#this boy is such a cancer for real he is home-y through and through i love him

[el-yon]

no thoughts, just 🥺ing over Ichigo being filled with joy and pride to be able to provide Kazui with the same feeling of comfort and safety

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

Summary: Your weekend getaway to Indianapolis comes with a boyfriend who's trying to quit smoking, a five-year-old who has difficulty acclimating to new routines, and your own insecurities about your mothering abilities. What could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: angst, insecurities about motherhood, lost child, Eddie gets mad at us, discussion of menstrual period/PMS

WC: 7.7k A/N: There is a moment where someone refers to us as Harris's mom; however, she doesn't see us. There is no indication that we resemble Harris in any way.

Chapter 16/20

Divider credit to @saradika Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsonsmum

--

The morning dew still kisses the grass when you arrive at the Munson apartment, hauling your duffel bag up to their half-packed car. Eddie’s leaning into the backseat, only his jean-clad legs visible from your vantage point. Harris stands behind him, watching his dad’s every move earnestly and intently. If you had a camera on you, you’d take a photo of this Kodak moment.

“Hi, boys!” you chirp as enthusiastically, tucking your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from laughing when Eddie bangs his head on the roof of the car. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, ‘m good,” he mutters, rubbing at his scalp with one hand, expression somewhere between a grimace and a smile.”Morning, Sweetheart. You sleep well?”

You nod, opening your arms as Harris races towards you for a hug. “What about you guys? Or were you too excited about our super-fun weekend?”

“Daddy snored!” Harris reports with a grin, overjoyed to share what he perceives to be a juicy morsel of gossip.

Eddie gasps in mock-offense, reaching out to take your bag and arranging it amongst his and Harris’s in the trunk. “I did not!”

“Did too!” Harris retorts, turning back to you and adding, “like, so loud!”

You crouch down, and hold a pinky out in front of him. “We’re gonna have to stick together this weekend if we’re going to survive,” returning his smile when he wraps his little finger around yours in a promise.

“Can’t believe my girlfriend is conspiring against me with my own flesh and blood,” Eddie grumbles, eyes widening when he realizes what he’s said; rather, in front of whom he’s said it. His panicked gaze meets yours, and you both anticipate some reaction from Harris, but he’s fortunately unfazed and too fixated on the utter silliness of his dad’s snoring. Eddie clears his throat, determined to change the subject before his son catches on. “I think we’re ready to ship out,” he offers, slamming the trunk shut and pressing down to double-check that it’s closed.

“Snacks?” you ask, running through a mental checklist of necessities.

Eddie holds up a family-size bag of pretzels. “Got ‘em.”

“Water?”

“Backseat,” he points to the floor to the left of Harris’s booster seat–a recent upgrade from his carseat. “Harris will be in charge of that, right, Har?”

“Right!” Harris confirms with a thumbs-up.

“Sounds good. Put him to work,” you tease. Eddie’s heart skips a beat at the playful relationship that you and his son have, swapping smiles and making each other laugh. “Music?”

Eddie juts his chin towards the center console, filled to the brim with cassettes. “Always.”

You cock your eyebrow knowingly before posing your next question, preparing yourself for some visceral response. “Nicotine gum?”

Eddie groans, patting the pack of Nicorette in his pocket. “Unfortunately, yes.” About a week and a half ago, Harris had come home from school crying after the school had put on an assembly about the dangers of smoking. Eddie had been meaning to quit for a long time, but his son worrying over real problems, using words like cancer and heart attack, was what finally pushed him to chuck every pack of cigarettes he owned into the trash. 

“Okay,” you smile and clap your hands together, “I think we’re good to go!” You help Harris buckle his seatbelt before climbing into the passenger seat.

The sedan rumbles to life, catching on the second key turn and disrupting the otherwise still morning. “Gentlemen, start your engines!” Eddie roars in an exaggeratedly deep voice, and Harris giggles from the backseat. With Eddie’s hand on the gearshift, you seize the opportunity to squeeze it, light pink tickling his cheeks at your touch.

It’s only thirty minutes into the drive before it starts.

“Daddy, I gotta pee!”

You can practically feel the patience leaving Eddie’s body, fingers tightly gripping the wheel until his knuckles flush white.

“Har Bear, we just hit the road,” he tries, knowing his efforts are fruitless. “Can you hold it?”

“No, it’s a ‘mergency!”

“Fuck,” Eddie swears under his breath. The likelihood of it actually being an emergency is slim to none, but he’s in no mood to risk it. “All right, I’ll pull over at the next rest stop, ‘kay?”

Eddie takes the next exit, parking at a truck stop and nearly falling out of the car in his scramble to get Harris to the bathroom. “C’mon, c’mon,” he mutters, walking so quickly that Harris nearly trips over his own feet. You quicken your own pace just to keep up with them. 

The scent of coffee grabs your attention as soon as you walk in the door, and you make a beeline for the tiny Dunkin Donuts tucked in the corner. The cashier looks as though they could use a shot or two of espresso, eyelids closing under their visor as you give your order. When the boys get back from the bathroom, you present Eddie with a large coffee with far more milk and sugar than your own, and hand a chocolate donut to Harris. 

Eddie's eyes shift back and forth from the donut to you before he speaks. “It’s, like, 9 am,” he points out. “He’s gonna be bouncing off the walls if he eats that now.”

Oh. Obviously. What were you thinking, giving an already-hyperactive child pure sugar in the morning? All of the times you’d cringed when parents had sent their kids into school with Cocoa Puffs or some equally sugary cereal, and you’d given his son a chocolate donut for breakfast. “I’m sorry,” you sputter, shaking your head in frustration. “I should’ve asked you first, or saved it for later.” 

“‘S fine,” he mutters, heaving an exasperated sigh as Harris takes a giant bite of donut. “At least there’s two of us to chase after him,” he adds with a weak smile. 

Harris has devoured nearly the entire donut by the time Eddie’s buckling him back in, chocolate crumbs tucked into the crevices of his mouth. He’s oblivious to your faux pas, and you’d like to keep it that way. 

“I really am sorry,” you say again, guilt gnawing in your stomach. “I should’ve known better; I guess I just got excited about our little vacation together.”

Eddie’s grin is more genuine this time. “Me, too, baby.” He sneaks a quick kiss to your cheek when Harris is focused on what remains of his snack. “The whole no-smoking thing has me extra bitter, y’know?”

You know. You definitely know, but you’re not about to point out all of the ways he’s been short-tempered lately. Instead, you relax into your seat and try to brush off your mistake as Eddie turns on the radio and guitar riffs replace the silence. 

Eddie rolls down the window as the springtime sun warms the air, and you stretch as the rush of wind cools your body. His curls whip around the base of his neck, dancing in the breeze, and you can’t help but push them out of his face haphazardly. 

Your stomach growls, and you’re grateful for the blaring music masking the embarrassingly loud noise. You’d forgotten to grab something for breakfast in your rush to leave your apartment, and coffee is a poor substitute for the most important meal of the day. 

You reach down to the bag of pretzels nestled against your feet. “Y’want?” you ask Eddie, who nods and opens his mouth for you to feed it to him while he concentrates on the road. Laughter bubbles up from within you as he takes one from your hand by pinching it between his teeth. 

Harris giggles, too. “Daddy, you look like a goat from the zoo!”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie slides the snack into his mouth and bites down with a crunch, “and what sounds do goats make?”

“Hmm,” Harris ponders this for a moment before bleating a resounding, “maaaah!”

You swivel in your seat to give him a high-five. There’s donut residue on your hand when you pull back. “Smarty pants! I bet you know every animal sound there is.”

You and Eddie rattle off different species as you feed him more pretzels. Harris manages perfect impressions of each, until you call out, “sloth!” and effectively stump him. 

“Ms. Sweetheart!” he cackles maniacally, partially because of his sugar rush, you’re sure, “that is so silly!”

“Y’just gotta do everything suuuuper slooooow.” You drag out the last two words to emphasize your point. “Like this: Haaaaarrisssss…caaaaan…youuuuu…haaaaand…meeeeee…aaaaa…waaaaterrrr?” This brings on a fresh round of giggles from the backseat; even extra-bitter Eddie manages a hint of a smile.

Harris grabs a bottle at a snail’s–no, a sloth’s–pace. “Heeere…youuuuu…goooooo!” His pace is far from hurried, and you feel the gentle tap of the plastic cap against your shoulder blade a full thirty seconds later. 

“Thaaaaank…youuuuu!” You crack open the bottle of water and take a swig, quenching a thirst only made worse by the salty snack. “Wanna play again? See how many other animal sounds you can do?” you ask, grateful to have found a way to keep him occupied. Before you can close the bottle, Eddie reaches over and snags it, lifting it to his lips. 

“Daddy, no!” Harris screeches from the backseat, little hand shooting out in protest, causing Eddie to slam on the brake. Water sloshes over the top of the bottle and onto his pants. 

“Shit—what, Har?” he snaps, shoving the now half-empty bottle into the cupholder. He swipes haphazardly at the wet patch on his thigh, darkening the denim as it spreads along the fabric. He gives up with a mumbled, “whatever,” when he realizes he’s only rubbing it in more. 

“You’re gonna get her germs,” Harris points out matter-of-factly. 

Eddie huffs out a terse chuckle, slightly amused but still irritated. “Yeah, yeah, right,” he mutters, and you take that as a sign to reach back and get him his own bottle. 

The remainder of the drive is uneventful, though Eddie has to dip into his Nicorette stash when a maroon Toyota Corolla weaves in and out of lanes at lightning speed and cuts him off. He instinctively reaches for the pack of cigarettes he’d always kept in the console, groaning when he remembers that it’s long gone. 

“Good job, baby,” you murmur softly, giving his knee a quick squeeze in approval as he pops a piece of gum into his mouth. “‘M proud of you.” 

You pull up to the hotel just after 10 AM, the morning chill has dissipated as the sun’s rays warm the air. The fair weather made the trip smoother, a small miracle if you’d ever seen one. Truthfully, you don’t think Eddie’s frayed nerves can handle a rainy day.

Eddie takes Harris’s hand as you all walk through the parking lot and up to the front desk. A middle-aged concierge greets you, the customer service smile plastered across his face faltering when he clocks Eddie’s ripped jeans and disheveled wind-blown hair. 

“Reservation’s under ‘Munson,’” Eddie says to him, not making eye contact; your heart is a sinking stone when you realize that he also noticed the man’s shifting expression. “I called ahead and they said we could check in early.”

The concierge nods. You catch a glimpse of his shiny silver name tag, proudly proclaiming “STU, ASSISTANT MANAGER” gleaming in the overhead fluorescent lighting. “Room 325,” he grunts, handing you and Eddie keys dangling from matching logo-branded chains. Elation is a sunflower blooming in your chest; your first vacation has officially begun. Maybe it’s a little getaway only ninety minutes from home, but it’s a new adventure that you’re taking together.

Eddie flings his and Harris’s shared bag, then yours, onto one of the queen beds with a groan. “We made it!” he announces, flinging an arm over your shoulder. The pads of his fingers brush your upper arm, a tissue-paper light touch that has you soaring.

“Daddy? I gotta pee again,” Harris’s urgency breaks the moment. He’s hopping from one foot to the other, a potty dance if you’ve ever seen one.

 “Go for it,” Eddie says, pointing towards the bathroom. He shakes his head when his son sprints the short distance.

Once the door closes, Eddie’s hands are on your hips, tugging you so close that your stomachs touch, your breasts pressed to his chest. His mouth immediately swoops down to your neck, nipping gently at the flesh along your collarbone. 

“Hello there,” you manage to speak through a laugh. You’re unable to say more, as he’s pressing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss so fervently that your teeth nearly click together. 

“Hi,” he breathes once he’s pulled back, brushing the tip of his nose against your own. “Sorry, y’just look really pretty.”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. “I’m wearing sweatpants. I don’t even have makeup on.” Truthfully, you’d meant to at least swipe on some mascara, but you were preoccupied making sure that you’d packed everything you needed for the weekend. 

“Don’t care,” Eddie mumbles, leaning in for another kiss, “still s’fuckin’ pretty. Don’t know how I’m gonna keep my hands off of you.”

The solution to that problem comes in the form of a flushing toilet and Harris calling out, “I’m done! Gonna wash my hands!”

Eddie throws his head back in frustration before burying his pink-tinged face in his hands. “This, uh, was not exactly how I imagined our first time in a hotel together,” he admits. 

“At least he’s washing his hands,” you joke, trying to ward off the throbbing need building in your core. It fails miserably. You want him, need him, to relieve the ache in the way that only he can. You yearn for the way his fingertips dance across your skin, eagerly reaching under your shirt or dipping below your waistband, desperate to make his girl feel good.

The two of you break apart as the bathroom door swings open. You fly across the room and pretend like you’re rifling through your duffel bag while Eddie flops onto the bed. His shirt rides up slightly as he lays down, and you have to fight the urge to bite the exposed sliver of tummy. 

“When are we going to the market?” Harris asks, catapulting himself onto the bed and landing next to his dad. 

Eddie rolls over and checks the digital alarm clock between the two queen beds. “Doesn’t start for another few hours,” he says. “I was gonna try and take a quick nap before we—”

“I’m not tired!” Harris whines, and you can see in Eddie’s deflated, tense physicality that his already thin patience is wearing down further. “I wanna go now!”

“Hey, Har Bear,” you try, hoping you’re not inserting yourself into the dynamic too forcefully, “why don’t we go on an adventure while Daddy sleeps? We can wake him up when we get back.”

Harris hops down onto the floor and readily slips his hand into yours. “Bye, Daddy!” he calls out, dragging you towards the door. “Me an’ Ms. Sweetheart are having a ‘venture!”

Eddie gives you a weary but grateful smile as he scoots upwards to rest his head on the overstuffed pillow. “Godspeed,” he mumbles into the sheets, already beginning to doze off as he speaks.

The elevator dings and you shuffle into the small space, reaching for the “L” button to bring you down to the lobby.

“I wanna push the button!” Harris laments, and his sudden shriek has you instinctively pulling your hand back before regaining your composure.

Do you correct him? Let him press the button despite raising his voice? Deciding a consequence comes naturally to you in the classroom, but the anxiety of making the wrong choice serves as a massive roadblock. “You have to ask nicely if you want to push the button,” you offer, sending up a silent prayer that this staves off an impending tantrum.

He pouts for a moment before relenting. “Can I push the button?” It’s more grumble than request, but you accept it anyway.

His hand remains tucked safely into yours when you leave the hotel, basking in warm weather. You breathe in for three, breathe out for three. Okay. You can do this. Your job revolves around children; you can survive an afternoon taking care of just one.

Except that one happens to be your boyfriend’s son, and if you mess this up, it could ruin both Munsons’ perceptions of you.

“Where’re we going?” Harris asks, and you realize that you have no earthly idea; to be honest, you’re surprised that he so readily agreed.

”We can go for a walk?” you suggest, pasting on a smile in feigned confidence. “Maybe we can find a playground or something?”

“Okay!” he chirps. He’s fast for someone with little legs, and you have to remind him multiple times to use his walking feet. Yeah, this kid needs to burn off some energy, stat.

To your relief, there’s a playground just a few blocks away, fully equipped with a swing set and a jungle gym. Harris races across the grassy field onto the wood chip-covered area, assessing the space to figure out what he wants to conquer first.  

You sit on the bench next to a woman who simultaneously reads a James Patterson novel and keeps an eye on the jungle gym, where a little girl is dangling from the monkey bars, putting one hand in front of the other. 

She looks over with a sympathetic smile when you breathe out a long sigh, sinking into the wooden back like a weight has been removed from your shoulders.

“I hear that,” she says with a kind chuckle. “Mine will be tired for about…hmm, five minutes? Just long enough to get her home, and then she’ll be hopping around like the Energizer Bunny.” She shakes her head. “Is yours the same way?”

Yours. The term is peanut butter stuck to the roof of your mouth, and it takes a beat too long for you to respond. “Y-Yeah, I’m pretty sure he would sleep run if he could.” The stranger laughs at your joke, and you relax a bit. “Sorry, he’s really my boyfriend’s son, and it’s kind of…new to think of him as being mine, too.”

You expect her to pick up and move to a different bench, away from the weird woman who’s baring her soul on the playground, but she just closes her book and turns to you. “Carly is technically my stepdaughter,” she explains in a hushed tone, “but her mom’s not in the picture so, for all intents and purposes, she’s my daughter. No ‘step’ necessary.” 

“Is…is it hard?” you ask, the question spilling from your lips in a desperate plea for answers. “Being a stepmom?”

She nods. “Oh, absolutely.” She brushes a strand of hair from her eyes, and you can see a sparkle behind them. “But, trust me, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Her words, spoken freely of judgment and purely with empathy, alleviate the nervousness burning through you. “Thank you,” you murmur, gratitude forming a lump in your throat that you struggle to swallow.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris shouts from the top of the jungle gym. “Look what I can do!” He hesitates for a moment before reaching out his arms and grabbing onto the metal pole. You stand up to call out a preemptive warning, to get to him before he can fall, but before you can, his chubby hands grip the pole. He hooks his legs around it and slides down expertly, not letting go until his sneakers are firmly planted on the wood chips scattered across the ground. 

Pride warms your heart when his eyes lock with yours, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly as he awaits your approval. Anticipation reverberates within his little body, and before you can get in a word edgewise, he’s jumping up and down with an excited, “didja see me?”

“You’re amazing!” Your praise floats through the air and envelops him like a long-awaited embrace. “Super brave, too. I don’t think I could do that.”

He furrows his brows before a knowing smile forms on his lips. “Yes, you can! I’ll show you.”

Kind of walked right into that one, you lightly chastise yourself, but you dutifully shuffle towards where he’s already darting up the steps on all fours, hands splayed out for balance. 

“C’mon, Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris cheers, waving his fists in the air in earnest, and you simply cannot let the boy down. He easily glides down once more, big brown eyes looking up at you from the ground. “Just like that, see?”

“Right, got it.” You give him a thumbs-up and emulate his movements, holding on tightly to the metal pole and sliding down. You grimace as it squeaks under your grasp, nails on a chalkboard, but your feet reach the ground soon enough. 

Harris flings his arms around you, chin digging into your thigh as he gazes up in adoration. “I told you you could do it! Y’just had to try!” His admiration is fleeting; he soon spots another child leap from the swingset to play elsewhere. “Can you push me on the swings?” he pleads, already leading you to the equipment. “I just need a little help getting started, but then ‘m good.”

You hold the chain links dangling from the top of the structure, allowing Harris to maneuver himself onto the rubber seat. He scoots back so his bottom is fully supported and announces, “‘m ready!”

“Hold on tight,” you remind him, more out of routine than necessity, as you pull back the rust-covered chains. You move as far back as you can, double-checking that he hasn’t let go, and release the swing. His squealing giggles are music to your ears, and you push him a few more times before he’s able to take over independently. 

His mop of curls defies gravity as he sails back and forth, pumping his legs to gain height. “Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Do you love my daddy?”

You ponder the thought for a moment. You know exactly how you feel about Eddie; he simultaneously kicks up the butterflies in your stomach and calms every buzzing nerve in your body with just a smile, but you’re unsure how much he wants to tell Harris. You settle on the truth, direct and simple: “yeah, I do love him.”

Harris wastes no time asking a follow-up question. “A lot or a little?”

“A lot,” you answer quickly, realizing the magnitude of your enamoration as you say it aloud. The way Eddie’s kisses wrap you in an armor of safety; you hope your kisses have the same effect on him. “Definitely a lot.”

He hums his acknowledgement. “Grampa Wayne says Daddy loves you a lot, too, but I can’t ask you to be my mommy yet.”

You freeze in place so suddenly that the swing’s momentum nearly knocks you down; you step out of the way just before his sneaker-clad feet can make contact with your torso. “You want me to be your mommy?” you repeat dumbly, still half-convinced that you heard him incorrectly. 

“Mhm,” Harris confirms, “but Grampa says that being a mommy is a big ‘sponsibility, and I gotta be patient. That means I gotta wait until Daddy says it’s okay to ask you,” he elaborates matter-of-factly. 

This is clearly something they’ve talked about, extensively enough that Harris knows that he shouldn’t say anything about it. You’re temporarily rendered speechless, words failing you as you search for an appropriate response. Do you thank him? Act like you hadn’t heard him? Hope that a sinkhole opens up in the middle of the playground and swallows you whole?

“Th-That’s great, Har,” you manage, shoulders suddenly heavy with the weight of his statement. He goes back to focusing on pumping his legs, leaving you to tend to the anxiety gnawing at your insides.

Motherhood–the term stepmother seems arbitrary, given that Harris’s biological mother has all but dropped off of the face of the Earth–is a terrifying prospect. Any time you try to explain your fears, people just shrug them off, claiming that you’d be a ‘natural,’ that your years of teaching would ultimately ‘pay off’ when you had children of your own. As if teaching and parenting were remotely the same.

To you, the differences are as clear as day. When you’re a parent, there’s no ‘clocking out.’ Your obligations don’t begin at 9 AM and end at 2 PM; they’re twenty-four hours, seven days a week. It’s not the same thing. Not even close.

Before you became a teacher, you had to go to school and take education courses. Read your textbooks cover to cover. Had to do an internship for a semester. You’d had ample opportunities to determine whether or not it was the right job for you. Motherhood doesn’t offer that luxury: you don’t know if you’ll be a good mom until you’ve already chosen to become one.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” You jump out of your skin when you realize that Harris is slowing himself down, scuffed Reeboks scraping against the ground as he comes to a stop. “Can I get ice cream?”

You bite back a laugh. “You just had a donut, silly boy,” you remind him with a gentle ruffle to his curls, trying to keep your tone breezy, “but we can grab some sandwiches. Maybe even get one for Daddy, too?”

His lower lip quivers, making your heart lurch. “B-But–”

“And,” you interject, “we can go out for ice cream after the market. With Daddy.” You hope it’s a promise you can keep.

It was too good to be true. Deep down, you knew it, despite the fleeting victory of getting Harris to eat an actual lunch. His hands were sticky with peanut butter and jelly–you were making a mental note to reassure Eddie that, yes, some had gotten in his mouth–when you’d done the unthinkable. The unimaginable. 

You hadn’t let him press the elevator button.

He howls and sinks down to the floor, knees slamming into the linoleum tile and making him scream even louder. 

“Buddy, you’ve got peanut–” 

“I wanted to press…the…BUTTON!” he shrieks, every minor inconvenience he’s encountered today culminating in what you can only dub the Tantrum of the Decade. The crash from the sugar rush, not going to the market when he wanted to, the lack of ice cream are represented in every fat tear rolling down his reddening cheeks, in every flail of his legs as you try to scoop him up and bring him into the elevator, in every heaving breath. He’s overtired, overwhelmed, and out of his normal routine.

Your own eyes get misty as the metal door slides shut, enclosing you in a small space that seems to shrink with each wail. The kid has the lung capacity of an Olympic swimmer, while you’re drowning in your own pity.

