#he cries at his lunch break every day that his co-workers think he's doing drugs in the bathroom or something

[doubledeadstudio]

Out of RH who’s the most/least likely to cry?

Most Likely: Abel

Least Likely: Vito

Out of the LIs...

Most Likely: Vin

Least Likely: Black

[hazza-bear-care]

Babie Crue (2/?)

Pairings: The Dirt!Motley Crue X OC!Reader. Eventual MGK!Tommy Lee X OC, Possible Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx X OC, Dad!Motley Crue

Warnings: Cussing, drug use, drinking

Description: Cam eventually finds solace with Tommy’s family, who pity her after she reveals why she’s homeless with a newborn baby. Two months of peace later, Cam has a steady job as a waitress and Motley Crue is officially formed. Tommy starts to invite Cam out to their shows at Whisky A Go Go, and she eventually decides that a break is much needed. Of course, she shows up the night Doc enters the picture and Elektra starts pressuring for the band to go on tour. 

~~~~~~~

Tommy, Mick, and Nikki found Cam about half an hour after she left the apartment. With some heavy convincing, Cam finally agreed the best choice was to live with Tommy at his parent’s house. When the Lee’s heard Cam’s story, recounted quickly and embellished with a lot of ‘fucks’ by none other than Tommy himself, they thankfully welcomed her into their home with open arms. Tommy scrounged up whatever he could money wise to help buy the basics for Grace, and was all too ready to give up his room and bunk on the couch. The band and Tommy’s parents helped find Cam a job within her first week of living in her new space. 

In the time it took to get Cam set up comfortably, the band had found their front man, Vince Neil, and started performing at a club on the Sunset Strip called Whisky A Go Go. It was definitely a rocky start based on what was heard from Tommy when he called Cam at work after the shows, but she knew that if anyone deserved to be famous, it was Tommy. 

“Cam, you should totally come to a show! Athena and my parents could watch Gracie and you can see your knight in shining armor in action!” Tommy yelled through the phone, helping Cam hear him over the loud thumping of the music in the background. Cam chuckled and ducked under a tray that a co worker was carrying. 

“Tommy, you know I’d love to, but I feel like the second I leave Gracie, she’s going to get taken away from me. I can’t lose the only piece of me I have left because I was out partying with my best friend and his band.” A sigh escaped Cam’s lips as she ran her fingers through her dark brown hair. Cam was grateful of her boss for allowing long phone calls, but they were only to happen over her twenty minute break. 

“Hey, Cam. Don’t think like that. You and I both know my family and I will fight tooth and fucking nail to protect you and that adorable fucking baby. I understand your fear, but I really want you to be around before we go fucking through the roof!” Tommy’s excitement made Cam smile sadly. She noticed a stern look coming from her manager, which led her to glance at her watch. 

“Tommy, I have to go. My break is almost up. I’ll consider coming to one of your shows, alright?” 

“Yeah, babe! Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you later, sweets!” Cam muttered a quick goodbye and hung up the phone, stumbling through the crowded kitchen and heading out to the dining room. 

“Hello. My name is Cameo, and I’ll be your server this evening. Could I get you guys started with something to drink?” She muttered her spiel, quickly scribbling down the family’s drink orders. Checking on her other patrons, Cam threw crumpled bills into the cash register, returning change and receipts to departing groups, bidding them a farewell as they headed towards the door. 

By the time she was able to leave, Cam had accumulated a decent amount of tips. She was good at her job, despite customers swearing at her for wrong orders that she accidentally swapped with another table. As she made her way home in the dark, discreetly brandishing a knife Nikki had gifted her, Cam thought about Tommy’s offer. 

‘Maybe a show would be nice. I mean it’s just one show, and we’ve been safe for two months. I deserve a break.’ Cam’s thoughts were swimming so fervently around her head that she almost didn’t hear the shuffling behind her. 

Hailing a taxi, Cam gave the driver Tommy’s address, only glancing at the person who followed her once a barrier was placed between them. Looking vaguely familiar, the car sped off before Cam could distinguish who had followed her. Throwing a twenty at the driver, grumbling at the instant decrease of food and diaper funds, Cam quickly ran inside her safe haven, involuntarily slamming the door behind her.  

“Cameo? Is that you, dear?” Tommy’s mother, Voula, called from her place in the living room. 

“Yeah, Voula, it’s me. Was Gracie any trouble?” Cam asked as she made her way to the older woman, getting comfortable on the couch after hanging up her coat and bag. 

“She’s an angel, Cam. You should be proud to be her mother.” A warm smile spread across Voula’s face. 

“Believe me, I am. I have a favor to ask you though: do you think you could watch Gracie longer than usual this weekend? I really want to watch Tommy’s band play, especially because he seems so excited about it.”

“Of course, dear. You deserve a break.” Thanking her, Cam hugged the woman who took her in and bid her a goodnight as they both turned in to sleep. Stripping her uniform, Cam silently changed into her sleepwear and looked at her daughter sleeping peacefully in the bassinet Athena had dug up from the depths of the garage. 

Humming to herself, Cam flicked on a flashlight, opening up a book that she had loved since high school: The Secret Garden. Unfortunately, Cam’s mind wandered back to the man who was following her. Eventually she snapped out of it when she realized her eyes were drooping intensely. Cam made herself comfortable in the bed, breathing in the scent that was caked into the sheets covering Tommy’s bed. Cam soon found herself asleep, dreaming of nothing but a high school aged Tommy and Gracie. 

~~~~~~~~~

The next day, Cam awoke to Grace’s soft cries. Hopping out of bed, she scooped her baby out of the bassinet. A knock on the door caused the mother to jump slightly, chuckling silently as she rocked Grace gently. 

“Come on in,” Cam called to the door, hearing it open with a slight creak. 

“Hey, sweets. I heard Gracie and figured I’d help you a little today.” Tommy entered and handed Cam a bottle filled with the exact amount of formula Grace had started eating as she rounded six months. 

“Tommy, you didn’t have to do that! Thank you though,” Cam muttered. The trio sat together on the bed as Cam began feeding Grace. The baby girl babbled as she suckled against the bottle happily, grasping the sides with her knuckles.

“How did you manage to get the greatest thing out of the shittiest relationship?” Tommy whispered, brushing his long fingers over her tiny feet, causing the baby to giggle at his touch. 

“I honestly have no idea, Tommy. Hey guess what?” Cam responded, turning her attention to the man next to her. Tommy hummed, signalling for Cam to continue. “I’m coming to your show tonight!”

“Really?! Jesus, Cam that’s great! What made you change your mind?” Tommy asked, his brown eyes shining brightly with excitement. 

