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annwrites · 4 months ago

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—long black road

and, baby, when you think of me, i hope it ruins rock 'n' roll. — 80srockstar!billy x reader ; ✩ : · ✿

x dividers

The crowd shooshes and you smooth the skirt of your dress, ensuring your legs are perfectly crossed as you clasp your hands over your knees, looking to David Letterman with a smile, while he looks at the camera.

"Alright, folks. We have a really special one for you tonight. I have here with me the author of the New York Times bestseller, 'In the Back of the Bus: My Year with Billy and The Hard Grove', Y/N."

The camera zooms in on the cover of the book—the boys standing along the side of their tour bus, holding you up on your side, Billy staring down at you with a soft smile, while the others are laughing and smiling amongst themselves.

He turns to you and grins, shaking his head, setting the novel down. "I'll be honest, I'm only about halfway through the book myself, and if there's one thing I've learned on this show, it's that truth is stranger than fiction, and this autobiography only further proves it."

You laugh lightly. "I worried, while writing it, that I'd get accused of lying, because I even said to myself at times 'did we really do that? I mean, did Billy? Surely no one is going to buy this. Literally or figuratively'."

He clasps his hands atop his desk, growing serious.

"I have a plethora of questions. But my first one—and I'm sure this will be the easiest one," he says with obvious sarcasm. "Do you regret any of it?"

You're quiet for a moment, thinking, while the crowd remains silent. Waiting.

You open your mouth to reply.

Billy glances to you, watching as you lean back against a stack of black boxes, meant for stage equipment, looking anywhere but at him.

He smirks. So you're either shy, or just like to be chased. He's done it before—played into the fantasy of the lonely girl who wants to be noticed by the rockstar, instead of the other way around.

If the night ends with your legs spread for him in his penthouse suite, he'll write the whole damn romance novel on your clit with his tongue.

His eyes trail from your tight little velvet bell-bottoms that hug your thighs, to the curve of your round hips, then your hourglass waist, finally licking his lips as he eyes-up your breasts, hiding beneath your glittering crop-top.

"You want an autograph, sweetheart?" He asks, taking another from a waiting fan who's practically bouncing up and down from excitement at being in his mere presence.

He hardly notices her.

Instead, his eyes are trained squarely on you.

"No, thank you," you reply quietly, only glancing to him, then back away, waiting for Carmen.

"What, you don't like my music? Don't tell me you're an Air Supply girl," he says with a smirk, coming over to you.

"I didn't say that," you state plainly, finally looking at him.

He leans in toward you, pressing his palm against one of the boxes.

"You're not sayin' much of anything. Come all this way and you didn't even enjoy the show? I gotta make it up to you somehow, sugar," he says with a charming wink and a wide grin, showing off his perfect teeth.

You merely stare back at him, unimpressed, hoping Carmen wraps up collecting the other band member's signatures, and quickly.

He shrugs, tucking a loose strand behind your ear. "Quiet. That's alright. I like that in a woman."

He then glances down to your chest, then back into your eyes. "Out of pictures, but I can sign somethin' else, if that's more your speed."

You cross your arms then, irritation building. "That's really generous, but I'm not interested."

He can tell he's getting under your skin, and is enjoying every second of it.

He finally sighs, nodding. "Alright. I'll get off your case."

He shrugs.

"When you give me your number. Probably not every day you have the lead singer of a rock band that sold out Chicago Stadium asking for that, huh?" He asks with a cheeky grin and a raised brow.

You merely roll your eyes. But you know this is the only way to get him away from you: pretend to play along, and then he'll go. The game will be over.

He holds a magic marker toward you and you gently take it from him, twisting off the cap.

He then holds out his hand, palm face-up. Just an excuse to have you touch him, really.

Once you’ve finished jotting down the faux number, you hand the marker back to him with a pleasant smile.

And he sees right through it. He half-turns away from you, searching for your friend. Something starting with a ‘C’. And then he spots her.

He places his thumb and forefinger between his lips and whistles, all eyes suddenly turning in his direction—a plethora of young women praying to God he’s wanting their attention, specifically.

But he hones-in only on Carmen.

He jerks his head toward you. “You two live together in an apartment or somethin’?”

Giddy from the fact he’s even talking to her, she begins to nod excitedly. “Yes!”

“You got a landline, then, I assume. What’s the number?”

You begin rapidly shaking your head, staring with wide-eyes at her, but she’s too entranced by Billy to even acknowledge your presence as she spouts it off to him.

He turns back to you with a raised brow and a sarcastic shake of his head. “Looks like you gave me a bogus number, honey. Guess we need to turn that zero into a six.”

As he corrects the number on his hand, you merely glare at the back of Carmen’s head.

1980s rock band, billy & the hard grove, are at the top of the music charts, as well as the world.

billy—the lead singer & a guitarist—has everything he could ever ask for & never could've imagined he'd one day have when he left that podunk indiana town: drugs, women, money, & worldwide fame.

but not what he needs, even if he doesn't know it—is reluctant to admit to desiring it in fear of seeming weak, pathetic, or, much more: fucking it up like he does every other facet of his life in due time—someone who loves him.

along comes you, who he spots backstage after one of the band's shows in indianapolis. quietly standing off to the side, not requesting so much as an autograph from him as groupies & fans gather round.

so, he goes to you instead—refusing to leave you be until you give him your number—& for the first time in his life, he gradually comes to find that he's discovered something that he has no idea how to live without.

&, through billy, you discover a world you never knew existed. one full of passion, excitement, & maybe even love. one where you can step outside the box you've tried to desperately to shove yourself into for so many years.

until your heart is broken, & you finally remember why you'd kept it so carefully protected all your life.

&, in turn, billy loses not just his soulmate, but himself as he rapidly goes off the rails with no end in sight, until he, like all natural disasters, finally crashes & burns.

headcanons:

after madison square garden, billy has one of the guys take a picture of him & reader. he pulls her into his lap & she just smiles wide at the camera, while he presses a kiss to her cheek. one of her hands is gently gripping the fingers of the hand of his arm that's around her shoulder. it becomes one of billy's most prized possessions.

he honestly falls for her extremely fast. but he doesn't admit it. just tells her a lot how he really likes her & spending time with her. likes how she treats him & makes him feel.

he likes that she holds him accountable. no one else does & it makes him feel like no one gives a shit about him. like, sometimes he'll do stupid shit just in the hopes of someone telling him 'hey, man, maybe that's enough', but they don't. & he figures it's either bc they truly don't care, or bc they think he's that egotistical that the second he gets told no, he'll leave the band bc he wants to be able to run wild at all hours.

he, at first, wants to spoil her, bc he thinks that's how it works. with groupies, they only want him for sex, or their own five minutes, or for nice clothes or money, a night in a penthouse, etc. they don't see him. they see the guy he brings on stage & to magazine covers, etc. whereas she's not interested in any of that. she tells him that her friendship isn't transactional.

she eventually gets put on at least 1 of the band's tracks—per rod, their manager's, idea. he says it's missing something & it's when he looks at her sitting in a chair behind the sound board that he realizes: female vocals. she's really adamant that she not be on it—she'll ruin it, but he insists. & it's an instant billboard hit.

plotting *MASSIVE SPOILERS HEAD*:

billy is quickly entranced by reader, bc he comes to immediately realize that she wasn’t playing hard-to-get; she just wasn’t interested, which is even more of a chase & challenge for him.

calls her up pretty quickly. like two days later. carmen answers, though, & when she tries to hand the phone off to reader, she refuses to take it. carmen refuses to hang up, though, so reader does it for her.

just keeps blowing up their landline until she finally speaks to him.

after a couple of weeks of idle talking—her not showing any real interest—he breaks out the big guns. he offers to arrange to have her come see the band perform at madison square garden. he’ll pay her entire way there—cabs, airfare, lodgings, food, souvenirs, her front-row ticket, even an all-access backstage pass. she declines, which he’s not happy about. he then asks her as nicely as he can manage—especially with his explosive temper—if she will at least think about it. she agrees to do so & actually does…& changes her mind. he’s thrilled when she says yes. even if it’s not for him. it’s for her. to, for once in her life, do something impulsive. & at least she won’t have to pay for anything.

