Lord Beric’s flaming sword whirled and slashed. In one wild flurry, the lightning lord took back all the ground the Hound had gained, sending Clegane staggering to the very edge of the firepit once more. The Hound screamed as he felt the fire licking against the back of his thighs. He charged, swinging the heavy sword harder and harder, trying to smash the smaller man down with brute force, to break blade or shield or arm. But the flames of Dondarrion’s parries snapped at his eyes, and when the Hound jerked away from them, his foot went out from under him and he staggered to one knee.

Sansa cried out in terror.

At once Lord Beric closed, his downcut screaming through the air trailing pennons of fire. Panting from exertion, Clegane jerked his shield up over his head just in time, and the cave rang with the loudcrack of splintering oak.

Sandor Clegane had fought his way back to his feet with a reckless counterattack. Not until Lord Beric retreated a pace did the Hound seem to realize that the fire that roared so near his face was his own shield, burning. With a shout of revulsion, he hacked down savagely on the broken oak, completing its destruction. The shield shattered, one piece of it spinning away, still afire, while the other clung stubbornly to his forearm. His efforts to free himself only fanned the flames. His sleeve caught, and now his whole left arm was ablaze. “Finish him!” someone shouted “Guilty!” Arya shouted with the rest. “Guilty, guilty, kill him, guilty!”

Smooth as summer silk, Lord Beric slid close to make an end of the man before him. The Hound gave a rasping scream, raised his sword in both hands and brought it crashing down with all his strength.

The Hound’s cold steel plowed into Lord Beric’s flesh where his shoulder joined his neck and clove him clean down to the breastbone. Sandor Clegane jerked backward, still burning. He ripped the remnants of his shield off and flung them away with a curse, then rolled in the dirt to smother the fire running along his arm.

Lord Beric’s knees folded slowly, as if for prayer. The Hound’s sword was still in him as he toppled face forward.

“Please,” Sandor Clegane rasped, cradling his arm. “I’m burned. Help me. Someone. Help me.” He was crying. “Please.”

Sansa jumped up and made to grab the canteen of one of the men who were watching the fight, but Sansa was stopped by her own sister Arya "What the hell is wrong with you?" she scolded her "You know who he is, don't you? Then why are you going to him?"

"He saved my life, I owe him that," replied Sansa who made to get past her sister, but to no avail.

"He's a murderer, he doesn't deserve your sympathy," she shouted angrily.

“You go to hell, Hound,” she screamed at Sandor Clegane in helpless empty-handed rage. “You just go to hell!”

“He has,” said a voice scarce stronger than a whisper.

When Arya turned, Lord Beric Dondarrion was standing behind her, his bloody hand clutching Thoros by the shoulder.

With Arya's disgust, the Hound was freed: the outlaws had healed Sandor Clegane's burned arm, returned his sword, armor, and horse, the only thing they had taken was his gold.

Arya felt a great and very strong anger at seeing him go, while Sansa a great despair: her only, their only chance of return was fading and she was once again a prisoner along with her sister, who, however, hated her.

"You're such a fool!" railed Arya to her sister's despair.

"Stop it!" implored Sansa with shining eyes.

"Crying for that monster! A murderer! You're crazy." Sansa pulled up her nose "Stop crying, you're pathetic!" continued Arya "That one doesn't care about anything or anyone but his own filthy skin!"

"That's not true." replied Sansa between sobs "He's rough, but…he saved me, he took me with him from King's Landing, he could have abandoned me to my fate, but he didn't, how can you call someone who saves your life a monster? " then Sansa continued her tale by narrating to her sister all that she had experienced, but Arya did not flinch, in fact her features became even harsher and her lips stretched into a straight line laden with reproach toward her older sister.

"You are a fool, Sansa, as well as a liar. First you defended Joffrey and forced me to let Nymeria go, with your words you condemned Mycah to death, and now you are defending that filthy murderer. You are a disgrace to our family!" sentenced Arya with contempt.