“I was on my way home from work and I figured I deserved a break. It’s okay that I’m coming, right?” Cam suddenly found herself questioning if this was really a good idea. 

“Of course it is, Cam. Why else would I have invited you to every show?” They sat in silence after that, the only sounds filling the air being Grace’s grunts of happiness as she chowed down. Tommy stared at the two girls, utterly in love with the beautiful figures sitting beside him. He had dreamed countless times in school of the very moment he was witnessing, of course baby not included, but she was an amazing bonus. As Grace finished her bottle, Tommy gestured for Cam to hand over the infant, silently telling the mother to get ready for the day. 

“I have to go to work. I convinced my manager to give me tonight off if I switched my closing shift with Anna’s lunch, but I promise I’ll be there. It starts at seven, right?” The frantic mother gathered her uniform, turning to Tommy and melting at the sight of the drummer cradling her baby so delicately. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, seven. What are you gonna wear?” Cam froze in her tracks, completely forgetting about the scene aspect revolving around rock bands. 

“Oh shit, Tommy! What am I gonna wear?!” Tommy chuckled as he stood from the bed, gently placing Grace in her bassinet and walking to his closet. Thrusting open the door, he shuffled through his clothes, tossing a black Pink Floyd shirt behind him. He gestured for Cam to follow him to Athena’s room, tossing a pair of distressed blue jeans into her arms. 

“Wear that. You can keep the shirt by the way, it’s too small for me.”

“Thank you, Tommy. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a shower to take and a shift to get to.” Cam nudged Tommy out of her way and crossed the hall, entering the bathroom and locking the door behind her. 

~~~~~~~~

When Cam’s shift ended at 3, she was anxious to get home. As she sprinted through town, barreling through the house, she casually mentioned to Athena that her jeans were being borrowed, a simple ‘no problem’ thrown back in response. Tommy was feeding Grace her lunch, chuckling at Cam who floated back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom, mumbling to herself about everything she forgot. 

Around the tenth time she stormed in the room still in her uniform and bare faced, Tommy stood and placed a hand on Cam’s shoulder. 

“Hey, calm down, sweets. Take a breath and gather everything you need right now, then lock yourself in that fucking bathroom and don’t come out until you’re unrecognizable and absolutely fucking sexy.” Cam’s face flushed at Tommy’s comment. She looked down at the floor and nodded, gathering everything she needed to finalize her look. Ducking past Tommy, Cam made her way to the bathroom, following Tommy’s order diligently. She quickly exchanged her uniform for the outfit he picked out. Cam teased her hair until her arms were sore, then opted to do her makeup. She lined her hazel eyes with thick black liner and smacked a blood red lipstick on her full lips. Tommy’s words were true: when she was finished, Cam was fucking sexy. 

Entering Tommy’s bedroom for the final time before leaving, Cam topped her outfit with a leather choker and combat boots. Kissing her daughter goodnight, Cam walked into the living room, everyone freezing where they stood. 

“Wow, Cam. You look amazing! Your ass looks perfect in my jeans,” Athena commented, earning a light smack on the shoulder from Voula. 

“Cameo, you really do look lovely. Tommy had to leave, but there is a cab waiting for you outside,” Tommy’s dad explained, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Thank you. Okay well, Gracie is asleep and she should be down for the night. If not, a bottle should fix it. I borrowed a record from Tommy; Elton John. If she doesn’t seem to relax after the bottle, play ‘Your Song’ and she’ll be off to sleep in no time-” 

“Cam, we’ve got this. We’ve done this a million times, and Gracie is not that difficult of a baby. Now, go have fun.” Cam’s purse was pushed into her arms as she was shoved out of the house by Voula. Cam waved as she entered the cab, giving the driver the address of the club, preparing for the amazing night ahead of her. 

~~~~~~~

The show was amazing. Tommy snuck Cam backstage after the set ended and finally introduced her to Vince. The blonde was instantly enamored by Cam, but the glare that both Tommy and Nikki gave him were enough to make him reconsider his intentions. 

The after party was in full swing and everyone was having fun. A beer was in Cam’s hand, but bad memories were laced with drinking, so she painfully nursed the alcohol over the course of two hours. As the party escalated, Motley Crue was high and drunk out of their minds. Someone just as fucked up wandered around, asking everyone and everything if he could bump a line of coke. He even asked Cam more than once and attempted to rudely feel her up when he was denied. Nikki pushed him off of her and told him to get out, a fight beginning to boil. As the stoner threw a right hook at Nikki’s face, a tiny man jumped in from his corner and took the attacker out with a single hit. 

“Looks like you boys are gonna need a manager.” The band laughed as the stoner was thrown out of Nikki’s apartment. 

“Hey, you okay? You look a little frazzled,” Mick asked across the table, noting Cam’s shaking hands. 

“Um, yeah. I’m great. There’s just a lot happening at the moment.” Tommy overheard and wrapped an arm around Cam’s shoulders, gently placing a kiss to her temple. 

“Do you wanna leave? I can call you a cab,” Tommy offered. Cam quickly shook her head, leaning into Tommy’s embrace a little more. At some point, Tommy tossed his leather jacket over her and she was still wearing it as their record deal and possible tour were discussed. Cam glanced around the table and smiled, happy that she was finally safe and surrounded by people who loved her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@kellysimagines

A/N: What did you guys think of this part? Feel free to give me some pointers or things you want in the story and I’ll try my best to improve as the series goes on. BTW I am taking requests, so if anything strikes your fancy, go ahead and shoot me a message! Love you guys!

[5hfanfiction]

New Kind of Love ~ Chapter Six: Alone

Lauren was sat in her workplace; McDonald’s, on a stool, feeling completely emotionless—sat on the stool with her elbow on one knee, and her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

As she sat in front of the coffee machine, she thought back on her life—thinking back to all of the most memorable memories and moments.

If you asked her to create a timeline of the saddest moments of her life, it would be the easiest task she had ever been asked to do.

2003:

Lauren was only six years old when she moved all the way from California to Miami, Florida.

Her parents had convinced her that the move was just an early birthday gift, but the only catch was that she had to repeat a grade. Which she, being the naive six year old that she was back then, excitedly agreed to move upon hearing that she was receiving an ‘early birthday present.’

***

“This is for the best, Laur,” her mother whispered.

She had been crying ever since her parents told her that they were moving. The questions that flew through her mind were worrying her beyond belief.

How about all of my friends? What if my grades drop in the new school? What if someone starts to bully me?

Lauren didn’t respond, and her mother let out a drawn out sigh. Lauren’s face remained buried in her hands.

