#ive always had a thing for parent child relationships | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostxrose · 27 days

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Thanks for answering my request so fast! Nobody's answered me so fast, even if you didn't write anything. It's fine, though!! Maybe I'll change my request? How about, an angst (of course) where female reader and Bakugou are married and have kids (doesn't matter how much or how old) but it turns out, Bakugou has been cheating (angst ending pls, unless you don't want) on Yn for a while now?

Ive been looking for something like this recently but never found it!

Thanks! 😘😘

Thank you so much for the ask, Lovely! I'm sorry that it took so long for me to answer, but I hope that I excuted the idea well. If I'm being honest, I had some trouble with this idea. Cheating isn't something I write about, but I hope that you get your fill of angst, haha.. Anyway, much love and appreciation, Lovely!

Earth Shattering | Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

You gaze out of the window of your parent’s dining room, gently rocking the half asleep one-year-old in your arms. It’s warm and sunny outside, but even the sun’s rays can’t melt away the cold feeling at the back of your mind of something being off. Life has been going well, you have everything you could ever want, but still that voice of intuition won’t quit its whispering.

“He hasn’t been with you three when you’ve come by for these lunches in ages. Your father and I just miss seeing our son-in-law, that’s all, hunny.” Your mother says with a touch of concern in her tone.

“He’s the country’s Number Two Hero, Mom. He has a busy schedule and he’s exhausted during his days off.” You say, giving her the same tired excuse that you’ve been giving her for nearly a year now.

Your gaze shifts to the bubbly three-year-old giggling and babbling nonsense to your father. A small smile pulls at your lips and something in your chest warms while simultaneously aching.

Truthfully, Katsuki has barely had time for the three of you. Your poor husband is always either out on the streets fighting demented villains or ends up staying late at his office drowning in paperwork. It’s put a bit of a strain of your relationship, but you know that he can’t do much about his work schedule, so you tough it out.

As much as you would have liked for him to come with you to your parent’s house today, you had seen just how exhausted he was. So you told him to spend his day off resting while you and the kids were out of the house for the day. He had asked multiple times if you would be fine handling them, if you were sure about him staying home. He knows that being a stay at home mom can be draining at the very least and you appreciate him wanting to help out. But you had reassured him over and over that you would be fine and told him to just relax as much as he could.

You can admit to yourself that you have been feeling frazzled these days.. It’s no easy task for one person to take care of a rambunctious three-year-old along with a fussy one-year-old. But you do it every day with a smile, even if some days that smile is a bit forced or strained.

“I know, hun,” your mother says softly, walking up to you with a warm smile on her face. She looks down and coos quietly at the sleeping baby in your arms. A more easy smile graces your face and you follow your mother to the couch to sit down.

You talk with your parents for a few more hours. It’s all general conversation and talks about taking the kids out to fun places. You feel slightly more sane on days like this, days where there’s other adults to talk with. Even chatting about mundane things like the weather feels good compared to the constant drone of kids cartoons and baby cries.

You love your kids, of course you do. They’re both the perfect mix of you and Katsuki in looks and personalities. Starting a family had been something you and Katsuki had talked about for a long time after you started dating. When your first child had been born the joy and light in your husband’s eyes was unmatched to any other feeling.

Admittedly, your second child had been an accident.. The result of the night Katsuki had been named Number Two. A night which you hardly remember except that you both had too much champagne and you forgot to take your birth control. But your second child entered the world with a warm and loving welcome from you and Katsuki.

You look over at the clock on the wall and let out a quiet sigh, “Looks like we should head out. It’s getting close to dinner time and I think Kats said he was going to make curry.”

“Alright, sweetie. We’ll help you load up the munchkins,” your father says as he stands up, your tired and fussy three-year-old sleepily clinging to him.

You buckle your one-year-old into their carrier, then grab the diaper bag. Your mother walks out of the kitchen with a container of spiced cookies, one of Katsuki’s favorites, and flashes you a smile. You give her an appreciative smile, then you all file out of the door to your car.

It’s a challenge for your father trying to buckle up your worn-out and inconsolable three-year-old, but the task gets completed. Once your kids are buckled in and everything has been secured in place you turn the car on, then make your way back to your parents. You hug them both, thank them for a nice day, and tell them you’ll try to get Katsuki to come with next time. By the time you slide into the driver’s seat of your car, your once inconsolable three-year-old is passed out and your one-year-old peacefully stares out the window.

The drive home is filled with you quietly humming along with the radio and trying to ignore the sudden and heavy feeling developing in the pit of your stomach. Your mind can’t provide a reason behind the feeling, so you just brush it off. You move with the flow of traffic until you eventually slow to pull into your driveway.