he puts her in first-class on the plane, gets her a private driver for when she arrives in ny, puts her in a very nice suite at the hotel—& anything she orders through room service is on him. shortly after she arrives, though, she receives a call on the phone in her room informing her there’s a car waiting downstairs for her.

it takes her straight to the stadium & there’s an usher waiting for her at the gate to escort her backstage as the boys are doing soundcheck. billy just wanted an excuse to show off in front of her.

none of the band members seem too surprised by her presence—because this is something he’s done before & they know he’ll inevitably do again just to score pussy.

when they head back to the hotel, he has her ride with him & he asks her to come up to his suite. “just to check it out-—see what you think,” he says with a smirk. “you’re not getting me into bed.” “damn, at least buy me a drink first.”

nevertheless, she does. & he tries hitting on her further. “so, what’d’ya think?” “it’s impressive. & I thought my room was nice.” “can always stay here instead. even have a nice big california king. more than enough room for two.” she goes to leave with a roll of her eyes, but he stops her & gets serious for a minute, asking her to please stay.

they talk for awhile & he actually bothers genuinely opening up to her, even a bit.

she tells him how great she thinks it must be to have the privilege of doing what you love every day like he does. providing joy to millions.

he asks what she’s passionate about. she enjoys writing, but says she can never finish any story that she starts. & that even if she thinks something she’s come up with one day is really good, by the next she may very-well see it as utter garbage.

he asks if she brought any of her material with her.

“my typewriter is at home, but I do carry a notebook.” “can I read some of it?” “no, I’m sorry. I just worry about…I don’t know. being judged or mocked, I guess.” “welcome to being an artist, baby.” “I’m not your baby.” he smirks. “sure would love it if you were, though.” she just rolls her eyes yet again.

after more talking, she tells him maybe she should head back to her room for the evening. it’s getting to be evening time now & she’d like to shower & order dinner. he offers for her to do so there—he’ll order her whatever she wants. she raises a brow at the offer to shower, so decides to in her own room.

he gives her an extra key to his room to use once she’s done in hers.

& when she comes back, his room is empty, so she glances in the bathroom for a moment, only to find a vial of coke sitting on the counter. she’s not sure why she’s in disbelief at it, but she is. turns out he was on the balcony.

“you want some?” he asks, nodding toward it. she looks at him like he’s suddenly grown a second head. “of course I don’t. you…you shouldn’t be using it, either. do you have any idea what this will do to you in the long-run? to your life? your body?”

he doesn’t appreciate being preached at. he stalks toward her, smile now gone. “i didn’t pay your way here to listen to you lecture me, honey. so you can either sit your ass down & have a good time, or you can get the hell out.”

“i’ll do you one better. I’ll find my way back home. coming here was clearly a mistake. i don’t know why i thought you were capable of acting like a human being for five seconds. that’s what all you celebrities have in common: you sell your souls to the industry in exchange for fifteen minutes of fame. i just hope it was worth it.”

he watches her head toward the door & his true toxicity finally jumps out. “if you walk out that door i’ll use. i’ll snort myself fucking stupid. but if you stay…i won’t.”

utterly shocked, she turns back around. “i’m still practically a complete stranger to you & you’re willing to use your sobriety for the evening as a way to manipulate me into staying? unbelievable. i’m not one of your little groupies who will fall on her knees & beg for your forgiveness for hurting your precious feelings. i’m leaving.”

just as she turns to leave again he openly wallows in self-pity as he goes to sit on the foot of the bed, head in his hands. “i’m sorry. it’s just like me to fuck everything up. i make everyone leave. even since I was a kid. it’s what i’m best at.”

she knows what he’s doing, but bc she has a conscious she can’t just leave. “it’s called consequences, billy. see, just because you want someone to do something, doesn’t mean they have to. i know that not always getting what you want is probably an unfamiliar concept to you.”

he looks at her with puppy-dog eyes. “i wanted you to stay because i like how you make me feel. how you talk to me. like…like you see me. you see past all the glam rock bullshit. because you’re not falling all over yourself to get five seconds of my time. i’m…i’m sorry, okay? so you have to forgive me.”

she raises a brow, crossing her arms. “i’m sorry, i have to forgive you?”

“yeah, that’s how it works. i tell you i’m—”

“forgiveness—as well as trust—are both things which are earned. & are only given when the opposite party feels you’re worthy of them. they don’t just get served to you on a silver platter because you said ‘you’re sorry’. that was maybe how it worked when you were like, three, or four, but not now.”

“can you please just stay?”

“no, billy, i’m tired. & hungry. so i’m going back to my room. i’ll…reassess in the morning. for what it’s worth, i hope you don’t use. but that choice is ultimately up to you.”

next morning she gets a breakfast platter delivered. “compliments of mister hargrove.”

fresh fruits, juice, milk, pastries, eggs, toast, bacon, sausage, etc. as well as a stack of pancakes. & when she removes the lid to them? written in chocolate chips—surrounded by a heart of whipped topping—are the words 'i’m sorry’.

She goes to throw them in the trash, but it’s so ridiculous that she can’t help but smile at it…& eat half of them.

& then there’s a knock at the door. & when she opens it, billy is standing on the other side, smug with himself that she’s still there. “mornin’, sunshine,” he says, barging in. then, “see you got my apology note.”

in regards to the music track she's featured on, she's extremely nervous once she's in the recording room. like, shaking & her breathing is unsteady. heart is pounding. billy himself struggles with anxiety (i'm going to make that a very big reason as to why he uses), so he takes her face between his hands as he stares into her eyes until her breathing has calmed.

he tells her to only look at him & the sheet music w/ the lyrics on it in front of her. they're the only two people there. ignore the people in the other room, ignore the band behind them. just look at him.

"can...can i hold your hand?"

he gives her a soft smile. "of course you can."

i do have a breakup scene planned in the future where she gets in an evening early—she's supposed to be in the next morning—& when she walks into billy's room, she finds him in bed with two girls. fucking one doggystyle, snorting cocaine off her back, while the other is pressed up against his side.

reader is heartbroken, but somehow...not entirely surprised. it was like she'd been waiting for something just like this to happen.

he sees her, freezes, then, "fuck".

he jumps off the bed, racing over to her before she can leave. just like that first night, as soon as she grips the door handle, he speaks. "if you leave i'll kill myself".

the girls gasp, looking at each other.

reader pauses.

"i'll do it. i'll throw myself off the goddamn balcony."

she turns back to him with a look of both disbelief & loathing.

"i'm a piece of fuckin' shit. so i'm not above threatening my own life to make you stay. i know you won't leave me."

she all but backs him into a wall, staring at him. he tries to turn his head this way & that. he can't even look her in the eyes.

& then she grabs his chin, forcing him to. a beat of silence. "no, you won't. you're pathetic. i shouldn't be surprised, though. you showed me who you were that first night, didn't you? what was it you said again when i tried to leave? 'i'll snort myself stupid'?"

her eyes trail down & back up, tears shimmering when she meets his own again, which are bloodshot. "clean yourself up."

she turns to leave.

"i love you."

she turns the handle. "you don't even understand the meaning of the word."

she glances back to the groupies. "good luck with him. you're going to need it."

with that, she walks out, slamming the door.

she hears him yell for the girls to "get the fuck out!"

he sinks down to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest as he starts to cry.

she heads toward the elevator.

it's taking forever. & just as it dings, the band's bass player comes back from getting ice, excited to see her. "hey! i thought your flight wasn't due in until tomorrow?"

"i'm leaving."

he blocks the open doors then. "wait, wait, wait. what—what happened? did he do something?"

"as if you don't know. you're just like him. all men are the same. you're all liars."

he swallows, filling with guilt. "i wanted to tell you. i just—how the fuck could i be the one to break your heart? hey, just, listen. he never fucking deserved you. from that first day he didn't. he doesn't give a shit about anybody but himself. doesn't see anything unless it's his own reflection in a mirror. & that's what he would've turned you into in time. but i see you. i see how beautiful you are. and kind. talented, smart. just...wonderful. and i—"

she crushes her lips to his.

he drops the ice.

"can we go to your room?"

unable to even speak, he just nods, fumbling with the key.

they sleep together.

cut to her sitting on the floor of the shower, pulled into herself as she thinks on what she just did with regret.