The room went silent, and all Lauren could hear was her parents whispering to each other.

She sniffled a couple of times, finally starting to calm down when her mother placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“This is just your…early birthday gift. You know…bigger house…better toys.”

Lauren finally looked up from her hands.

***

2007:

Ten years old. The year that Lauren’s mother had passed away. The year that Lauren had experienced her first real heartbreak.

***

Lauren walked through the front door; only to reveal her father crying hysterically at the dinner table. His sobs resounded and echoed throughout the household—harsher than gunshots.

She dropped her book bag and ran to him.

Her father almost never cried. Yet there he was; crying his eyeballs out for a reason Lauren wasn't quite sure she was ready to hear.

As soon as she approached the table, he stood up, and Lauren wrapped him in the tightest hug—squeezing his waist with all of the strength that she could muster.

She swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in her throat from remorse for her father before speaking up:

“What happened, dad?" she croaked out.

"Your mom.”

And it was all that he had to say before tears started welling in Lauren’s eyes. He didn’t have to say any more. Her mother’s death was the only occasion that would ever make her father cry.

Lauren’s dad didn’t tell her exactly what happened to her mother that day.

There was an extraordinarily faint grey area between wanting to know and not wanting to know. That’s where Lauren resided for nearly six years.

It was only at age fifteen that her father finally told her what had happened to her mother.

***

2014:

Seventeen years old—Sophomore year of high school. The emptiness started to settle in and began to develop into deep depression.

She contemplated cutting, and even suicide several times. It was only then that she was introduced to the emotional numbness that drugs and alcohol offered.

2015:

Eighteen years old—Junior year of high school.

As soon as her eighteenth birthday fell upon her, she got her first tattoo. Then, she started getting more. Soon enough, her body became a work of art—work of tattoo artists’ art on her body; beautiful, nonetheless.

She started to make an effort to stop doing drugs. Though, the withdrawals made it extremely difficult. She was beginning to just do drugs solely based on the fact that the withdrawals were too much for her to handle; encouraging her to fall right back into her addiction.

But, after a couple of months of going through the same cycle over and over again, she finally stopped.

That brings us here.

She honestly didn’t hate her job—working at McDonald’s for nearly minimum wage. Not that she loved it either. But it paid her well enough to pay the bills, and it kept her mind busy and off of everything going on in her life—and that’s all that mattered.

“Frappuccino with caramel drizzle,” her co-worker yelled, breaking her out of her thoughts with abruptness.

She quickly stood up and went back to work.

—-

Camila trudged through the hallways while tightly hugging her binder and textbooks to her chest—the same binder and textbooks that made her arms ache so vehemently every day.

When she finally made it to her locker, she lazily threw all of her belongings into it and replaced them with her Romeo and Juliet book.

Her favorite part of the day was always lunch, and even more so ever since Lauren so gracefully waltzed into her life.

She let out a huff of exhaustion and ever so slightly tugged her shirt down passed her shoulder—inspecting the bruise that had been present for almost three weeks. And she could have sworn that it was only getting worse.

She lightly pressed her index finger onto the bruise, resulting in excruciating pain shooting through her whole arm close to instantaneously.

Just then, she saw one of her best friends, Dinah Jane, walking towards her out of the corner of her eye. And she was quick to lift her shirt back onto her shoulder.

When she looked up to meet the gaze of her Polynesian friend, she was already too late in covering the bruise. Because her eyes were only met by another pair of sympathetic ones.

“Walz,” Dinah whispered, sympathy lacing her voice.

Dinah was the only one that knew about what went on in her house, and she never even knew the half of it. Camila managed to convince Dinah that her step father had only hit her twice, by covering up all of the other bruises that were so blatantly scattered across her body. It wasn’t that Camila didn’t trust people, it was always simply because people never seemed to know the right way to listen anymore. It was only fair to assume that they’d immediately think of calling for professional help when all Camila ever needed was for someone to listen.

“No, no. That wasn’t from him, I swear. One of the pictures on the wall dropped, and it landed right on my shoulder,” Camila lied. She was by no means a good liar, nor had she ever been, but as soon as she gets a new bruise from him, she comes up with a well thought up excuse. Just in case.

“Damn, Walz,” Dinah winced of sympathy pain at hearing her friend’s story.

Camila shut her locker and they made their way to the cafeteria together. Again, Camila had never been a good liar, and Dinah was never stupid or oblivious. Camila was just really good at hiding the truth. And she convinced herself that there’s nothing wrong with hiding the truth.

As soon as Camila started to veer in the direction of the school’s nature area, Dinah yanked at her arm. Luckily not the one with the bruise, but it still hurt. Dinah had always been the stronger of the two.

“Why don’t you come to lunch with us?” Dinah whined.

This is basically routine for Camila and her best friends. The problem was that her only friends were Normani Kordei, Ally Brooke, and Dinah Jane (excluding Lauren) and they all happen to be extremely outgoing people. Where they feed off of constantly being with others; Camila is an introvert, and feeds off of being alone.

“I can’t, Dinah,” Camila said, hoping that her mind would find an easy excuse to say no. The frown on her best friends’ faces was always the hardest part of denying their offer to go to lunch with them.

“Why not? What do you do during lunch anyways?”

“You know how much I don’t like it in there.”

“But if you sit with us, it’s not like you’re going to be alone. Out there, you’re alone,” Dinah stated, referring to the vacant nature area. And she wasn’t wrong, but Camila had always preferred to be anywhere other than that crowded cafeteria—even before she ever met Lauren.

“Not exactly,” Camila muttered to herself as her gaze involuntarily shifted to her shuffling feet. When she looked back up, Dinah’s jaw was dropped to the floor and Camila’s eyes widened; realizing that maybe she had said that a tad too loud.

“Do you have a secret boyfriend or something?”

Camila’s nervous heart began to race. How was she supposed to tell her friends that she had been spending lunch with the infamous Lauren Jauregui for nearly a month?

“No, Dinah. It’s not like that. I mean like…teachers pass by…and stuff,” Camila tried reasoning, but Dinah clearly wasn’t convinced. Because Dinah seemed so content with believing that she had a secret boyfriend.

“You know what, Dinah. I gotta go feed my tv,” Camila said, pointing her thumb behind her before practically running off to the nature area.

—-

90 minutes. Camila waited the whole duration of lunch time for Lauren to arrive. She sat under the tree and read Romeo and Juliet, waiting for Lauren to show up. She never did.

As lunch time started grinding to a close, she filled her head with viable reasons as to why Lauren never arrived. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she just left early. Maybe there was a family emergency.