He’s still sobbing when you reach the third floor, and Eddie’s flying out of the room as soon as he hears the sound of his son crying. Curls disheveled from his nap, crust still at the corners of his eyes. I woke him up, you realize. Another nail in the coffin.

“Wh-What happened?” His voice is raised, not in accusation, but just to be heard over Harris yelling. “Did he get hurt?” He takes Harris from your arms, clutching him to his chest in sheer panic. Reflexively, he inspects his boy’s head, arms, and legs for bruising and blood.

You shake your head, afraid that any attempt to speak will have your voice fracturing into pieces, no better than the little boy’s meltdown.

Fortunately, Harris has no problem filling his dad in. “I–wanted–to push–the button–and–she–said–NO!!!” Each word is punctuated with a hitched breath and is angrier than the last.

Eddie looks at you, more puzzled than worried now that he knows his son is unharmed, and a visit to the emergency room is unnecessary.

“His hands were sticky from his sandwich,” you mutter, unable to make eye contact with either Munson. “Oh, um, this is yours,” you add robotically, handing him the bag containing his hoagie, now a darker shade of brown from the grease it’s soaked up. You wince at how stilted you sound, simply going through the motions, not at all like the enthusiastic presentation you’d planned on the walk back to the hotel. 

“Thanks.” Not unappreciative, but far from enthusiastic, and you can’t blame him. “Let’s just, uh, let’s just get him in the room.”

The sleepiness consumes Harris after a few more arduous minutes in his dad’s embrace. Eddie rubs circles on his back to calm him down, tiny shh sounds passing through his teeth. Harris begins to catch his breath; hiccups like aftershocks ricochet in his chest, gradually subsiding into soft snores. 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispers as he gingerly places him onto the unmade bed, still warm from where he was lying just moments earlier, “that was one hell of a wake-up call.”

You speak at the same volume as him, though you don’t even have to try. Shame buries your voice deep in your diaphragm. “I’m so sorry.” Your right incisor digs into your lower lip as emotion ravishes you. The absence of Harris’s tantruming creates a loud silence that neither of you have the energy to fill. 

“I could say the same to you,” Eddie says with a soft chuckle, taking your hand and squeezing it tight as he sits down on your bed. “His meltdowns are no joke.”

“I should’ve just let him press the damn button.” You’re only half-serious, but your stomach sinks when Eddie says nothing; instead, he carefully unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite. A glob of mustard lands on the parchment paper with a soft plop. 

He doesn’t disagree. You made a mistake—two mistakes, if you’re counting the donut fiasco—and Eddie saw it. Saw that you’d failed. 

“Did you get enough rest?” It’s a feeble attempt to change the subject, and you both know it, but you go for it anyway. 

He lets his knee knock into yours. “Never enough, Sweetheart,” he says with a smile, wiping his lips with the flimsy deli napkin. “But, yeah, I got some sleep.” He leans in and murmurs in your ear, “Would’ve been better with you next to me, though.”

You turn so that your nose brushes his. “If I was laying next to you, you wouldn’t be able to sleep,” you quip, stifling your laughter when he takes your cheeks in his hands and smacks a kiss to your lips. 

“I would be a perfect gentleman.” He stretches and exposes the happy trail below his navel. “My eyes are up here,” he teases, catching you checking him out. “And you were worried about me.”

The dynamic shifts back to playful and lighthearted, his joke chipping away at the tension that’s been weighing you down.

“Shut up and eat your sandwich, Munson.”

“Yes, dear.”

You’ve showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes, jeans replacing the ratty sweatpants you’d donned earlier. You’d tried to wash the day’s stress down the drain along with the eucalyptus-scented soap suds, and though you don’t feel completely recharged, you’re ready enough to tackle the market.

Still, you can’t stop yourself from murmuring to Eddie, “d’you want me to stay here with Harris? Just in case it’s too much for him?”

He considers it for a moment before shaking his head, shrugging on his denim jacket. “Nah, he got his nap. Should be fine.”

The little boy in question slips one hand into yours and looks up at you with a grin. Eddie had talked to him earlier, reminded him about expressing himself in ways that didn’t hurt people–or their ears–and Harris apologized tearily. All is forgiven; at least between you and him. You still feel an uneasiness with Eddie, though it may be one-sided, as he’d quietly lamented that you two couldn’t shower together.

“We’re goin’ to the market! We’re goin’ to the market!” Harris chants, shuffling on the balls of his feet in a little dance. “Ms. Sweetheart, guess what?”

“What?”

“WE’RE GOIN’ TO THE MARKET!”

“Shocking,” Eddie mutters under his breath, a wry smile on his lips, and you use your free hand to swat at his stomach. “Okay,” he pats the wallet in the side pocket of his jeans, “got the company card, keys, handsome son, beautiful girlfriend…” He glances around the room; this time, he’s either unaware of his slip-up or is unbothered by Harris knowing your relationship status. “Looks like we’re good to go!”

The car ride isn’t too long; it’s only about a ten minute drive before you reach the market. And since you’d remembered to let Harris press the elevator button, it didn’t feel endless.

“Now, Harris,” Eddie says as his son climbs out of the car, hopping onto the parking lot pavement, “the market’s gonna be busy–”

“I know!”

“--so you have to hold my hand, or Ms. Sweetheart’s hand–”

“I know!”

“--the whole time. Got it?”

“Yes!” He’s far too exasperated for a five-year-old, and you have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing. “Can we go in now?”

Eddie obliges and takes Harris’s right hand; you take his left, the three of you walking towards the gigantic building together. 

You’d figured it would be crowded, but you’re unprepared for just how overstimulated your senses become upon entering. Vendors shout advertisements for their booths, beckoning potential customers to check out their wares. Snippets of different conversations infiltrate your  ears, and you swallow hard to clear your head, though the grainy muzak pumping through the overhead speakers doesn't help. 

Immediately, you spot a booth selling secondhand books, and you look at Eddie with a hopeful gaze.

“Go,” he motions with a smile, laughing when you all but skip off to the stack of novels. You don’t want to take too long, as neither Munson has the patience to wait while you peruse your options. A weathered paperback copy of The Grapes of Wrath catches your eye, some pages dog-eared and smelling faintly of stale smoke, and you fish out two quarters from the bottom of your bag and place them in the vendor’s hand.

“Okay,” you breathe when you get back to Eddie and Harris, overwhelmed just by the short walk. You grip Harris’s hand even tighter, all-too protective of him in such a crowded space. “Let’s go get some records!”

Eddie finds a variety of vinyls that he knows will sell at Rock Records—from older classics like Louis Armstrong, Etta James, and Buddy Holly, to more recent gems from Van Halen, Queen, and Michael Jackson. 

“Babe, check this out!” he announces gleefully, showing off a copy of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning. “I must’ve listened to this a hundred times when it was released in ‘84.” His enthusiasm is palpable, and you have to wonder if this purchase is for the store or for himself.

To his credit, Harris lasts a full twenty-five minutes before he starts asking for ice cream again. “You promised, renember?”

Eddie grins at him, then at you. “A promise, huh?” He clicks his tongue. “Can’t break that.”

“I think I saw a booth down there that’s sellIng some.” It’s a local shop, and you know one cone will probably cost more than a half-gallon at the grocery store, but you’ll risk the upcharge if it means avoiding a second meltdown today. 

“I’ll be right there,” Eddie tells you, eyes flitting back towards a row of booths you’d passed by earlier. “Just get me something with chocolate?”

“What’s the magic word?” Harris interjects. 

“Please.” He lays it on thick, throwing you a wink before turning around. 

You grab a $5 bill from your back pocket, change from when you’d bought the sandwiches earlier, and approach the ice cream stand.

“Can I please get one cherry chip cone, one chocolate fudge cone, and…what do you want, Har?”

“That!” He points to a giant display of model cars displayed in front of a toy vendor’s booth. “I want the orange one!”

“We can look after,” you reassure him. “First, you have to pick the ice cream flavor you want.”

“Hmm,” he presses on tiptoes to peruse his options before pressing his forefinger to the glass, pointing to cookies ‘n cream, declaring, “that one!”

The vendor hands him his cone, then turns to you and confirms, “just the three cones?”

“Mhm.”

She punches some numbers into the register, expression far too serious for the gig. “That'll be $6.”

Exhaling, you hand her the bill in your palm. There’s no way the stodgy woman is going to cut you a break for the extra dollar. “Give me a sec; I should have a single in my wallet.” You let go of Harris’s hand, fumbling around in your bag until you pull out what you’ve been searching for. 

The vendor takes your money and hands you the remaining two cones, already starting to melt with all of the body heat surrounding you. 

“Thank you,” you say with a polite smile. “Okay, Har, let’s—” Your blood runs cold when you realize he’s nowhere to be found.  “Harris!” you call out, voice shaking on the last syllable, unable to hide how frantic you feel. “Harris!”

Eddie, already on his way from his earlier errand, runs over to you. “Where’s—”

“He was just here!” You push your way through the crowd, accidentally brushing your scoop of cherry chip along someone’s jacket, but there’s no time to apologize. 

You and Eddie take turns yelling out his name, bile rising in your throats with each unanswered shout, until you hear somebody ask, “is that your mommy and daddy calling for you?”

Both your and Eddie’s heads swivel towards the conversation, breathing identical sighs of relief when you see the familiar mop of curls in front of the toy car display.

“Oh, thank God.” It comes out in one breath, your chest deflating as you and Eddie rush towards him. 

“Harris, what are you doing?” Eddie admonishes him, heart still racing as the surge of adrenaline tapers off. He picks him up, fingers digging into the shirt fabric as he holds him as close as possible, and presses a kiss to his scalp. There will be some sort of consequence later–revoking TV time and a lecture on stranger danger–but for now, there’s only the comfort of knowing he’s safe.

“I just wanted to see the cars,” Harris protests, trying and failing to wriggle from Eddie’s grip. “Can I get the orange one?”

Eddie huffs out an incredulous laugh, astounded that Harris doesn’t understand the seriousness of his actions. “No, you can’t!” he yells, attracting unwanted attention from other shoppers, “and you can’t wander off like that! I told you that you have to stay with one of us the whole time!” He flexes his palm before clenching it into a frustrated fist. “What were you thinking?”

Harris’s eyes fill with tears. “I j-just wanted to s-see them,” he tries again, taken aback by the anger in his dad’s voice. “An’ Ms. Sweetheart was right there!”

The mention of your nickname reminds Eddie of the other adult involved. “You were supposed to be watching him,” he spits, gritting his teeth to keep from raising his voice at you. 

You wince at his tone, filled with venom for the first time since his comment about Grandma forgetting you all those months ago. The difference is that, now, you deserve it. Letting go of his hand was careless; at the very least, you should have reminded him to stay put. The early morning donut, the elevator button were menial indiscretions compared to this mistake. There’s no denying that you’d royally messed up.

“I’m so sorry.” Sorry for not keeping a closer eye on Harris. Sorry for waking him up from his nap via a screaming child. Sorry for waltzing into their lives and thinking you had a snowball’s chance in Hell of being a decent parent. The ice cream drips down the cones and onto your hands, pooling in the crevices between your fingers. You dump them in the nearest trash can, neither of you hungry anymore.

You can’t return to the hotel soon enough, and as soon as Eddie puts an episode of Rugrats on TV for Harris, you begin inconspicuously packing your collecting your toiletries from the bathroom to back in your luggage.

“What’re you doing?” Eddie asks from the doorway. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, perplexion wrinkling his brows. 

“Going home.”

He presses his forefinger and thumb to his eyelids and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like–”

“No,” you interrupt him, choking down your frustration, “you were right. You trusted me to watch him, and I didn’t.”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie steps forward and puts out a hand to stop you from grabbing your toothbrush, “it was an accident. Things happen in a split second, yeah?” He thinks back to the way Harris had tumbled off of the bed months ago. “We found him, and that’s what matters.”

He’s trying to comfort you, which somehow makes you feel worse. You lost his kid, but he’s focusing on making you feel better.

The next words out of your mouth shatter his heart into pieces: “I think it would be better for everyone if I leave.”

A small puff of air escapes his nostrils, unsurprised but hurt nonetheless. “‘S too much for you, isn’t it?” he mumbles, not even daring to glance in your direction as he says it. 

He knows. He knows that you aren’t cut out for this, that you’ll never be the mom Harris needs or deserves. In his own words, he knows it’s too much for you.

You say nothing in return, and your silence is louder than the cartoon squabble just a few feet away.

“Fine, just…just go, then.” He slams one palm on the bathroom sink, the other raking through his hair so forcefully that a few strands come loose. “God, I need a fucking cigarette!” he mutters, jaw clenched.

“I’m so sorry.” It’s all you can think to say. You’ll repeat it over and over again if it rectifies the situation. 

“Yeah, whatever.” He starts to leave the room, not even turning back around to say, “I’ll tell Harris you’re not feeling well.” He wants to ask you to call the hotel room when you get home but bites back the request. That’s something one partner asks of another, and you aren’t partners anymore, he realizes bitterly, and it’s his fault. He’d put the responsibility of parenthood on you far too quickly. 

He could have insisted that Harris stay and nap with him rather than letting him go to the park. He could have kept Harris by his side while you got the ice cream, or the three of you could have gone together. Instead, he’d just assumed that this was a role you had no qualms about taking on. In his eagerness to build this little family, he’d squandered the foundation before it had even set.

Eddie watches as you walk away, the words wait and don’t go and we can figure this out lurking behind his molars, but he remains silent. 

When the door slams behind you, he bites on his thumb. Go after her, some part of him—his conscience, maybe—nags, but he pushes the thought away. He can’t ask you to stick around and be a mom to his son if it isn't truly what you want to do. 

He removes his finger from between his teeth and shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, temporarily confused when he’s met with some resistance. The tiny brown paper bag crinkles as his fingers make contact with it, and he pulls it out dejectedly. 

He’d spotted the necklace while scavenging for record vendors and made a mental note to return to it when you weren’t there to see. A tiny metal heart on a chain that he’d planned to give to you at the end of the trip. It was the reason he’d left you alone with Harris; he’d wanted it to be a surprise. 

“Well, that was a fuckin’ waste,” Eddie says to no one in particular, shoving it back in the confines of his pocket. He sits next to Harris, hoping Tommy Pickles’ shenanigans will melt his brain for just a few moments. 

The next bus to Hawkins pulled up thirty minutes after your cab arrived at the station. It was the only way to get home, and an embarrassingly large part of you hoped that Eddie and Harris would swing by, enveloping you in a tight hug and promising you that you’re doing a great job. That you’re enough. 

That moment remains a daydream, one that replays over and over as you lean your head against the window. It’s all highway from here to your small town, close to three hours on the road because of the intermediate stops, but you’re in no hurry to return. If it hurts now, you can’t imagine the pain when the loneliness sets in. 

Of course Eddie wasn’t coming to rescue you; you’d let him down right when he’d needed you. It was all so superficial on your end, thinking that you could be a mother just because you’d taught Harris how to read and have dinner with him and his dad once a week. 

Wallowing in pity is too indulgent, too pathetic, but you can’t keep from berating yourself. You’re a preschool teacher; how hard is it to remember to hold a kid’s hand?

Tears slip down your cheeks involuntarily and you swipe at them before your seat partner can notice. The last thing you need is to strike up an emotional conversation with a complete stranger. 

And what is it with you and crying today? Getting choked up when Eddie had pointed out the donut mistake, feeling like you were going to have a meltdown alongside Harris, and now this? It’s like you have an endless supply of tears. 

The most likely culprit is your run-of-the-mill PMS; you can always count on being overly sensitive on those select few days. You open your bag and take out the pocket calendar where you keep track of important appointments and dates, including your periods. 

Today’s April 26. You flip back to March, rifling through the pages until you see that the first day of your last period was the twentieth. 

You’re almost a full week late. 

--

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[cameronspecial]

The People We Used To Be

Pairing: Musician! Rafe Cameron x Musician! Reader

Warnings: Rafe being an asshole

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 8.5K

Summary: Music brought together Y/N and Rafe, but he pulled them apart. After seven years, a competition to win a recording deal brings them back together and they are forced to confront their past.

A/N: Inspired by @ghostofwriting's Kildare Spilt series which is absolutely amazing and you have to check it out if you haven't already. The songs in the fic are "Traitor" by Olivia Rodrigo (Altered to fit the fic) and "Right My Wrongs" by Bryson Tiller. I didn't write them.

Masterlist

Music has a way of making the world make sense for Y/N and Rafe. The Pogue and the Kook met at a Mommy and Me music class their mothers took them to as toddlers. Their mothers and each other helped foster a love for the art and it became even more of a necessity when they lost their mothers. Rafe was the first one to lose his mother. Margaret Cameron had been battling cancer for two years before her passing and it completely destroyed her eight-year-old son. Every Kook he knew tried to help him with his grief, except the one person who could actually get through to him didn’t live on Figure Eight. Instead of crying in his room in Tannyhill, he found himself riding his bike to a small bungalow on the Cut. It was in that small house where a little girl sat on the front porch with a guitar that was too big for her, trying to play “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper. Her mom’s favourite song. The sound of the chain of his bike caused her to freeze and look up from the strings. “You are getting better,” he praised, getting off his bike to walk it up the small driveway. She gave him a smile that showed him she wasn’t afraid to be happy during his time of mourning. She didn’t walk on eggshells around him and he loved it. It made him feel normal, like before his mom got sick. She beckoned him to the porch swing with her hand, “Come sing with me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Nuh-uh, that’s a girl song,” he argued. 

The front door opened and out came Melody Y/L/N. Her smile matched her daughter. “Now, Rafe. Have I not taught you anything about music? There is no such thing as a boy song or a girl song. Or a Pogue song or a Kook song. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. Now, why don’t we all sing together?” Those words touched him and it would continue to do so well into adulthood. And it was that afternoon when Rafe started to heal from the pain of a dead mother. Playing music with the Y/L/N women and being happy made him feel closer to his mom than any condolences from other people.

———

Y/N lost her mother at twelve years old. The real kicker was that the universe decided that the day the girl would turn into a young lady was the day of her mother’s funeral. Her mother was a lively person and requested in her will that people wear their favourite colour to her funeral. So Y/N wore light blue to the burial. When she went to the bathroom after returning home, she was greeted with a massive red stain in her underwear. It felt as though the world had ended. Melody may have talked to her daughter about the logistics of dealing with a period, but Y/N couldn’t remember a word of what her mother had said and she began to panic. She locked herself in the bathroom after her dad gave her a new pair of underwear and some of her mom’s leftover pads. Other than that, he had no idea what else to do to get his daughter out. His wife was gone and his daughter was dealing with a problem he had never experienced before. He felt hopeless until he thought of the one person who could help. 

Ward dropped off his son in front of the one-story yellow house, telling his son he could sleep over if Y/N needed someone. Rafe walked into the house as if he lived there and went straight to the bathroom door. “Hey, Rock Star. I heard you were feeling bad. I brought you some KitKats, dulce de leche ice cream and some Tylenol,” he announces, looking through the bag. “My mo- My mom used to say eating sweets made her feel better.” She didn’t respond; instead, she remained seated on the floor against the bathtub. Her head was on her knees to catch the tears coming from her eyes, wishing her mom could be here to help her through it. Rafe sighed, worried his friend would never leave that room again. Since food didn’t work, he only knew one other thing that might be able to get her out. If it didn’t work, then he didn’t know what would. He ran to the living room and flipped through the CD holder, looking for a specific one. He finally found it and took it out. He set it in the CD player and dragged it into the hallway. He plugged it in, skipping to the perfect song. The notes began to play and he shook his hips in synch with it. “I come home, in the morning light,” he started to sing with Cyndi. She could hear his exaggerated shrieks from inside her confides. He was definitely doing it to goad her out. “I think I’m a great singer. What do you think, Rock Star?” he screamed from the other side of the door. She sat there for a little longer, listening to his horrible singing. 

Eventually, she had to save her poor ears from the torture. His singing dimmed in volume at the click of the lock. He saw her feet tapping and he knew it was only a matter of time before she joined in with him. Once she started singing with him, he switched to his real singing voice. The slant of her lips was still in a frown, but it was still an improvement from not wanting to see anyone. And once again, music helped the children grieve the loss of an important woman in their lives. 

———

Her foot taps against the floor as she bites her nails. The earplugs she is wearing help dampen the sound from the stage. She can’t believe he is here. It really shouldn’t be a surprise. This competition would launch the winner’s career. Y/N hasn’t seen him in seven years and hasn’t played with him for just as long. Kiara comes from behind her and rests a palm on her shoulder. Kie has been touring with Y/N’s band for three years now. As soon as she graduated high school, she hit the road and became the Melodies’ personal assistant. They both turn to look at the lead singer of Just Wanna Have Fun as he sings while strumming his electric guitar. He turns so she can see the back of his guitar and she spots the beam note with their initial in each of the ovals of the notes. R and Y/I/N. She is surprised he hasn’t painted over it already. Each band gets to play three songs and when she hears the next song he decides to play, she can’t stand on the sideline and watch them perform anymore. She turns around and heads into the lounge area for the musicians. How dare he play that song?

He could feel her gaze on her throughout his first set. He should’ve figured she would be here. If he thought she was, he wouldn’t have played the next set. He finishes his part of the duet and he looks to the side of the stage to see her while Frank sings the verse that used to belong to Y/N. Disappointment flashes across his eyes at the empty spot where she was. This is the first time he gets to see her in seven years and of course, he has to screw it up. He gets so caught up in the past that he almost misses his verse. 

———

The cool air tickled their skin as her head rested on his stomach. The new electric guitar his dad bought him for his fourteenth birthday lay beside them. “Do you ever worry about us not being friends anymore?” she thought out loud, staring up at a cloud that looked a little like a bunny. He frowns at her and lifts his head up to look at her, “No, why in the world would I think about that?” 

“We are total opposites, Rafe. You are a Kook. I’m a Pogue. You are destined for a life of greatness while I’m meant to be stuck on my side of the island.”

He laughs, “That’s absolutely ridiculous because we are both meant to be in a band together and become so famous that the members of Pink Floyd will be jealous.”

He could see the seriousness of her question and sat up, taking her with him. She now sat across from him and he took her hand into his. “But seriously though, all that stuff doesn’t matter. Not when we have music. It’s like your mom used to say. Music isn’t meant for one type of person. As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. And that logic is the same for us. We speak to each other, so we are meant for each other,” he promised. He scooted to his backpack and got out a Sharpie. He sat back down beside her, flipping his guitar onto his lap. “What are you doing?” she questioned. She slid in closer to him. He uncapped the marker and began to draw a beam note. He looked up at her with a smile, “Proving to you that we will never stop being friends.” He put his initial in the first note and handed the marker over to her. She got the message, writing her initial in the other note. He took the marker back to cap it. “There. Now, as long as this is here, we will be friends forever.” She giggled at his remark, thinking it would eventually fade; however, what she didn’t know was that he forced his dad to get something to seal the writing that very night. 