"you alright in there?"

"y—yeah. i'll be out in a minute!"

"you want me to join you?"

"i'm almost done!"

she gets out & he's right back at the door. "you want me to order room—"

she sits on the toilet lid, switching the blow dryer on just to be left alone.

once the band is at the recording studio the next morning (she remains at the hotel), one of the other members asks where you are. "wasn't she supposed to be in by now?"

billy freezes up again, having no idea wtf to even say.

then, "she's at the hotel sleeping."

billy turns toward the bassist, his eyes full of rage. "excuse me? but what the fuck did you just say?"

rod is in the other room watching. "oh shit."

bassist shrugs. "you never deserved her in the first place."

all hell breaks loose.

billy throws a music stand at him, which he dodges. then he grabs his bass guitar from its stand & slams it down on the floor, breaking it in two.

bassist lunges & they start fist-fighting right in the middle of the room.

billy initially gets the upper-hand, throwing repeated punches until the bassist gets on top of him & starts trying to choke him out, until rod pulls him off & demands they separate until they both cool off.

billy goes back to the hotel immediately. he needs to see for himself.

& he does. he pounds on the door.

you open it, wearing only a robe from the hotel.

"i just had to see it for myself. you're a fucking hypocrite."

you feel sick. "difference is, at least i did it once we were no longer together."

he sneers. "that is a comfort to no one but you." then, "what? you think he's better for you or something? you think he actually fucking sees you?"

"like you did?"

"yeah, i did. but with him?" he chuckles. "you're just—to him you're just going to be a perfect goddamn madonna. god-forbid you ever make a mistake. because the minute you do—"

"so what was i to you, billy? the whore?"

"no, you were just mine."

"not anymore."

tears are in his eyes. "fuck you."

"he already did," you say, slamming the door in his face.

in the future, things hit their climax when billy can't take it anymore. all of it. so he overdoses in bed, clutching that polaroid of the two of you.

one of the guys find him bc he's late for something or other.

you stand shaking in the doorway, watching as he'd loaded onto a stretcher, staring at that photo in his hand, crying. & you know who you really want. what you really want. have all along.

you go back to your room w/ the bassist & he says something unforgivable. "i hope he dies."

"what?"

"i mean it. we'd be better off. the whole goddamn world would. he's just a junkie waste of space anyway."

"you're a monster."

"i'm sorry, what?"

"i—i'm leaving. i need to go to him."

"you're going to him?" after everything he's done he still gets what he wants. are you fucking kidding me? no. you belong with me."

"i'm still in love with him! i never stopped being. this is over. i'm done."

so you go to billy at the hospital.

he tells you he wishes they'd just let him die.

you tell him how you feel.

and then he holds you in his hospital bed while you both lie together in silence.

#annsideas #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove x reader

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years ago

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

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One Prozac a day, husband’s a CPA.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her yellow SUV is now the enemy.”

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

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

“Since Bruce Springsteen, Madonna,”

“Way before Nirvana,”

“There was U2 and Blondie,”

“And music still on MTV.”

“Her two kids in high school,”

“They tell her that she’s uncool.”

“‘Cause she’s still preoccupied,”

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

“With 19, 19…1985.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything,” he doesn’t hesitate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And thus, the 1985’s were born.

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

It was on MySpace that their lives changed forever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey—.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bob should’ve fucking knocked on wood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s just a coincidence—.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She was everything. She is everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

“What?”

“I think Y/n loves you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s mine.”

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

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

She was ethereal. Absolutely breathtaking.

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

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

“Hello, Robert.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then tell me why!”

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

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

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

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

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

“You love me?”

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

“For years?”

“Almost seventeen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is her. Who am I speaking to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was one of her favorite memories.

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

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

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

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

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

So they were gonna go out with a bang.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, dada.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Classic rock,” the band repeated.

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

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

“1985!!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

……….

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

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fictionalwh0ree · 2 years ago

Text

perfectly made bed- fiona gallagher

summary: it's the 80s and you're a member in a rock band. you party hard and do as much as you can with your male counterparts. fiona, on the other hand, is the total opposite. and you hate each other for it.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: heavy drug/alcohol use

pairing: 80srockstar!fiona x rockstar!reader

you unlocked the door to your hotel room and looked around. you noticed the perfectly made bed you wouldn’t use, the washroom that would be torn apart, the freshly vacuumed carpet that would be stained and dirty, and finally, the mini fridge stocked with overpriced liquor that would be empty anyway come morning. you dropped your bag onto the ground and opened the fridge. you picked up one of the tiny bottles and threw it back at once. the taste warmed your throat and you winced a little before throwing it into the trashcan nearby.

the clock on the wall ticked and you watched as it hit 3:30 pm, signalling that you needed to head downstairs to the lobby. you shut the tv off and got up from the ground, stumbling slightly as you kicked over a couple more bottles, clinking against each other as you did so. your head had already begun to spin as you walked down the identical halls. as you reached the elevator, you noticed someone standing there. your bandmate’s untamed hair was tucked behind one ear and a bottle of water was dangling from her hand. she was tapping her foot impatiently as she watched the number go down. as you got closer and stood by her, she didn’t even glance in your direction. you weren’t sure if she hadn’t noticed you or if she was ignoring you. knowing fiona, it was probably the latter.

once you were in the elevator, she couldn’t get around avoiding your gaze. her cold eyes stared into yours, studying you with a disgusted expression. the only noise in there was that of you chewing gum and the dinging that signalled every time you went down a floor, a reminder that your ride would soon be over. you observed fiona and could tell she was holding back from saying something.

“just say it,” you said, breaking the silence.

“what?” she asked, confused.

“whatever you wanna say to me, say it,” you clarified, the eye contact unfailing.

“i don’t have anything to say,” she defended, smirking maliciously.

“you do. out with it,” you urged.

her eyes flipped between you and the screen above the elevator that indicated what floor you were on. the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.

“you smell like a bar floor,” she said as she walked out.

you rolled your eyes as you stepped out. however, as she walked in front of you, your eyes were glued to her figure, and you noticed the extra sway in her hips.

when you arrived at the front, kev and lip were already waiting.

as you approached, kevin broke out in a smile.

“already emptied out the bar, huh, y/n?” he laughed.

“you know it,” you smiled.

he high-fived you and pulled you into his side, patting your back as he laughed. you could see lip and fiona exchange a look, though lip had a small smile playing on his lips. once kev had let you go, he reached into his pocket. he pulled out a small baggie of white powder and smirked, waving it in your face. you tried to grab it, but he pulled away and held a finger up. you noticed that your manager, ian, had arrived and the other two band members had already began to walk out of the building.

as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, security guards had been stationed around you and a crowd had gathered. the reporters held cameras and microphones in your faces, yelling questions you couldn’t comprehend. the fans held posters and papers with pens as they yelled your names out. you knew the drill though, you had places to be, there was no time to stop. you flipped your sunglasses down onto your face and continued to walk as if there was no one there. the five of you piled into a black limo, set to take you to the concert venue.

kev didn’t waste a second before he found a flat surface. he dumped a bit of the powder onto the tray and organized it into lines before bringing it up to his face and snorting one. he passed it over to you and you gladly accepted it, copying what he did. you sniffled and cleaned your nose as you passed the tray to lip, who also took a bump. you could feel as your high was coming. you watched as fiona rejected the tray, one last line laying lone.

“take the stick out of your ass, fiona,” kev said.

she shot him a look, and you knew she wouldn’t be taking it.

“shit, if she doesn’t want it, i’ll have it,” you laughed as you snatched the tray from her and brought it up to your face before taking the last bump.

she looked at you sourly and kev was laughing loudly. you shot her a smile and shrugged before wiping your nose to remove any residue.

“you better not fuck anything up on stage,” she wagged her finger at you.

“yes mom,” you said sarcastically.

“i’m serious,” she said.