Sansa lost control of herself and forgot her manners, she slapped her sister who vehemently attacked her by scratching and beating her, it was that guy, Gendry, who separated the two sisters, someone else looked on in curiosity at that scene.

"What's the matter with you people?" the light-eyed, dark-haired boy intervened, tearing up Arya, who had thrown herself impetuously at her sister.

"My sister is mad, that's the matter," replied Arya furiously.

Sansa breathed heavily, then curled up in a corner and began to cry.

"All she can do is cry," Arya continued, "And lie."

She hated her, she hated her sister.

"Come on, leave her alone. Calm down," Gendry said again and then dragged the little Stark away from Sansa.

Sansa brought her knees to her chest and wept silently.

She wanted him to come back to her, to find a way to keep his promise, but days passed, the Sun rose and set, and he was gone.

Maybe she really was as stupid as her sister said!

"I brought you something to eat," Gendry told her when again the moon was high in the sky.

Sansa's eyes were swollen, hurting, and she was sure she looked decidedly grotesque, but by now the elder Stark did not even pay much attention to her appearance.

"Thank you." said Sansa.

She reached for the small wooden plate from which she picked up a cooked potato and chunks of meat with her hands; she had not eaten these foods for so long that they seemed a real treat to her palate.

"Don't mind Arya." he told her "She's angry, she's seen … so many bad things she'll never forget."

Sansa nodded "I know, I know how she feels. But she can't stand me. She didn't before… she won't now that I've taken the side of the Hound she despises with all her might. Arya and I will never love each other, even trying. We are so young and yet we have so much resentment already toward each other."

Gendry laid a hand on hers gently taking on a sorry expression "I hope you will understand each other and be able to talk peacefully sooner or later." he said to her before walking away from her and leaving her alone.

Sansa remained alone for the next few days, she struggled to sleep and eat, but by now she was getting used to even not eating or sleeping anymore, on the sixth day-when she got up again-every muscle ached, she had to maintain herself. She found in a corner not far from her Arya staring into the fire, she had an angry expression, when she approached her, her little sister looked venomously into her face "Gendry is gone too! Your prayers have been answered. I am alone too. The difference between us is I have lost a friend, you -- a lousy murderer!"

"Where did he go?" asked Sansa.

"The Brotherhood has… sold him." replied Arya, angrily throwing a handful of dust into the fire.

"Why?"

Arya did not answer, "We cannot trust them. They might do the same to us in exchange for a few gold coins! We have to…" Arya looked around before adding "…flee." Sansa looked at her for a long time, "Are you capable of doing that? Or are you going to cry and ask for help?" bounced Arya at her.

Sansa just looked at her sister, there was nothing she could do she had not forgiven her for losing her direwolf, not forgiven her for supporting Joffrey, not forgiven her for being there and doing nothing to prevent her father's death, not forgiven her for supporting the Hound.

Night came and along with it many men went to sleep, but neither Sansa nor Arya slept. They were awake and ready to flee. Arya had a strange light in her eyes, thought Sansa who instead merely stared at the exit in the hope of seeing Sandor Clegane enter it, take the two Starks and flee, but that did not happen. The Hound must have been many leagues away by now!

"Lannister guards a hundred feet from us!" someone shouted, that was the signal the two sisters had been waiting for, the two in the general confusion managed to easily get past the two knights placed to guard the cave. Sansa and Arya fled at breakneck speed into the dark woods, Sansa trudged on, but did not stop. She was suddenly grabbed as she ran, the one who tugged her was strong and had armor that stood out clearly in the moonlight, she kicked and flailed, but when she heard his voice she stopped, "By the Seventh Hells, stop!" Sansa turned around; it was the Hound.

She wanted to hug him, smile at him, but he asked her abruptly, "Where is that little monster?"

"She kept running."

She didn't even stop to check to see where I was….

The Hound left her there saying, "Hide in this bush and don't make a sound, got it?" then ran and ran in the hope of not making too much noise.