She wasn’t mad at Lauren, just sad that the girl didn’t show up that day. Because as much as she wouldn’t like to verbally admit it, Lauren was slowly becoming her favorite part of every day.

—-

(Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading! Stay tuned cause I’ll be submitting a chapter to this tumblr page very frequently <3)

[captainsimagines]

RENT - Part 6

In which eight old friends in dire need move in together for one year. 

Warnings: language; mentions of drug overdose; mentions of drugs; PTSD; Bucky being stupid lol

Word Count: 4,800+

A/N: Is this a late AS FUCK update or what? I'm sorry, but writer’s block is a bitch. Enjoy, babes.

PART SIX

Natasha - “Tango: Natasha”

(5) (7)

TEN YEARS AGO

“I just... need some time for myself.”

Steve shuffled slightly on the hot concrete, head down and face somber. The extra heat this spring made soccer practice that much more difficult. Although, Natasha’s words added a foreign heat within his chest- one that he chose to ignore.

He didn’t want to look Natasha in the eyes because if he knew himself, he would break down sobbing in the middle of the quad. But surprisingly, he held it together and managed to look up for once, taking in her purple highlights mixed in somewhere with all that blonde, just blazing in the spring sunlight. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he replied, interlocking his fingers with hers for the last time. Natasha stuttered over her next few words, pulling her hand back and giving Steve an equally devastating grin.

“Alone, babe.”

He didn’t want to fight and he didn’t want to pressure her. All he could think about was Sam’s constant blabbering about love and how it never works. ‘If you love something or someone, let it free!’ Sam would cry, making his words even more dramatic with the sound effects he would include. Gunshots, bell noises, yodeling- literally anything you can think of to make Sam even more annoying than he already was.

But Steve ignored his inspirational words, letting go of Natasha physically but not emotionally.

Natasha stood from the playground bench and dusted herself off. “You understand, right?”

No, he didn’t.

“Yeah. Some time apart might do us good.”

With an almost unnoticeable nod, Natasha walked away and left Steve to ponder about what the hell just happened. Two years they had dated and Natasha woke up one morning calling it quits. Steve knew she must have had her reasons, but he forgot to ask what they were.

With a broken heart and a wad of cash in one hand, Natasha sprinted down the alleyway looking for a familiar face. Checking to see if the coast was clear, she jumped up and held onto the balcony railing, pulling herself up and unlocking the bedroom window. On the inside sat a couple men in a circle, each rolling up their own specialty treat.

“Where’s Scott?” Natasha asked, avoiding eye contact at all possible costs.

No one responded, but one man pointed through the doorway and resumed his work. Natasha followed instructions, heading through the wooden, swinging doors. Once in, she saw the man she bargained with almost every week.

“I’ve got his money,” Natasha sighed, holding up the cash and stuffing her free hand in her pocket. Scott looked up from his paperwork and hummed, holding his hand up in the air so Natasha could throw it.

“Think he’ll have the rest ready by next week?” Scott asked, putting the money in a nearby drawer.

“He’d be lucky to have half.”

Scott chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry you have to do this for him.”

Natasha gave a nonchalant shrug, struggling to hide her true feelings about the whole situation. “He’s my dad. If I can’t get him off the needle then the least I can do is make sure he doesn’t go into massive debt.”

Scott opened another drawer and threw Natasha a new iPod, with new headphones and everything. “For all your hard work.”

Natasha rolled the gift over in her hands and sighed deeply, “You don’t have to.”

Scott held his hand up, “Don’t even mention it. You deserve so much more. Now go, before the scum of the operation show up.”

Natasha always took that advice, leaving from the same window she climbed through to get in. And every single time she left Scott to run his business to enter her own reality, Natasha wanted to scream. She wanted to scream and run away, tell you, Sam, Bucky... Steve!- about everything she had to fix and suffer with everyday after school.  

Ironically, the entrance into her own reality allowed her to finally scream once she opened her father’s bedroom door to let him know she got home safely, that she was heartbroken over Steve and wanted to talk, that she had dealt with his debt and would most likely take care of it next month as well. Rolling him over and slapping him repeatedly did nothing- shaking him and yelling did nothing- and when she dragged his limp body from his messy bed and removed his clothing to submerge him in the freezing tub water, it did nothing. So, she called 911 and sat on the closed toilet seat while watching her father’s index finger twitch every so often, his eyeballs brushing alongside his thin blue eyelids as if he were peacefully dreaming.  

TEN YEARS LATER

Steve stumbled out of bed, stretching his sore muscles and cracking almost every bone. Looking over at the clock he noticed it was only six in the morning, December 24th, early as shit.  

He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders before standing from his bed to walk to the bathroom, eyes closed halfway and body sagging. Without thinking twice because let’s face it, he has only had roommates for three days now, he pushed open the bathroom door to take his morning piss. 

 “Oh my god!”  

Steve tumbled to the ground at the sudden yell, scrambling across the floor to find some sort of balance. “I am so sorry!” 

You held the towel close to your wet body, an expression of surprise and absolute mortification etched into your sleepy face. You rushed to the door to close it, to slam it in the pervert’s face, but you were quickly met with another tired individual who rubbed at his eyes in order to make sure he was seeing what he was really seeing. Except this individual- the exact individual responsible for your perplexed state- ran in with a handgun held high.  

“What’s going on?”  Bucky’s yells of confusion and Steve’s cries of “Bucky! Fuck! Bucky, put that shit down!” coupled with your outbursts of curses as well. You shielded your face, as if that was going to stop a bullet, and Steve just held onto the side of the door, looking in between you and the scared veteran.  

“Boy, if you don’t-“ Sam stumbled in, yawning until he noticed Bucky’s current weapon in hand. “Oh, hell!”  

It was a funny scene, a rather comical one, one that neither one of you would ever forget, but it caused mayhem. Two men cowering on the floor, you gripping onto the sink both angry and terrified, and Bucky just being... Bucky? No, he wasn’t in that moment because his sudden approach to the whole situation was a bit overdone and exaggerated. That was saying something- running in with a loaded handgun, and all. 

All of you fiddled with your fingers and knocked your knees together, avoiding eye contact with the one and only Peggy Carter.  

She stood there with her arms crossed, her left foot tapping, and her eyebrows raised in an almost comical sense. “Well?” 

It was silent for a second, just for a bloody second, before Steve spoke and if he had known any better, he would have realized that his input wasn’t really needed. “I didn’t even know Y/N was here...” 

The three of you facepalmed. You could literally feel Peggy’s cheeks redden in absolute anger.  