“when have i fucked up on stage?” you asked, getting no response, “exactly.”

the rest of the drive was as calm as it could be with three people hopped up on coke. the energy was ecstatic and hyper throughout the practice, and in what seemed like ten minutes, you went from rehearsal to backstage, about to perform. once your hair and makeup was done and you were dressed, you headed out to regroup. a black leather jacket was slung across your shoulders, hanging past your hips and down to your leather pants. the shirt you had under was a simple white tank top, and as you wandered the backstage in search of your bandmates, a cigarette hung loosely from your lips.

of course when you found kevin, he was waving around a bottle of jack daniels and the same baggie from earlier. you took him up on his offer. as you and kev waited for the high to kick in, you saw ian walking frantically towards you. you and kev exchanged a look and started laughing at the stressed and angry expression on his face.

“i’ve been looking for you guys everywhere. you’re on stage in five,” he said, pulling you to your feet.

once you were up, ian was dragging you down the halls at a speed that was way too fast for you to keep up with. you were stumbling as you walked, tripping on anything and everything, but you only found humour in it. when you finally arrived on stage, fiona and lip were already there. you could hear the crowd roaring your names, the only divide being a big black curtain.

“you two are unbelievable,” fiona said snarkily, rolling her eyes.

“thank you?” you questioned as someone handed you your guitar.

“wasn’t a compliment.”

then within a second, the curtain began to lift, and with it, went the tension. the show went perfectly, not a fluke in the set. the crowd was live and those up front were eager to interact with the band. their posters hung high and paraphernalia (mostly bras) decorated the stage floor by the end of the concert, all of it just adding to your high.

and then came the end.

the crowd roared as the curtains went down. once they had shut completely and the stage lights no longer shone fiercely in your face, you let out a breath and wiped the sweat that was drenching your face. you followed your bandmates out the back and back into the limo. the adrenaline was still pumping, and like every night, you knew it was far from over. kev immediately told the driver to head to a strip club, and that he did. within a couple minutes, you were outside an over-the-top club with pictures of curvy women decorating the front. it had stopped being strange going to strip clubs as a woman after a couple times. of course being attracted to them made the experience so much better.

once inside, a manager recognized your band and gave you seats right up front. your wallet was out of your pocket in seconds as you and your bandmates pulled out stacks of cash. the first round of drinks came around and everyone was ready to let loose (yes, including fiona). hours went by but the shots and drugs never stopped coming. you watched as your male band mates got lap dances over and over again, and if one of the strippers was really feeling it, you and fiona would get one too. you shared very different responses. you welcomed it with open arms, or… an open lap? fiona, on the other hand, would tense up. even with alcohol in her system, she couldn’t accept it properly.

the bartender announced last call, but just as you raised your hand, fiona pushed it down.

“i think we’ve had enough,” she said.

“no, its on me. one more,” you insisted.

“no no, you’ve had enough,” she emphasized, her words slightly slurred.

you raised your hand again, but fiona yanked you off the chair, both of you stumbling slightly. your head was spinning. she pulled you out the door and out onto the street. the cold air hit my face and you winced immediately. she continued to pull you around in search of a taxi. lip and kev had found groupies to take back to their hotel rooms. ian never stuck around for the strip clubs, you wondered why…

you stood on the sidewalk, trying to flag down any taxi’s. soon, one pulled over. you got in and as you drove, your hangover began to kick in. your head started to pound and everything felt like it was spinning when you closed your eyes. all you could think about was how you had to find another bottle of alcohol to make it go away.

the drive was quick and as you and fiona walked through the lobby, you noticed how late it was. the lobby was almost completely deserted, besides some families arriving from flights. those near you stared at us like circus animals, their eyes following as you walked towards the elevator.

you stepped in and realized it was the same elevator you had been in earlier. however, now you were standing pressed up against each other. her head was resting on your shoulder and you could tell she was feeling just like you. you were looking at her, or the back of her head, and it was as though she felt it because she lifted herself up a little so she was looking up at you too.

“now who smells like a bar floor?” you joked.

she buried her head into your neck, so close that her lips were almost grazing your skin. she sniffed loudly before laughing in her drunken state.

“still you,” she said, her voice slightly muffled.

you laughed with her before speaking again.

“you’re not so bad when you let loose fiona,” you said.

“you’re not so bad when i’m drunk,” she giggled.

“fuck you,” you said jokingly.

she lifted herself off you until she was standing straight. her eyes met yours and you were so close to each other that the warm breath that was just moments ago on your neck was now hitting your lips.

fiona’s half-lidded eyes flipped rapidly between your eyes and your lips. then with no warning at all, she slowly leaned into you until your lips met. before the situation could escalate anymore, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. as she walked out of the elevator, you grabbed her hand and began dragging her down the halls.

“where are we going?” she asked.

“back to your room,” you said.

“it’s late, y/n,” she laughed.

“no, it’s early. we have to be awake in a couple hours anyway. why sleep when we could do something much more fun,” you smirked.

you heard her laugh from behind and she handed you her key. as you fumbled with trying to get it in the lock, she wrapped her arms around your waist from behind and began to leave sloppy kisses down your neck.

“hurry up,” she whispered in your ear.

you pushed the door open and as soon as it was closed and locked, you were all over each other. needless to say, your bed would remain perfectly made, just as you’d predicted. fiona’s on the other hand, is a different story…

taglist: @StarskyshaSmith18 | @esposadomd | @nataliasknife |

#fiona gallagher x reader #fiona gallagher #fiona gallagher imagine #shameless imagine #shameless au #fiona gallagher au #80s au #80s imagine #fiona gallagher x you #fiona gallagher x y/n

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80smellowtime · 4 years ago

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#herman rarebell #Francis buchholz #Klaus Meine #rudolfschenker #Matthias jabs #ulijonroth #80s #80srockstars #rockstars #gif #mygif #German #Scorpions #scorpionsband

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anytafernandez · 6 years ago

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#Repost @axl.rosee Made by @Image.Downloader · · · · #Estranged #Gunsnroses #axlrose #slash #duffmckagan #gilbyclarke #mattsorum #Dizzyreed #useyourillusion #useyourillusiontour #icon #hardrock #rockmusic #rockband #rockstar #80smusic #80srockstar #rock #rocker #rockstar #icon #classicrock #80srock #90srock #80s #90s #bestband #heavymetal (en Community of Madrid) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxCW4XmolCp/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=wdnhg1apneet

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amy3dtd · 6 years ago

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New #workinprogress while I wait for #colorpalette results on my other #rockstar #rockgirl #linework #singer #80s #80srockstar #artistslife #artoftheday #artofvisuals #visualdesign #visualdevelopment #characterdesigner #illustrationlife #illustration #illustrationgram #drawingdaily #artistoninstagram #artistsofinstagram #illustration_daily #stars #digitalpainting #digitalart (at San Francisco, California)

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goldenbuckyyy · 2 years ago

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COMPLICATED FREAK

Summary: The year is 1984 and you’re dead set on getting backstage at a Harry Styles concert.

Pairings: 80sRockstar!Harry Styles x fem!Reader (groupie!reader?)

Word count: 7.2kish

Warnings: Um, almost 4k of pure smut?! Oral (fem!receiving), choking, spanking, doggy style, dirty talk, raw sex, creampie, squirting, hehe. Anything else? Let me know!

A/N: I got this idea just imagining groupie!reader and this happened!! Literally wrote 5k in one sitting and I completed this the next day. I don’t usually write smut, but I want to write more of it… SOOO let me know what you think? Please! Song inspiration includes unreleased “Complicated Freak” by yours truly, Harry Styles.

All mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other side nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions.

Masterlist

You felt hot.

You felt fucking sexy.

You had bedazzled one of your bras from straps to cups in silver, you added white fur to the inner section of your boobs, and it was perfect in the end. You had managed to find the perfect pair of silver sequin flare pants, and your favorite white platform boots.

You had teased your hair just right, your makeup was dramatic, but not excessive. Your lips were painted cherry red and you felt fantastic.

You wanted to stand out against the mob of other girls. You knew you would.

You had to stand out tonight.

You had spent months perfecting your outfit, your makeup, your hair, and especially your plan for tonight.

You were 99.9% sure it wasn’t going to work, but that slight 00.1% was enough to have you at least try.

You were going to fuck Harry Styles tonight.

You knew it sounded crazy. You knew he probably already had hotter girls lining up for him, but you wanted this so badly.