The younger Stark was running, she was fast.

Although she was fast, Sandor was more. He caught her from behind by encircling her by the arm and then said in her ear, "Kick all you want, little wolf, it won't do you any good."

Sandor would have liked the little one to be as docile as Sansa, but if Sansa was as gentle as a lamb, Arya was uncontrollable, a veritable wild wolf, he, for their sake, was forced to strike her, and so, having loaded her onto his shoulders and retrieved Sansa, the three of them walked away from the Whispering Wood.

[ereardon]

The Back Seater and the Baker || Chapter 3 [Bob Floyd x f!OC]

Overview: Bob hasn't seen Haley Nichols since he was fifteen. But when Haley shows up out of the blue with one sentence that throws Bob for a loop – "I'm turning thirty in two weeks, are we still on?" – all of the feelings from their childhood return. Bob never thought that Haley would remember the marriage pact the two made when they were just kids, even if he never forgot. So what happens when Bob falls all over again for his childhood crush? And what will Bob do when he discovers the real reason she came back to capitalize on the pact is to secure her inheritance and save her bakery from bankruptcy? Will he believe Haley when she confesses that she loves him, too?

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x OC [Bakery owner Haley Nichols]

Tropes: Marriage pact

Chapter summary: Bob defends Bradley and Haley in a bar fight at the Hard Deck and when Bob gets punched, it reminds Haley of a similar event from their childhood

Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, fighting, angst

Word count: 2.5K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here

The first time you kissed Bob Floyd, you were fifteen. 

It was a chilly February day. Winter in low country was odd. Nothing like the blizzarding plains of the midwest or the arctic chills that run down the eastern coast. It was damp at times and gray but never overt. The cold slipped in, an unknown intruder, and dug its claws in until you didn’t realize that it had completely taken over. And by the time you realized, it was slithering away, already on its way out, only to be seen again in a few months. A welcome friend after the humid, long days of summer that turned popsicles into a sticky puddle in a matter of minutes and sleek hair into a frizzy mane without proper technique. 

The day you first kissed Bob Floyd, you were bundled under a sweater and his jacket, one he had slung around your shoulders as the two of you departed the old house your grandparents lived in, making your way through the thick grass. 

The two of you paused under the old willow tree, the sun slipping down below the fence line. It was Valentine’s Day. 

You smiled up at him. He smiled down at you. And without saying anything, the two of you leaned into each other, your lips grazing for the first time, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. 

And even though you had never kissed another boy before and even though he was your best friend, there was something different about the moment you and Bob connected. 

It changed everything. And when you pulled away, he grinned down at you and you knew that forever with him wouldn’t be long enough. 

Six months later, you moved away and Bob Floyd faded into your past. 

Fifteen years later, you were in the same exact position. Bob’s lips brushing yours, your fingertips wrapped around his neck, one of his hands cupping your neck, holding you close. 

And this time, when you leaned back, your stomach dropped. Because it was just like the first time. And you knew that you could love him again if you let yourself. Maybe there was a reason the bakery was failing. Maybe there was a reason none of the other guys between now and then had ever worked out. 

Maybe, despite how insane and stupid it sounded, it was always meant to be Bob Floyd. 

Maybe you wouldn’t hurt him. 

“Peanut,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “Is this really happening?” 

You pulled back, Bob’s blue eyes searing into yours, and smiled. “Yeah, Bobby. It is.” 

He brushed a section of hair behind your ear. “I don’t even know what to say. Other than I’m so glad you decided to come find me.” 

“Bobby, I—” Just then, the doorbell rang. 

The two of you looked at each other. “Hold that thought,” Bob said, untangling himself from you, striding over to the front door. He returned a minute later with a pizza box which he slid onto the coffee table. “What were you saying?” 

You shook your head, your heart beating erratically. “I was just going to say that I’m starving.” 

His smile faltered. “Well, let’s eat, honey.” 