“Okay... let’s get one thing straight,” Peggy started, pacing slowly from one side of the room to the other. You were sat in between Steve and Sam, normal clothes on now, hiding your face in your hands. “Why is there a gun in the apartment?” 

You all looked at Bucky. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Ex-vet.”  

Peggy’s face seemed to change dramatically, almost as if she understood the obvious struggle. “I understand... but Bucky, I have to ask- why was your first instinct to pull out your gun?”  

Bucky looked to the floor, “Like you said, it’s an instinct.”  

Steve shuffled slightly, changing the focus for Bucky’s sake. “Why did no one tell me Y/N was here?”  

“Dude, you got home at like... two,” Sam answered. You decided to finally speak up.  

“I needed a place to crash for a couple of nights. Only until I get this creep to stop following me home.”  

Bucky was about ready to pull his gun again, obviously forgetting it was in the hands of the ex-cop. “Some guy is following you?” 

You brushed off his surprise, “It’s fine. Luke’s got it covered.”  

Sam almost flew off the couch, “Ooo! Who’s Luke?”  

Answering for you, Steve waved his hands. “Co-worker who could beat all of ours asses... at once.”  

“Alright,” Bucky fist-bumped. “I trust this, Luke!”  You rolled your eyes and stood from the couch.

“Yeah, and I also have to head to work.”  

“Woah, this early in the morning?” Sam asked.  You sighed and went to grab your backpack. “Lunch time is when we get the most customers. Working during that time is considered a freaking privilege.” 

It was silent again and no one knew what else to say. You pulled on your coat and grabbed your gym bag, looking over the people standing in the below-freezing living room. 

“Um... do you guys want me to pick up dinner?”

With a couple shrugs and slight mumbles, you nodded your head and sighed. Ducking your head to the floor, you quickly left the apartment with a heavy weight on your shoulders- the weight obviously resembling unspoken feelings about everything. It wasn’t love, it wasn’t jealousy- it was just so uncomfortable.

“Get up,” Wanda said, slamming the fluffiest pillow she could find onto Natasha’s back. “You have work, babe!”

Natasha groaned and rolled over, tucking her hornet’s-nest of bed hair underneath the mountain of pillows on the king-sized bed. 

“Babe, if you’re late again I don’t think I could convince your boss to let you keep your job.”

“Okay,” Natasha drawled out, rolling over and over until her leg hung off the side of the bed. “I’ll be right there.”

“Alright.” Wanda scurried across the bedroom, putting on her earrings and stepping into the high heels she had recently bought. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

Natasha finally rolled off the bed, still wrapped in the duvet and warm as a child on Christmas. “Yeah, definitely.”

Multi-tasking. That’s what Natasha does best. With a dead-end job and poor income from her side, Natasha felt as though her love for Wanda was all she had to offer. She loved her, with all her heart, and if that meant suffering while making hundreds of copies of a single sheet of paper and texting Scott about the money she just acquired, then so be it. 

Natasha struggled to leave that part of her life behind but the sudden rush it would give her was just too addicting and every time she brought home a little extra dough, Wanda would smile. And not one those, ‘I haven’t seen you all day, let’s go to bed’ smiles, but the one that clearly illustrates compassion and acknowledgment. She was trying, and Wanda realized that. 

No, Wanda did not know about Natasha’s side business- no one did nor will anyone ever know.  She no longer aided in her father’s downfall, but she did it for herself. Deal with purpose, Natasha would say, sneaking through every dark alley in New York City with her key positioned in between her index and middle finger. 

“Are the copies almost finished?” T’Challa asked, walking into the copy room to check on his new proposal. Natasha hummed her response, handing him the fifty copies she had already piled up. 

“Will you be taking an early lunch break as well, today?”

Natasha shrugged and answered with a quiet ‘sure’, giving T’Challa the last of the copies. 

Lunch breaks for Natasha consisted of two things: actual lunch and a drug deal almost always going right. It was the rarest occurrence for a drug deal to go horribly wrong, the only instance being when Natasha had to stab some guy in the neck to get him to leave her alone. But Scott didn’t mind, he really didn’t- the less of those crooked men buying his drugs, the better. A weird drug dealer Scott was, but that’s what made him the best and it’s what kept Natasha around for so long. 

“Care to join me?” 

Natasha leaned back just a little, surprised by her boss’s question. “Why, may I ask?”

It was T’Challa’s turn to shrug. “I just want some company.” 

So she agreed, quickly returning to her desk to shut down her computer and pick up her purse.  

“I wanted to tell someone. Even a complete stranger...”

Natasha rolled her eyes and sipped her drink casually. “I bring you your coffee everyday.”

T’Challa seemed to shrink, his hands coming to rest on his thighs as he stared at his untouched lunch.

“I’m sorry about that,” he admits, looking around the restaurant, at nothing in particular. 

“It’s not even my job,” Natasha continues, picking at her fries now and debating whether she should challenge her boss even more. “When I made you get my coffee, it was your job. Interns get coffee.”

T’Challa tried his best to hide his smirk, finally lifting his full burger to his mouth. 

“I’m not meant to get your coffee, boss,” Natasha declared, crossing her arms and staring at the man whose mouth was currently full of food. “Interns, I tell ‘ya.”

“I admit I make you get my coffee because you annoyed me with that bowl-cut you once sported.”

Natasha’s face twitched slightly but in an amusing way, allowing T’Challa to label this lunch as friendly and overdue. “My girlfriend was never good with scissors. It was the only style I could manage.” 

T’Challa nodded, “You will no longer get my coffee.”

“Wow, my prayers have been answered.”

“Because I’m quitting.”

Natasha spit out her french fry and watched it land near her boss’s soda. The two were silent for a moment before Natasha reached over and grabbed the potato, wrapping it in a napkin. 

“Quitting?”

“I don’t want to be apart of the mess my father has made. I don’t want my name anywhere near it.”

“So, your plan is to run?”

“Excuse me?”

Natasha no longer sipped her drink but gulped it, nervousness spilling from the sides of her lips. “I mean, you could stay and fix it. But if you want to quit, then quit.”

T’Challa couldn’t remember the last time he spoke to someone who wasn’t trying to sign his name onto a piece of paper. It was sort of comfortable and new, a feeling T’Challa used to be well acquainted with. With a change in position and a whole new outlook on life, it was almost distasteful in the eyes of capitalism. He should be destroying buildings and constructing new and shinier ones, writing checks and stamping the outbox letters, attending gala after gala to bring home the prettiest woman there! All for the cameras, all for the spotlight, and for what exactly? 

“I am not running.”

“I take it back,” Natasha stated, slurping the ice cubes from her empty glass. “But it’s what an intern would do.” 