You knew he fucked different girls at different cities. Well, you heard rumors about it. Nothing was 100%.

Now in Los Angeles, you wanted to be the girl he fucked here.

You had to get on two different buses to make it to Los Angeles, California. Hauling your giant suitcase down the city streets, finding your hotel, with different men whistling at you from different angles, and you ignored all of them.

Your eyes were set on only one man tonight.

You look at yourself in the mirror, do a little twirl, fix your breasts in your bra to pop out a bit more, and apply another swab of lipstick. You pop your lips, wiping the corners, and smile to yourself in satisfaction.

You grab your gift for security, hoping it’ll work, your concert ticket, and spray yourself with perfume before walking out the hotel room.

You make your way down to the elevator, which is filled with people dressed in exotic outfits and colors, you squeeze into the tight elevator, smiling at the people around you, and make your way down to the lobby.

You try to not let your mouth fall in shock when the elevator doors open and you’re in view of all the different people talking loudly on the first floor. Just like you, everybody was dressed to impress tonight. You wondered if anybody was trying to do the same as you tonight.

You knew there would be.

You make your way outside, looking around you aren’t too sure where to go, but you see a crowd of people walking in one direction and you can hear the loud music. You decide to follow them. You admire the city lights above you, whispering a low “wow” in awe, and you feel almost light headed because you can’t believe you’re really here.

You had never even been to Los Angeles before this. Better now than never.

You made it to the place where the concert was being held down in the Sunset Strip, there was already a line being held outside, and you waited patiently for your turn to go inside.

You were feeling anxious already, wishing you had a drink in your hand to calm your nerves, but soon enough you were next in line.

You’re soon standing in front of the bodyguard outside of the nightclub, Gazzarri’s. He was tall, muscular, wearing a jean jacket with the sleeves cut off, tattoos littering his arms and chest, a black bandana wrapped around his forehead, ripped jeans, and a pair of combat boots that sealed the deal. You found him attractive. If you weren’t here to fuck Harry, maybe you’d fuck him instead.

You bat your eyelashes up at him while giving him a pouty smile. “Hi,” you beam at him.

The security officer looks you up and down, whistles at you, “Trying to catch someone’s eye, miss?” You detect a slight British accent in his tone.

You smirk as you hand him your ticket, “And if I was?” He smirked back at you, admiring your voice that sounded like honey, and winked at you.

“You won’t have any trouble there, doll.” He steps aside to let you into the concert, he brushes his fingertips on the opening between your bra and pants, and you roll your eyes while you walk inside.

You step inside admiring the scene in front of you. The room was filled with smoke, part weed and part smoke machine, the room was crowded with people of all ages, and you hum in content.

You feel the goosebumps arise on your naked skin as you walk around trying to find the bar to get a drink to settle your nerves. The nightclub was big, with a huge open space for the crowd, the stage was a good size with the band's equipment ready to go, music playing over the speakers to get the crowd buzzing, and there were just so many types of different groups around you.

People talking and laughing amongst themselves, couples basically grinding on each other, and you take notice of the different bodyguards at different sections. You peer over someone’s shoulder to get a better look when you see a black velvet curtains with five bodyguards covering the entrance. You notice a couple girls and guys hanging out around it. You wonder if that’s where Harry is.

You still feel nervous. You decide to continue your search for the bar. You spot it on the other side of the nightclub. You make your way towards the bar, you lean on the bar, making sure to accentuate your breasts, and smile at the bartender who’s eyes land on your chest before your face.

He smirks at you, “What can I get you, baby?”

“Can I please have two shots of vodka and two cherry vodka sours?” You smile back at him, you twirl your hair between your red fingertips, and bat your lashes at him.

You were flirting hard tonight because you didn’t bring any money to this concert. Not because you knew you’d be able to manage to get free drinks, but because you were too nervous thinking about your plan to think about anything else. Plus, this was allowing you to see what works on different guys. Maybe it would work on Harry, too.

The bartender bites his lips while looking at you and nods his head. He pours four vodka shots in front of you, shoving two towards you, keeping two for himself, he picks one up with a smile, and you do the same.

“Cheers,” he says with a wink and down the first shot. You follow his movements and drink the second one right after.

You let out a deep breath as the vodka burns your throat and evaporates in your chest making you break out into goosebumps.

“Nice,” the bartender remarks at you while he makes your two drinks.

You start fumbling around your pants to make it seem as if you’re taking out money, when he notices he quickly signals you to stop, your eyes go doe eyed, mouth parting in shock, “Are you sure?”

He nods and winks at you again, “Yes, anything for a beautiful girl like you. Enjoy!”

“Wow! Thank you!” You exclaim while grabbing your drink which has three cherries on a toothpick, you pick up the cherries, popping one in your mouth, you moan in contentment, closing your eyes slightly, squeezing your elbows closer to your chest, and you relax when you swallow the cherry.

You open your eyes to see the bartender admiring you with glossy eyes, “Damn.”

You wink at him, push yourself off the bar with your two drinks, “Thank you, babe!” You make sure to move your hips a bit more as you walk away from him.

You knew it wasn’t entirely right to use your body sexually to get free drinks or to get what you want. But shit. Right now, you’d do it.

You sip on one of your drinks as you make your way towards the crowd. You manage to insert yourself into the middle of it. Sipping on your drink, watching everybody around you carefully. You’d move an inch forward every time someone moved to the side. You were able to flawlessly intertwine yourself between people, giving some guys a smile as you squeezed in front of them, avoiding mean looking girls, and thankfully made it to the front of the stage when a group of girls left for the bar.

You hum happily, finishing your first drink, and tossing it to the trash can to the side of the stage.

You can feel the alcohol in your veins which make you feel lighter. You can feel the nerves and anxiety still in your body, but now you feel more confident and more sure of what you came here for.

Your ears perk up when you hear some girls talking next to you about Harry.

You push your hair behind your ear trying to listen as you take a glance at them

“Harry never takes groupies backstage!” The red haired one wearing cut off jeans, a red crop top saying “Hot for Harry”, and dramatic makeup says.

“Oh, fuck off! Are you sure? He has to have groupies! He’s fucking Harry Styles.” The pink-haired one was wearing a matching shirt, but hers was hot pink, black ripped shorts, and matching hot pink fishnet leggings.

“You remember, uh, Miranda?” Pink hair nods rapidly, “Well, she tried getting back stage the last time Harry was here and he fucking threw her out!”

“No!!” “Yes!!”

You groan internally at hearing this because you couldn’t believe it. You swore if you came all this way for nothing, well not for nothing, you did love his music, but you wanted to have sex with him a little bit more.

“Maybe he has a type. I bet I could fuck him,” the pink-haired reply giggling as she wiggled her eyebrows at her friend.

“I doubt it.”

You continue sipping your cherry drink, nerves spiking once again, and wondering if your plan was really going to work.

Seconds later, you notice the band members start coming out from backstage. All dressed sexy in matching black outfits. You couldn’t remember their names correctly, but you swore the drummer's name is Sarah because you admired her. She was a fucking woman in an all male band and she delt with the medias sexism extremely well. She looked hot in black leather pants, black tiny bra, and a matching bandana that pushed her teased long hair away from her face.

The other members were pretty much dressed the same way, the guys wearing ripped black jeans, either no shirt or a cut off sleeve black t-shirt with their band name, combat boots, and teased frizzy long hair.

You wonder if they knew how hot they all looked.

You bounce on the heels of your boots in anticipation of waiting for Harry. The crowd around you starts to chant his name, you chant along, and then there he is in front of you. He strolls onto the stage and it’s like the world halts for a moment.

Your mouth drops a bit with the straw of your drink on the tip of your tongue, mouth feeling suddenly dry as you watch him slowly stroll down the stage, his arms up high waving at his fans, yelling loudly, and you feel hot in the crowd. The fans around you are yelling, clapping, whistling loudly, and it’s all for Harry.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

He stood in the middle of the stage, in front of his microphone, in leather pants. Only leather pants. He had the biggest fucking smile on his face as he let himself take in the crowd in front of him.

His leather pants were tight on his skin especially his thighs, his skin glistening underneath the stage lights, abs in perfect view, his tattooed body was toned in all the right places, and he looked fucking fantastic.