You settled onto the couch next to Bob, one of his strong arms stretched out over your shoulders. Instinctively, you leaned into his side as he turned on the TV. You held back the tears that threatened to spill down onto your pizza slice. 

He was perfect. He had been perfect back then. But you were kids. You had thought everything would have a rosy glow because of it. That time would have passed and you’d realize the only reason it was so good back then was because it was in the past. It was unattainable in the way that only memories can be. That time had softened any rough edges of your memory. 

But the truth was, it was just as good as it had been. Perhaps better. You looked up at Bob, the colorful lights of the TV illuminating his silhouette. He was beautiful. He was perfect. 

Your stomach cramped. It was your internal alarm system. 

You were in way over your head.  

***

“I can’t do this,” you said into the phone, tossing it on your bed as you searched for an outfit. “It’s not fair to him.” 

On the other end of the line, Calvin sighed. He was across the country and you could still picture his stance perfectly. Lips puckered up in a pout, probably leaning one hand on the stainless steel bartop where you two decorated your bakes. “I knew it,” he said and you frowned. “You like him.” 

You grabbed a black dress before throwing it back on the bed and picking up a strappy tank top instead. “He’s a good person,” you explained. “Like an actual good person. The kind that returns carts at the grocery store for old ladies and offers to watch your kid for free and would spend his entire day helping someone build a deck if they asked.”

“This isn’t new information, is it?” Cal asked. “You knew him before, right?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I did.” The Bob Floyd you had known as a kid was just as sweet. He would wait after the fourth period with a slice of pizza wrapped in paper napkins if he knew you wouldn’t have time to eat lunch. He would go miles out of his way to walk you home after school. He was the one who had tried to stay in touch after you left. He was the better one. “I just, I don’t know. Maybe a part of me hoped he wouldn’t be such a good person anymore. But he is. He’s great.” 

“It’s not too late to come home,” Cal said. “Maybe there’s another way to save the bakery.” 

“You and I both know there isn’t,” you said quietly. 

“Then do what you have to,” he replied. “And Haley?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe he’ll forgive you.” 

***

It was a Friday. You remember because you had a sleepover planned with Amber Wilson and her parents had a house right on the beach on Sullivan’s Island. You were supposed to eat salt water taffy and dip your toes in the sand and spend the night giggling and dialing boy’s phone numbers. 

Instead, you found yourself holding an ice pack to Bob’s eye in the nurse’s office. 

It was after the final bell, and everyone was collecting their backpacks from their lockers. The halls were crowded. Dense with flailing limbs and open book bags and noisy with excitement for the weekend. 

So noisy that you didn’t hear it at first. That was, until a crowd started to gather near the Spanish classroom, and your ears perked up with interest. You pushed your way toward the action, jaw dropped when you saw what was happening. 

Billy Turner had Bob by the backpack straps, dangling him in the air. You shoved forward, actually grabbing and tossing a few kids in your effort to get to Bob, a loud yell exiting your mouth as Billy turned to see you shoving him. 

He set Bob down, turning to you with a slick grin. “Haley Nichols. Should have known Floyd would need a girl to defend him.” 

“Shut your fucking face, Billy,” you spat, eyes burning. “Pick on someone your own size you enormous fuck.” 

He laughed. “Hear that, Floyd? Little girl here wants me to leave you alone.” Billy eyed Bob who was busy rubbing the angry red stripes on his shoulders where the backpack straps had dug in as Billy knocked him around. “You’re a fucking baby, aren’t you? That’s what you are, a little fucking baby.” 

And then Billy was reaching out, one fist clipping Bob’s face, knocking his glasses to the ground, Bob crumpling shortly afterward. You instinctively shoved Billy as hard as you could and he careened into a group of people near the beige lockers. “Fuck off, Turner!” you screamed. 