———

Y/N will never get over the feeling of being on stage. Whether she is playing for a crowd of one or a hundred, all she needs is to share what she loves with people willing to listen. She smiles at the camera Kiara flashes in her face and takes the towel Kie hands to her. The fabric removes the sweat from her forehead, staining with makeup in the process. She makes her way to the lounge to put her stuff away so she can wait out the other bands until they announce who is going to make it to the next round. Her usual routine after a gig is to take a breather outside by herself. She needs the outside air to cool her down and let her think, so her bandmates give her the space she needs as she heads out the backdoor. She breathes in the cool air, slamming against the rough brick wall. So far, she has been able to contain her emotions about seeing him again. Yet, finally being able to focus on her feelings, makes her realize that she is still hurt by what he did all those years ago. She trusted him with all of her heart and he broke that trust. How could someone she loved so much betray her so badly? 

“It’s been seven years and you still haven’t changed, Rock Star.” The voice snaps her out of her thoughts. Her head swivels in his direction, rolling her eyes at him. “Neither have you because I’m guessing you are here to smoke. You know those things will kill you, right?” she retorts, looking in the opposite direction. He chuckles, “Yeah, this girl I used to know a while back told me that all the time.” She doesn’t join in his playfulness. “You know what, I’m just going to go back inside,” she decides, pushing off of the wall to head to the door. He reaches for her wrist to stop her. She stops at the contact and he flicks the cigarette bud on the floor. He stomps it out. His gaze finds her again and at the disapproving look on her face, he picks it up and throws it in the garbage. He points toward the door, “I’ll go. I recognize how much you need these moments alone. I’ll see you back inside.” He steps toward the doorway, pausing to glance at her over his shoulder. “It was nice to see you in person again.” She scoffs, “I wish I could say the same.” This digs another shallow hole in his heart and he lets the door slam shut behind him. Once he is gone, she slides down the wall, resting her head on her knees with her eyes closed. Is a record deal with one of the best recording labels really worth the regauging of old wounds? 

Rafe heads to the bathroom, the inside of his cheek caught between his teeth. The decision to use the individual bathroom is easy; he doesn’t want anyone to walk in on his mental breakdown. His hand twists the cold facet and splashes the water onto his face. The shock of the temperature aids him in rearranging his thoughts. At the sight of her broken heart, it killed him that he wasn’t able to drag her into his hold and whisper how sorry he was for letting them get to this point. After all their time apart, every single detail that he remembers about her is the same. Her lavender perfume remains his favourite smell in the world. The dark fuschia lipstick is the one he picked out for her when she started wearing makeup. And she relies on the tiny taps of her feet in rhythm with the song playing in her head. 

———

Rafe watches her from his spot in front of the stage. The area designated for the bands to stand in during the elimination announcement isn’t as crowded as the general admission behind him. Two bands are going to be eliminated. It isn’t a lot, yet it doesn’t guarantee Just Wanna Have Fun is going to continue in the competition. He hopes the Melodies advance, certainly because the longer they both stay, the more chances he has at making things right between them. All he wants is to get back what they had and maybe what they didn’t get the opportunity. That wish is quickly submerged by a wave from a passing jet ski. 

The jet ski is probably two inches shorter than Rafe. His light brown curly hair goes passed the bottom of his ear and looks like a flat mane. The green eyes stare at Y/N with adoration that only Rafe should be allowed to direct toward her. What really destroys Rafe is when that five o’clock shadow brushes against Y/N’s skin to give her a kiss on the cheek. Garrett notices Rafe’s gaze and shoves the glarer with his shoulder. “Stop staring. You look creepy,” Garrett orders, turning back to the stage. As Rafe is about to obey the suggestion, he catches the way Y/N leans against the chest of the mystery man, causing a bubble of nausea to form in his stomach. The screech of a microphone calls the attention of everyone in the crowd. A short woman with blue hair and black lips angles the bulb toward her, “Everyone played beautifully tonight, but unfortunately, you all can’t join us next week. Just as a reminder every week, two bands will be eliminated. Now, for the moment you have all been waiting for.” She takes a pause to unfold the paper with the names of the unlucky musicians and her cheerful demeanour shifts to one of sorrow. “I’m sorry to announce that Dex the Sex and Heartaches will not be playing on this stage again next week.” The bands closest to the exiled ones express their condolences, while the ones further away can be seen celebrating the small victory. Rafe turns to hug his bandmates and can’t help but risk a glance at her. Her arms are around her supposed boyfriend’s neck and their chest are pressed against each other. 

The green-eyed monster tickles his heart. His legs move in advance of his brain processing his emotions. The tips of his navy blue converses touch her black leather boots. He notices the way the man’s arm around her waist slightly tightens so that the veins in his arms are prominent and the sharp jaw clenches. Rafe eventually has the confidence to look in her eyes and her distaste for him marinates in them. His fingers go to scratch the back of his ear, “Congrats on making it to the next round. You… you played great. Was the last song new?” She leans forward in the man’s hold and some of her hatred cools down. “Thanks, it is. Something I came up with last week. We’ve been working late nights to perfect it for tonight. You sounded great tonight too,” she says barely above a whisper. The man behind her looks between the ex-bandmates and extends his hand out, “I’m Knox, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you, Rafe.” 

Rafe grips Knox’s hand a little too tight with a straight smile. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he placates, wondering how much trouble he would get into for punching the idiot. It would be unwarranted for sure, yet it doesn’t stop his urge to want to do it. Feeling the start of a cock fight brewing, Y/N steps in. “We didn’t eat dinner before the show, so we are going to go… do that.” She breaks away from her boyfriend’s hold and takes his hand, following her friends toward the exit. Her cold demeanour might have made someone else lose spirit. Someone who didn’t know Y/N. Rafe knows otherwise though. He was able to crack the glaze of her harshness. He isn’t letting that victory go. 

———

His feet ache after a late-night practice. They had gotten the last timeslot for practice at the venue today, not that Rafe minds. He works better at night because it is when he needs a distraction the most. She was there earlier, so he didn’t get to see her. The smell of her perfume followed him wherever he went while he was there. They haven’t had any encounters since that night. It doesn’t surprise him; she is obviously avoiding him. It hurts him more than hell and he knows he deserves it because he did something a hundred times worse to her. The echo of his footsteps is the sole sound in his vast apartment. This has been his house for five years, except it doesn’t feel like home. Not when it doesn’t have that touch of her like his room at Tannyhill does. 

———

“God, could your room look any more like a stereotypical teenage boy’s jerk off-centre?” she criticized, looking around the room with disgust in her eyes at the cluster of cups on his bedside table. Some of them had ring stains around the glass. He looked at her over his shoulder, “What are you talking about? All the guys I know have a room like this.” She points at the walls littered merely with car posters or bikini models. “Yeah, and that’s the problem. How can you call this place home if there is nothing that shows you are the one living here?” she argued. He gestured to the poster, “What do you think that is?” 

“That shows me that any guy in my class lives here.”

“Like a Pogue could afford half of the stuff in this room.”

“Really, Rafe?” 

“Right, sorry. Can you just get to the point? What do you think I should add then? What will make this place my home?” 

“You need more personality in here. Pictures of people you love. Little trinkets. Plants. Music stuff. Love letters from a sweetheart.” 

He chuckled, “Like you display your love letters. And why can’t my personality be cars and bikini posters.” “Because that’s every other straight cis-gendered boy's personality. You know, if you added more things, it would make a girl feel more comfortable in your room,” she attempted a different tactic. His brow arched, “Hmm, never thought about it that way. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in my room though. Why bring it up now?” “I’m tired of looking at this nasty-ass messy room. That’s why,” she admitted. He nodded, taking into consideration her opinion. He grabbed a piece of tape from his desk drawer and took out his wallet. She observes as he slides out a picture from the window slot. He tacked on the photo right above his desk. She couldn’t see what it was in, so she stepped forward. Her eyes welled up with tears at the sight. It was a picture of them. The memory of when the photo was taken comes to the forefront of her mind. They were twelve years old and he had just learnt a new chord on the guitar, so of course, he had to teach her it as well. His hands were placed over hers on the neck of the guitar, while he guided her fingers. “What’s this?” she stupidly questioned.

He grinned at her, “You told me to put up a picture of someone I loved and I did.” “And you just had that picture in your wallet this whole time?” she clarified. He shrugged, “Yep since I got it.” “That is very unexpected, Rafe,” she thought out loud. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “What do you expect, Rock Star? You’re my best friend. Of course, I love you.” The words stung her. It shouldn’t surprise her that was who he saw her as. She was a Pogue; she could never be more to him. 

———

He should’ve brought that picture to New York with him. He did bring one thing over that reminded him of home. The music room in his apartment has everything he needs to write a song. It is the one place in his apartment that he doesn’t mind spending time in. There are so many ways for him to clear his mind here and it is where his bandmates like to hang out too. No matter how many times Frank (keyboardist), Garrett (bassist), Topper (drummer), and Barry (band manager) enter this room and know every inch of the room, they will never find his most precious possession. He kneels beside the drawer tower filled with various accessories for the instruments and pulls the bottom one open. He pushes down on the false bottom to reveal a stack of lined papers. They are rumpled from how many times he has read them over; he just couldn’t bring himself to send them or get rid of them. At first, he wrote them to apologize to her, but then he started to use it as a cathartic method. He allowed himself to express everything he had ever wanted to say to her in the letters and every time he needed a reminder of who they used to each other, he read them. His hope was that one day they would be the personalization their house needed to feel like home. It’s been a while since he wrote a new one; however, with her reappearance in his life, it feels time to write another. 

Dear Rock Star,

Even after all this time, you still manage to find a way to have a hold on my heart. Maybe, it’s because I never sent the first letter, so we never got the closure we needed. But seeing you again made my heart feel like it was beating to the tune of its old song. Everything I felt for you came back like a tidal wave and all I wanted to do was hug the ever-loving shit out of you. And then he went to you. That wave I thought I could overcome became my undoing. It made me regret never reaching out to say I was sorry. I realized that your rejection of my apology would be a lot less painful than your moving on from me. It was bound to happen. How could it not when you are the most amazing person to have ever existed? I just dreamt that I could’ve found my way back into your life before it happened. But I didn’t and now, I have to stew in my consequences. 

I sometimes wonder if you miss me as much as I miss you. I get that it is different for you. You were the one who got hurt instead of the one doing the hurting. I think you do. You may not admit it, but you responded to me. Maybe you wanted to seem professional and I can see that being your reason. Yet, your eyes told me something else. I’m not talking about when we talked. I’m talking about when I was on stage. You saw the beam note and I could see the yarning behind the hatred. You want to go back to that time just as much as I want to. I’m going to get us back to that place, I promise. We might not be able to be exactly the people we used to be; nevertheless, we can try. Because you still speak to me, Rock Star, and that means we are meant to be.

Loving you always,

Rafe

He sighs at the final stroke of the pen and caps it. He reads it over and over until it is all he can think about. The words have never felt more true to him and he makes a vow to himself to make it come true. If he can’t have back what they once had, then he will make damn sure he’ll earn the next best thing. He hears the jiggle of the front door handle and rapidly shoves everything back into the drawer. “Dude, why is it always so damn dark in here? Don’t you know how to turn on lights?” Topper teases from downstairs. “Where are you? Come out of the studio for once, will ya? We brought you food from that Turkish place.”

———

“I think maybe we should try you coming in later with the backup vocals, Debs. Why don’t we try again?” Y/N advises. At the nod from the other girls, Y/N faces the stage outward and grips the microphone with both hands. Viola counts them down, beginning the rhythm for everyone to join in. Y/N waits for her cue to sing; she has been the lead singer for the Melodies for seven years and she has yet to figure out what to do with her hands. When they started the band, they figured having two guitarists didn’t mesh well with their sound. So, she offered to drop the instrument for the band because Laila hates singing. She didn’t mind not being able to play on stage, except there were sometimes when she missed it. She’d even dare to say she missed playing with Just Wanna Hav Fun because she wanted the ability to shred some strings in a room bigger than her shoebox of an apartment. The note that signifies she comes in plays and she opens her mouth to sing. Her mind turns off, focusing entirely on hitting every note perfectly. Every time she gets to be on stage, she finds herself falling in love with music again. Especially since it helps her feel closer to her mother.

The girls get lost in the music and forget the time. The clearing of a throat causes Y/N to whip in the direction of it. Topper gives her a small smile and a wave, “I hate to stop the creative flow, but it’s eleven.” Y/N’s head bobs and helps the others get all of their stuff together. She can feel the eyes of the people she used to call friends on her. She tries not to succumb to the pressure of their gaze. As they leave the stage, both groups awkwardly look at each other. She hasn’t kept secrets from her girls, so they know everything that went down between her and the boys. 

Laila, Viola, and Debra can see the emotionless expression on her face at the encounter with her past and decide not to bring it up. “Are you working a shift today?” Laila inquires whilst placing her guitar in its case. Y/N slings her bag across her chest, “Yeah, I’m doing a closing shift. If you guys want to come over to rehearse some more, come over after ten. I need a break between now and work.” “Got it, I’ll bring the pizza,” Laila informs before leaving with Debra and Viola. Kiara returns from the bathroom and approaches Y/N, looking nervously between the stage and her friend. “I don’t want to talk about it, Kie,” she laments. Kiara notices the way the singer avoids eye contact. The PA shakes her head, “You’ve been burying this within you for almost a decade. That isn’t healthy.” “I have no idea what you are talking about. It is perfectly fine to not talk about it. And for your information, I interacted with him on the first competition night. I would say that counts as acknowledging it,” she contends. Kiara’s head tilts to give Y/N a pointed look.

“I overheard that conversation. You were just being nice because the audience could see you.”

“You can’t deny that I was being nice. So I say it counts.”

“You know that isn’t what I mean, Y/N/N. You aren’t only hurting him by leaving things unsolved, but yourself. The more you avoid getting closure, the more you come up with your own explanation for his actions. Those are always going to be worse than the truth. Think about it, not for him. For you.”

Kie doesn’t wait for an answer and it leaves Y/N to think about the impact of her friend's words. She chances a glance to where the music is coming from before heading home. The world is drowned out by the music playing in her headphones, filling in the space where her thoughts should populate. Everyone believes she has to speak to him; they lecture her on the importance of learning the full story. It is rich of them to say all those things when they aren’t the ones who Rafe pained. He didn’t even have the decency to say he was sorry after she confronted him. All he had to present to her were countless excuses. So they don’t get to have an input on how she deals with her shit because she is dealing with it. Through her writing. Out of Rafe and Y/N, she has always been the one more attuned to writing. Rafe can write good songs, he just isn’t as in love with the process as she is. Once her headphones come off at home, she rushes to her bedside drawer, pulling out a beaten-up notebook. She flips through countless songs about him. Every single one was written when she couldn’t contain how she felt. She finally gets to the picture of them she uses as a bookmark. It is the same one he taped onto his wall when they were fifteen. She couldn’t bring herself to take anything else of him during her move. As soon as the pen hits the paper, everything she has been bundling up inside falls onto the page.

———

He had asked her out. Rafe asked her out and she said yes. It had been a game of cat and mouse, them going back and forth on whether or not they should risk their friendship for something more. Spoiler alter, it wasn’t going to be. She didn’t know that though. At the moment, she was focused on getting to band practice. The cold evening breeze caused her to wrap her zip-up hoodie around her body by holding it against her waist. She drops her phone right as she gets to the opening of Topper’s garage. Something she overhears while picking up her phone makes her delay her entry to the room. “I heard you are going on a date with Y/N.” It was a high-pitched voice that could only belong to Samantha. Y/N wasn’t the biggest fan of Samantha. The Kook had a permanent judgmental face in her presence and she could hear the repugnance lacing the question.

Y/N expected her best friend to hear the same tone and defend her. It never happened. “Listen, I didn’t want to do it. I got tired of her doing that pathetic mopey-eyed shit. She was begging for me to ask her out, so I did to stop her pestering. Trust me, I could never willingly date a Pogue.” Suddenly, her heart popped under the weight of the tire and he continued to smear her most vital organ across the road with every laugh he let out. What added to her decimation was that her other bandmates joined in her mocking. During their friendship, they had never made her feel different because of what side of the island she was born on. She thought they didn’t care about the number in her bank account; apparently, they did. She wondered how many lies they told her. Was everything they ever paid for for her because they pitied her? Were they truly her friend? She stepped back to leave, not having the courage to face the most important people in her life until Rafe said something that turned her agony to rage. “What about that stupid saying her mom always said that she lives by.  As long as it speaks to you, it is meant for you. It is so ridiculous. One. Not everything talks. Two. Does she believe that a life outside of the cut is meant for her? Y/N is so delusional.” Samantha let out a cackle. This was the ultimate betrayal. 

She stormed into the room, letting the boys’ height tower over her. The faint smell of weed permeated the air. With the number of times they smoked in here, she was surprised the fabric of the light brown couch didn’t permanently smell like the drug. Topper’s garage wasn’t what most people would imagine for a place to park a car. It made sense though because his family didn’t keep their cars in this garage. They had another small building to house their vehicles in true Kook fashion. This room was a modern finished room, perfectly equipped for whatever Topper’s new hobby was and it happened that his hobby for the past year was being in a band. Rafe could see the fury in her eyes and knew she heard everything they said. He felt horrible. In an ignorant teenage boy fashion, he said anything he could to get laughter out of his friends, creating the biggest mistake of his life. Time needed to rewind, so he could say what he should’ve. The way she looked at him buried him in regret. His desire to take her into his arms for her comfort was trumped by the knowledge that she would chew his head off. “How can you say those things about my mother? The fact that you would ridicule her after she treated you like her own son is sickening. You didn’t deserve her love and she would be disappointed in who you turned out to be. So would your own mom because the Margaret Cameron I know would be ashamed at how you just talked about her dead friend and your presumed best friend,” she fired. He could make glass out of sand with the way she scorched him. His mind zipped around with ways to apologize and make things better, yet his dumb hormonal self advised him to keep digging. She was outnumbered after all. 

“Playing the mom card, how depressing. No, I think my mom would be proud of me. She never liked you anyway. How could she? All you are is a sad little poor Pogue.” 

Lies. Margaret adored Y/N, loving getting to sing with the little girl. The laughs from the Kooks fueled his outer confidence, while his heart was being grated into millions of pieces. She froze; her face contorting into a pout. He spotted the wobble of her lip and the hitching of her breath. His feet shuffled forward a micro-inch, wanting to wipe away her despair. She took a deep breath. Silence seeped into the air. The tension thickened like trying to swim in a pool of peanut butter. She held her head high as she spun to leave, refusing to let them see her misery. 

———

Another competition night passes with the survival of Just Wanna Have Fun and the Melodies. The venue hall is practically empty, except for a few stray people. While the rest of the girls go home, Y/N stays behind to get some downtime alone in the rehearsal room. Being in the Battle of The Bands with Rafe is proving to be harder than she thought. They haven’t had another conversation, but their proximity puts her on edge. Her footsteps echo in the hallway as she leaves the bathroom. Headphones cover her ears, distracting her from the presence behind her. A tap on her shoulder causes her to twirl around. A skinny man with a sad excuse for a beard leers at her. He is wearing The Melodies’ merch and gives her a gut-twisting smile. Suddenly, she feels uneasy because of the lack of people in the building. Time droops as his thin fingers encase her wrist. She tries to yank her arm out; his baby-like grip impedes her attempt. “You have such a beautiful voice,” he mumbles. The usual compliment doesn’t have the same effect coming from a man who looks at her in such an objectified manner. 

“You need to let go,” she orders, having no obligation to acknowledge the content of his words. His hand further coils around her skin, “I said something nice about you. The least you can do is say thank you.” Fear sets in when his other hand reaches for his belt and he begins to drag her toward the bathroom. An arm hooks around the delusional man’s neck, causing him to stop and jerk her backwards. She quickly recognizes the thick bicep. “Let go of her,” Rafe growls in the assaulter’s ear. Relief flushes her at the release of weight from her wrist. “Rock Star, go get security and go back to the practice room.” Her mind goes on autopilot and follows his instructions, overlooking the manner in which he knows why she is here late. 

Once security is sent to aid Rafe, she returns to the instrument-filled room. Her attention is on the blue acoustic guitar resting in its case close to the metal stool. She picks up the guitar and takes a seat. Her fingers press against the string on the neck and her other hand strumms to create the chord. The lyrics she wrote so long ago flow out of her. 

“You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You said I was priceless but you really meant worthless. It took you a second To pretend I was nothing Guess I should’ve known That you were always a liar.” 

Rafe's back rests against the stone, a tear slipping out of the corner of his eye and down his face. He was going to go in to check in on her but hesitates to fall through. She needs to say something to the universe and for once, Rafe isn’t going to take that away from her. He saw the way the bounce of her foot disappeared with the song. Instead, he plans to give her exactly what she needs. The guys are going to hate him for this. 

———

The crowd is electric as Rafe takes a second to breathe. He looks around the venue, searching to see if she is in the section for the musicians to watch the show. His eyes connect with Y/N’s. He can carry on with his plan. He rests a hand on the microphone and adjusts the earpiece in his ear. The mic stand tilts while he brings the mic closer to his mouth, “This next one is new. It’s not on any of our albums, but it is something that is long overdue.” He flicks his head toward Topper to start playing the song they worked all week to perfect in time. Rafe’s head bobs to the beat of the drum, waiting for his queue to jump in. He starts singing at the same time he strums the first chord.  

“I've gotta right my wrongs With you is where I belong You've been down from the go Recognition is what you want And it's something that I should know Something that I should know All the things that you went through I never meant to put you through it twice, no Tell me how can I right my wrongs That's something that I should know All the things that we been through I never meant to put you through it twice, oh no”

His eyes flicker to her and his heart drops at the tears running down her round cheeks. Every part inside of him wants to stop playing when he sees her go backstage. He gets through the set and the rest of the guys say goodbye to their fans. He is too distracted to give it his full attention. Once backstage, he removes his guitar and weaves through the crew and other musicians in a jog to get to the musicians’ lounge. Disappointment crosses him when he can’t find her. He spots Kie and runs over to his sister’s friend. “Where did she go?” he interrogates, eyes frantically scanning the room for her. Kiara’s eyes roll, “You seriously expect me to tell you after the stunt you just pulled.” His hands clasp together in a shake. “Please, Kie. I needed to do it. She had to know how sorry I was and music has always been our way to connect. It felt right,” he explains, trying to resist the urge to drop to his knees in front of everyone. 

“It’s seven years too late, Rafe.” 

“It’s only too late unless one of us is dead. I need to make sure she is okay. That she knows I mean what I wrote.” 

“I don’t think you are begging enough.” 

His head goes crooked and he follows her gaze to the floor. He swallows his pride and gets onto his knees, “Please, Kiara Carrera. Tell me where Y/N is.” Kie smiles in satisfaction. “I won’t tell you where she lives, but I will tell you where she works and you can keep going there until you happen to be there when she works,” Kiara grants, typing the location into his phone. 