His hair was long and curly, pushed back by a white bandana which allows a few of his curls to fall down his face, and he’s smiling a dimpled smile with twinkling eyes.

“Mother fucking Sunset strip!!!” He yells into the microphone, gripping it tightly, and the crowd goes wild for him.

Fuck.

You want this concert to be over. You feel your body hot all over just by looking at him.

You need to get backstage somehow. The band was going crazy while Harry goes to get his white guitar, he has his guitar pick in between his teeth, he adjusts his bandana then his guitar strap, and goes to the mic.

“Are we fucking ready to have a good time tonight?!”

The crowd goes wild for him. There’s jumping, yelling, screaming, clapping, and you can’t help but break out into a smile feeding off of the energy around you. Harry introduces their first song, the crowd starts jumping, and you jump with them.

Soon enough there are different girls yelling for the different band members to turn their way. You see so many different tits being flashed around. Harry winking at different girls throughout the show. You can see the indent of his dick underneath those tight leather pants. He grinds onto the microphone the entire night, you can tell he’s trying to relieve the pressure on it, and you wonder if he’s horny because of the girls in the crowd, or guys, or if he’s horny because of everybody worshiping him.

You think it’s a bit of both. It makes you feel weak in the knees that he gets off on being worshiped. You swear to yourself you’re gonna be the biggest Harry worshiper in bed tonight.

The songs soon start to blur together, your skin is coated in a slight coat of sweat, and you decide to start making your way to the velvet curtains.

You shove your way out of the crowd, fanning yourself with your free hand, and finishing your drink with the other. You lick your lips, tasting cherry, and stand in front of one of the bodyguards.

He looks meaner than all the others, dressed pretty much the same way, but he’s the first one that notices you.

“Hi,” you breathe out with a smile as you dab the sweat away from your forehead.

He raises an eyebrow at you in question, big muscular arms crossed over his wide chest, and you shuffle in your steps. You feel extremely nervous now as you stand in front of him.

You get closer to him, raising up to your toes near his ear, and whisper “Can you escort me to Harry’s room backstage?”

He barks out a laugh and you feel yourself blush in embarrassment. “Oh, honey. You are not the first pretty lady to ask me that. No can do,” he tsks his tongue at you with a head shake.

“I can give you something,” you blurt out as you reach into the pocket of your pants.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, flirtatiously, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

You smile sweetly and pull out your gift in your closed palm. You slowly move your hand down to his and slip the gift into his palm.

The bodyguard peers down at his palm, smirks with satisfaction, and turns to the bodyguard next to him. He looks around behind you and then says, “Escort her to Mr. Styles’ room, Mike.”

The other bodyguard, Mike, looks at you while nodding. He opens the curtain quickly and pulls you inside. You feel your heart racing inside of your chest the more you walk down the long hallway. The cheering fades away, it starts to feel cooler which sends chills down your spine, and then he stops in front of a door.

“Harry Styles” the sign reads on the door, you gulp down your nerves, letting out a shaky breath, and Mike opens the door with a key. He holds the door open for you, letting you in, “Good luck.”

You nod at his response, not being able to say anything in return, feeling extremely nervous now even with the alcohol in your system, and you take a look around the dressing room.

Holy shit, you’re in.

You look around the room to check it out. You walk around slowly. There’s two black leather couches facing each other, one black table in the middle littered with shot glasses, empty red cups, and powdery substance.

You bite your lip as you notice his different luggages and bags opened with clothes sprawled out of it. The vanity mirrors lights are on with different eyeliners, different colored bandanas, and a couple of guitar picks too.

You see that there is a bed on the corner of the room, raising your eyebrow curiously, you walk closer to it, and peer at it. It’s still made and you wonder why it’s even here if apparently he doesn’t do groupies.

You wonder if you’d be considered a groupie. You’ve never had sex with any celebrity. Hopefully, tonight changes that.

You start playing with your fingernails while you wait, becoming increasingly aware of what you’re doing and wondering if you’re really cut out for this. You let out a shaky breath and turn around quickly when you hear the door to the room open.

Your breathing hitches when you make eye contact with Harry Styles.

He’s smiling widely, sweat covering his extremely toned body, his banana is in his hand, the zipper to his leather pants is halfway undone, his chest is moving in deeply with his breathing, and his eyebrows furr when he notices you.

You lick your lips, quickly adjusting your stance, and you smile at him. Trying to hide your shaking hands.

“Hi,” you breath out to him.

“Hello?” He questions as he continues to walk inside his dressing room. “What-what are you, uh, doing in here?” He lets his eyes rack down your body slowly.

“Um.. ha,” you giggle out. You rub your hands on your upper arms, “Funny story actually. I-uh.. I bribed a bodyguard to bring me back here.” You smile softly showing your teeth. Trying your best to not look like a complete psycho stalker.

“Really?” He asks, his tone is enthusiastic like he can’t believe you. He walks past you, your body turns to follow his movement, he chugs a water battle, and raises his eyebrow at you in anticipation. He kicks off his combat boots to different areas of the room, still watching you with amusement.

“Oh!” Your eyes go wide, “I, uh, slipped him a little something.”

“Did ya?” He teases with a mischievous smile teasing his lips.

You bite your bottom lip, “Yeah.”

Harry walks slowly around the room and towards the leather couches. He sits down in one of them, letting out a deep exhale, he tilts his head back to relax, and you look around the room not really sure what to do. You decide to sit down on the corner of the couch in front of him.

“So,” Harry starts. “Why did you bribe the bodyguard with a little something to get back here?“

You sit there pondering on what to say. Debating on what to say that will convince him to sleep with you. You watch him as he watches you, he’s manspreading on the couch, one hand on his thigh, the other resting on the back of the couch, his eyes going up and down your body slowly, and he’s biting his lip.

You decide to show that you’re confident in what you want. You reach down to unzip your platform boots, you slip your feet out, and exhale lowly.

You got this, you tell yourself.

You stand up, move in front of him, your hands are shaking, you swallow the nervous lump in your throat, and unzip your pants from the side. You make eye contact with Harry, he’s still watching your every move, his mouth parting open, you slowly push your pants down to your ankles to slip them off to reveal your cherry red lacy thong. Which barely covers anything at all.

You watch Harry as his eyes focus on your most private parts, his hand moving towards his own, and he groans when he adjusts himself on the couch.

You still haven’t said a word, your skin is erupting in nervous goosebumps, and you reach to your back to unhook your bra.

You let the straps fall down your shoulders, peering at him from underneath your eyelashes as you let your bra fall down your chest, and you hold it in your fingertips.

Standing there naked in front of Harry, feeling yourself getting turned on just by the way he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you, and his noticeable erection full view.

You let your bra fall from your fingertips. Licking your lips you say, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck,” Harry groans out, his fingertips reaching out to brush your hips, shivers run down your spine, you lean into his touch, and you can’t believe this is real.

You wait for his true response, looking down at him, your hair casting over your face slightly, and you feel yourself already panting in anticipation.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as he suddenly wraps a strong arm around your waist, pulling you down to sit on his lap, you land with a hard bounce, moaning when you feel his already hard dick against your covered core, and your hands land on his toned abs.

“Yeah?” You reply with a smile, pushing your hair away from your face, pushing your breasts higher to him, and wait for him to do something.

His eyes are still eating you up, he licks his lips as both of his arms land on your hips, and he moves one to the back of your neck.

Your skin feels like it’s on fire right now, you watch his face with your mouth parting open slightly, and you try not to react when he says, “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re not going to be able to walk out of here.”

Your face breaks out into a big smile at his words, you push your hips down to his dick to tease him some more, and he roughly pulls you into him.

His lips land on yours hungrily, you wrap your arms around his neck, shoving your breasts against his chest, and moaning into his mouth at his taste. He tastes like tequila and he smells so fucking good. You weren’t sure if it was his natural scent or if it was cologne mixed with it. You had no idea, but you wanted to devour him. You knew you tasted like cherry vodka and you secretly hoped he liked it.

Your kiss becomes messier, your lips crashing against his, your hips grinding against his hard dick still under his leather pants, he hisses into your mouth, his tongue fighting with yours for dominance, and you lick the inside of his mouth. You bite down on his bottom lip, sucking it, and moaning loudly when he tugs on your hair. You taste metallic, licking his lips, and you both pull away simultaneously.