You rushed forward, bending down, pulling Bob up gently. He held his glasses in his hands, looking up at you with the saddest eyes you had ever seen. You pulled him in close and he crumpled against you, your fingers on his cheeks, one arm wrapped around him. Bob leaned against you and you turned your gaze to where Billy stood off to the side. 

You glared at him. “Fuck you,” you mouthed silently. He turned and stomped away. 

The crowd dissipated once they realized the action was over. It was just you and Bob, standing in the hallway, his head pressed to your chest. Finally, he straightened up and you could see the start of a black eye. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, touching it softly. He grimaced. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly, voice breaking. 

You frowned. “For what?” 

“Being a nerd,” he admitted. “Getting beat up by a bully like Billy. You must think I’m a freak.” 

You shook your head. “No. Don’t say that.”

Bob looked up with watery eyes. “You deserve better.” 

“Stop it.” You pulled him in close, wrapping your arms around his waist, waiting until he dropped his chin down onto your shoulder. Until you heard his sniffles dissipate. “I’ll never find someone better than you, Bob Floyd,” you whispered. “Never.” 

***

You had come to realize that the bar they all went to wasn’t a special occasion place or a one in a while hangout. It was a daily occurrence for a lot of the team, minus Bob. 

So when the two of you pulled up in Bob’s truck hand in hand, it was no surprise that the entire team was waiting there with grins on their faces. 

“Well, well, look who it is.” Bradley stepped in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. He grinned. “Don’t forget, Floyd, we owe these girls some drinks after that flight.” 

Bob squeezed your hand, leaning in close. “Can I get you a drink, darlin’?” 

You nodded. “Gin and tonic?” 

“You got it, sweetheart.” 

That left you alone near the edge of the room with Phoenix, Hangman and Coyote. Jake slung his arm around your shoulders and you grimaced. “So you and Floyd, huh?” Jake asked. 

“Yup.” 

“That came out of nowhere,” he said and you recognized the way he said it. 

He was jealous. You smirked. “Did it?” you asked. “Or maybe we’ve spent the last fifteen years wondering if things would ever live up to how we made them in our heads about each other.” 

“She got you there,” Coyote said and you laughed. 

You grabbed Jake’s hand, slowly unwinding his arm from your shoulders and putting it back down against his side, patting his arm lightly. “Don’t worry, you’ll find someone. Hangman.” 

Phoenix laughed, taking a sip of her beer with a smirk. “Fuck, Hangman, Bob’s girl got you good.” 

Bob returned a minute later along with Bradley and a round of drinks. You nuzzled into his side, sipping on your G&T, nodding enthusiastically at the stories swirling above your head. Throughout the night, Bob kept his arm tight around your waist. Occasionally he would lean down, whisper into your ear. A secret only the two of you knew. A joke about Hangman’s lack of game. Telling you again how beautiful you were. 

After a few hours, Bob let you go reluctantly, following Bradley and Coyote to the far side of the bar, apparently to make good on a bet about darts. You turned to Phoenix, about to ask her what it was like to fly with Bob, when you heard the first shout. 

“You know what you did, Bradshaw!” 

“Oh, fuck,” Phoenix said, setting her beer down and grabbing your hand. “We gotta go.” 

“What’s happening?” you asked, craning your head, trying to find the source of the commotion. 

Jake put one hand on Phoenix’s back, slightly lower than you would have expected. “Nix, let me handle this.” 

“Whatever you say, Bagman,” she said, eyes narrowing. He looked down at her for a second too long before pulling his hand away, walking in front of her, leading the charge. 

“Leave it, Underwood.” You recognized Bradley’s voice but there was anxiety lacing the words. He was concerned.

“She’s my girlfriend, you asshole.” 

“Ex-girlfriend.” It was Bob correcting him. You grimaced, hand squeezing Phoenix’s, trying to push closer despite the crowd. 

“Stay out of this, Floyd.” The angry guy. “Go back to your slutty girlfriend.” 

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that.” His words could cut stone, they were so sharp. 