 “You were met with a what this morning?”

You had to stifle your giggles after telling Luke about your rude awakening. The shower did nothing to freshen you up, but the gun, oh that worked perfectly. You quickly extracted the dollar bills from your clothing to hand them over to Luke for safe keeping. Not many of the girls did it, but everyone trusted Luke. If you didn’t have a break to put the money you earned for that hour in your locker, he would gladly keep it safe in a respected pile. 

“All three of these guys I went to high school with. It was like choir all over again, except with guns instead of horribly practiced piano.”

Luke shook his head in disapproval, sliding a full glass of beer to the man down the isle. “Why does a man suffering with PTSD have a gun, anyway?”

You set down your tray of empty glasses and stared at Luke in confusion. “PTSD?”

“Sounds like a bad case if his first instinct was to kill.”

You sucked in a single ragged breath, focusing on Luke’s chin while you formulated your response to that. Bucky? PTSD? Sure, you knew he was excited to join the army after high school and ‘save the world’, he would say. He definitely wasn’t the same man considering ten years had passed since you last saw him- what, with the full grown beard, muscular build, and constant smoking habit. Oh, you could smell his breaks each time he left his bed in the middle of the night to smoke through the broken window in the living room. But PTSD? How hadn’t you figured that out by just this morning’s encounter?

“You think?”

Luke sighed and nodded, “The guy probably feels safe with that gun under his pillow. That’s enough info.”

You grimaced, “I don’t feel safe knowing it’s even there.”

“Understandable. But what are you going to do? Take it away from him?”

You chuckled slightly, picking the tray back up now that Luke changed the empty glasses to full ones. “It already has been. Steve’s neighbor took it without even asking.”

“You planning to stay there again tonight?”

You groaned, “I’m picking my shit up after my shift.”

Luke opened his mouth to speak but your boss rounded the corner to interrupt. 

“Do I pay you to talk to the whores?”

Luke breathed through his nose and scrunched the napkin in his hand. You ignored your boss’s gruesome remark and instead looked over at your friend, silently begging him not to risk it. Luke resisted, like always, and whispered a small ‘sorry’. You gave Luke a little grin, walking over to the booth with the drinks and your famous hip sway.

“Could you just keep her company for a few minutes while I arrange the paperwork? She came all the way from the upper east-side because she heard my classes were just that good.”

Steve sighed but agreed anyway, because refusing the simplest request from Peggy was near damn impossible. “Sure thing.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Peggy cheered, grabbing her phone to head to her small office space. “I won’t be long! She’ll be here any minute!”

“I’ll make sure she enjoys herself.”

“Don’t scare her off, Rogers!” 

“I won’t-!”

“Peggy?”

A small yet shrill voice sounded from the side of the studio. Peggy waved at her new customer.

“Wanda! So glad you could make it. Steve, here, will keep you company while I handle something real quick. I’ll be right back!”

“O-“ Peggy left before she could finish her sentence. “-K.” 

“Um, hi! I’m Steve and I probably can’t teach you tango but I’m good company.”

Wanda set her stuff down and walked toward the middle of the room. “It’s alright.” 

The air was thin for some unknown reason, but Wanda could have sworn she had the right idea. His last name sounded familiar, oh so familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. There was a heavy weight in her stomach and she begged silently for Peggy to come back. “Want to dance anyway?” 

Steve chucked, “I don’t really dance.”

“Why are you here, then?”

Steve released a long “Uhhhhh...” before he crouched down to check if his shoes were neatly tied. 

“You sound familiar,” Wanda verbally admits, walking over to her bag to get her dancing shoes. “Not your voice, obviously, but your name.”

“I’m not really recognizable,” Steve joked, patiently waiting for Wanda to put on her shoes or for Peggy to save this awkward encounter. 

“Did we go to college together?” 

“I went to NYU for like... a year.”

Wanda knew. She knew who Steve was. It took a few seconds, a few quick glances, but she knew who was standing in front of her. There was no way she could miss it considering Steve’s name spilled from Natasha’s lips every single day. Steve used to say this- Steve used to do that!- Steve was my first love!- it would never end. And it never bothered Wanda before because there wasn’t a time in her life where she thought she would ever meet the guy. 

“Nevermind.”

She was going to nudge it out, reveal their similarities in partners, out of spite and a little out of pride. 

“My girlfriend was going to go there but she decided to go to community college instead.” 

“No shame in that,” Steve said, walking over to the stereo to start Peggy’s music and completely oblivious.

Wanda pushed further. “Yeah, Natasha was always destined for great things anyway!”

Steve stumbled a bit, clicking the buttons and blinking repeatedly. It was like he was slapped in the face with her constant, agitating tone. “That’s nice!”

Well, what else could he say? It was only a coincidence, Steve thought. There was no way the world was that small. However, Steve wasn’t stupid and knew there was a catch with this woman. If he ever knew Natasha, then he would understand the reason Wanda had traveled to the depths of fucking Brooklyn to take a dance class with a complete stranger. It was the same feeling Steve experienced when he was dating her- a feeling Wanda, without a doubt, was suffering under.

So he decided to play Wanda’s game for a while longer, nodding along to whatever ‘new’ information Wanda fed him about Natasha- how she dyed her hair red after the blonde completely killed her hair, how she studied in communications, and how she works for a brilliant martial arts studio in the winter. 

Steve wasn’t about to lose this battle no matter how much he wanted to laugh at her silly attempts at picking at his insecurities. He wanted to catch Wanda completely off-guard, and that’s exactly what he did. 

“Natasha sounds so different from when I used to sleep with her.”

It was low. A low blow. An incredibly derogatory, pitiful, but necessary low blow. 

“Excuse me?”

The music sounded lowly, a quiet tango enveloping the two rivals. “I didn’t mean it in-”

“What did you mean, Steve?” Wanda seethed, angry that her attempts at making Steve crumble snapped back at her. The comment wasn’t even directed toward her and Wanda almost begged for it to be, but the comment centered around the love of her life. Steve insulted Natasha and all she wanted was for Steve to insult her.

“You were just going on and on! You obviously knew who I was!” Steve yelled quietly, not wanting to alert Peggy of the commotion.

“No,” Wanda said, reaching for Steve’s hands and interlocking their fingers in a tight stance, their chests resting against each other’s. “You meant something else.”

A rock to hide under sounded so good right about now. “I just wanted to make you mad.”

Wanda didn’t appreciate his response, even if she did egg him on. She was hurt, emitting the emotion throughout the studio to the one person she believed deserved to be on the receiving end. 

“Hey, you’re dating my ex. Small world, but you don’t have to make me jealous about it. It’s been ten years.”