———

The clouds outside make the afternoon dark, adding to Rafe’s loss of hope of not seeing Y/N. The news said it was supposed to rain tonight, but it said that about every day this week and it was wrong. There is a small skip in his step as he reaches for the handle of the coffee shop. An elderly lady stands in the doorway he opened, so he steps back and allows her to pass him. She gives him a small smile as she does. Freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of steam coming from the machine strike his senses. Lydia at the counter recognizes him and begins making his usual before he gets to the register. TJ already has his order punched into the system when he gets there. All Rafe has to do is pay. Once that is done, he sits at a booth sitting along the right wall to wait for his drink. This allows him to see the counter and the front door at the same time. He has been to the cafe every day this week. He only leaves when they close or when he has to practice at the venue. A week isn’t long, yet it still allows him to get to know the people working there. They couldn’t disclose when Y/N is working for privacy issues and he understood why. He would be more concerned if they did tell him no matter who he claimed to be. His name is called and goes up to get it. He reseats himself, opening his laptop to keep himself occupied. 

Lavender. It overpowers him in a good way. He glances toward the front door and she is there, walking further into the store with the most dazzling smile directed toward Lydia. “Look who finally showed up to work,” the barista calls out. Y/N laughs, “I haven’t been scheduled to work. You know that, Silly.” “I know. Work just goes a little slower without my work wife here to keep me company,” Lydia complains with a grin. Y/N hasn’t noticed him and a part of him wishes she never will so she never loses the joy he hasn’t gotten to see since he was sixteen. He considers ducking out before she can see him, except Lydia has other plans. “Oh, by the way, this guy has been coming in every day to see you. He’s sitting over there.” Y/N’s eyes follow Lydia’s finger to where Rafe sits.

She sighs, “My shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes. Is it okay if I…” TJ answers for the barista. “Yeah, take your time.” Y/N’s head bobs and she pulls the hood off from her head. The KCHS written across her chest causes his heart to ache. He gave her some of the money so that she could buy the hoodie. She must not have remembered that fact if she kept it. Her path turns to his table and she settles herself in the seat across from him. “The nerve you have to sing that apology like it can solve all of our problems and then stalk me at my place of work,” she grits through her teeth. He bites the corner of his lip, “Music was always how we connected. And I wanted to make sure you were okay. You ran off during my set.”

“You don’t get to pretend like we still have music after what you said about our mothers. You gave that right up a long time ago. You also aren’t allowed to pretend you care for me.”

He reaches out for her hand and she yanks it away. “The things that I said… They were my greatest mistake. I have never forgiven myself for not apologizing on the spot and I don’t expect you to do so either. I do hope that you know that I regret every single word I uttered that day, Rock Star,” he pleads. He tries to meet her eye, but she averts her gaze. “The world has been a much darker place since you left. I am so sorry that I caused you the pain that I did. I would do anything in this universe to tell my younger self to tell you the truth that day.” She can’t help herself, “And what was the truth, Rafe?” “That even though we hadn’t been on our date yet, I was madly in love with you. I love you with every fibre in my being and it scared me because I knew how much it would hurt if I lost you. Not only that, I was just a teen and stupid enough to think getting a laugh out of my friends was better than facing something new. I had never been so wrong in my entire life.” Her eyes gloss over and checks the time on her phone. She stands up without another word, breaking Rafe’s heart as she walks to the back room. 

The air comes out of his nose in high pressure. He understands her message and leaves Y/N’s place of work. It is hard to process the words he said. Her younger self would’ve loved to hear his declaration of love. She would’ve been so excited. A small part of her heart flutters at the reveal, no matter how angry she is at him. The worst is she genuinely believes he is remorseful of his actions.

Their issues couldn’t be fixed with one small apology; however, she would never forgive herself if she never saw where this could go. “I’m sorry. I’m going to take my break right now,” she informs her co-workers, not waiting for answers. She takes off her apron and throws it onto the ground. She runs out the door in hopes she can still catch him. The crowd makes her question her belief until she spots the blue flannel he is wearing. She threads herself through the people and is met with resistance. “RAFE,” she yells out. He freezes, spinning around to see her. He pushes his way to her and they stand before each other as wet spatters begin to hit their heads. He chances resting his hands on her elbow, delighting when she doesn’t flinch away from him. “I think I forgive you,” she says. The patter from the rain drowns out her words, so he places his forehead against hers to hear her better. His smirk reveals he does have an inkling of what she confessed, “What did you say?” She knows the game he is playing and rolls her eyes. “Forget it, I’m just going to go back to work,” she snarks, turning away to head back to the cafe. Rafe catches her wrist and tugs her against his chest.

Their lips finally connect in the way they have been waiting for for twenty-three years. Her soft petals press hard against him like a rock. He reciprocates the pressure, running his tongue along her lips to ask for entrance. The rainwater mixes in with their saliva as she allows him in. He remembers the jet ski that once drowned him and pulled away. “What about Knox?” he questions. She stares at him with big eyes, “We were never really dating. He is Viola’s brother. He knows our history and thought it would be fun to play around with you to keep you away.” 

“I see. That didn’t work out as you guys had planned, did it? I don’t think anything can keep me away from you once I realize how stupid I was.”

“No it did not… You need to know that just because I forgave you doesn’t mean everything is back to normal. We can’t go back to pretending that we are still the people we used to be. I’m not the girl I was seven years ago and you’ll have to regain my trust.”

“And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to gain back what I broke. As long as I can be by your side.” 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[sweet-child]

dallas x artist!reader ?? like she has her own studio and always has paint on her clothes, real artist shit LMAOO

Messy

untidy or dirty

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

In which Dallas Winston walks into his partner's art studio, finding a mess. 

Pairing - Dallas Winston x GN!Reader

Word Count - 438

A/n: this is my first one-shot in a long while, and its currently 1 minute past midnight. this is great. 

“We’re looking for someone to paint a mural here. D’ya know anyone?” 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

It was a ‘long’ day for Dallas Winston. (Not really, he was just bored). He was being himself, smoking cancer sticks and terrorizing the neighborhood kids. Normally he’d be doing it with Johnny and Pony Boy, but it was a school day and Darry would’ve had a fit if he found out that Dally checked out his kid brother. Leaning against a brick wall, he took one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it onto the ground and stomping it out, exhaling the smoke. It was around 3 in the afternoon, so he figured he would make a surprise visit to his partner’s house. 

Upon entering Y/n’s home, the normally playing music wasn’t heard. He searched around the house, until he heard a crash in the backyard. Quickly, he strutted outside to find a small, white shed. Through the window, he saw his partner wiping their hands off with a stained rag. He opened the door, and walked in, wrapping his arms around his partner's waist. Y/n jumped, and let out a startled yelp. Turning around, they quickly smiled. “Hi Dally.”

“Hey Baby,” He gently kissed the other’s lips. “What’cha doin’ out here?” He asked, looking around on the floor, finding multiple canvases, pain spills, and paint-stained rags. 

“I was going to finish a painting, but I guess I got too into it..” They let out a nervous laugh, raising up their forearms to show their boyfriend the multiple paint streaks they've accidentally made on themselves. 

Dallas just shook his head, and looked down at his significant others’ white shirt, finding different colored streaks, droplets, spills, and stains; most likely all from paint. “Jesus, dollface, ya always get this messy?” His New York accent slipped out 

“Well, Dal, yes I do.” They crossed their arms in a sassily, yet joking, manner. “I believe if you’re making a mess, it's proof you’re having fun.” Then, they got an idea. They noticed a paint bottle open, and very slyly dipped their finger in it. However, Dallas caught on quick. 

“Oh no..don’t do it..” He took a step back, not wanting to get paint on his clothes or in his hair. Suddenly, he turned and sprinted, wanting to get a headstart. Y/n was quick on his tail, and magically tackled him to the ground, smearing a classic, fancy french mustache onto his face. They slowly started giggling, which quickly turned into full on laughter. Dallas slowly started chuckling as well, causing his partner to slip from ontop of him and onto the green grass below them. “I guess I'm messy, too.” 

“Yes, Dally. you’re messy, too.”

[letstripdotcom]

right where you left me- matt sturniolo

a/n- AHHHHH SOMETHING THAT ISNT SMUTT!! alsooo i’m changing up my look a lil bit

summary- upon the loss of your favorite person, your life changes completely. you change, your family changes, your every day life changes, but some things never change. your best friend, matt, has always been there and will always be there for you. no matter what

warnings- loss of a loved one

-

I, I swear you could hear a hair pin drop

Right when I felt the moment stop

Glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

I, I stayed there

-

i sat in the dim lit restaurant with my best friends, nick matt and chris. we shared jokes and laughter as we enjoyed our meals. the busy room was filed with chatter from all around. people talking about whatever was going on in their own lives. work, kids, family, friends

i was mid conversation when my phone started ringing. it was my mom. “sorry guys one second, this is important.” my grandma has been battling cancer for the past few months so my mom calls me with updates as frequently as possible.

“hello” i answered the phone.

“hey sweetheart” my mom spoke on the other end.

“hey, how’s grandma today?” there was an abundant pause. “mom?” i broke the silence.

“i’m sorry y/n” her voice broke.

“mom what’s going on?”

“she’s gone.” my mom nearly whispered

the world seemed like it stopped moving at that moment. the boys stopped their conversation and looked at me with concerned looks. the cup that was once in my hand was now shattered on the table. tears started to fall from my eyes as the phone disconnected.

“she’s gone” i sobbed, making my way to the exit of the restaurant. nick and matt followed behind me, but chris stayed back to pay and take care of the mess. the moment didn’t feel real. i could hear my heart beating through my chest, my ears rang, and my head spun.

i sat on the bench outside of the restaurant, trying to breathe between sobs. my chest felt tight, like it was shrinking and i was going to run out of breath at any given moment. nick sat down next to me. “she’s never coming back” i cried. he wrapped himself around me, pulling me into a hug. i laid in his arms and cried.

“i know it hurts honey, i’ve got you” he whispered. “me matt and chris will always be here for you” he let out quiet sobs.

“i didn’t even say goodbye.” the more i thought about it, the more my heart broke. “i can’t do this without her nick, she was my everything”

and it was true, my grandma meant the word to me. she was the one person who was there for me every moment of my life until now.

my mom had me when she was only 16, and she couldn’t take care of me, so my grandma did. she raised me and gave me the best childhood ever. when i turned 14, i moved in with my mom, but i still constantly spent time with my grandma.

she gave me the best advice, no matter the situation. from when i was 6 and sad about not having friends at school, to 16 and crying about boys. she never judged me. every word she told me was perfect. i was never truly sad when she was around, because she always made it better.

“we’re gonna take you home with us.” matt spoke softly. “we don’t want you to be alone at a time like this.”

i nodded and stood up. i slowly made my way to the back seat of the car. nick got in the back seat next to me, and i laid my head on his shoulder and slept the whole ride home.

“hey we’re home” i felt a soft tap on my shoulder. i opened my eyes to see chris and matt. i got out of the car and chris hugged me. “sorry about the glass” i hugged him back.

“don’t worry about it kid, i love you and i’m so sorry for your loss.” his words didn’t feel real. ‘sorry for your loss’ she really is gone. i separated from chris.

“okay let’s get you inside” matt picked me up and carried me in like a little kid.

“thanks matt” i smiled at him. i’m beyond grateful for the triplets, and how they’re always there to support me. i got settled in on their couch and went to sleep, exhausted from today’s events.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n- AHHH HOW DO WE FEEL?

i literally cried a little while writing thisss 😔

[coffeefanaticsblog]

Daylight part one | Matt Sturniolo

⚠️ warning mentions of death , swearing and little mention of weed

Deafening sirens blare through the silent Streets of Boston blinding red and blue lights lighting up the once beautiful starry night . What was supposed to be a peaceful drive with laughter and goofy ass conversation turned into a dark nightmare real fast when some jack ass decided to leave the bar trunk off his ass tearing through the roads swearing and sliding every where.

2 weeks later

I sat in the back row as far away from my best friends casket as possible lost in my thoughts Chris Sturniolo one of my best fucking friends honestly my only friend he got me through 2 year of college we where supposed to be future colleagues . He was my hype man he was my own personal cheerleader in life he would always smirk and roll his eyes when I would tell him that but it was true as a kid I did have the most supportive parents they were barely ever home Their jobs are more important than their own child. I struggled through school with the lack of help, but I worked my ass off to get where I am today. I’ve always wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to help people. That’s exactly why Chris went to college to be a nurse who wanted to save people who couldn’t save themselves. He had an older brother, Justin, who had passed away from cancer he didn’t know he had. Chris was one of the most kindhearted people I’ve ever known one look at you would think he was the exact opposite of what he really was. He didn’t really dress professional he had long hair. He was very outgoing definitely a boy kind of the opposite of his twin brother Matt actually. If I’m being honest, his brother was an asshole he had an attitude from hell. Chris called it Mattitude which in response, Matt would glare or scoff at him and walk away. 

I was ripped out of my thoughts by a presents beside me I look over Mary Lou Chris’s mother she’s a very kind person just like Chris she looks drained dark circles around her eyes skin, paler than usual the Rosie tint to her cheeks that she usually has is gone I’m not surprised. This is the second death of a son she has to deal with. My heart clenches just looking at her. “Hi sweetheart how are you feeling” she asks softly with glossy eyes I shrug not able to talk with the huge lump in my throat. I should be the one asking her that question. I feel tears held up in my eyes as I look down at my feet so she doesn’t see the tears she should be someone bawling her eyes out which she looks like she has been with her puffy eyes. Maybe she has no tears left to cry. I can’t help bustling myself into her arms, hugging her. Repeated “sorry” flowing out of my mouth as I squeeze her tight after all this is my fault . Chris would still be alive if I didn’t beg him to go for a midnight drive just so I could see the stars It helps me fall asleep, he wouldn’t be in that casket in front of us. I wish you would’ve told me no I wish I wouldn’t have even asked him in the first place. I would’ve ignored the urge to want to go out and just closed my damn eyes and fell asleep. He would still be here, his car woundnt be rotting in a scrap yard torn to bits . But of course he gave in he drove me around so I could look out the window peacefully at the stars just so I can fall asleep. I felt Mary Lou‘s body start to shake. She was crying too again. “Y/n this isn’t your fault honey, you weren’t the one drunk behind the wheel” which was true I wasn’t. I was in the passenger seat lost in thought when I was thought from this thought my a body jerking impact from being t- boned by a drunk driver. After about two minutes of being embraced. In a huge with Mary Lou she pulled back with her sad smile on her face, wiping her tears “ ceremony starts in about 5 minutes” she says she stands up, rubbing her hands over her black skirt smoothing out the wrinkles “ you should come join us up front she says, looking towards the front where her husband jimmy has his arm around Their last standing son . Matt’s head was down his body was stiff in the chair under his dad embrace my heart crunches. I look back towards her “ um I think I’ll just stick back here” I say, with a voice crack, swallowing thickly. She no sadly and walks up to the front. The ceremony starts. I sit and listen to Mary Lou and Jimmy talk about the happy memories with Chris My eyes are glued to the casket where Chris lays lifeless. The voices of his family fading out. I can’t sit here any longer I stand up and walk out as quickly as I could. I needed fresh air. I burst out of the door is gasping for air as I feel my chest squeeze. I need him! He can’t will be dead. Maybe this is just some sick joke that he’s playing He has always loved to do stupid pranks on everyone. Maybe this is just one of those really awful pranks he decided to pull but I knew better I knew this was my reality now . Al against the rail of the steps looking down at my hands clenching the rail with white knuckles My chest, tears streaming down my face. I hear the door open. My head snaps towards it, seeing who could possibly be coming out of those stores right now. Matt twin brother I can’t even imagine what he’s going through even though he was an asshole they were still bonded. I mean they shared a wound together. Of course this is gonna be hard for him being selfish aren’t I? he gave me a dirty look as he walks past me and into the alleyway across the street. I found my brows. What the hell is he doing? I wonder. I push off the rail and head across the street to follow him and of course to no surprise he’s leaning against the brick building well lighting a joint. I scoff “ seriously” I say scrunchie my face he looks towards blowing out the smoke. You’re getting high at your brothers funeral . He rolls his eyes. “ you can’t be serious rn right?!” he says through gridded teeth I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for

My parents Wouldn’t be in there getting ready to bury another one of my god damn brothers he says stepping dangerously close to me. I take in a breath as my back hits the wall behind me. Matt is now Right in front of me so close that if you leaned in slightly our noses would touch. I could feel his breath on my cheek. Tears start to prick the brim of my eyes as I look his pale face his jawed. “ Why the hell was he even driving you you have your own fuck car you should have been the one on the road that night not him!” He yelled throwing his fist into the wall not even an inch away from my head I clench my eyes shut flinching. he leans closer right next to my ear “ you don’t deserve to be here” he whispers in a bitter tone pushing off the wall as I watch him walk away back into the funeral home.

[missluckycharms]

What is grief, if not love persevering?

Anon asked: heyyy! i love your writing sm💕 can you write angst please? make it hurt☹

Masterlist.

Summary: in which Harry is a single Dad due to losing his wife five years ago just shortly after their little love was born. Y/N has been there through it all. Harry has a rough night filled with whiskey and tears for his late wife.

A/N: this one is full of Angst and light hearted jokes to not get you too sad … sorry in advance, it’s a real tear jerker. Enjoy!!

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, talks of alcohol and drug abuse, talks of depression and very low mental health, curse words.

—

Five years.

It’s been five years since the passing of Myla Styles, the woman who granted Harry a wish he always wanted, the woman who loved him beyond all the galaxies and the woman who never saw any wrong in anyone, not even the worst of people, she always used to say “deep down, their heart is just aching” and Harry always admired that about her, she always looked on the positive side of life.

She held that same attitude as he held her hand in the hospital room, her fragile and pale body laying on the white bed as she peered up at him, oxygen tube in her nostrils and too many machines to count hooked up to her body, she was a shell of a woman, but she still had a heart of gold, the same hear Harry fell in love with when they were sixteen years of age. He hated seeing her this way, especially when their nearly one week old baby was resting in his other arm, fast asleep as her Mum clung to every bit of life she had left, but not once did her smile fade.

It all happened so fast, one day she was pushing life into the world and eight days later her life was being taken out of this world. There was complications with birth, the doctors and nurses finding undiagnosed ovarian cancer in her ovaries when they had to send her in for an emergency c section. Myla confessed she felt off, her body didn’t feel right, but she knew if something was seriously wrong, she wouldn’t risk the life of her baby getting treatment, she would rather her baby live over her. Doctors and nurses tried their best, trying to refer her to new hospitals to get stronger chemo if she wanted, but Myla refused, she told them to let her go, she was tired and she couldn’t stick around long enough to see if these treatments would work — she knew she was dying but Harry refused to believe it.

The day she left, was the day Harry felt like his whole world stopped, like the curtains were shut and he was left in a dark room with no way out. He promised Myla he would do his best to take care of their love, who they named Honey. He was dealing with the loss, Honey taking his mind off it a little and giving him reasons to pull himself from bed even on the days when he wanted to lay around and wallow in his own darkness — she pulled him out of those days, but two months later it all came crashing down on top of him.

He slipped into a wrong mind set, immediately knowing that Honey had to be taken away from him because he was living in fear he would hurt her, one day he woke up and he looked at her and just cried, he held her and he felt nothing, he didn’t even sympathise with her when she would cry for food, he felt nothing towards Honey and this scared him, terribly. Anne, his Mum took Honey in, letting Harry to relax and blow off some steam and get some help, his and Myla’s family all agreeing and saying he needed help and it wasn’t something to be ashamed about — he just lost his wife, they can’t lose him either.

Harry took the wrong route of clearing his mind and getting help, he found his therapy at the end of a bottle and a line of cocaine. He slipped into an endless spiral of week long benders and debts for drug money along with risking losing his home due to him quitting his high up job at his Fathers Law firm, he completely crashed and burned, he couldn’t live without her, he couldn’t stop his mind racing and the only way for it all to stop, and let him feel numb — was when he was drunk and high, passing out in every room of his home and in his garden, the neighbours finding him sometimes in their yard in a mess. They were the ones who got him help, they called up his family and they all rushed him off in an ambulance to get him sober and conscious again. Here is where he made the decision to sign himself into rehab, accepting the help the hospital offered and a few months later, he was out and clean, he stayed with his Mum until Honey turned one and that was the year Harry found his smile again, found his life and purpose again.

Looking back now, he doesn’t know how he ever made himself believe it was Honeys fault Myla was no longer here, he doesn’t know how he’s even alive because of all the drugs and alcohol he ingested every single night for three months solid, but he knows why everything turned around, it was his Angel looking down on him, guiding him and kicking him in the ass to get up and look after their little love, just like she asked him to do before she left, always look after himself and Honey.

It’s been five years since her passing, Harry is doing better than ever, he started working for his Dad’s company again and now he’s the president of the law firm, alongside his Dad who is the CEO, Harry being second in command and then being the CEO when his Dad retires from the firm. They kept their family home, even if it was just the two of them, they loved the home and it still felt like Myla was living here, her makeup still tucked away in her unused vanity in Harrys bedroom and her favourite paintings still hung up around the home. Harry even hired a nanny, she has been working for him for two years now, she’s even working alongside Harry in his office being his receptionist during the day and she’s Honeys afternoon and night nanny when she’s done in work and Honey is home from school.

Y/N is Honeys nanny, she takes care of the little lady and feeds her daily, even taking her to the playground and to the movies when Honey asked her could she go. She would do anything for Honey and Honey loved her endlessly, she loved the way she would allow her to eat sneaky chocolate bars after dinner every now and then and how she would always play dollies with her, kneeling down on the floor of the den and playing with the small girl until they were both in fits of laughter. Harry also adored Y/N, her passion for her job at the law firm along with her passion for looking after Honey is something he admires, she never once complains about being exhausted even though he can tell when she is, she didn’t have to think twice when Harry offered her the job as Honeys nanny, she knew the little one from her being in the office every now and then, and Honey was instantly drawn to her, the way she was so kind and the way she cared for Honey.

Tonight is a hard night for Harry, it’s Myla’s death anniversary and he’s been having a bad day, his mind racing and his heart breaking all over again, but this time he’s stronger, he’s able to power through until he could be alone and just let his emotions go, have a glass of whiskey and just cry a little flipping through old photo albums — he does this every year on her anniversary. Honey is tucked up in bed and he’s sat alone in the den on the sofa, the photo albums on his lap and his hand clutching a small glass of whiskey as he sips on it flipping through many photos from their wedding and from when they were teens and drunk in love in high school — so many memories can be attached to one person, and Harry knew one day they would be memories, but he didn’t know it would be so soon.

“Honey is fast asleep, left her door cracked open so she can shout if she- Harry? Are you okay?” Y/N stops suddenly, her eyes landing on her boss who was hunched over a photo album on the sofa, curtains drawn and the only light coming from a lamp beside a framed wedding photo of him and Myla on the table by the sofa.

“Yeah, thanks for putting her to sleep” Harry says weakly, not turning around which alarms Y/N, she’s seen him like this last year, she let him be as she was only new to it, but this year she’s determined to sit with him all night if he needs — he needs to have some company.