You’re both panting loudly, chests moving in sync, his eyes wide, and he laughs loudly.

You smile at his reaction, your arms hanging loosely on his shoulders, and slipping your hands into his sweaty curls.

“You’re a fucking dream, Cherry. You taste so fucking fantastic,” he moans out to you, pride filling your stomach, you beam at him as he starts to open mouth kiss your neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over you.

Cherry.

His fingertips pinching each one of your nipples, your head falling back in pleasure as the only sound in the room is your panting and the noises Harry is making as he laps his lips around your breasts.

You whine loudly, looking down at him, holy fucking shit, and Harry suddenly wraps his arms on your waist pulling you up into the air.

“Holy,” you breath out, he doesn’t stop kissing your body, he stands holding you up with one strong arm while his other hand is shoving off his leather pants in a rush.

You look down at his long legs underneath you, moaning when you see he isn’t wearing any underwear. Harry’s dick is throbbing underneath you, bouncing in its full length, and his red tip is leaking already.

Harry pushes your body against the wall, your groan in pain and pleasure as your body arches into him, his free hand now touching your breasts. His hands feel giant against your breasts. You can feel yourself almost dripping.

Harry shoves everything off the vanity, all the items falling to the floor loudly, and he sucks on your neck while doing so.

Harry sets you down onto the vanity desk, your legs spread open for him, and you watch him as he gets down onto his knees in front of you.

Harry Styles on his fucking knees in front of you.

His beautiful green eyes are on yours, he winks at you with a smirk, before he taps your hips to lift. You lift your hips as he tugs your thong off.

“Fuck,” he groans out. “You’re fucking drenched, Cherry. Your pussy is fucking wet for me.”

You smile at his nickname for you and nod yes.

“All for you.”

His fingers move to your slits, he spreads you open, and suddenly his mouth is on your core.

You gasp in a sudden breathe when you feel his mouth moving on you. “Holy shit!” Your hands slipping in his curls, once again, and tugging them.

Harry raises your legs over his shoulders, leaving them there, as he devours your sweet glistening pussy.

You can’t look away from him, you’re marking this memory in your brain forever, and your hips grind into his face.

Harry’s big hands go underneath your ass, holding you in place as he continues to eat you out, his tongue making you feel blissful. You can hear him groaning against you, sending vibrations in all the right spots, his tongue lapping up all your wetness, flickering your clit which makes you jump in his hold, but it feels so fucking good.

He slips in a finger into your wet pussy, starting to stretch you out, his cold rings against your pussy makes you want to combust already, you whine out, “Oh my god!”

Suddenly, you’re in the air. Your legs are hooked on his shoulders, Harry is holding you up with one hand underneath your ass, his other hand fingering you slowly, and you feel like you’re in a fucking dream.

He moves you against the wall, the cold wall feels good on your hot skin, and you lean against it to allow him more room.

“Fuck,” you whine loudly when Harry sucks on your clit, sending shockwaves down your body, and Harry laps your pussy again. He sucks against the skin on your thighs, which you know is leaving bruises, and he moans up at you.

“You’re a fucking sight,” he says as he inserts another finger in you. Your face falls in pleasure, his fingers starting to fuck you faster and harder, his mouth is in your pussy again, lips wrapping around your clit, and your body starts getting tighter.

“Ohmygodohmygod,” you cry out in pleasure. Harry doesn’t falter in his hold as you’re in the air, his fingers don’t slow down, his mouth keeps sucking and licking in all the right places, and your abdomen starts tightening.

Your hands tugs at his curls, he’s moaning against you, and you grind your hips against his mouth in pleasure.

It’s when his fingers curl inside of your pussy, touching your g-spot, his mouth sucking your clit, that you absolutely lose it. You’re a whining mess above him, clenching down on him, feeling like you’re going to cry from pleasure, and your orgasm takes complete control of you.

Your body shakes in his hold from your orgasm, your wetness soaking him as he laps you up, you can hear him slurping up your post-orgasm.

Harry wiggles his fingers that are still inside of you, you let out a shriek as he pulls them out and Harry lifts you with both hands on your waist. His face looks freshly pussy fucked, he has red lipstick smearing against his cheeks and mouth, and he sets you down around his waist, your legs wrapping around his waist.

You can feel his big dick still hard and bouncing under you.

“You’re a fucking squirter. I fucking love it,” he hums and pulls you against his lips. You moan as you taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“You’re so hot,” you whisper into his mouth and he smirks against you.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he bites your bottom lip and moves towards the couch.

He sits down, holding you above his dick, he pumps his dick in his hand, his eyes never leaving you, and you put your hands on his shoulder to balance yourself.

You bite your lips, reaching down with one hand, wrapping it around his thick dick, and you align yourself with it.

You tilt your chin up, not breaking eye contact with him, his eyes glazing over when your pussy finally makes contact with his dick.

“Fuck,” he moans out as his dick spreads your pussy open, his rough fingers digging into your lush hips, you let out a loud moan, your eyes rolling backwards at the feeling of him spreading you open, “You’re so fucking tight. The-fuck-the tightest pussy I’ve ever had.”

His mouth latches onto your nipple, sucking and licking, making your body arch into him, your hips moving up and down slowly trying to find a good rhythm. The sensation of his big dick inside of you, making you feel extremely hot all over, your nails digging into his skin, his hips starting to meet your movements. His tongue swirling on each of your nipples, slowly, leaving a trail of spit as he moves between the two.

You whine and moan on top of his from all the sensations you’re feeling. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this way with somebody else. Not this fucking good.

“You’re fucking pussy is going to be the end of me,” Harry whispers into your chest, leaving bruises with his mouths all over you. You moan out, “Harry,” which makes him move one of his hands to your neck, he squeezes the sides, palm down, your mouth pants open, his thrusts getting faster underneath you.

He lifts his hips up, holding your hips tightly against him to hold you steady, both of your skins are glistening with sweat, the room smelled like sweet sex, and all you feel is pleasure.

“You’re so fucking big,” You choke out in a pant, squeezing your walls against him. He holds you still as his hips meet yours, roughly and fast. He pulls your body into his, your breasts on his chest, his mouth moving towards your ear, “You’re being such a good fucking girl, aren’t you?” You nod into his head as you start kissing and licking his neck. “Taking me so fucking good, yeah? Your pussy was meant to be mine, Cherry.”

His lips wrap around your earlobe, sucking it roughly, “You’re so deep,” you say with a cry, tears pricking the corner of your eyes.

He keeps his thrusts the same, slowing down a bit as he pushes your body apart from his, you lean back as you both look down, your glistening pussy taking in his dick, your walls taking him in so good, and you bite your bottom lip at the view.

Harry chuckles, “Fucking amazing, huh?” You met his eyes, nodding, your legs feeling sore already, but you can’t stop meeting his thrusts.

“Tired, baby?”

You shake your head no, gripping his shoulders, letting your head hang back, your hips increasing speed, his fingers pinching and playing with your nipples, and then they inch down to your pussy.

You place open mouth kisses all over his chest, licking his pecks, and biting down wherever you could.

You gasp loudly when you feel his thumb on your clit, he starts to rub it slowly, you make eye contact, his mouth is parted open, his eyes never leaving your face, “That feel good?”

“Mmmm,” you moan out, feeling numb as his thumb increases speed on your clit. You know you’re all swollen and sensitive. He’s loving the view in front of him.

You start feeling the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach, “I’m close” you breath out.

“Fuck yeah,” he moans, his thumb increasing his speed as your whining gets higher and louder, your legs start shaking around him, as you let out the loudest moan of the night as your orgasm takes over you.

“Fuck yes,” Harry yells as his hips move faster in you to ride your orgasm, his hips snapping against your wet pussy, “God, this pussy is fucking heaven. Have you fucked any other rockstar like this?”

You shake your head no, panting and feeling so fucking light, “Never.”

“Not even Tommy Lee? I’ve heard he has a big fucking dick.” He chuckles at his own comment, his hips slowing down as you come down from your orgasm, you go limp in his arms, he still holds you steady, and you smile at him.