Wanda stuttered when Peggy pulled the door to her office open, both her and Steve standing close in a not-so compromising position. It felt like one, though.

“Hey! You’re dancing! Okay, I’ll only be a few more minutes!”

Then the door shut again, the music seemed to become louder, and the anger radiating from the small girl in front of Steve clogged his brain. 

“This is weird.”

Steve twirled Wanda once, impressed by how quickly she snapped back into his arms, almost as if she was challenging him again with freakin’ tango. “It’s weird.”

Wanda groaned, backing up slightly but still allowing Steve to lead. “Very weird.”

“Fucking weird.”

“I’m so mad that I don’t know what to do,” she admitted, taking the liberty of leading from now on since Steve was so horrible at the simple task. “She skipped dinner and I had reservations! I was freezing while waiting for her outside that damn restaurant and to top it all off I’m with you!”

Steve swayed to the music, studying Wanda’s swirls of madness creeping from the sides of her eyes. It was familiar and from that moment on, Steve used the music and dancing to channel her anger from her. “Oh, I know this act.”

Wanda released her grip from one of Steve’s hands, unraveling and spreading her arms out. “What act?”

“It’s called, the Tango: Natasha.”

Wanda completely untangled herself from Steve, pushing him away to stare in bewilderment. “That sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, crossing his arms and smirking. “It’s a dark, dizzy merry-go-round where she keeps you dangling and you never know what to expect! She skipped dinner, you said?”

Wanda shuffled uncomfortably, “You’re wrong.”

“She skipped dinner and her excuse was that she simply forgot, right?”

Wanda huffed a loud breath of air, “It’s different with me.”

“But you toss and you turn because her cold eyes can burn, and you’re waking up to the same routine all over again. Right?”

Wanda shook the thoughts from her head. Everything Steve was saying was unbelievably true, so sickeningly true, and her stomach was starting to churn. “Did you swoon when she walked through the door?”

Steve grinned, looking at his feet. “Everytime, so be cautious.”

Wanda rolled her eyes but persisted, “What did you think she was doing every time she skipped out?”

Steve sighed heavily and responded with a shrug. He held his hand out for her to take, eager to start the dance again instead of talking about an ex he hadn’t even spoken to since graduation. “I never assumed the worst of her. I loved her. She was just so secretive that it was slowly killing me.”

Wanda followed Steve around the studio, absentmindedly dancing for a while before she pushed him away again. Steve stumbled back but before he could ask why she did it, Wanda practically screeched, “She cheated!”

“Woah, woah! What makes you think she cheated on me?”

“No, not with you! Even though I see why she would, but she cheated on me!”

Steve stuffed the back-handed compliment deep within his chest. It wasn’t the right time to dissect that proposal. Still, he didn’t feel like comforting his ex-girlfriend’s, new girlfriend- someone he barely met- because it was just so weird. 

“I doubt Natasha would-”

“I’m defeated, I should give up right now,” Wanda sputtered almost incoherently, running over to her bag to pack her things. 

“Hey, don’t just assume-”

“Okay! Let’s dance!”

Steve stood completely still, eyes dramatically landing on Peggy and Wanda, Peggy and Wanda, until he threw his hands up. “Well, that’s my cue! I’ll start fixing the floor tomorrow, Peggy.”

Peggy happily giggled, unaware of the fight and revelations that just sneaked into the hard cracks on her studio floor. 

“Where did you say he was?��� Natasha asked, climbing through the all-to-familiar window. 

“Out back.” 

“Thanks.”

The apartment smelled like smoke. Not from a cigarette or a fire, but days old smoke that made even the heaviest drug addict sick to their stomach. Scott didn’t dare stay there for more than two hours. He only sat, received the money his clients made that week, and left. Each client came and went, one after the other with a fifteen minute division between each of them. No one knew each other, no one fought, and no one would even know they were working for Scott unless they stayed at his place for more than requested. 

“Got it all?”

Natasha threw the wad towards him and lifted a single finger.  “Don’t underestimate me.”

“I never do,” Scott smiled, taking out his checkbook to write the monthly allowance. “Still coming to the workshop this week?”

Natasha nodded, gladly accepting her earnings. “Teaching people how to fight? A fun hobby.”

“Well, when I’m not dealing heroin it’s a wonderful pastime!”

Natasha smirked and waved a small goodbye to her second boss. However, her day seemed to tragically rust because there was always that one person who found out- someone who didn’t follow the rules- and could possibly ruin the whole operation. 

“I didn’t know Lang employed women.”

Stepping from the window onto the ground, Natasha clicked her key and shoved it between her fingers. She wanted to kill him, scream at him for pissing on Scott’s brilliant business tactics. 

“You’re fifteen minutes early.” 

The man shrugged and turned his head to chuckle, allowing Natasha to scan his body up and down. His pale skin made the smallest scratches visible, even the noticeable needle marks along his arms. If Natasha took anything away from this type of business, any rule that could follow her for the rest of her life, it would be that no one experiments with the merchandise if you’re actively selling it. 

But Scott wouldn’t argue with it, because the more people he got hooked was just income. 

“I see no problem here. Our little secret,” the man snickered, stepping around Natasha and climbing through that damn window. 

A/N: WOW FUCKING KILL ME! I PROMISE THE NEXT UPDATE WILL BE WONDERFUL LMFAO I HATE MYSELF!

TAG LIST: @4theluvofall @ihavemymomentsstill @sumafamouxx @chook007 @shrekssunflowers @seems-sosimple @evyiione @fireflyloki28 @smollyssa 

[simsofsanmyshunoandmore]

Christopher and Rachel Astin lost their parents to drug addiction.

The last saturday of winter seemed to be just another day for Christopher. He woke up and prepared breakfast while Rachel and his parents remained asleep until lunch. At 10 in the late morning, Christopher decided to wake his parents up; an exhausting task he did every morning. Even from outside the room, the room reeked of its usual stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke. When Christopher opened the door, he saw his parents’ lifeless bodies on the floor. Surprisingly, Christopher sort of expected this would happen one day or so. He breathed in deeply and sighed. He closed the door behind him and dialed 911 to relay the information. Paramedics came to their house minutes after to fetch his parents who had already expired some time during the night.

Christopher raised Rachel on his own since then. He took the responsibility of maintaining their house, paying the bills, and making sure Rachel got all her needs at home and in school. It was tough balancing his life at work, and his life at home. His income as a copy editor wasn’t always enough to tell the truth. 