“That’s you?” She asks sitting next to him, Harry not moving or telling her to leave, he accepts her company as she looks down at the photo his eyes are laid upon — two teenagers at a party.

“Yeah, m’hair was a curly mess” he says with a low laugh, looking over the photo of a seventeen year old version of himself, smiling cheekily clutching a red solo cup and Myla wrapped under his other arm holding him around his waist, both their smiles wide and cheeky and their cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol in their bodies.

“I think it looks cute, pitty it’s not as curly now” she says with a light laugh, watching as his ring clad fingers turn the page, taking a sip from his whiskey as he goes.

“This was our prom, she made me wear a pink fucking bow tie — absolutely hated it” he laughs, the crinkles by his eyes evident as Y/N laughs along, looking down at the curly headed teenager in a black suit, white shirt and a bright pink bow tie, matching Myla’s floor length dress next to him, a shawl over her shoulders matching as the corsage around her wrist match the pink of her dress also.

“She hated that dress a year later, she was packing up for college and I was helping her when she found it, immediately burst out laughing” he says laughing loudly, remembering back at the memory he has, Y/N beside him happy at how joyful he sounds speaking of the memories.

“Oh here we go, Frat boy Harry!” Y/N says with a loud laugh, pointing down at a shirtless twenty year old Harry, backwards cap on his head and “Myla’s Bitch!” Wrote on his stomach in paint, two beer bottles in his hands and Myla on his shoulders cheering with her hands up in a red bikini, matching his swimming trunks and baseball cap.

“Some of the best years of m’life, raging parties and no more curfews, we were two hormonal teens absolutely smitten for one another” he says shaking his head with a laugh, his eyes bright as he flicks them over the photos ranging from Harry dancing, Myla being pushed into the pool by him and Harry passed out with a mustache drawn on him with Myla next to him holding the marker with a bright smile mid laughter.

The book is filled with their college days, to their graduation day from college, their photo in their first apartment, Harry on his first day of work and Myla on hers. They took photos of small things, but at the time they meant the world to them, they were milestones in their lives and they never wanted to forget them. Harry is forever grateful that Myla had an obsession with photography, otherwise he wouldn’t have these to look back on and hopefully show Honey one day what her Mum was like, even if she’s drunk and half naked in some of them at college parties.

Harry and Y/N are in fits of laughter, tears falling from their faces as Harry explains every single memory behind each photo, one photo containing a memory of Myla at her bachelorette party, Harry coming out as a stripper and giving her a lap dance as she slaps his ass and throws money all over her husband — that one will definitely not be shown to Honey. Harry is like a whole different person when he speaks about her, his laugh becomes louder and his eyes become brighter, he even ditched his whiskey after one glass to speak about his late wife, Y/N looking at him with pure amazement and proudness of how far he’s come, how he pulled himself from a hard time and carried on life for the sake of his baby girl. He’s truly inspirational in her eyes.

“It should be easier than this by now, right? Like I shouldn’t be still grieving” he says when their laughs and stories come to a stop, their eyes hooded with sleep and faces hurting from laughing.

“What is grief, if not love persevering? You were both childhood sweethearts, you’ve loved her since you can remember and you always will, she’s your whole world, of course you’ll still grieve her, you still love her, and that’s okay” Y/N blurts out, her words quick as she blabs on while Harry watches her, a smile on his face as she explains and accepts his feelings.

“Never knew you were Shakespeare” is all he says, she rolls her eyes laughing, slapping his bicep a little as he shuts the album, tucking it away in the drawer again before turning his focus back onto Y/N beside him.

“Seriously though, never tell yourself you’ve been grieving for too long, it’s okay to grieve and cry yourself to sleep some nights, I get that, I do. You lost a person who made you who you are, but don’t forget, you still have a little one that will need you to be the person who makes her who she is”

Harry thinks she’s amazing, she’s smart and she’s so empathetic towards everyone and anyone. She has a heart of gold and she will never let anyone explain hers or anyone else’s feelings for them, she always allows people to express who they are, heck, one night she brought Harry to a gym after hours, explaining how her brother is a trainer there and he gave her the keys on the condition that she does his laundry for a month, she let Harry rage out and punch the shit out of a punching bag one night because he was so upset. She cheered him on and he was smiling as he was punching towards the end, she helped him release the emotions that built up and would of lead him back down a dark path.

She’s been an Angel sent from above, he knows Myla sent her to him because of how much they’re alike, Harry knows for sure they were sisters in a past life, their kind hearts and understanding natures alike but they have their differences, Myla was very out spoken and loved to party but Y/N is reserved and would rather stay inside with a hot chocolate and her crosswords while watching TV, but that’s another thing that Harry finds fascinating about her, she’s younger than him by eight years, when he was her age he was partying.

“Thank you Y/N, I needed this tonight” he says with a smile, her own smile on her face as she nods leaning over to rub her hand over his in a comforting manner, the pair looking at one another as they soak in their presences.

“It’s getting late, I should go” she says realising it’s nearly midnight, Harry and her need to be in work tomorrow morning and Harry has to wake up to get his little lady ready for school also. He gets a bit saddened when she says this, he secretly wants to hear more of her own college years and her own prom much like he told her earlier.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow” he says with a smile, watching as she gathers up her bag and throws it over her shoulder, car keys now in her hand as she smiles at him once more before heading for the den door. She pauses and looks back at him, his eyes meeting hers as they hold contact for a few seconds before she speaks up.

“See you tomorrow, Harry”

[agustdakasuga]

Between The Bloodshed | Epilogue

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

At this point, what can be considered normal? 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

It was a nice late morning. The sun was shining but thankfully, it was blocked out by the dark curtains. It was nice and quiet, only the sounds of your breathing as you slept peacefully. There were no alarm clocks or phone calls-

*BANG BANG BANG*

“Yoongi hyung! You’ve been holding onto her for hours! She needs to come out!” Taehyung was banging on the door. You could hear Jungkook, Jimin, Hoseok and Jin there too. 

“Yeah! She needs to work!” 

That was a lie. After coming back from performing Geumjae’s surgery yesterday, the boys had insisted you take a break since it was a long, gruelling surgery. But then again, the others would do anything to get the pale man to open the door for them. 

“Just keep quiet and they’ll go away soon.” Yoongi grumbled, holding you tighter, totally unaffected by the screams. 

“No, we won’t!” Seems that they heard him. 

“Come on, I have to get up.” You patted his back. He tucked you into the crook on his neck like a mother holding her child. His cheek pressed against the top of your head as he huffed. 

“You don’t have to get up. It’s your day off.” He murmured. You giggled, arm slinging around him in defeat. 

“That’s my girl.” He kissed your head. 

“That’s it! I don’t hear movement! Either get the keys or Jungkook, kick the door down.” You heard more commotion outside. Everyday was a chaotic day in the Bangtan household. 

“Ugh, hang on a sec.” Yoongi got out of bed, ready to give them an earful. But the moment he opened the door, he was mowed down by everyone else as they approached you, who was on the bed. You welcomed them with open arms and they piled on, engulfing you in big hugs and smiles. Yoongi stood there, glaring at you.

“Yah! Get off!” Yoongi shouted. 

“Okay.” They willingly slipped off the bed, which was surprising. Until Jungkook scooped you up into his arms, running out of the room. He cackled evilly while you yelped, arms tightened around his neck in fear. 

“I’m hom- What...” Namjoon stopped in the doorway when he saw what was going on. You have him a pleading look.

“Kook, let her down now.” Namjoon frowned. As much as you liked to play around and have fun with the boys, sometimes, all you would like is a peaceful morning. 

“With all due respect, hyung. If you try to take my baby away from me, I will actually fight you.” Jungkook said. 

“Rich coming from the guy who took her from me. Fight him, Joon.” Yoongi snorted from the top of the stairs. Knowing that the boys will actually fight each other (which you do tell them is dumb), you pinched Jungkook’s pressure point, temporarily immobilising him. 

“Ah!” He yelped as he let go of you. You fell onto the couch, standing up and straightening Yoongi’s your hoodie. With a sigh, you headed over to Namjoon to properly greet him after his early morning meeting. 

“Welcome home.” You grinned. 

“Thank you, my love.” He wrapped an arm around you, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“You’re bleeding!” Your eyes widened when you saw his knuckles. It looked exactly like Jungkook’s knuckles. Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. Grabbing his wrist, you brought him to the office. 

“Love, I can patch it up. They’re small wounds. You’re supposed to be resting.” Namjoon told you. You shook your head while washing your hands. 

“Small wounds that can get infected, Joon. And I don’t need to rest much more, I knocked out like a light with Yoongi last night.” You chuckled, grabbing your first aid kit. You pulled your stool to sit in front of him and began to clean his wounds. The first thing you did was remove some of the dried blood that crusted on the side. 

“It’s gonna sting.” You said before putting the antiseptic. He winced slightly, his nose scrunching up. 

“You guys never get used to it.” You laughed. Once the wounds were cleaned, you bandaged his knuckles. You placed his hand in yours, inspecting his hand for more injuries. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t break anything again.” You lectured. 

“Because I have a doctor that takes good care of me.” Namjoon grinned. You shook your head, kissing his cheek. 

“Please, I already told you not to overwork them considering they just got better after you broke them. And you always scold the younger ones for not listening to me when you’re no better.” You teased. Namjoon laughed. 

“If I have you to take care of me, I will get injured more.” Namjoon hugged your waist. You flicked his forehead. 

“I dare you, Kim Namjoon.” You frowned. 

“Alright, alright. Namjoon looks good and patched up! Now it’s my turn, I want my morning kiss. Come here.” Jin yanked you away by your waist, dipping you down and showering you in kisses. You burst out laughing, grabbing onto his shirt so you won’t fall back.

“I’m going to get a coffee.” You shuffled away to the kitchen. The maids prepared your usual iced coffee. 

“Thank you.” You yawned and sipped before going back out. You sat on the couch and Jimin sat down, bringing your legs up to drape over his lap. When your phone buzzed, you took it out of your pocket to check. 

“Ah, I have to go check on Geumjae. He just woke up.” You announced. 

“But it’s your day off.” Hoseok said. 

“I know. But it’s the day after his surgery so I have to make sure he’s feeling alright and not having any complications, considering it was a major surgery.” You grunted as you stood up. You quickly finished your drink and went to change. Yoongi would be accompanying you, of course, to visit his brother. The other boys decided to tag along... just to not be left out. 

“You guys go grab a bite. I shouldn’t be too long.” You sent them a kiss as they dropped you off at the staff entrance. 

“We love you.” They said. 

“I love you all too.” You smiled and waved as they drove to the public parking. Slipping on your coat, you went to Geumjae’s private ward. He was awake, sitting up slightly and watching the television that was provided.

“Hey, got here as soon as I heard you were awake. Yoongi should be coming up soon, he’s parking the car.” You greeted. 

“Hey... Thanks again... for everything. Not just the surgery... but for making me realise my mistake. I’m so glad Yoongi and I are close again. It’s really all thanks to you.” He smiled weakly.

“Don’t mention it. How are you feeling?” 

“A little light headed. And sore.” His hand lightly touched his clothed chest where the surgery sutures were underneath. 

“That’s normal, considering the effects of the anaesthesia is wearing off. I’ll still put you on IV painkillers for the next day or two, until the wound starts to heal more and cause less pain. Can I check your wound?” You asked. He nodded and you unbuttoned his shirt to check the sutures. 

“Looks good. I’ll replace the gauze.” You removed the protecting gauze above the sutures and replaced it with a clean one. 

“Good news is we managed to remove the affected tissue. You still have to be on your medications for the next week? We will do a follow up biopsy after just to make sure we have completely eradicated the cancer.” You instructed. 

“Okay. Thank you.” He nodded as you buttoned his shirt up. 

“Hyung.” Yoongi came in. 

“Yoongi.” His brother greeted as you straightened up. You let Yoongi get closer to his brother as you removed your gloves and washed your hands. As they chatted, you checked his charts. 

“Take your time, Yoongs. I’ll go find the others.” You smiled. Yoongi nodded, reaching to peck your temple before sitting down to speak with Geumjae. You gave them privacy, exiting the room. You went to the nurse’s station to update Geumjae’s file. Although the surgery was tiring, you learnt a lot and was glad for the experience. 

“Mr Min in Room 32 should be in IV fluids until he’s no longer nauseated by the anaesthesia. Then move him to soft foods.” You told the nurse, who nodded her head and keyed in the instructions to the patient’s system profile. 

“Thank you!” You smiled and handed the file to her. You went to the vending machine to get a can coffee. 

“Hi, are you a doctor here?” Someone appeared. 

“Kinda?” You chuckled, pressing the button for your cold coffee. You weren’t gonna tell some stranger the long story about you being a private doctor to singular patient here. 

“I’m a new resident. Nice to meet you.” He held his hand out. You gave a small smile, shaking his outstretched hand. 

“You’re Dr (y/l/n)’s daughter right?” He asked and you nodded your head. 

“I look forward to working with you, sunbae. I know you did the recent lung cancer tissue extraction surgery, it was very knowledgeable and I learnt a lot.” He bowed. 

“Thanks... But I don’t actually work here as a mentor so you won’t see me around anymore. The other doctors are just as good, I’m sure of it. Everyone is trained and of professional calibre, you will learn a lot from them as well.” You were starting to get a little awkward by his overly enthusiastic disposition. 

“Baby, there you are.” A voice appeared and you saw your 6 other boyfriends there. They did not look pleased. 

“You took so long so we came to find you. We had to stop Kook from ordering everything on the cafeteria menu.” Jimin laughed. You shook your head at the maknae, who pouted. 

“I’m still a growing boy.” He argued. He wasn’t, actually. 

“Who’s this?” Jin raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh... He’s a new hoobae that works here.” You explained, realising that you hadn’t even learnt about this resident’s name. But it didn’t matter, you probably weren’t going to see him after this anyway. 

“Come, jagi. We should go.” Taehyung grasped your hand, glaring at the now scared boy. You shook your head, knowing exactly what they were doing. Even before you got together, the boys always said you were their partner just to keep other girls away. Vice versa, they branded themselves as your boyfriends to scare other guys away. 

“I-I have to go. Bye.” He bowed and scurried off. 

“You guys are horrible, you know that?” You folded your arms with a shake of your head. Hoseok grinned, leaning to peck your cheek. You reached over to straighten his blazer. 

“Oh, you’re still here.” Yoongi blinked, seeing the group of you there. You nodded your head. 

“Are you hungry? We bought you guys sandwiches.” Namjoon lifted the bags up. Instead of sitting there to eat, you ate in the van as Hoseok drove. 

“Here.” You gave some to Jungkook. 

“But you hardly ate any of it yourself.” He told you. You just shrugged, not really having the appetite to eat anything. Jungkook leaned forward to eat the last bit of the sandwich out of your hand. You would much rather have your coffee instead of the sandwich. 

“Shall we have barbecue tonight?” You asked the boys. 

“It’s been a while.” They nodded their heads. Hoseok detoured and went to the big supermarket. You split into 3 teams, Jin and Yoongi buying the meat, Hoseok and Namjoon drinks and you with the maknaes for everything else. 

“Buy a lot of meat, hyung!” Jungkook shouted to Jin as he placed his hands on your shoulders to push you to the other aisle. 

“Hyung wanted coarse salt for his shrimp. This or this?” Jimin held up both the boxes. You looked at both of them before pointing to one. He happily placed it into the cart. 

“Shall I make japchae?” You asked them. 

“Yes!” Taehyung cheered. You sent a message to Yoongi to pick up some beef for japchae from the counter for you. After that, you picked up some vegetables that would go into japchae. Jimin trailed after you obediently while Taehyung and Jungkook disappeared. Jungkook had reappeared with loads of bags of snacks in his arms. 

“Koo! That’s too much.” You chuckled at your now almost full cart, half filled with bags of chips. 

“But we need more snacks for our movie nights! And besides, Jin hyung and Taehyung hyung keep eating my snacks. This is so they won’t take mine.” Jungkook pouted. 

“Banana milk!” He quickly got distracted by the dairy section and ran off. 

“You know, I can see why people don’t believe our line of jobs sometimes and how Jungkook is supposedly our best fighter.” Jimin scoffed. 

“Well, take his banana milk and you’ll truly see how well he can fight.” You giggled as you placed some carrots and bell peppers into the cart. Taehyung came with 3 different ssamjang containers. 

“Tae, why are you getting so much? We won’t be able to finish them all in one night.” Jimin scolded.  

“But these are brands I haven’t tried before! So I wanna see which is the best. Then I’ll know to buy it next time!” Taehyung argued with his best friend. You shook your head and continued, Taehyung loved ssamjang. There’s no arguing in that. Jungkook came back with banana milk and cheese. 

“You want cheese rice?” You asked. 

“How did you know?!” 

“Koo, even if I’ve only been your girlfriend for a short while, I have lived with you longer. You practically breathe cheese rice.” You scoffed, offended. Jungkook bunny grinned, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Of course, you know me well.” He peppered kissed all over your cheek. When you were done, you went to meet the others. 

“Boys, I may not be specialising in hepatology but that amount of alcohol is definitely not good for you.” You raised an eyebrow at the amount of alcohol that was stacked in Namjoon and Hoseok’s cart. Totally not in a helping way, Taehyung even got a few bottles of his and Seokjin’s favourite plum wine to add in. You laughed. 

“We needed to stock the bar anyway. We promise not to drink so much.” Hoseok winked. 

“Yoongi hyung and Seokjin hyung are ready. They’ll meet us at the cashier.” Namjoon informed. You nodded your head and you all went to pay. 

“A big party?” He joked as he scanned. 

“You could say that.” You smiled, waiting to pay with the card that the boys had given you for ‘house’ items like their groceries and meals. But honestly, they just wanted an excuse to give you a card to spend on yourself. 

“You’re pretty.” He complimented. 

“Oh... Thanks.” You blushed. A sudden clear of the throat made you jump slightly. You turned to see Namjoon and Yoongi with stern looks on their faces. 

“Are you done yet, baby girl?” Yoongi emphasised on the pet name, which he never really uses at all. You blinked, still in slight shock. The cashier looked terrified suddenly, quickening his pace to finish scanning all your items. Namjoon wrapped an arm around your waist. 

“Love, later let the others load the van alright? Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.” Namjoon smiled sweetly at you. 

“O...kay?” 

“Uh, payment please?” He squeaked. Before you could hand the card over, Yoongi plucked it out of your hand and handed it for him to swipe. He gave it back with two hands and a deep bow. 

“Let’s go.” Yoongi held your hand and led you away. The boys loaded the car and you were ready to head home. Suddenly, their phones all rang at the same time. Namjoon took his phone out to check the notification. It was quiet for a while. 

“Everything okay?” You blinked. 

“Yeah... But looks like we’ll have to return to work for a while.” Namjoon sighed. You nodded your head. 

“We’ll drop you home. It’ll be safer.” Jin told you. Again, you nodded. You knew how these business meetings could go from bad to worse in only a couple of seconds. Hoseok pulled up to the house and you jumped out. 

“Stay safe, boys.” You told the 7. They sent you in with hugs and kisses, waiting for you to disappear into the house with the maids before Taehyung pulled the butler closer to whisper something into his ear. The butler nodded his head, bowing deeply. He closed the door for the van, standing on the porch until the van disappeared. 

“Agashi, I was told that there will be barbecue tonight? Shall I prepare the ingredients?” The butler smiled as the other staff brought the groceries in. 

“I wanna help cook! Let me change first.” You smiled and went upstairs to the room. You changed out of your hospital clothes and into more comfortable clothes, aka Jimin’s lounge pants and Hoseok’s hoodie. 

“Thanks for bringing this all in guys!” You said to them as you saw them clearing all the bags of shopping and keeping everything in its place. You really bought a lot. 

“What do you want to make?” The maid asked. 

“Taehyung likes marinated kimchi. And Jungkook was saying he wanted cheese rice to go with the meat. I also bought japchae ingredients.” You said. 

“Alright.” 

“You guys can take a break. Don’t worry, I would like to think I’m better in the kitchen than Namjoon is.” You joked and they all laughed, loving your attitude. The mansion’s staff loved working with you. 

“We’ll help where we can.” The cook took the ingredients out for you, laying them out neatly. You started with the marinated kimchi, which was frying kimchi with garlic, spam and minced meat. While the rest of the staff attended to the things in the mansion, the cook stayed by your side in case you needed help. 

“I think a bigger dice is okay.” He demonstrated. 

“You can put it here to cool. Then I’ll close the container later.” He gave you the plastic container. You scraped the contents from the pan to the container. 

“Are there some side dishes that go well with the barbecue? That the boys will like.” You asked him. He went to the fridge to look through what was inside to make side dishes. 

“We have a few hours so we can do some pickled radish, spicy cucumbers, the fried anchovies that master Seokjin likes?” He suggested. 

“Sounds exciting!” You clapped your hands. 

The next few hours were spent cooking and preparing various meals to go with the barbecue for the night. You learnt a lot from the cook and your energy was mostly fuelled with iced coffee (of course). You were just happy to prepare so much food for your boys now that you knew what their tastes were like. There was even time to make grapefruit syrup for Taehyung’s sodas. 

“I’ll help prep the shrimp too.” You rolled your sleeves up to prepare for Yoongi’s salt baked shrimp on the grill.

“Ah, agashi. Let me. Your hands may smell. After all, you’ve been cooking the whole day, why don’t you take a break? I insist.” The cook shook his head. 

“Oh, alright. I’m only giving in because I need to make Koo’s cheese rice later.” You giggled. The cook nodded and you grabbed a snack before leaving the kitchen. You helped the staff set up the barbecue outside. 

“Let me help.” You arranged the chairs. 

“It’s okay, agashi. Please rest.” The maids shook their heads. Going to retrieve Kookie, you sat under the gazebo with a book. 

“Kookie ah. Don’t do that.” You stroked his head as he began to nibble the corner of your book again. Looks like even without the boys here, you still wouldn’t be able to read in peace. 

“Where are they?” You checked your phone, there were no calls or messages from any of the boys. As the sun set, you were seated in your designated seat, which was in between Jungkook and Hoseok. You checked your phone to see the time, it was getting late. 

You perked up when you heard the door to the backyard open and footsteps. However, when you turned your head, the smile dropped from your face. 

~~

Ko-fi link

Series Masterlist

[If you are reading this, thank you for making it to the end. For now. I’ll see you in the sequel ‘Everything Between Us’]

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[tulsa-trash]

We Look Out For Each Other

WARNING(S): Alcohol Abuse

You never thought you'd ever step foot into Buck's in your life, yet there you were sat at the bar with your brother, Sodapop, right beside you. He was drinking from a dark brown beer bottle, which is something you never thought you'd see him do. He took a big gulp before letting out an obnoxious burp, which caused him to burst out into a fit of giggles. You couldn't help the huge wave of sadness that washed over you seeing him in this state. Sandy had just broken up with him, leaving him a complete and utter mess. You knew Dallas inviting him to this party was a bad idea, so you decided to tag along to make sure he didn't get hurt.