“I’ve only ever wanted to fuck you,” you say with a blissed out smile.

“Fuckin’ hell. Really?” He says with a tone that he doesn’t believe you, you look at his face, and he’s smiling at you, dimples and all. His hips still moving slowly underneath you, you hiss at your sensitive walls. “Mhhmmm,” you hum out as you kiss his lips slowly.

“Only you,” you whisper into his mouth, licking his lips, and he smiles another toothy smile.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

“Oh?” You question, your fingers moving to his curls, and he winks at you. He stands up, easily as if you don’t weight a thing, his dick slipped out of your pussy, you whine at the emptiness. “Hold on, princess.”

He sets you down onto the made bed, “Ass up,” and your body does what he says. He adjusts your body to his liking, your upper half laying down on the bed, your knees on the edge of the bed, with you ass up high, and he sets down a loud smack on your ass.

You let out a yelp at the burn, but moan at the sting. You reach out for a pillow to hold under you,

“You’re still so fucking wet for me. Jesus, fucking- oh- you’re still dripping,” he says behind you, his fingers touching your wetness, you can hear him suck on his fingers with a moan, you whimper into the mattress, wiggly your ass in the air for him, “I’m coming, Cherry. Patience, baby.”

You feel his dick slide inbetween your wet thighs, you spread yourself wider for him, and you can feel him guiding himself into your pussy and into your dripping folds.

You moan as he teases you with the tip of his dick, his mouth kissing the arch of your back, licking down to your ass cheeks, and your pussy starts throbbing in want.

“Please,” you whine out at him, begging.

“Such a good girl,” he groans out, the tip of his dick at your entrance, you close your eyes, hands gripping onto the bed sheets in want, his dick bottoms out inside of you in one motion, your walls squeezing around him.

“Oh!” You moan out, tilting your head back, panting as he starts thrusting inside of you.

His thick dick buried deep inside of you, filling you up so fucking good, “Fuck, I meant it when I said you have the thighest fucking pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

You beam with pride, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts, his hands moving to your shoulders to keep you steady as the fucks you senseless.

He slides out his dick, the tip moving out of your pussy, he moves it to flick your clit, gasping in pleasure, he thrusts back into you, your body jerking against his with every slam of his perfect dick.

His hand moves into your hair, gripping the roots and he pulls it into his palm, your neck tilts back, pleasure runs through you, goosebumps erupting all over your skin, “Fuck! Harry—oh—fuck!!” You whine, tears falling down your cheeks in pleasure, “You fuck me so fucking good!” you cry out.

He growls behind you as he watching his dick move in and out of you, glistening for all your juices, “Don’t stop!” You tell him as you grip onto the sheets, his hand still tugging at your hair, he slips his other hand onto your neck, squeezing the sides of it which causes you to moan and cry again.

You both are panting loudly, moans and cries, he continues to pound into your slick pussy, his dick meeting your spongy area, filling you with bliss again, you curse underneath him.

You felt so sensitive with each hard thrust, but you could feel yourself coming close again. You start feeling overwhelmed by the sensation, but you can’t stop. You’re in fucking heaven right now.

He pulls out of you suddenly, letting you go, he flips you on your back, he pulls your legs over the edge of the bed, wrapping them around his waist, he looks fucked out as he slams back into you, not even letting you adjust.

You cry out at him, his hips slamming into you hard, your legs are shaking around his waist, one of his hands wraps around your throat again, he squeezes, you wrap one hand on his wrist, and the other clutches onto the bed sheets.

“Fucking best pussy,” he whispers at himself, his hand moving to your clit again, you cry out when his fingers slap your clit gently, shocks erupting inside of you.

“Harry—I—I don’t think I can,” you cry out, tears still falling down your cheeks.

“Fuck no, baby. Yes you fucking can,” he says, his fingers moving against your clit, his dick hitting your g-spot so deeply, your breasts bouncing up and down from his thrusts, and you feel like you might pass out from pleasure.

He’s fucking you hard and senseless, making sure you’re going to come again for the third time, he’s hitting all your spots, spots you had never even felt before, your hips grinding at his thrusts, “Harry!”

“Hold on a little bit more, baby. I’m almost there,” he croacks out, his forehead is sweating, you adjust your head so you can look at him, he looks drunk on you, his hand still squeezing your throat, you squeeze his forearm so he can look at you, his eyes snap to yours.

When he sees you’re already staring, he smiles drunkily, winks at you, and continues to slam into your pussy deeply. His fingers don’t stop on your clit, they increase their speed, you pant as you see him groan out a moan, his eyes clenching shut, “My fuckin’ pussy.”

You nod when he opens his eyes, “You ready?” He asks, your orgasm at the brink of taking over, but trying your best to hold off until he let you come.

“Mmmhmmm,” you whine out, your legs still shaking around him.

“Fuck yes, come on baby. Let go. Let go for me, baby. Show me how I make you fucking feel,” he whispers, his speed increasing a bit, as soon as those words slip out of his mouth, your body reacts in releasing your orgasm.

“Fuck!!” You cry out as your orgasm makes your entire body start to shake. Your hardest fucking orgasm rocks your body. You swear you’re seeing black spots in your vision.

“Fucking—-shit!!” He yells out above you, your legs thighten around him, he grips onto your thigh hard, as he releases inside of your fucked out pussy.

You feel his hot cum coat your walls, his abs flexing above you, he’s smiling, dimples creasing, his dick still in your tight pussy, you squeeze slowly, and he hisses in pleasure.

Your ears are still ringing as you continue to come down from your third orgasm.

He slowly pulls out, you both hiss at the empty feeling, he smiles a lazy smile at you before he goes into the restroom. He comes back with a soaked rag in one hand, your legs feel so sore, and you let yourself breathe in deeply to relax.

He gently cleans you up before cleaning himself. You adjust yourself to the top of the bed, pull the soft blanket that was folded on top of one of the pillows, and cover yourself. You want to reveal this feeling just a bit more.

While Harry is in the bathroom, you look at your body quickly. You admire all the bruises he left you with his mouth and his hands. You know you’re going to have this memory forever.

You giggle after a few seconds because you can’t believe this really happened.

“Holy fuck! That was fucking-holy-wow,” Harry pants out as he flops down next to you, crossing his arms over his head, and stares at you in amazement.

He has a big toothy smile, messy eyeliner, your red lipstick all over his body, and all you want to do is lick his abs.

You giggle at him while you tug off the blanket on your naked body. You sit down on the side of the bed, stretching your arms above your head, and about to get off the bed.

You’re suddenly pulled back by your waist into Harry’s chest. You let out a loud laugh as he adjusts you into his hips, his grip tightening on your waist, “Where do you think you’re going?”

His eyes twinkle with mischief. You blush under his stare, covering your face with your hands, and bite the corner of your nail bed on your index finger.

“Home?” You reply, but it sounds like more of a question.

“Nah, baby. You’re coming with me to Vegas. I can’t let go of the girl that just inspired my next hit single.”

Your eyes go wide, mouth drops in shock, and you slap your hands on his chest.

Harry lets out a barking laugh, head tilting to his headboard, and you search his face for a lie.

“Are you serious?” You whisper. You can’t believe what he just told you.

“Hell yes, baby. I’m fucking serious,” he exclaims while he pulls you down to him by grasping your neck.

Your teeth buckle together with his, his mouth is rough on yours, but you love it. Your lips move against his in rhythm, his lips plump because of all the kissing and biting, you lick the inside of his mouth. He groans, hips bucking up again, and you giggle.

You pull away, biting his lip, he moans into your mouth, his eyes going backwards, and you whisper, “Okay.”

You guess you’re going to Las Vegas now.

*****

ROCKSTAR HARRY STYLES RELEASES NEW SINGLE “COMPLICATED FREAK”

Rumors fill the LA streets of this filthy-dirty-sex song about how it’s inspired by the new mystery lady that Styles hang off of.

Nobody knows who or where this mystery girl came from. Was she a friend before lover? An upcoming celebrity? A fan? A groupie? Who knows!

But all we know is that we wish we were her right now!!

Listen to the lyrics below to see what we're talking about!!

www.complicatedfreaklyrics.com

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