Not mine! Again all credit goes to Patrick Tree Stump on Tumblr. The work is really amazing! I'm shook by how well she/he writes. 

Looking into the mirror, you took a deep breath. This could possibly be your big break. You've had Tinder dates before, but everyone had seemed stuck up or weird or just plain rude. This one, he seemed nice, and down to earth. His name was Frank and you would be meeting him in a short amount of time, at a fancy restaurant, for your first date. He was very kind, and messaged you several times, even gave you a phone call, before meeting. You were interested in learning more about him, seeing as his bio was simply just saying his name and where he lived, but you trusted that maybe he'd finally be the right one.
Scanning the room full of people, you cautiously walked up to the receptionist, readjusting your outfit and fixing your hair before clearing your throat. "Reservation for two, Iero," you explained.
"Oh yes," the lady nodded. "Right this way."
She led you to a table, where you were eager to finally meet Frank for the first time, face to face. You blinked twice when she stopped, gesturing you towards a table with a short guy, covered in several tattoos, messy hair, wearing a black shirt, and grinned upon seeing you. "What the fuck?" you blurted out as you made eye contact.
"Well you look awfully fucking fancy," he raised his eyebrows. You glanced at the lady who had left and hesitantly sat down across from him.
"You told me we have dinner reservations," you stated slowly. "I thought it would be something formal."
"Well you thought wrong," he shrugged, leaning back in his seat. "I'm an easy guy, no need for the elegant shit. Just come as you are."
"You look pretty laid back for a first date," you narrowed your eyes, almost wanting to leave already and not even stay for an appetizer.
"Looks can be deceiving," he reminded.
"Right..." you drew out the word, trying to contemplate whether it was best to dart out the entrance or take a side door.
"So what do you do for a living?" he wondered. "I'd like to get to know you more."
"Oh," you were caught off guard. You made small talk with him as a waiter came by and took your order, pouring you both a glass of wine.
"I'm a musician in a rock band," he explained. "I play guitar."
"A rock band?" you raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah," he nodded. "It's pretty rad."
"Sounds um, interesting," you swallowed uncomfortably. You hadn't expected this. You thought it would be someone sophisticated, dressed up like you, appearance flattering and behavior even more impressive. However, you were stuck here with a messy, tattooed, loud chewing, voice raising, cussing, rock band guitarist.
"You don't have to be so reserved you know," he shrugged. "You can say or do whatever you want, I don't give a shit."
"Maybe I like being reserved," you argued. "It's not always a good thing to take all the attention."
"I don't know," he muttered. "It seems sort of boring."
"My life is boring?" you challenged. "Being organized and having my life in order is a bad thing?"
"I never said it was a bad thing," he rolled his eyes, stabbing a piece of his meal with his fork and sticking it in his mouth, chewing furiously. "I'm just saying it would get old really fast for me."
"What are you implying?" you sighed. "I should drop everything and pick up a guitar, scream lyrics in some teenage boy band, wear eyeliner and get tattoos all over? Huh?"
"I never fucking said that," he shook his head, cracking his neck carelessly. "I'm just telling you that a lifestyle like yours isn't the thing for me."
"You know what?" you took a breath, trying to compose yourself, extremely frustrated. "I don't think this date is the thing for me."
"Then leave," he offered. "I assumed I'd be the one stuck with the bill."
"So you want me to pay for the bill now, huh?" you stared at him, horrified he'd even think that would be acceptable.
"I don't know," he chuckled. "You seem pretty riled up. Why don't you stay for dessert at least?"
"I think I've stayed long enough," you gave a forced smile. "I'm going to go now. You have a good day Mr. Iero."
"You too y/n," he waved you goodbye. You groaned, exhausted with his antics, and walked out the door, going to your car and hoping you would never have to see that man again.
On the ride home, you couldn't help but let his words get to you. Your life was sort of boring, yeah. You stuck to a daily routine, worked at your job each week, did what you were supposed to, followed rules, didn't really tiptoe out of your comfort zone. You liked where you were and you didn't want to change it. People like Frank, they were crazy. They constantly needed business, craziness, attention, something happening all the time. They were magnets to the chaos. He just wasn't someone for you. You took a deep breath, trying to clear your thoughts, and went to sleep. This would all be over. No more Tinder dates, no more searching for love, no more restaurant reservations. You were going to be content and single and alone. And you were going to be just fine.
The next week progressed like usual. You went to work, then went home, and occasionally talked to your friends and family. Things were normal, nothing out of the ordinary, and you thought things had died down finally. You hadn't received a message or phone call from Frank since the disaster dinner, and decided to delete the conversations and take him out of your contacts. It was the weekend and you were sleeping in when you received the call. You saw it was an unknown number and groaned, thinking that it was most likely Frank trying to contact you, and you almost declined it, but your curiosity got the best of you. "Hello?" you answered the phone. "It's y/n."