In his job, Christopher took all sorts of tasks to get himself promoted or have a raise even for the slightest percentage. He got what he needed, but not what his efforts deserved. Chirstopher fell to alcoholism and womanizing to escape the life his parents left behind. Troubled about how to pay a spring month’s bills, Christopher wanted to give up. He felt his body getting weaker from stress, work and his unhealthy lifestyle. One night, he collapsed right outside his workplace and his co-workers had to rush him to the hospital.

Dr. Alexander Grace was a handsome young physician about Christopher’s age. He was sympathetic of Christopher’s medical situation and arranged all his papers when Christopher’s co-workers left. When Christopher woke up, he was looking for Rachel. He plugged out his IV and attempted to rush home but fell on the floor just when he was about to run down the stairs. Dr. Grace rescued him and asked why he was in a hurry. After knowing that Christopher’s younger sister was home alone at 8 in the evening, Dr. Grace volunteered to check up on her as his shift ended minutes ago. He promised to bring Rachel to the hospital and keep her company while Christopher recovers from his condition. He let Rachel sleep in his quarters as he just took another shift to look after the siblings.

Morning came and Christopher felt somehow better than the previous night. He was conscious enough to realize he wouldn’t be able to pay for the hospitalization. Dr. Grace offered to cover it for him for the meantime and come by to repay it some other time. The debt connected both of them for a while. Dr. Grace insisted that Christopher needed some time to unwind so he offered to have dinner with him every month when Christopher was to pay a percentage of his debt at every meeting. Christopher agreed to the set-up and enjoyed the platonic relationship for a few months.

Dr. Grace had been in the profession for only a few years. He wanted to be a novelist, but his father insisted that he should take a career in the medical field. Feeling in debt of his father’s mercy to allow him to embrace his homosexuality, Dr. Grace let his father control the other aspects of his life. When he graduated from medical school, his father passed away, and he felt that he should just stick with the path he was rooted on.

A few months since their meeting, Christopher and Dr. Grace, Alex as he preferred to be called at that point, went out more frequently apart from their scheduled monthly set-up. They had coffee, dinner, unwinding at the park, and some sharing of their own write-ups. Christopher was never in love before so he was oblivious to what he felt towards Alex. However, he knew it was different from any relationship he had. When he was promoted to be a front page writer, he figured to buy Alex a gift for his support and friendship. He bought him a gold bracelet. When they met up the next time, he brought his gift, with a few realizations he had the night before that. He didn’t know Alex had similar feelings.

They were each others’ first boyfriends. They admitted that they may not have labelled those walks and dinners as dates, but it sure felt like one the moment they confessed their feelings to each other. His same sex relationship gave Christopher more visibility at work, encouraging the board to give a social justice column in their paper and that Christopher should be the lead writer. This promotion paid enough for him and Rachel’s bills so he thought of a great idea to blend Alex more into his life. Christopher officially proposed to Alex to be his husband and that they should live together as a couple. Alex loved the idea and moved in with no reluctance or fear. He trusted the only person he was brave enough to open up to. The same night, Christopher offered Alex to quit his post as a doctor and stay at home to focus on writing. It was a big step for Alex, so he figured to think more about it for the meantime.

Alex started to take classes on creative writing at his free weekends. After his classes, Christopher and Rachel would pick him up and go straight to Selarano park to spend the day relaxing. When Alex finished writing his first poem collection which was received well by publishers, he resigned from his job to write his first novel.

On the other hand, Christopher’s career went more smoothly, earning enough to support the three of them. Rachel got into high school eventually, graduating as the valedictorian from middle school. She looked up to Alex and Christopher as her own fathers as they both took care of her as their own child. Christopher materialized the family he wished his parents were for them. The bond he thought they deserved may have come a bit later in life, but he was satisfied to have it for himself even at that point. He married Alex a year after to legalize their union and to make a promise to be together for the rest of their lives.

Marriages weren’t perfect, even for gay couples who had gone through a lot. When Christopher and Alex moved to a bigger house in Willow Creek, a new chapter of their lives unfolded; something neither of them expected nor wanted to happen.

Christopher was invited by their next door neighbors for a welcome party after he brought them cookies the previous day. Alex declined the invitation, claiming he’s sick when he really just didn’t want loud parties. Around 3 in the morning, Alex woke up and Christopher still hadn’t come home. Alex put on his robe and went next door to check up on him. The party was still loud and lights were playing from inside the house. When he peeked from the window, he was surprised from what he witnessed. Christopher was in the middle of an orgy, drugged and ecstatic as two guys shared his body.

It destroyed Christopher’s character in Alex’s eyes. Heartbroken, Alex called his relationship off with him the next day Christopher was sober. He moved out the moment he got a small cabin in Glimmerbrook and lived there alone. For a couple of years, Christopher tried to win him back by sending flowers, or talking to him once again. Alex refused to reconnect, until Rachel talked to him before heading off to college. She asked Alex to give her brother another chance as he crumbled to depression since they separated. Christopher got demoted to his old job as a copy editor after negative reviews on his column.

Alex missed him in all honesty. The anger had long subsided, but he thought to isolate himself instead for doing such a cruel thing of leaving Christopher behind. After new year’s eve, Alex visited their house at Willow Creek and brought food he made for Christopher the previous night. Christopher welcomed him with a very tight hug as he cried for Alex to come back. Alex refused to. Instead, he invited Christopher to live with him again at Glimmerbrook, where he renovated the house for the both of them using his inheritance money from his parents. Alex apologized for leaving and breaking their vows to each other. Christopher apologized for the hurt and disappointment he may have caused them, but promised that there wasn’t a single day he stopped wishing to have a simpler life as long as he’s married to the man he loved.

Christopher quit his job from the paper and refocused on his marriage. This time, Alex’s income from his royalties on his 4 best sellers, were enough to pay the bills. Christopher decided to take the same route as Alex and focus on writing Non-fiction books instead. He wanted to reclaim his reputation as a social justice writer and write about addiction, homosexuality and marriage.

Together, they planned to re-take their vows in the middle of spring. Their savings bought them a small ceremony at Willow Creek park and 3 nights at Granite Falls for the honeymoon. This time, they had no neighbors, but even if they had, they weren’t worried anymore. 2 years apart was enough to teach them the importance of each other in their lives and from their own vows at their wedding, they would do everything to not be separated anymore, anyhow. They both wanted to live a simple, quiet life together and their cabin at Glimmerbrook seemed to be the ideal setting for that aspiration. Every morning they get up, see the familiar face, hear the chirping birds and smell the fresh air that swept through the brook and valley behind their house. It was a dramatic decade for the both of them, but what mattered most the first morning in their cabin as a remarried couple was the thought that they still both lived happily ever after.