There was a laugh. Phoenix tugged you the remaining steps until the two of you were thrust out into the front of the crowd, just around the ring of air that had enveloped Bob, Bradley, Coyote and Underwood. Jake stood on the edge of the fray, eyes hard, assessing the situation. You could see how he would be good in combat. He had the ability to cut out all of the background noise and center in on the problem. You suddenly felt a little safer. 

That was, until Underwood opened his mouth again. 

He stepped in closer to Bob, eyes blazing. He was a large guy, blond buzzcut, thick build. The way they grow them in the midwest: tall and broad and simple. “I said, your girlfriend is a slut.” 

Bob’s fist came out faster than you could even see. All you saw was the aftermath. The way his clip to Underwood’s left cheek had him gasping, sputtering, before righting himself, reaching for Bob. Bradley stepped in, grabbing the larger man’s shoulders, twisting him, dodging a punch before landing one himself right in the guy’s stomach. Underwood grunted and Bob and Bradley made eye contact, but then he was back on his feet, punching Bob, leveling him to the floor. You let out a screech, rushing forward, dropping Phoenix’s hand as Jake stepped in alongside Coyote, all three of them trying to hold back the larger man. 

You dropped to your knees, reaching out, holding Bob’s head in your hands as Penny rang the bell at the bar. 

“All of you!” she shouted, one finger pointed toward the door. “Out.” 

“Come on, honey,” you murmured, helping Bob to stand, one hand gripping his arm, leading him outside. 

Bradley, Coyote and Jake tossed Underwood out onto the gravel of the parking lot. You watched as he stood up, blood dripping from his brow, before glaring and limping away toward a white truck. 

You helped Bob sit on a bench next to the bar, kneeling at his feet, touching his face gently. “Does that hurt?” you asked softly.

Bob looked up. “God, this is really like ninth grade all over again, isn’t it?” 

You laughed. “He did have a very Billy Turner vibe to him.” 

“I’m sorry, Peanut,” he whispered. 

You leaned in, pressing your lips against his softly. Bob grunted quietly and you pulled away with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he murmured. “Do it again.” 

You laughed, leaning in, kissing him again. “I’ll tell you now what I told you then,” you whispered. “I’m never going to find someone better than you, Bob Floyd. But don’t feel like you have to defend me. Let them make fun of me, I don’t care. I’m not worth it.” 

Bob reached out, running one finger down the side of your cheek. “When are you going to realize, Haley Nichols, that you’re the one thing that’s worth anything?” 

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[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Remembering 9/11: Honoring the Victims (by Robert Mooney)

* * * *

Billy Collins Here is that poem, written by Billy Collins for a special joint session of Congress in New York commemorating the first anniversary of 9-11.

THE NAMES by Billy Collins

Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night. A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze, And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows, I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened, Then Baxter and Calabro, Davis and Eberling, names falling into place As droplets fell through the dark. Names printed on the ceiling of the night. Names slipping around a watery bend. Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream. In the morning, I walked out barefoot Among thousands of flowers Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears, And each had a name – Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins. Names written in the air And stitched into the cloth of the day. A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox. Monogram on a torn shirt, I see you spelled out on storefront windows And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city. I say the syllables as I turn a corner – Kelly and Lee, Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor. When I peer into the woods, I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden As in a puzzle concocted for children. Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash, Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton, Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple. Names written in the pale sky. Names rising in the updraft amid buildings. Names silent in stone Or cried out behind a door. Names blown over the earth and out to sea. In the evening – weakening light, the last swallows. A boy on a lake lifts his oars. A woman by a window puts a match to a candle, And the names are outlined on the rose clouds – Vanacore and Wallace, (let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound) Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z. Names etched on the head of a pin. One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel. A blue name needled into the skin. Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers, The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son. Alphabet of names in a green field. Names in the small tracks of birds. Names lifted from a hat Or balanced on the tip of the tongue. Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory. So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.

from AIMLESS LOVE, Random House, 2013