"Good morning y/n. I'm afraid there is an urgent matter that needs to be catered to," the voice responded. "My name is Mrs. Scarlet and I will be handling the arrangements." It was not Frank.
"What might the problem be?" you wondered, becoming worried.
"I think it would be best if you came to our facility and we talked with you there," the voice explained. After an address and a reassurance, you were getting dressed and taking a deep breath, driving to a building downtown. You couldn't seem to understand what might be going on or why you were roped into this mess, but the lady on the other end sounded genuine, and you felt a need to at least figure out what was going on.
When you arrived, you told them your name, and they led you to a room. When the door opened, you immediately made eye contact with Frank, and both of your eyes widened. "What?" you gaped, confused.
"Woah! What the fuck is y/n doing here?" Frank asked, standing up from his seat.
"Please sit down," Mrs. Scarlet sighed. "Both of you."
"I don't know what's going on but I'm sure you have the wrong person," you began to protest as you sat down in the seat beside Frank, across from Mrs. Scarlet. She sat at her desk, pulling papers out of an envelope and handing them to both you and Frank. The first page had two pictures, one of Lyn-Z Way and her husband Gerard.
"Do you know this couple?" Mrs. Scarlet questioned.
"Yeah, Lyn-Z and I are good friends," you explained. "We went to high school together, we see each other sometimes, we're close."
"And you, Mr. Iero?" Mrs. Scarlet inquired.
"Of course I know Gerard," he shrugged. "He's my band mate, my best friend, we've worked together for years. What's wrong?"
"The two of them died in a tragic car accident several days ago," she informed. Both you and Frank were stunned. Your heart sunk in your chest. The last time you saw Lyn-Z was a couple weeks ago, you had gone to get coffee and catch up on things.
"That's horrible," you murmured, refusing to let tears rise in your eyes.
"Yes, it's quite an unfortunate thing to happen," Mrs. Scarlet nodded. "I assume you both know about their daughter, Bandit. She's extremely young, still only but a child."
"Oh god," Frank's face fell. "Is she okay?"
"She was left at home, thank goodness," Mrs. Scarlet reassured. "She is still alive. But she needs someone to care for her. She is still very young and has a lot to learn."
"So why were we called here?" you asked.
"Turn to the next page," she instructed. You did so, glancing at Frank. There was a photocopied page of a letter, written in Gerard's handwriting, with both of their signatures at the bottom. "They had said, in the rare coincidence that they might both pass away at the same time, that Bandit would be put into both of your custody, and you two would care for her."
"Both of us?" you eyed her strangely. "Together?"
"Why us?" Frank questioned. "I'm no good with kids! And I doubt y/n is either."
"Hey!" you snapped angrily.
"Look, it was not my decision to make. It is written here and it is issued by them. It would have to be together, yes, for that is what they asked. I assume you are both good friends of the couple, people they would trust, someone they thought was suited for the job. They would not have done this as a joke, I'm sure they did this for a reason," Mrs. Scarlet explained. "Care for Bandit begins tomorrow. The two of you will be living together in one household, and seeing as Frank lives mainly on the tour bus and y/n is always cooped up in an apartment, I have made arrangements for the two of you to stay in the Way's house. It is where Bandit has lived all her life, and it's a place she knows and loves. Already being familiar with her surroundings, it would be much better for the two of you to raise her there."
"We're going to move in together," Frank stated flatly. "And raise a kid."
"Essentially, yes," Mrs. Scarlet agreed. "But please, do take into consideration, this is Lyn-Z and Gerard we are talking about. They are counting on you, depending on you to make this work. And if not for them, then please at least do this for Bandit. She is still so young and scared, left alone in this world, with nobody to care for her. It's the least you can do for this family."
"Okay," you and Frank both sighed. "Anything for the Ways."
The next day you showed up to the Way's house with most of your essentials. You were told most of Lyn-Z's stuff would be cleared away soon, but you argued, saying you would be honored to use her things. You hated how quickly people were to try and attempt to erase whatever Lyn-Z and Gerard already had in place. You tried telling them that you'd much rather have most things stay the safe, and although you used Bandit's sake as your excuse, it was secretly more for yours. You would miss the way things used to be in the house, when you would have a drink with Lyn-Z and watch Gerard draw while Bandit crawled around on the floor. Now, the house seemed to empty, their presence so distant, a gloomy vibe hanging in the air as you entered.
Instantly, you spotted Mrs. Scarlet on the couch holding baby Lyn-Z. "There you are," she beamed. "You ready to start?"
"Yeah," you replied. "Um, where's Frank?"
"He's coming soon," she reassured. "He's having a little trouble with traffic."
"Ah, I see," you nodded slowly.