The place was absolutely packed, Buck always threw parties but you never understood why when the bar was so tiny. Everyone had to squeeze their way through a crowd wherever they went, it was madness. The air was hot and you felt like you were being suffocated the longer you stood in there.

You looked back over to your brother to find that a girl had caught his attention. She was all over him and he was too drunk to even return her touch. You internally gagged, you couldn't take it anymore. Deciding some fresh air would do you good, you got up from the bar stool and untied your sweater from around your waist.

"Soda! I'm gonna head outside real quick!" You yelled to the sandy-haired boy over the loud country music that was playing.

You got no response, him being too occupied with his new friend. You hopped off your seat and quickly squeezed your way out the front door. The cool, summer night wind immediately cooled off your overheated body. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you took a seat on the cement steps. You sat in silence for a while as you watched various cars fly by on the road in front if the bar, you wished you could just go home but you couldn't bring yourself to leave Soda behind by himself.

The door swung open behind you, making you unintentionally jump. You turned expecting to see a drunken idiot, but you were glad to meet the wary gaze of Johnny Cade.

"Hey, J." You greeted him with a smile.

"Y/N." He nodded. "Mind if I sit?"

You shook your head, "Don't mind at all."

He left enough space between the both of you in case someone else decided to walk out. You watched as he pulled out a pack of cools from his jacket pocket along with a red lighter.

"Want one?" He offered.

You sighed, "Boy, I sure as hell do."

He handed a cancer stick to you before lighting the one that was already dangling from his lips. He gestured for you to come closer so he could light yours, as you scooted over you couldn't help but feel heat rise to your cheeks when his face was only a few inches from yours. The familiar "flick" of the lighter sounded out and you took a long drag whilst looking deep into his dark eyes. He was so mesmerizing you had almost forgotten about your drunk brother that was inside.

"Thanks." You mumbled as the smoke exited your lungs and out of your mouth.

"You alright?"

"Hm?"

"You don't look too good, your face is really red." He stated.

You began to cough wildly, you kept your head facing down so your hair would cover your now even redder complexion and embarrassed expression.

"Y-Yeah! It was just really hot in there is all." You lied.

Johnny chuckled, "Yeah... it sure was."

Silence filled the air, you thought it was an awkward pause but Johnny seemed to be comfortable. While he seemed to be deep in his thoughts, you couldn't help but stare at his side profile. His caramel skin, the growing stubble that adorned his jawline down to his chin, the scar on his right cheekbone...

"Why ya starin' at me?"

You whirled your head forward, trying your best to play it off only to fail miserably. Johnny laughed quietly and, to your surprise, he shuffled a bit closer to you and playfully tugged on the sleeve of your jacket.

"Sorry." You muttered quietly, only to begin laughing at yourself as well.

"Not that I want you to leave or anythin', but why are you here? This isn't the type of place I thought I'd ever see you hangin' 'round."

He was looking at you with his brows furrowed, both concern and confusion painted his features. Somehow your heart managed to sink yet leap at the same time. Johnny said he didn't want you to leave, but the reason why you were at Buck's in the first place wasn't to get drunk and have a good time.

"Oh yeah... Well Soda is in there."

His eyes widened, "Really?"

You could only give him a glum nod.

"Is this because of Sandy?" He asked.

"Mhm... I couldn't just sit at home while my brother left to drink his sorrows away. That's not who he is, Johnny. You know that."

He shook his head, "Man... that's tough."

You rested your chin on your hand, your elbow propped up on your lap. You had know idea what time it was or how you were going to get both you and your brother home safely. Not to mention that Darry had probably noticed you were gone by now.

"I don't know what to do." You huffed. "I just wanna get me and Sodapop back home in one piece but at the moment I feel hopeless"

You held back the tears that were welling up in your eyes, the last thing you needed after tonight was for Johnny to see you cry.

You felt his arm drape over your shoulders, he pulled you closer to him so that your side pressed against his own. He was warm and smelled like smoke. 

"I'll get the both of you home, Y/N. Don't worry about it." He told you.

"No, Johnny. It's fine you don't ha--" You began to protest but he cut you off.

"Nah, I'm goin' to. Think I'd sit here while you try to take your drunk brother home at this time of night?"

"But--"

He held up his hand, silencing you. He got up and went back inside without saying another word, he returned shortly with your incoherent brother clinging to him.

-

Somehow the three of you made it back to the Curtis house in one piece, Johnny led Soda up the front steps and to the door while you watched from the sidewalk.

"Try to be quiet in there, man." Johnny told your brother.

Soda gave him a slow nod, his eyelids drooping down in the process. Johnny opened the door for him, and with that he stumbled into the small home.

Johnny snickered, "Well that was a mission."

You made your way to him on the porch and agreed, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I really can't thank you enough." You told him sincerely.

The young boy merely shrugged, "No problem at all, doll."

"Yeah but... I just feel bad. You didn't have to help us out. We pulled you away from the party."

He placed both of his hands on your shoulders and looked you in the eyes dramatically, making you giggle and look down.

"Look at me." He deepened his voice playfully.

You covered your mouth to hold in the big guffaws that were building up in your throat. But you obeyed and looked back up to make eye contact with him.

"Don't feel bad, I didn't even wanna be at that party anyway." He turned back into his serious self. "We look out for each other, so don't lose sleep over me helpin' ya."

You leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Before he could even react you open your front door and began to close it behind you.

"W-What was that for?" He stuttered.

"Consider it a thank you."

[supremedinosaur]

Uncut Gems // Chapter 3: The Muse

WandaNat x g!n reader

Warnings: cursing

Summary: 20 years after their first born goes missing, a young detective takes a special interest in their case. All these years later, will they finally get the answers they need?

Word count: 1483

ch.1 / ch.2

---

“Before you leave, I wanted to give you some information that I believe might be useful to the investigation. The company I work for, Stark Enterprises, specializes in contracting weapons for war. One of our competitors, Ten Rings, has had a rough past with us. I wouldn’t put it past them to do something like this, but every time one of our PI’s dug into the company, they declined to to continue working for us,” Y/N mentioned with Natasha and Wanda by their side as the detective was getting ready to leave.

“That actually is very useful, thank you, Y/N. You too, Natasha and Wanda, for the food and welcoming me into your home. The law did you a disservice all those years ago, and I’m grateful you took a chance on me,” Marnie said fidgeting with papers a bit.

In many ways, this was the first real form of affection she’s ever gotten in a while. She had no siblings, no lover, no friends. Well, none that were still alive anyways. Marnie has always been all work no play, her work was her life.

Growing up, Marnie’s mother was mentally ill, so she had to grow up quickly, at a young age, to be strong for her parents. Her mother frequented in and out, in-patient facilities her whole life. Her father was a detective at the time, so he rarely had time for Marnie as well, arguably that’s where she got it from.

At the young age of thirteen, her mother was diagnosed with chronic myeloid leukemia. A rare form of bone cancer, that rapidly caused her health to decline until she passed away when Marnie was seventeen. Her father was stone-faced through the whole ordeal, or at least in front of his daughter he was. In turn that led to Marnie’s own inability to shed tears. She never allowed herself to stay close to anyone after that day.

“Not a problem sweetie. You’re welcome anytime,” Wanda rubbing her thumb on the back of Y/N’s hand, that she held.

“Well, I wouldn’t say anytime,” Y/N started until Natasha pinched them. “Ow, I mean just call ahead, if you do. Duh,” they defended pouting at the interaction.

Marnie chuckled at the scene and smiled. She was starting to lose track of the last time she had a genuine smile. “Yes, of course. I’ll be sure to keep you all, updated,” she said as she walked out the door.

—-

The next week on a Wednesday morning, Marnie is in the break room at the station getting a cup of coffee preparing to leave for some questioning. The woman barely gets a sip of coffee in when the chief calls her into her office.

“Good morning, Chief,” she said trying her best not to mumble as she sits down in front of him.

The chief was a good man. Clean cut and freshly shaven everyday is a good representation how professional he always is. If you could live the life of a cop, as by the book as you could, that would be Chief Steve Rogers. He rose the ranks to chief quick and steady, being one of the youngest chiefs in the state. He has a wife, Peggy, and two kids, a boy and a girl, James and Margot II. The American dream, if you will.

“Detective, I thought I told you, you were on desk duty for the next three months,” he said with his hands folded on the desk and tilting his head to the side. Steve kept a stern glare with no readable emotion.

“Yes, and I have been doing just that. Twelve cases transcribed in a week, Chief, you really should be thanking me for my efforts,” she smirked with a smug look on her face. Marnie leaned back with her arms cross, keeping eye contact with the man.

The tension in the air was thick, but Marnie had a funny way of deflecting tension with body language.

“Then why did an attorney from RB&B, who happens to be one of my good friends, thank me for re-opening the case of her missing daughter,” Steve said as the volume of his voice progressively got higher and slamming his fist at the end.

“I- I just thought-,” Marnie stammered with her face pale as snow.

“You thought nothing, detective! You disobeyed a direct order.”

Steve took a deep breath.

“Tell you what. You’re going to finish this and depending on how you do, will determine your future at this station, for the foreseeable future,” Steve finished with his jaw clenched. “Do you understand, Sullivan?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“Good. Now get to work.”

Marnie quickly exited his office and went back to her desk, seeking the comfort of her warm cup of coffee. Again, just as she was about to take a sip of her coffee, she gets interrupted by Happy letting her know she has a voicemail. She lets out a huff and nods to him in acknowledgment. Marnie picks up the phone on her desk and presses play.

‘Hello, I’m just returning a phone call to a detective Sullivan. This is Julia Fox, the event manager at Cutler’s Fair. I was the cashier at the funnel cake stand twenty years ago. I will be at my office from eight to four today. I emailed you, my info. I would like to help in anyway I can. Bye.’

At the sound of a development in the case, Marnie scrambles to get things in order and be on her way. She grabs her jacket and coffee cup, quickly exiting the door.

When Marnie gets to the office, she walks into the lobby and ask for Julia at the reception desk. After a couple minutes, a short woman with blonde hair walks out and introduces herself as the same woman on the phone.

“Good afternoon detective, you had some questions for me?” She said going to sit and gesturing the detective to sit across from her.

“Yes, it’s of course in regard to your previous position as Cashier, at Cutler’s Fair, on Saturday June 15th, 2002. I know it’s been quite a long time, but do you remember anything about this little girl,” Marnie says cutting to the chase and pulling out a photo.

Julia picks up the photo and takes a minute to think. Suddenly, Julia remembers something and pulls out a paper from her bottom drawer.

“Cutler’s Fair is only available during the summer and seeing how it’s currently March, I don’t think you have a good idea of the layout, so here’s a copy of what everything looked like that year,” she shared.

Julia places the map on her desk, and through a closer look, Marnie could see that all off the stands and rides clearly labeled. The Fair was decently big and with the amount of people on a Saturday, it was was very easy to lose a child.

“I don’t remember much from that day, but I remember there being a huge rush because the Farris wheel lost power. Bare with me, my memory is a bit fuzzy. I remember the girl and their parent coming up to order and the parent being on the phone the entire time. Kind of angry too. And then I remember them freaking out and screaming ‘Charlie,’ but after that I don’t know,” she explained.

“Are you sure they were on the phone the whole time?” The detective prodded, notepad and pen in hand.

“Yes, because I remember feeling bad and making eye contact with the little girl. She seemed so cute and innocent,” she confirmed meeting the detectives’ eyes in certainty.

“Do you recall anything else, that stuck out to you about that day?”

“No, I’m sorry that’s all I could remember,” she answered as the conversation came to a close.

“No, that information was very useful,” Marnie smiled comfortingly.

“Oh good, I’m glad I could help. I love true crime everything. Is there gonna be like a… documentary or something about this?” She inquired in a hushed tone.

“No…?” She trailed off, not really understanding her angle. Marnie stared at the woman with narrowed eyes and a confused face.

“No, as in you don’t know yet, or no as in you can’t say,” the brown haired woman presses on.

The detective doesn’t answer but makes an even more confused face as she gets up and leaves.

“Just be sure to mention me to the producers! …Please,” Julia begs, practically chasing Marnie as she is already halfway through the lobby.

Marnie shakes her head not believing what had just happened. Despite how weird the interaction was, the woman did indeed give useful information. In the recording and in the files, there was no mention of Y/N ever being on the phone during the incident. Who was on the phone with them? Was Y/N involved in the kidnapping? What were they hiding?

Chapter 4

[dontcare77ghj]

Inked

Natasha x reader x Wanda

"You know those cause cancer, right?" Mal asked, entering your office. "And you're gonna stink out your office."

"The window's open." You shrugged, exhaling slowly and sending the smoke out the open window. "And you and I both know, cancer isn't something I'm scared of."

"Yeah, yeah, death licks your boots." Mal rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Anyway, I'm going on break, Blaine's with a customer, and we've got a walk-in."

"I'll handle it." You promised, putting out your cigarette. "You going to pick up Erin?" You asked the younger girl.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop her off with a neighbor. May offered and wouldn't let me refuse." She told you.

"Well, here. Get Erin something sweet for me." You said, shoving a twenty into her hands.

"Y/N, I can't." Mal started, trying to give you the money back.

"I insist." You cut her off. "I want to be her favorite aunt." You shrugged, forcing her to curl her fingers around the money. "Go, get your kid, and give her a hug for me."

"Will do, boss." She nodded before leaving.

"Hi, welcome to SkinPolish. How can I help you?" You asked, entering the main room to see the back of a man. He was looking over the walls of the store but turned at your entrance.

"Just so you know, I'm not here to get stabbed a thousand times," Clint told you with a grin.

"I think your day job provides you with enough of that." You joked, wrapping your arms around him. Clint chuckled as he returned your hug, pulling you close. "It's been too long, geezer."

"I know, you've got at least four more tattoos since the last time I saw you, you hoodlum." Clint teased you.

"It's been two years, Clint. Some of us had to change our identities." You reminded him, pulling back. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He told you.

"Blaine, watch the shop." You said without taking your eyes off the man before you.

"You got it, Y/N!"

"Follow me." You told Clint. You led Clint out of the front of the store and into your office. "Clint, I left when SHIELD fell. I handed in my clearance and took off." You said, lighting another cigarette. "I'm not doing any more work for them."

"Don't be like that." Clint groaned, sitting on your desk. 

"First off, get the fuck off my desk. Where are the manners Laura shoved down your throat? And secondly, I can't come back. Fucking HYDRA was running SHIELD for years, and none of us knew. All our information was in their hands. Who knows what they took? I have people I care about, Clint. I can't risk anyone's lives." You told him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for SHIELD. I'm asking you to help the Avengers." Clint explained.

"Even better, a more public job." You scoffed. "Clint, we're friends. We've been through a lot. I get why you're here, but why the fuck would I risk the people I care about for another mission?"

"Argentina." He said simply.

"That is a dick move, and you know it." You groaned, finishing your smoke.  

"I do know it, but I have to use it. We need your help." Clint said, rising from your desk to stand in front of you. "We need your help, kid. I wouldn't be asking if I had another choice." 

"Fine." You relented after a minute. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow," Clint told you. "I'll pick you up." He added before going to leave.

"You don't know where I live." You protested.

"Yeah, I do." Clint corrected you. "I'll see you at nine." He said, and with that, he was gone.

"Fuck me." You sighed, rubbing your hand across your face.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" You asked, watching as the Avengers Compound grew closer through the window.

"Because you love me," Clint responded cheekily.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." You rolled your eyes. "You never even told me what I'm needed for."

"Briefing's in half-hour," Clint told you. "Which gives you enough time to get acquainted with everyone." He added as the car slowed to a stop.

"You know how I feel about crowds of people." 

"It's not a crowd. It's the team and Maria. You're fine, kid, I promise." He said.

"Fine, let's get this over with." You sighed, unclicking your belt.

"Avengers!" Clint called as the two of you moved further into the maze of a building. "I have a surprise for you all!" 

"Is it a unicorn?" A male voice asked as you both entered what looked to be a meeting room.

"Even better. Gentlemen, and Wanda,"

"Smooth Barton." A redhead coughed.

"This is Y/N L/N." Clint continued his introduction. "A specialist in all fields, especially disguise, and the only reason we might do our job today."

"Oh, so I'm doing your work for you again, Barton? Nothing's changed, I see." You commented. 

"Hey! That's not true! Name one time that's ever been true!"

"I can list fifty off the top of my head." You said, raising a brow at him.

"I can add sixty-seven to your list." The redhead piped in. "Natasha Romanoff." She introduced herself.

"Pleasure Agent Romanoff." You smiled. "C'mon Barton, formal introductions, please."

"Yeah, Barton. Introduce us." 

"Y/N, this is Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Wanda." Clint gestured. "Are you all satisfied?"

"Not particularly, since you still haven't told me what you need my help for." You said, crossing your arms.

"You haven't even told her that. Jesus Barton." Wanda snorted.

"I was getting to that. I was waiting for you all to meet." Clint whined. 

"Well, we're met." You said, taking an empty seat beside Natasha. "C'mon, what am I doing here?"

"There's a gala tonight," Natasha said, handing you a file. "A man named Jayden Reeds is going to be in attendance. Reeds has stock in several large companies, but that's just a front. Reeds actually has ties to HYDRA and deals in human trafficking. From what we've gathered, Reeds kidnaps people who will seemingly not be missed. They're then delivered to HYDRA bases around the world and never heard from again."

"Am I here to kill him? Because I can get behind that." You said, shaking your head.

"Wait till you hear the rest," Clint told you.

"There is a possibility Reeds also has his own collection. He's been spotted with several women who have all disappeared shortly after."

"What's the connection between them?" You asked.

"They're all French brunettes."

"So let me guess, my job is to go undercover tonight and see if he takes the bait. And when he does, I bring him in."

"Bingo Boingo," Tony told you.

"Well, I guess I better find a long sleeve dress. Oh, and maybe a wig."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed your accent was real myself," Wanda commented later that night.

The mission had gone as smoothly as could be. Reeds had fallen for your act believing you to be a young French brunette on vacation in America's busiest city.

You hadn't even needed to corner him as he'd followed you into a woman's bathroom with two other men. 

You hadn't given any of them a chance to move or say anything before you had them unconscious on the ground.

Now you were heading home, still decked out in your gala gown, with Natasha, Wanda, Clint, and Tony.

"It's not that good. No matter how much I practice, even my Italian's better than my French." You shrugged.

"Not that good?" Tony snorted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, if I weren't engaged and I met you in Paris, I'd take you back to Hotel Plaza Athenee and show you a time."

"Cute, Starky boy, but you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type."

"Sorry, hon, but I like women." You told him. "This is my stop." You added as Tony pulled over.

"You live here?" Natasha asked, looking around the neighborhood in distaste. You could understand her aversion to the area. Any one of your neighbors would move in an instant if given the choice.

"Yep." You said, unclicking your belt. "Been here since SHIELD crashed."

"Did SHIELD pay this bad?" Tony questioned you.

"SHIELD pay wasn't great, but it was something. I saved most of it, but a lot of it went to making sure Y/N Smith, the tattoo artist from the wrong side, wasn't connected with Y/N L/N, SHIELD agent." You shrugged. "Didn't see a point in moving after." You added. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." You said, sliding out and holding the door open.

"We'll give you a call if we need someone to do all the work for us." Clint nodded.

"Great. Come by the shop if you ever want a free tattoo. Clint knows where it is." 

A part of you was sure you wouldn't see any of the team again. They led much more busy lives than you did, and their schedules were forever changing.

So imagine your surprise when Natasha and Wanda entered your shop the next day just to simply chat. And they continued to do so for a week. Sometimes Clint would come, Steve had popped in for a few minutes while on a run, but Natasha and Wanda visited every day. 

On the seventh day, the two came in at one in the afternoon with Tony.

"Hey, Tony. I didn't know you were coming to lunch with us." You said, continuing to lock up the shop. "I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Great, but there's been a slight change of plans," Natasha said, watching you closely.

"As long as foods still involved, I won't be too bothered." You shrugged.

"Food is involved. It's just going to take us a while to get to it." Tony cryptically informed you.

"Guys, I'm running on twenty minutes of sleep and caffeine. Please, no cryptics." You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the three.

"Relax, we're not trying to hurt your head." Tony chuckled. "We have something to tell you."

"But first, step this way, away from any possibly hidden weapons," Natasha said, gesturing you forward. "No-one should get a knife to the head because they shocked you."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes, walking forward. "For the record, I did that once. And Clint caught it." You added. "What did you three do?"

"Technically, Tony did it," Wanda said, pointing a thumb at the billionaire.

"Real smooth, Sabrina." Tony scoffed. "Alright, yes, I did this, but I did it out of pure kindness."

"Did what?" 

"I've had all your stuff moved out of your apartment. I've had it moved into a spare room in the Compound," Tony announced. 

"Put it back, Tony." You demanded, crossing your arms. "My things aren't yours to touch."

"You live in a shitty neighborhood." Tony defended himself. "You have eight security systems of your own just to keep yourself safe. You won't find a new place of your own volition, so I found one for you."

"Tony, you moved my things into the Avengers Compound." You sighed. "I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet." Tony cut you off. "You are more than qualified to join the team. The way you helped us the other night, the way you took those men out and got the information quicker than we would have done. You can be an Avenger."

"I'm not risking those closest to me." You shook your head. "I gave up Y/N L/N when I left SHIELD. I have people in my life now, civilian people, who could get hurt because of me."

"Than don't let them," Natasha said. "I've been through your records, know how many people you helped and protected. Protect those you love just as you did all the strangers. You can still lead this life as well as one where you can protect people again."

"At least try temporarily," Wanda suggested. "Give it a month trial period and see if you can remember what it feels like. If it doesn't work out, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And if it does work, you can join our team. Please." She added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. A trial period." You sighed, pushing your hair back. "But no more using those eyes. It's evil, and you know it." You said, pointing at the witch.

"Yes, she does." Natasha smiled, putting her arm around her girlfriend's waist. "C'mon, there's a car waiting to take us back to the Compound."

"Where Tony ordered lunch," Wanda added, putting her hand out to you to take.

"At least he did one thing right." You joked, taking her petite hand.

"Hey!"

You had been staying at the Compound for almost a month. There were four days before the end of your trial period, but you hadn't made your decision yet. 

There was still a part of you that thought it would no longer be safe for the civilians in your life if you joined the team. If you entered the Avengers, you might have to give up this identity and everything and everyone that came with it.

But there was something about being around the team that ignited a spark within you. A spark you long thought had burned out. You longed for adventure, for that adrenaline rush that came with being undercover and the pride you felt at helping someone. 

You were torn between two worlds. Torn between two personalities.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like an ashtray," Natasha complained as she suddenly appeared by your side. You snapped out of your daze just in time to see Natasha take the smoke out of your hand and take a drag for herself.

"Didn't know you smoked." You commented, watching her exhale the smoke slowly.

"I don't. Not anymore." Natasha shook her head. "Just couldn't resist."