"You want to hold her?" she asked. "You might as well get used to it."
"Absolutely," you smiled, Bandit's outstretched hands making grabby motions for you to pick her up. "Come here baby."
"Y/n," she whispered. Her face crinkled into a smile when you kissed her on the head, pulling her close and bouncing her lightly in your arms.
"Sorry I'm late," Frank apologized. "I was caught in traffic."
"Yay!" Bandit squealed, eyes lighting up when she spotted Frank. "Uncle Frankie!"
"Oh," you frowned at her sudden loss of interest in you, her wiggling out of your grasp and instantly crawling towards Frank on the carpet, watching as he dropped his suitcase to pick her up.
"I assume she is in good hands," Mrs. Scarlet sighed. "Good luck to both of you."
"Thanks," you waved goodbye as she left. "We're going to need it."
You turned around, watching as Frank handed her a box of crayons and a piece of paper, scribbling doodles with her on the floor. "What?" he asked, catching you staring.
"I thought you said you weren't good with kids," you recalled.
"I'm not!" he protested.
"Sure," you rolled your eyes.
"You can come join us, you know," Frank offered, handing you a green crayon. "If we're going to be a family, we've got to learn to get along, right?"
"Right!" Bandit cheered happily, attempting to draw a flower on her paper.
"Yeah," you nodded, trying to be positive. "Okay."
The rest of the day wasn't that horrible. The three of you drew pictures and colored until she grew bored, and then you all sat on the couch and turned on one of her favorite TV shows. You fed Bandit alphabet soup and Frank took her on a walk outside while you cooked dinner. Later on, you helped her blow bubbles on the porch and Frank read her a couple books until she got sleepy. While you got her dressed in her pajamas, Frank decided to do the dishes from earlier. You two actually proved a pretty good team. After tucking her in and both of you placing kisses on her forehead and reassuring her that there was no monster underneath the bed, you turned off the lights and closed the door, both you and Frank letting out a heavy sigh. "Not that bad," Frank laughed, giving you a high five.
"For the first day, I'd say we did a pretty good job," you agreed.
"Uh, it's still only eight or so," Frank mentioned. "You want to join me in the living room for a beer and a movie?"
You were about to decline, saying you'd much rather just go to bed after being exhausted all day, but you saw how he was attempting to make peace and trying to make somewhat of an effort. "Sure," you put on a smile. "I'd love to."
"Really?" he raised his eyebrows. "It's horror."
"I'm not afraid," you put your hands on your hips.
"Okay then," he grinned.
The two of you sat on the couch, both with a beer in your hand, laughing at the cheesy affects and melodramatic murder scenes. Before you knew it, you were both pretty drunk, and got a little cuddly on the couch, and you were about to go to sleep before you heard Bandit come out, calling for her parents. "Shit," Frank groaned. "I forgot about the kid."
"Forgot about the kid?" you stared at him. "She's our only job and now we're both drunk."
"Tipsy," he corrected.
"Shut up," you rolled your eyes. "Hey Bandit! Honey, what's wrong?"
She wandered into the room, clutching a blanket and a teddy bear, lower lip quivering and tears surfacing in her eyes. "Aw baby, what's the matter?" Frank frowned, the two of you getting up and rushing towards her.
"Where's mommy and daddy?" Bandit wondered all of a sudden, staring up at you and Frank. "I miss them."
"Um," Frank stared at you, unsure of how to respond. "They went somewhere else, they had to go for a little bit. But don't worry, they're in a better place."
"Can I see them?" she pouted. "I want to tell them goodbye if they are leaving."
"Don't worry," Frank reassured, closing his eyes and trying to convince himself. "They're going to be okay."
"Uncle Frankie? Can I sleep with you tonight? And y/n too?" she begged.
"Sure," you nodded. "You can join us here. We're having a slumber party on the couch."
"No," she shook her head. "In mommy and daddy's room."
"Oh honey, I don't know if-" Frank began to protest, but she started to cry.
"But I always go there when I'm scared," Bandit whimpered.
"It's okay," you reassured, looking at Frank, who was surprised. "Um, we'll go there. Come on."
"Really?" Frank eyed you strangely.
"For Bandit," you hissed.
The two of you were practically dragged into bed with Bandit, pulled underneath the covers, one of you on each side of her. Although it was particularly awkward for both you and Frank, Bandit seemed pretty content, sleepy face yawning and happily drifting off into sleep, leaving you and Frank to stare at each other. "I can't believe you got me drunk while we're watching over her," you scolded.
"Tipsy," he tried to correct.
"Oh shut up," you snapped. "We should've been watching over her."
"You should've been watching over her," he shrugged.
"Last I checked, she wasn't just my responsibility!" you argued.
"Oh so this is my fucking fault now?" Frank asked. "You could've skipped out on the movie and beer you know."