"Don't expect me to kiss you until you brush your teeth," Wanda said, skipping into the room and crossing her arms as she stared at the two of you. "I want a tattoo." She announced, staring you dead in the eye.

"Okay. Do you want me to find a parlor for you in the morning? I have a couple friends who owe me a favor or two." You suggested.

"No, I want you to do it," Wanda told you firmly. "As soon as possible if you would." 

"And you're sure about this?" You asked, raising a brow. "You're sure you want a tattoo and that you want me to do it?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me." You said, leading the two back into the Compound and into your room.

"You have a gun and inks in your room?" Natasha asked, looking your makeshift parlor over.

"Yep. Set it up the night I arrived, gave myself this the next." You said, lifting your shirt to reveal the healing tattoo on your hip.

"Geez, you know most people drink a bottle of scotch to welcome themselves to a new place? Not give themselves a tattoo." Natasha informed you.

"Probably." You nodded, beginning to set up your station. "Okay, Wanda, what did you have in mind?"

"I want the words, 'Ty namnogo bol'she' to wrap around my wrist," Wanda said, tracing around her thin wrist with her finger.

"Alright, I can definitely do that. But you might have to write it down for me. My Russian's not that great." You informed her.

"We'll have to work on that," Natasha said as Wanda began to write it down.

"Alright." You began after Wanda handed you the spelling. "Let's get started."

"I love it." Wanda smiled, watching as you gently wrapped her wrist. "It's perfect." 

"I like to do my best." You grinned, putting the last of the tape down. "Make sure that stays moist. And do not scratch it under any circumstances." You instructed her as you began to shove your equipment away in plastic tubs.

"You need a better system," Natasha commented. "Yours is kind of a mess."

"I'll update my system when I change this room around." You said, looking around the nearly bare room. Everything you owned was in plastic tubs or bags. You hadn't been bothered to unpack yet.

"Does that mean you're planning on staying?" Natasha asked. "Have you made your decision yet? To join the team or not?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to decide." You sighed, leaning against the wall. "I like not giving a shit. I like waking up in the morning and paying too much for a shitty cup of coffee. I like going to work and being around people who've never had to see the shit we have. I like not having to feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I miss it. 

I miss being a part of a team. I liked saving people. I enjoyed going on missions, creating new personas to get what I needed done. I miss being around people who've seen the shit I have. Who know what the weight of the world feels like. 

Now I don't where to go. What I need more in my life." You told them.

"We told you, you don't need to pick one world," Wanda said, standing from her stool. "You can still save people and drink over-priced coffee. You can still be with people who share your trauma and be with those who don't. You don't have to pick one world."

"Can we help your decision along by us asking you out to dinner?" Natasha asked, breaking your pensive silence.

"Excuse me?" You asked, for once being taken aback by another person. "I think I went temporarily deaf there. Can you repeat yourself?"

"Let us take you on a date," Natasha repeated slowly. "We were thinking about dinner and wine and then a night at the opera." She said, causing your nose to scrunch up without thought.

"She's kidding." Wanda giggled. "Actually, we were thinking we get a couple beers, order a pizza, and watch a movie in our room."

"Can I pick the movie?" You asked her.

"With your crappy taste, no." Wanda shook her head.

"Okay, now she's kidding," Natasha said, taking three steps forward to stand beside her girlfriend. "Of course, you can pick the movie."

"And this wouldn't hurt your relationship?" You asked tentatively. "I wouldn't ruin what you already have?"

"You could only add." Wanda smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna go on a date with us?" Natasha questioned you.

"I'd love to."

"Go away.” You groaned, rolling away and under the covers into Natasha’s body.

“Wakey, wakey. Up and at ‘em you two.” Wanda ordered, pulling the blankets off the pair of you. 

“Wanda!” 

“Both of you will forgive me when I tell you I have coffee.” Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside you.

“The overpriced kind?”

“What other kind is there?” Wanda asked. “C’mon sit up or no coffee for either of you.”

“Alright, alright, we’re up.” Natasha said, sitting up with you on her chest. “Thank you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you.” You groaned after taking the first sip of your steaming beverage.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?” 

“Can’t it be both?” You shrugged before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm softly.

“As long as there’s love for me too, it can.” Natasha told you.

“I love you too, Nat.” You promised, kissing her collarbone.

“After today’s meeting, I want you to give me a tattoo.” Natasha announced. “I don’t care where is is, but I want ‘YA zasluzhivayu lyubvi’.” She told you. 

“Alright then. I like this plan.” You smiled, looking up at your girlfriend. “You know I think I’m due for some new ink myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can choose for me.” You shrugged. “I trust you both, always.”

Once, you left SHIELD and it’s lifestyle behind. And then one day Clint Barton walked into your shop and brought you back into it. 

He brought you back to the life you missed and brought you to Natasha and Wanda.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests. 

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @bbybarness @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore @bromieeeomieee @marvelmenarebeautiful @niki-is-a-thing @pauloonig @abyssiniapleasant @beautybyfire @officalmarvelbaby

Natasha Romanoff Taglist

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All women Taglist

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[creativeashproductions]

Shattered Hearts // Luke Patterson

Summary: The teenage years are supposed to the best time of life but not when fate has other plans for Sunset Curve. Not feeling well reader stays home while Luke prepares for the performance of his life at The Orpheum. Shit hits the fan hard and the fallout ensues.

Warnings: Swearing, death, hospital, cancer (type is not detailed) angst, and fluff.

Words: 2.3k

Requested: @lolychu​

A/N: I didn’t go into detail about the kind of cancer because I didn’t want to, I want it to be as general as it could. I’ve never gone through it or had someone close go through it so it could be wrong and I apologize for that. Broken heart syndrome is REAL by the way.

Masterlist

Los Angeles, 1995

There are articles of some medical mysteries that can’t fully be scientifically explained, such as when someone dies in excellent health following the death of a loved one. The scientific term is takotsubo cardiomyopathy, but the world knows it merely by Broken Heart Syndrome. It was a day that was supposed to be the greatest of your teenage years, but the day couldn’t have gone any worse.

First, you woke up with an incredibly high fever and newfound bruises. Pain in a wrist out of nowhere but you wrote it off. You had plans, and illness wasn’t scheduled for the day. Your boyfriend and his band had gotten their big break, well their almost big break. Today was the day Sunset Curve would perform at The Orpheum, and you were gonna be backstage cheering them on.

Luke made his appearance at your house in the morning before early rehearsal, and you managed to convince him you were feeling okay. He went on to their studio, and your mother drove you to the hospital in fear.

Life was an asshole. While you waited for test results pale against the hospital sheets, an ambulance rolled in. Carrying three bodies that would go to the morgue for positive confirmation of death. You wouldn’t know for a full day, Luke’s parents too grief-stricken to call you and that’s okay. 

“Mom?” You asked as her form caved in on the floor near your hospital bed, “Mom!”

Her eyes filled with so much pain brought you fear and concern. With a struggle, she came closer to hold your hand tightly and spoke brokenly the fate that would snatch you.

“Baby, you don’t have the flu.”

“That’s good? So just meds and we can go home?” You asked heart clenching as her eyes closed tight and you knew whatever the doctor had told her after pulling her out of the room wasn’t good.

Couldn’t be good with the slump in her shoulders, the pain in her eyes and the guilt coating her every word. Mom wasn’t a housewife; she wasn’t a flower in need of protection, but she never kept something from you. Always said it straight and as it is.

“Sweetheart, they’re gonna move you to another ward.” You knew deep in your heart the news had to be the worst because Mom wasn’t telling you the whole story. Finally, she broke down, “The doctors got the results back as soon as they could. The fever, the bruises, and the broken wrist have a reason. You have cancer.”

Cancer. A word that sealed your fate. It left you reeling in shock. It shattered your dream with just one single name. Couldn’t be seen but made its presence known. The coming hour was spent with the specialist detailing the type and a tentative treatment plan he wanted to initiate immediately.

A nurse escorted your mother out as the orderlies and nurses prepped you to be moved to a new room. Knowing you were in good hands, your mom walked to the main doors for fresh air only to be astounded at the sight of Mitch and Emily Patterson. Equally shocked, they came together.

“Emily?” Your mom spoke, looking carefully at the parents of your boyfriend. She wondered how the Patterson’s had found out, “Did someone call you?”

“No.” Emily spoke with a numb voice. Your mom took a step back, understanding that one could only react that way for one thing. Something had happened to the Patterson teenager.

 “Luke isn’t here, is he?” Your mom asked, turning to look up at the tall building of the hospital, “Y/N, hasn’t had a phone. She only found out, but Luke hasn’t been with you-“

“The cops came,” Mitch spoke tucking his upset wife into his arms. He was equally as grief-stricken and bitter, but he had to be calm for his wife. They wouldn’t get anywhere if one of them couldn’t get answers.

Your mom gasped, “No.”

“I always knew that band-“Emily’s own sob cut her words off as her knees threatened to buckle. Your mom helped lead Emily into the emergency room before she jogged off to join you but not before turning to the Patterson parents.

“We’ll meet up. Discuss why we’re all here.” 

Being told you had cancer and then informed your boyfriend died all in one night was the most painful thing you had to live through. It was weeks of screaming, invasive procedures and therapy sessions. Your father came from his business trip to Dubai as soon as he could and didn’t leave your side.

A painful six months rolled with cancer stealing your hopes and a fucking bad hotdog taking your dreams away. Nothing made you curious. Nothing felt worth living for.

Not the realistic watercolour tattoo your parents let you get of Luke’s blue guitar you loved so much. It seemed to have a terminally sick child made it practically impossible to say no to, so you got a tattoo of your favourite lyrics of Sunset Curve.

In pretty font, it said ‘When all the days felt black and white. Those were the best shades of my life’ just like it said in Now or Never. One of your favourite songs, you got the privilege of watching Luke create.

“Mom, can I have a popsicle?” You asked from your bed. Eyes barely open as she nodded off her chair, “My mouth is dry.”

“Of course.” She nodded, leaving the room with a kiss on your forehead. Both of you mumbling I love you just in case. You felt like your clock was close to the end, so every word had meaning.

It was a good day so far; you hadn’t had to press for more pain medication like the last couple of weeks. You had managed to turn to stare out the window at the pretty sky. Your eyes fluttered shut completely content that this was it.

Your mom returned to a room with doctors and nurses trying to resuscitate you with your father screaming. No one could figure out if it was the cancer or the broken heart syndrome that killed you first. Your death was a double blow to Luke’s parents the most, along with Reggie and Alex’s own parents. 

Los Angeles, 2020

So much had changed since you died in 1995. Phones had changed, and buildings were torn down. You changed as well too. In relief physically, you had changed from the gaunt, skinny, pale patient to the girl you had been before the diagnosis.

Your hair now looked as healthy as it had been before you had cancer and you weren’t gaunt looking. You were looked just like you did a few months before you got diagnosed and you hoped so since you were dead. It would have sucked to be dead and beyond ugly.

“Do you think she went on to have a family?”

You kept your attention on the waves crashing the beach content to watch the waves doing the same movement they had since the beginning. You paid no attention to the group walking by. Not until one tripped over you landing in an awkward heap.

“Ouch!” The voice hissed. Your eyes flicked down to Reginald fucking Hastings’s blue eyes in pure shock. You scrambled away from the teenager with a sharp scream that pierced the ghoul group.

“Jesus.” You grumbled pushing the little sand that had stuck somehow to your body made of air.

“Oh my god. I think I just summoned Luke’s girlfriend.” Reggie hissed towards the equally astounded members of former Sunset Curve and current Julie and the Phantoms bandmates.

“No, you idiot we’re dead.” You spoke, taking a deep breath in, “After not seeing you for five years I thought you passed on. I’ve been travelling around America and Canada. Something felt like I needed to come home.”

“When did you die?” Alex questioned sadly when you were quiet. His sad blue eyes unable to leave your expressive face, he hoped somehow you had lived to your 90s and died to come back youthful.

“It’s wasn’t harm-“

“No, Luke. I don’t think I’ll ever positively know what happened, but the night you guys died my life ended as well.” You revealed sitting back, letting the three boys join you for an intriguing story to them. Luke wasn’t hesitant in grasping your hand in his, “Funny enough your bodies were being unloaded in the morgue while I was being told by my Mom, I had cancer. The battle was hard but short.”

“Cancer?”

“Our love story was destined to be tragic, whether it be cancer or a hotdog.” You told the teenage guitarist to experience in the afterlife to be gentle about it. The three boys flinched from the indifference, “Have you visited your parents yet? My parents are home for a few weeks.”

“My neighbourhood was torn down. Alex doesn’t know about his and-“ 

“-I’ve seen my folks once so far.” Luke finished playing with your fingers, “You say our love story was tragic, I say it would be tragic if we hadn’t had the chance in life that we did.”

You nodded your head, “Where have you guys been?”

All three boys took their chaotic turn in describing their last meal to Reggie tripping over you with the belief of walking through you. They were in a band with a lifer who made them visible to the public when playing music together. You told them that your parents would choose a destination from your dream travel journal; you would follow them on the adventures.

Slowly you met Julie who put up a distance as she acclimated to having the girlfriend of her crush around always. Julie couldn’t help the feeling of jealously when Luke focused on the teen ghost girl. She couldn’t even hate you! You were so lovely and welcoming to the girl with respect for boundaries, in fact, you were exactly the girl she would have been friends with. Julie loved Flynn, but she could be over the top and dramatic sometimes.

“Good rehearsal. I’ll meet you outside.” Luke spoke, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. You nodded before walking through the white, painted barn doors.

Everything put away properly; Luke was quick to meet up with his girlfriend for their date. Alex noticed the stare by Julie. He had seen it for the past few weeks since you were introduced to the passionate musician with a beautiful voice.

“I’m really sorry, Julie.” Alex softly told the sad Puerto Rican girl yearning to hug the teenager but alas his ghostly body couldn’t allow it.

“Did I have an honest chance before she came back?” Julie asked. Her doe brown eyes bringing Reggie’s attention to the conversation at hand. 

“No.” Reggie answered this time solemn with his blue eyes holding no mirth or childlike glee, “Luke’s been in love with her for years. She’s his all or nothing.”

“I didn’t have a chance between them, and I don’t want you between them either. It’s not a nice place to be even if I was mutually breaking up with his as well.” Alex soothed the live girl yearning to physically comfort her but alas that damn hotdog ruined everything.

“Luke also said when the first big payment came, he would marry her. He wanted to give her the wedding of her dreams.” Reggie unintentionally rubbed the salt in Julie’s wound on the topic of her tragic love story.

Julie learnt to deal with the pain of seeing Luke, so in love and happier than before you had reconnected. In her fashion, she had hidden a new box for her thoughts that was so well hidden the boys would never find it. It was filled with papers that progressively got less romance angst.

“I’m just saying,” Alex spoke, raising his hands in the air after another one of Luke’s emotional rants on the loss of things in death. Such as marrying you.

“Dude, we’re dead, and our ghost connections happen to either be our band, Willie or a very questionable sketchy vintage magician.” Luke snapped slouching on his couch sulking as you were spending time with your family no matter how oblivious they were to your presence.

“I’m ordained.” Willie supplied sitting next to the blonde drummer who had easily swayed from Caleb to the good side again. At the group’s looks of disbelief, he continued, “I was bored! Took some art classes too. It won’t be the average wedding, but you could still call each other spouse.”

“I can check local clubs for wedding dresses. Flynn can easily put together music and Alex can find a venue.” Julie piped up, avoiding the sympathetic look from Reggie, who still thought the teenager had feelings for his bandmate. She no longer did. 

“You can use one of your rings on a chain as well. Maybe hold off on getting a ring until we get money from the band.” Reggie gave his input, earning himself a proud expression from Alex; an expression the drummer rarely was able to give his friend.

“I guess I’m proposing.” Luke beamed already thinking of ways to make his proposal special, not like being ghosts wasn’t already impressive enough. 

It wasn’t the ideal wedding, but it honestly didn’t matter as long as the two of you were able to vow yourself to each other. It no longer mattered on the details other than you two.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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[therenlover]

Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

If fanfictions were musicals, these are the songs I could see the reader insert singing to each of the Evans. I understand that this is cringy but cringe culture is dead, pls just let me enjoy my stupid little daydreams lol. 

Warnings: Mild Language, Brief Mentions of Death (specifically su*cide and murder), Mentions of Cancer, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

The songs are linked at their titles!

Tate Langdon

I Dreamed A Dance from Next To Normal

Yes, I am aware that I am taking this song way out of context

No, I do not care. I’m looking at this from simply a lyrical point of view

It has all the sad ghost mommy issues vibes

Like, pre-teen me during my Aaron Tveit phase would have 100% associated this song with Tate

I’m sort of half and half on if Tate would actively try to get someone to die to be with him, which is why There’s A World isn’t included, but I can see someone head over heels in love with him considering death as an option to stay with him forever

This song just gives me the self indulgent fanfic vibes

“I'll wake alone tomorrow / The dream of our dance is through / But now until forever love / I’ll live to dance with you / I’ll dream my love / I’ll live my love / And I’ll die to dance with…”

Kit Walker

I Don’t Need A Roof from Big Fish

Kit Walker is too good for this world, just like Edward Bloom

The thought of him being traumatized and having nightmares after his time at Briarcliff? Heartbreaking. But him coming home after his cancer diagnosis? That hits even harder

That’s when I imagine this song would come into play

Sitting and watching him sleep while crying and singing this song

Because you can’t let him see that you’re terrified of losing him but you can’t pretend you’re not

Kit is one of the only Evan characters I can see having a healthy enough relationship for this song, and that hurts

“All I need is you and you forever / All I feel is true and absolute / I don’t need a legal deed to help me play my part / I don’t need a roof to hold my heart,” 

Kyle Spencer

One Boy from Bye, Bye Birdie

A classic song for a classic boy

Pre-Death Kyle gives me very much high school sweetheart vibes

Like this is the golden retriever boy who would’ve given his girlfriend the pin off his letterman jacket

The song also kind of gives me foreshadowing feelings when it says “one boy to be with forever and ever,”

Like, you loved Kyle. You made him a promise to be there forever

But will you be able to keep that promise after his Frankenstein-style resurrection? Is he really still the same person, or has he changed enough that he isn’t the same Kyle he was before?

Mostly this song is just cute tho

“One boy, one steady boy / One boy to be with forever and ever / One boy / That’s the way it should be,”

Jimmy Darling 

Somewhere That’s Green from Little Shop of Horrors

I have a whole lot of thoughts about this one!!!

Jimmy is attractive, like we can’t deny that, but he’s not really gonna be considered “marriage material” because of his job and his hands

The 50′s are ruthless like that

Imagine, though, realizing that he’s the one you want to spend the rest of your days with despite society’s ideals

Just dreaming of domestic life with Jimmy Darling, that’s the whole post

I know a reader insert would do it to escape the reality of their terrible life because I do it too and I’m a real person

Also, the specific thought of Jimmy doing his very best to be a good dad because of his experiences makes me soft

Also, you can probably think of Dandy as Orin in this scenario, because they’re both terrible assholes

“I’m his December bride / He’s father, he knows best / Our kids watch Howdy Doody / As the sun sets in the west / A picture out of Better Homes and Gardens Magazine,” 

James Patrick March

It’s A Dangerous Game and Take Me As I Am from Jekyll and Hyde

Okay, I know this is kind of cheating but this is my post, so lets pretend it’s not

Relationships with JPM are usually portrayed as extremely balanced and loving with both parters holding pretty equal standing or extremely dark and controlling with James holding full control in the relationship.

These songs fall into each dynamic respectively

It’s A Dangerous Game is that filthy, controlling roll-in-the-sheets song you just need sometimes

It’s also delving into the literal danger

Like, Mr. March is the most prolific serial killer ever. He’s a massive sadist. Being near him while also being alive is a massive risk.

But it’s a sexy risk

Take Me As I Am is the complete opposite vibe while still talking about the exact same dude. 

It’s still a duet, but this one is even, measured, romantic... and all about accepting a criminally insane fiance for all his peculiarities! Perfect!

This is the song where JPM talks about how much he loves his wife lol

Because he might be a psycho, but he absolutely respects and cherishes his wife

“No one speaks, not one word / All the words are in our eyes / Silence speaks, loud and clear / All the words we want to hear,”

“Give me your hand, give me your heart / Swear to me we’ll never part / You know who I am / This is who I am / Take me as I am,” 

Kai Anderson

As Long As He Needs Me from Oliver

I hate Kai Anderson with a burning passion

But this song belongs to anyone who he manipulates into loving and trusting him

It’s just so sad

And it really encapsulates the idea of doing anything for the person you love even if you get less than nothing in return

It’s not healthy in any sense of the word, but it fits

“He doesn’t say the things he should / He acts the way he thinks he should / But all the same, I’ll play this game / His way,” 

Peter Maximoff

You’re The One That I Want from Grease

Who could forget the classic scene in Grease when Danny and Sandy dance through that weird fun house? Definitely not me.

This is another holdover from my Aaron Tveit phase because Grease Live was a masterpiece (it was very difficult to not include more songs he performed, because Evan gives me Aaron vibes) 

I picked this song less because of the actual content, and more because of the vibe

Like, imagine Peter Maximoff learning all the choreography from the movie in his spare time

And he shows off by whipping out the whole ass dance routine with you during karaoke night at X-Mansion complete with leather pants for the both of you

Peter might even let you borrow his jacket as a prop, who knows

It’s just a fun little ditty and it makes me smile

“You better shape up, cause I need a man / And my heart is set on you / You better shape up, you better understand / To my heart, I must be true,”

BONUS CONTENT: Peter Maximoff would sing you One Knight from Wonderland 100% it is just so him please go listen to it

[lucky-peoqle]

a/n; im bored so i cooked this up real quick 😸😸 i love shameless sm <33 sorry for any misspellings its like 1 am lol

fandom: shameless us

character: carl gallagher

warnings: typical shameless warnings

summary: after monica's death, carl comes home from military school. the reader comes over and sees an unexpected visitor.

surprise !

you woke up to your parents yelling at each other again. they do this a lot, it's nothing new. you were just growing tired of it.

you sigh and get up, rubbing your eyes. you walk over to your draw and pick out a sweater and skater skirt. it was a bit warmer day in the middle of december in the south side, so why not?

you brush your hair and teeth really quickly, slipping on a pair of clean socks.

you throw on your vans, grab your phone, and make your way downstairs. you slip past your fighting parents, making your way outside.

you walk across the street, making sure to look both ways. you stop in front of the house you've basically grown up in; the gallagher house.

you've spent all your life walking across the street to hang out with your best friend; carl gallagher.

carl has been your best friend ever since he saved you from a group of older kids who tried to steal your "skateboard" when you were around six or five.

the story goes that these two older (around ten) guys were walking down down the road and the spotted you. they tried to take your board when carl ran out with a bat, hitting one of the kids, scaring them off.

ever since you two have been inseparable.

well... except for after he went to juvie. after juvie he changed, big time. he acted like he didn't really want to be best friends with you anymore, and he had nick by his side most of the time.

after nick went to prison, the first person he ran to was, of course, you. he apologized and hugged you so tight. everything felt okay again.

you've had a crush on carl for a while now, ever since he found out he had "cancer" actually. the thought of him dying shattered your heart, and that's when you realized your feelings for him.

you two had always been sort of flirtly to each other, using each other as a fake girlfriend/boyfriend. but there was two things that got in the way of that. bonnie and dom.

after bonnie disappeared off the face of the earth, you were there to let him cry into your shoulder, same as when he found out dom cheated on him.

you were going go tell carl your feelings before he got on the bus to military school, but you pussied out, and told him to kick some ass.

you opened the gate in front of the house, walking up the stairs and opening the door. you stopped knocking after about a month of knowing carl.

"good morning gallaghers!" you say, the smell of bacon hitting your noise, "what the fuck? is that bacon?"

you make your way through the living room, "morning y/n," you hear a few people say.

you finally make if into the kitchen, "my parents are fighting again, sorry for being here so- WHAT THE FUCK?"

your eyes fall on the boy you fell in love with years ago, his hair gelled back, in a suit and all. he wasn't a boy anymore, he was a man.

"so you just going to stand there or...?" carl says, opening his arms for you to jump into.

you run towards him, jumping into his arms. he spins you around a few times, your facing hiding in the crook of his neck, tears threatening to spill.

"hey, don't cry. please don't cry," he says, putting you down. you wipe your tears, a smile on your face.

"i've missed you, like a lot."

"yeah, i've missed you too, but just a bit," he chuckles.

"you asshole!" you laugh, hitting his forearm.

"jeez, you're one hormonal fourteen year old," he says.

"hey, i'm fifteen now, so suck on my nonexistent dick," you stick out your tounge.

"oh yeah, so mature."

"what are you talking about? you're fifteen too!" you laugh.

"okay, okay."

"so.. are you just going to let me starve or...?" you mimic him from early.

"grab a plate, dingus."

you grab a plate, picking out a few things to eat, and sit at the table next to liam, carl taking the seat next to you.

the gallagher's and you caught up with carl while eating breakfast. it was full of smiles and laughs. after breakfast, you and carl head up to his shared room to catch up a bit more.

you two talk for about an hour until you decide to finally man up and tell him something you've been dying to tell him for ages.

"carl, i have something to tell you."

"yeah? what's up?"

you lay on your back, looking at the ceiling.

"i've been meaning to tell you to tell you this for like... years now maybe?"

he lays next to you, giving you a concerned look, "okay?"

you sit back up and look at him, "i- uh, i love you."

it was silent for a moment, "sorry, i knew you wouldn't feel the same, forget-"

you feel two warm hands cuff your cheeks, "y/n, i love you too."

"really? like actually?"

"duh, idiot."

you smile at him, quickly kissing him, him kissing you back quickly.

thank god he was back home.

end.

[cruecifymesixx]

Love and Leather /part eighty seven/

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: enjoy!

Warnings: light smut, death?, language

Taglist: @miserablecunt​ , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol ,  @a-simple-salmon ,  @hi-my-name-is-riley​ , @extremesadnerding​ , @thatbandchick39​ , @awkwrdcait​ , @countrygirlswonderland​, @awesomealmostdopestudent​, , @tashy-bear​, @krazykatkay456​, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill​ @beachystars​, @rodriguez025​, @kickstart-myheart-sixx​, @s-outhie​, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls​, @vintagebox​ @shamelessobsessions​, @jerseytaint​@criminalyetminimal​, @trapt-in-a-dream​,  @broke-n-bitchy,  @lovesick-heart0​, @keepcalm-and-beyou​, @miriampraez​, @teenwolflover28​, @lilyhw1​, @herbertweeest​, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001​,  @waywardprincess666​, @iluvmesomemarvelndc​, @zoenicoles​, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london​, @nassauartist  @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe,  @kellysimagines @thoughtsoftheantagonist , @sleepyjunhong  @meetthesixxter @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @kaitieskidmore1 @unknownoblivion @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier  @xxisxxisxxis, @dogmom2014, @cruesixxlover1991, @xpoisonousrosesx,  @m0rnlngstar, @love-struck-aries, @youretheonlyonewhomakesme,  @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @patheticgay69 @rocknroll--baby @redlipscrystalskies14, @samanthadegaro @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @thechangingme, @idkmanhereisshitilike, @makaelahdelvalle

"Maybe...maybe I can send them flowers? Everyone likes flowers right? Or send a muffin basket. People like to eat when someone dies." I rambled on and on as Nikki followed me through the house.

"I should just call right? It shows I care more than sending flowers or sweet treats. That's what I would like. Should I do that? What do you think I should do?" I took a deep breath in, trying to keep the tears from coming as I picked up scattered toys from both Arianna and Anarchy.

"Vanity.." Nikki spoke softly as he put his hand on my shoulder. I exhaled deeply before covering my face.

"How do I say I'm sorry for the lost of your child?"  I croak, sobbing into my hands as he pulled me flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning his chin on my shoulder

Mick had called just a little while ago explaining to us that Sharise called to let him know Skylar had passed away due to complications from her cancer diagnosis. Mick mentioned Vince was a mess and couldn't pick up the phone.

Nikki kisses the back of my head. I hear him sniffling too, "Y-you should call him.." I turn in his embrace to face him, "He's your brother. You should reach out, he's probably in so much pain right now."

Nikki disagreed as he shook his head which caused me to cry harder, "I-I can't do that. He barely answered my calls months ago. He wouldn't answer them now. Especially not right now. He has his friends and family, Vanity."

I take a few deep breaths in through my nose as I try to relax, "Do you still have his number? I'll call him. It's-it's out of respect Nikki. Imagine if it was-if it was Ari.." I get worked up again, tears pouring out as I wipe at them to the point that it hurt.

"I don't want to think of that." He looks at me, rubbing his hand over his face before it rests over his mouth as he's thinking, "Just say whatever you need to say to feel better." He tells me as he reaches for the phone, punching in numbers before he's holding it out for me.

I take the phone stepping over to him and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he breathes in deeply before giving my hip a squeeze and goes out to the backyard with the dog.

I sit down on the couch, hearing the phone ring before a grumbled voice answers, "H-hey Vinny...it's Vanity. Vanity Blackwood.." I hear Vince's sigh of annoyance, "Mick just called...I am so sorry for your loss. I couldn't even begin to imagine what you're going through.."

Vince laughs a bit, "Yeah. Right. Look, I don't need to hear a pity party especially from you."

I frown a bit at his harsh tone seeping through the phone, "It's not like that at all Vince. We're still friends even if you and Nikki aren't...at least I think we are?"

"You and Nikki and your happy little family can just fuck the hell off! Don't call me again, Vanity."

My eyes water as I try to blink back tears, seeing Nikki standing at the glass door smoking a cigarette and looking at me, "Vince, it's not like that at all, I swear to you. I am sorry for your guys's fallout but I am just coming to you as a parent, that's all. I wanted to tell you how sorry I am and if you or Sharise need anything at all just let me know."

"I don't need shit from you."

"Vince-" I put the phone down when I hear the dial tone on the other line. I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the ends as I sink into the couch. I should have just chose the nice flower bouquet and an apology note.

I close my eyes, hearing the sliding door open and shut before Nikki sits on the couch next to me. I raise his arm and curl up into his side, "He just said for me and my happy family to fuck off."

"He's upset and mourning doll...he doesn't mean it." I nod as I breathe in the scent of cigarette smoke and old spice deodorant.

"I know. Maybe I'll try Sharise."

Nikki sighed before reaching with his other hand to grasp my chin, pointing my head upwards to look at him, "Not right now Van, let her be with her parents. I'm sure she'll be with Vince too and they have each other. I know you have nothing but good intentions but just let it be for now, okay?"

I look at Nikki, nodding slowly as my eyes burn and sting with tears, "Okay..."

*Tommy's POV*

I yawned following Nikki around the antique store as he checked out some tables and lamps. I fumbled with some clock before Nikki scolded me like a child to put it down before I broke it, "Dude this store is boring.." I groan as we go further into the shop.

"God, you're worse than Arianna. I can't find anything anyways. I probably have to go to the shop out in Santa Barbra." Nikki tells me as we start heading back to front of the store, we wave bye to the shop clerk before walking through the mall.

I tune Nikki out as he starts going on about how he wants to redo the decor for his office. My eyes wander to the bright fluorescent lights of the jewelry store as my feet take me into its direction, "Hold on man, I want to look at something real quick."

I've been thinking about proposing to Clementine as we've been together for a little over a year now. Clem and I have never really talked about marriage other than my last two failed ones, "How'd you know you wanted to propose to Van? And how did you know it was the right time?" I turn to Nikki as I open up the door and walk in.

He chuckles a bit, "Uh...I don't know man? I just knew. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I know some people think we rushed into getting engaged and despite how everything is at the moment, I love her and I don't think I could ever imagine her being away from me. Why?"

"I don't know...with Clem being pregnant and everything I've just been thinking about asking her to marry me. I rushed with the other two and I just don't want to make the same mistake."

"Tommy, if you think you have to be married just because she's pregnant and society tells you it's the right thing to do then you're dumb. It's okay to not be tied up just in case it doesn't work out."

I shook my head looking at some rings in the glass case, "No, I don't want to marry her just because she's pregnant. I want to marry her because I love her. I just don't want her to feel pressured, I know you don't like her that much but I don't want her to freak out on me."

"Are you to gentleman looking for something in particular? I'd be happy to help." A busty redhead comes up to me and Nikki "Were having a sale today, our rings start at five thousand and it's 15% off for customizing."

I shake my head, "No thank you, I'm just looking for now.."

"Well, do you have anything that screams I'm sorry for being an asshole and I love you?" Nikki questioned as the woman laughed.

"Our diamond tennis bracelets are right over here. They're always a winner and they start at twenty five hundred."

"Thanks, I'll take a look around." Nikki tells her as I laugh a bit.

"In the dog house again?" I question as I bend down, finding a diamond on a simple gold band.

"When am I not in the fucking dog house?" I hear the eye roll in his voice, "I-I went on another date with Donna, but I didn't come home until the morning so Van thinks I'm sleeping with her now but I'm not. She'll barely say anything to me, but I'm not allowed to get mad when she's up late at night talking to whoever that guy is she's been seeing. All laughing and giggling and talking sweet. It makes me want to vomit."

"Well maybe you two shouldn't be seeing other people. That just sounds bad already, but sounds explosive for you two in particular. You really haven't slept with Donna? She's super hot."

We both smirks at each other like naughty school boys, "Yeah, she is isn't she? But no, I swear on Nonas grave I haven't slept with her. Just heavy make out sessions but nope, I've kept my dick in my pants. Would like it to go inside Van but she's being, well, she's being Van."

I laughed a bit as I glanced at some other rings, "Hate to break it to you man, but that's never gonna change. You think Clem would like that one?" I point to a silver band with an oval shaped diamond and a few smaller diamond wrapping around it.

I watched as Nikki shrugged, "I don't know man. It's simple but gets the point across. Clementine doesn't strike me as someone who would want a big fancy diamond that could be used as a paper weight."

I waved over that same redhead from earlier, "Uh...Maxine? Can I see that ring right there please?"

I wait and watch as Maxine unlocks the glass case, seeing Nikki wander off to go look at earrings. I smile when the ring is laid on a black velvet platform for me. I gently pick it up, seeing the jewels sparkle under the light. The inclusions of the diamonds created a rainbow affect as I tilted it back and forth between my finger tips.

"I think I'll take it. She needs a size 7."

"Oh that's wonderful! This is a very beautiful ring and any woman would be lucky to have it. Let me get it sized and wrapped up for you and I'll meet you at the cash register." Maxine tells me as she takes the ring and heads to the back.

I go over to Nikki seeing him holding up a gold tennis bracelet but every other stone was a ruby, or a garnet. I could never tell the difference.

"These dangler earrings would go absolutely perfect with the bracelet." The other woman tried selling it as Nikki shook his head.

"No, she doesn't like the dangler earrings. They get caught in her hair. But she has a pair of ruby studs that would go with them. It's her birthstone. But I for sure want the bracelet. Can you wrap it up nice for me? With the gold paper."

"Yes sir, of course."

We go up to the cash register as Maxine helps me first, she opens the box and shows me the ring before putting it in a red bag, "You made a very good selection. Are we going to be doing payments on the ring?"

I clear my throat hearing Nikki chuckle behind me, "No ma'am, I want to pay it in full." I grab my wallet from my back pocket and pull out my gold American Express credit card.

"Very well then, it will be a total of 23,700$." God, Clem's gonna kill me. I pay for the ring and thank her for helping. I step to the side for Nikki to come up.

"It's okay buddy, Vans ring was 85,000$ and we didn't even get married." He tells me as I rolled my eyes, "It's just collecting dust in my underwear drawer now."

"That will be 2,800$" I hear Nikki mumble something about a princess before he digs his wallet out and groans.

"She took my card the other day and didn't put it back." I watch as he then starts pulling out hundreds and fifties.

"Jesus Christ Nikki.." I shake my head "You really keep that much money in your wallet?"

"Sometimes..."

We both walk out of the store after, "I really hope Clemmy likes it...you think she will?"

Nikki glances at me, "Yeah man. She should at least. It's a nice ring and if she doesn't then it's not the end of the world you can always take it back for it to be customized or she can pick out her own ring. It will be fine T."

"I'm sure it will be too, but you know I get nervous sometimes." I confide in him as he nods, "Have you heard from Vince?"

Nikki takes a deep breath before exhaling, "No, Vanity tried calling him but he was not very welcoming about it. But we sent Sharise flowers the other day. Have you?"

I shook my head, "I sent him an email and expressed my condolences. I did get ahold of Sharise though...she was nice. Even said we can go to Skylar's service if we wanted too, but I don't know...I feel like Vince wouldn't be too happy about that. It fucking sucks man. I couldn't ever imagine what it's like to lose a kid."

"Yeah man, I know-" I wait until Nikki unlocks his car and we both get in, "Vanity cried for hours over it then we had to explain to Arianna why she was crying. That was hard to do, but I think she sorta grasped the concept of death. I just hope we don't have to tell her again for a long time. I can't stand seeing her little bottom lip quiver or her eyebrows pulling together in confusion like that."

"Do you think I'll be a good dad? I had a good dad and I turned out fine, no offense to you. But what if I'm not good enough or there for them enough?" I slump back into the seat as I roll down the window.

"Yeah thanks for that." He laughs a bit, "I think being a dad is easier than being a rockstar. Some days are harder than others. But you have a good head on your shoulders, plus you have Clementine and wasn't she a big help in New York?"

"I mean yeah she was, but it's different when it's your own kid I think. I should read some of those parenting books. You think that would help?"

"I don't know, Tommy? I've never read them, plus kinda missed out on the whole newborn baby thing, remember?"

"Well yeah, but aren't you two gonna have more? You'd read them then right?" I ask him as he just stays quiet and focused on the road, "You two have to have more kids. Arianna needs siblings."

"Tommy, you're asking a lot of hard questions. Van and I can barely get along at the moment. We haven't had sex since Valentine's Day, and when we did she made me wear a condom. I would like to have more kids with her, but right now is just not a good time for me and her." Nikki explains to me, but I can hear the pain in his voice. I always knew how much he loved her, how he would give his last dying breath to have her.

"I don't know why you two put yourselves through this. You two aren't in your twenties anymore, I mean shit Nikki, you're almost forty."

"Shut the fuck up." Nikki reaches over and punches my arm, "I know how old I am and I'm reminded every time Vanity points out a grey hair."

"Do you tell her she's the reason why you have grey hair? Because it's probably true."

*Nikki's POV*

I stand in front of Vanity, blocking the tv with the gift bag behind my back. Her eyes dart up to mine and she gives out a sigh of annoyance, "What Nikki?"

"What Nikki?" I mock her tone, laughing as she glares at me. I sit down on the chaise part of the sectional and hold out the gold bag by my index finger, "I got something, you want it?" I raise my eyebrows and a smirk plastered on my lips as she rolls her eyes and sits forward and reaches for it, "Ah, Ah, Ah...say please."

"You're annoying." Van says as she leans her head back against the couch, "May I please have it?"

"Why of course princess." I place the bag on her lap, chuckling a bit when she throws the tissue paper at me before pulling out a long velvet box. I see her look at me a moment before she opens it. She tries to downplay her smile as she clips the gold and ruby bracelet around her wrist, "Do you like it?"

Van nods as she looks at me, her cheeks warm and pink "Thank you, Nikki. It's really pretty."

"You're welcome doll. I figured it would help with an apology...I'm sorry I didn't tell you I would be staying the night with her. I'm sure I worried you when I didn't call. And I know Arianna was upset, believe me, she let me know. But I am sorry Van." I express softly as I move closer to her on the couch, taking her wrist in my hand as I look at the bracelet.

"I'm just mad that you spent the night with her and I'm stuck here overthinking about what you may or may not be doing. I don't like thinking of that stuff but I can't help it." She explains as I take her hand and press my lips to the top of her knuckles.

"I know princess. And I'm sorry for that. I know you overthink and get anxious sometimes, I shouldn't feed into it. But I promise you Van, I didn't do anything with her and I haven't done anything and I'm not gonna do anything. Okay?" I feel her intertwine our hands together as I look at her and repeat myself, "Okay?"

She stares at me a moment "Okay...but you better mean that Nikki or I swear to god, I'll move out if you even put the fucking tip in."

I grin as I lean over and kiss her cheek "What about a hand job? Will you still move out?" I laugh when she smacks my chest, "Have you slept with that guy you're seeing? What's his name?"

Van laughs turning her head to the side before looking at me, "His name is Jon, and no I haven't slept with him. I haven't even kissed him unlike you that comes home with a hickey." She points out before poking the fading bruise on the side of my neck.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What does he look like?"

"Um...well, he's taller than me. Has short, shaggy brown hair with some highlights. His ears are pierced and he has a few tattoos." She shrugs, "He travels back and forth between Jersey and here.." I see her glance at me as I nod.

"Oh cool. Some business dude? And you aren't bored of him? I'm surprised."

"Well...not really business like you're thinking..."

"Are you gonna see him again?" I question, pressing a kiss to her shoulder before her neck, smirking against her skin when she tilts her head.

"Yeah..next weekend. He has something planned for us.." I hear the shaky breath as my teeth gently nip her.

"He calls a lot doesn't he? That's nice of him, to check up on you...does he know about me? About us?" I question, letting my hand slide up and down her bare thigh under the blanket she's wrapped up in, finger tips dipping under the bottom hem of her pajama shorts.

Van nodded, relaxing against the couch, "He was very surprised to know that I knew you and that we have a relationship."

A deep chuckle escapes my lips as I grip her jaw in my palm and turn her head to look at me, "I'm surprised that didn't scare him off. How could an average joe live up to a rockstar?" I question, seeing her glance at my lips before looking back at me, "He couldn't please you like I could. Someone that already knows all your wants and needs...someone that knows how to get you going so easily." My hand falls from her jaw to wrap around her throat, squeezing just slightly as a I hear her quiet whimper. My eyes close when Van presses her lips against mine, her hands entangling themselves in my hair.

I reach for her arms and pull her onto my lap, her thighs straddling mine as I deepen the kiss. I grab a hold of hair in my fist, tilting her head back as I lick a stripe from the bottom of her throat to the top. I feel her nails digging into my chest before her fingers grip my shirt. Van presses her body against mine as she wraps her arms around me, she breaks the kiss her eyes staying closed as she rests her forehead against mine.

We stay like that for a moment before she tells me she loves me. I smile and peck her lips softly, "I love you too." My hands slide down her shoulders, taking the flimsy strap of the tank top with me as she does the rest of the work and pulls her arms out. I kiss across her chest as she holds my head in place. My tongue swirls around her nipples before I tug on them. My eyes glancing up at her as she moans and her head tilts back.

Her ass grinds against the tent in my sweatpants as I bite back my own moans and grunts. I feel her hand go between us as she dips inside my pants and boxers and starts jerking me off.

"Fuck me.." I groan, closing my eyes as my head rolls  from side to side. She leans closer, her tongue darting out against my neck as she kisses and sucks a bruise onto me. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth as I feel my cock leaking pre cum only for Vanity to gather it and use it while she strokes me. I start breathing heavier, feeling her speed up her ministrations as her thumb swipes over the tip repeatedly, "Fuck, Van...you're doing so good baby." I run my thumb over her bottom lip as she smiles, playfully biting it before taking it between her lips.

We both jump and she gives me a particularly hard squeeze when the house phone starts ringing. Annoyed, I reach for it on the the couch and say hello, tilting my head when Van kisses my neck.

"Is Vanity available?" I hear another mans voice as I roll my eyes.

"Yeah. Hold on." I take the phone away and hand it to her, "It's for you. I think it's your boyfriend." I smirk at her as she takes the phone from me.

I lean forward pressing my lips to her her neck and collar bone as she grips my hair and tries to pull me away, "No, no Jon I'm not busy. No, it's okay. I'm just watching TV." I look up at her as i move my head down, letting my tongue swirl around her nipple again before pinching the other one.

"Ye-yeah I'm okay!-" she gasps rather loudly when I bite down, "No, it's just the show I'm watching, um..just a soap opera. I'm a sucker for drama." She mouths 'stop' to me but I just shake my head.

"I'm doing okay, just been working and being a mom. Nothing to interesting going on over here. How about you? I miss you too Jon." I quirk an eyebrow towards her before shoving my hand into her shorts, feeling her panties and herself absolutely soaked. I slot a finger through her folds before rubbing soft circles against her clit. I laugh when she reaches for my hand to stop me.

"Is that Nikki? Um....yeah that's Nikki...soap operas are his guilty pleasure." Van grabs my shoulder when I slide two fingers in her, curling up against her immediately.

"Fuck...Jon I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow afternoon?" I look up at Van with adoring eyes as I reach to press a kiss to her chin, twisting and pumping my fingers inside her faster as a small cry leaves her pretty lips.

I place soft and delicate kisses on her neck as I hear his muffled voice on the other line. Van stares at me with bright eyes, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth as I push another finger inside of her.

"Mhmm...yes that's-that's fine Jon! Just-I gotta go....oh fuck.." I watch as her body tenses, her eyes closing shut but her lips parting as I feel her nails claw at the back of my neck when she rides out her high.

I smirk at her when I take my hand out of her pants and bring my fingers to my lips, "N-no...I'm good..I just stubbed my toe really hard. I'll talk to you tomorrow Jon, okay? Goodnight." Vanity hangs up and throws the phone down, shoving on my chest as I laugh "It's not funny, Nikki! That's embarrassing!"

"Oh come on-" I roll my eyes, "You seemed to like it very much, maybe a little too much." I grin as she shoves me again.

"I can't fucking stand you." Vanity tells me as she pretends to put up a fight, but I see the playful smirk on her face before she's pressing her chest to mine and kissing me again.