"Stop cursing," you closed your eyes, frustrated with him already. "You're going to have such a bad influence on her."
"Bad influence," he scoffed.
"No fight," Bandit murmured, half asleep. "No more fight." You and Frank exchanged and uneasy glance, then nodded.
"Okay baby," Frank whispered, rubbing her back softly. "You're right, we'll stop."
"Goodnight," you murmured.
The funeral came and went that week, and things weren't as bad as you thought they would be. Frank helped out with household chores, and between taking care of Bandit, you made small talk. You both agreed that you weren't allowed to both drink at the same time, and although sleeping together in the same bed every night with Bandit proved awkward at first, it was actually sort of comforting. Between coloring with crayons and feeding her Cheerios, taking her outside and reading her stories, watching silly television shows and watching her dance around the room, things were great. Frank and you did fight occasionally, but things had gotten a lot better than usual.
Bandit was at the table, drawing smiley faces on napkins with you, drinking her juice box, when she dropped it. "Fuck," her eyes grew wide and stared at the juice box on the ground.
"What?" you blinked twice, unsure if you had clearly heard what she just blurted out.
"Uh oh," she frowned, sliding down from her seat and picking up the juice box.
"What did you say, Bandit?" you asked again, this time more urgent.
"Fuck," she sighed. "Uncle Frankie said it's something you say when you're really mad."
"Uncle Frankie, hmm?" you tried to hold back your own anger.
"Yeah," she nodded, picking up the juice box and putting it back on the table. "He was driving me to the park once, when you were cooking. And he almost hit a car and he said fuck."
"What?" you raised your eyebrows. "He almost hit a car?"
"It was fun," she giggled, grabbing a napkin and cleaning up the mess from the ground. "It was exciting."
"Mm hmm," you nodded slowly. "Well me and Uncle Frankie are going to have to talk about that."
"Don't fight," Bandit begged, worried eyes looking up at you. "Don't get Uncle Frankie in trouble."
"It's okay, honey," you sighed. "Here let me help you." You crouched down, grabbing more napkins and helping her clean up the mess.
"Am I in trouble?" she asked, looking up at you, scared.
"No, not at all sweetie," you shook your head. "Just please don't say that word again, okay?"
"What? Fuck?" she asked.
"Yes, that word," you verified, running a hand through your hair. "Don't say it again, okay?'
"Okay," Bandit agreed. "How come Uncle Frankie says it all the time then?"
"He's very bad," you explained. "He says bad words sometimes."
"Oh," she replied.
Frank got home, and Bandit was taking a nap on the couch, and you let him have it. "Do you know what happened today?" you asked, arms folded.
"What?" Frank inquired, obviously not even flustered by your anger.
"Bandit said a very bad word today," you put your hands on your hips. "And she said she learned it from you."
"Which word?" his eyes lit up.
"It's not a good thing!" you groaned. "Why are you excited?"
"She's growing up so fast," he chuckled.
"Frank!" you groaned. "Don't be proud! You should be ashamed."
"What? You think Gerard just magically didn't cuss when he was still around?" Frank narrowed his eyes at you. "She was exposed to that all the time. She doesn't care."
"Well I care," you threw your hands up in the air, exasperated.
"You know, you're kind of cute when you're angry," he smirked.
"Shut up," you glared at him.
"Come on," he smiled. "You've got to admit, we're pretty great parents."
"I guess," you shrugged.
"You guess?" he rolled his eyes, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Y/n, you know."
"What are you trying to say?" you sighed.
"Although we got off to a bad start, I think we can maybe try again," he offered.
"At what?" you asked.
"At us," he explained. "We can be together y/n. Not just because we have to, or because we want to, but because whether we realize it or not, I think we need each other. And if we don't, Bandit sure does."
"Frank-" your expression softened.
"Look, I don't know if I'm just crazy, but something's changed between us," he interrupted. "For the better. We've stopped fighting so much and yes, I know I still make mistakes, I always will, but I have hope that we can make this work. That everything's going to be okay. You know what I mean?"
"I know what you mean," you nodded. "And I agree."
"Really?" his face lit up.
"Yeah," you grinned. "Come here." He leaned in close, and you kissed, whatever lingering feelings of doubt and uncertainty washed away, his lips comforting and loving, and you instantly knew he was right. You pulled away, looking into those brown eyes with a new realization, a new perspective, a new kind of love.
"As crazy and uncoordinated as we might be, I think we're a pretty amazing match," he winked.
"Me too," you nodded. You kissed again, this time twice as passionate, and when you pulled away, both of you were overjoyed. "Thank you."
"For what?" he laughed. "I didn't do anything."
"Yes you did," you reassured. "You made me believe in second chances."
"Well I'm glad I did," he smiled. "Because there's no way I would ever have wanted to miss out on something like this."