The security gate is already open and the feeling that’s been sitting like a rock in your stomach churns. Pulling up to the house the sight of an unfamiliar car parked in front of your garage is unavoidable. Your body begins to tremble as a million scenarios race through your mind, the top one being that somebody has broken into your home. You put your car in park, leaving it running but turning off the radio. A quick glance in your rear view mirror tells you that both of your children are sleeping.

Panic surges through you as you try to think about what to do. You pull your phone out of your purse and dial Katsuki’s number. It rings for what feels like forever until you get Katsuki’s voicemail. You try calling him a couple more times, but you keep getting his voicemail. Trying to school your breathing so that you don’t wake your children, you call Izuku and luckily he picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” Izuku asks with his usual cheerfulness.

“Hey, Izuku. I’m, uhm, I’m kind of freaking out right now,” you say quietly, your eyes darting between your house and the view of your children in the rear view mirror.

“What’s going on?” Izuku’s tone quickly becomes serious and concerned.

“I-I just got home with the kids and the gate was open and there’s a car here that I’ve never seen before.. Katsuki isn’t answering his phone and I don’t know if he’s okay a-and I don’t know what-” Your words rush out of you and despite your best efforts your breathing picks up and tears sting at your eyes.

“I’m on my way right now, just stay in your car, okay? Do you have the doors locked?” There’s the sound of a door closing in the background as Izuku talks to you and a bit of relief fills you.

“Y-yeah.. What if.. what if Katsuki’s hurt, Izuku? What if a villain found out where we live o-or this is a robbery and they have weapons? I-I don’t.. I-I c-can’t..” You bring a hand up to muffle the cry that’s crawled up your throat and your watery eyes look into the mirror again.

“I’m almost there, Y/N. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll find out what’s going on and everything will be just fine.” Izuku tries his best to reassure you, but your stomach still churns with a now sickening feeling and all you can respond with is a weak “okay.”

It doesn’t take long for Iuzku’s car to tear into the driveway, your friend parking haphazardly a few feet away from you. He quickly gets out of his car and flashes you his signature smile before rushing to your front door. You watch him disappear inside and your emotions build up until you feel like you’re going to explode.

Suddenly, the front door is thrown open and a shaken-looking woman rushes out. Her hair is messy, her clothes look like hastily thrown on, and she looks a bit scared. She closes the door behind her and starts to head toward the car parked in front of your garage. Her eyes flit around until they land on your car, and your shocked gaze meets hers. The woman’s eyes widen and she practically runs to her car, quickly getting inside then peeling out of your driveway.

Your shocked mind suddenly goes blank and a numb-feeling spreads through your entire being. With one last look back at your sleeping babies, you get out of your car. You close the door of the running vehicle as slowly and quietly as you can. Mom-guilt about leaving your children in the car eats at the back of your mind as you make your way to the front door.

As soon as you open it you hear shouting coming from down the hall where your bedroom is at. You feel nauseous now and stomach acid burns at the back of your throat as you step further into the house.

“Don’t fucking tell her, Izuku! Sh-she doesn’t need to know! Th-the other women were just stress relief, I still love Y/N!” You hear Katsuki shout at Izuku and it takes conscious effort not to puke your shattered heart out.

You’re sure you’re wearing the same look of horrified shock as Katsuki when you get to the doorway of you and your husband’s bedroom. His is riddled with guilt, though, as your tear-filled eyes meet his. Izuku is at your side in an instant, letting you lean against him as your knees threaten to give out. The silence filling the room is tense, heavy, and suffocating as you take in your husband’s appearance. He’s nearly naked except for a pair of boxers, his hair is messier than usual, and he looks sweaty.

Your swallow dryly and straighten up, “Izuku, can the kids stay with you and Ochako for the night?” Your voice comes out surprisingly even given the situation.

“Y-yeah.. Y/N-” Izuku stutters in his reply, but you cut him off before he can speak further.

“Everything they should need is in the diaper bag in the back of my car. Call if there’s any problems or you guys need anything. Thank you.” You say a bit firmly as you fight to keep your composure.

Katsuki just stands there silently gaping and looking at you with an almost unreadable mix of emotions. You can’t help the trembling of your lip or the tears that continue to spill from your eyes as you stare right back at him. A horrible pain shoots through your chest and it really feels like you can feel your heart breaking. Izuku squeezes your shoulder before silently leaving and you wait until you hear the front door close before letting your composure crumble.

Gut-wrenching sobs are ripped from your chest and your legs finally give up on keeping you standing. You wail into your hands as painful heartbreak and rage consume you.

Katsuki arms are suddenly wrapping around you, “Y/N, baby, I-I’m so sorry! I-”

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You scream as you shove him off of you and crawl backwards away from him. “Take a fucking shower, then meet me out in the living room. I’m not talking to you in the same room you fucked other people! Unless you fucked them on the couch too?! You know what, I’ll be in the damn kitchen! It’s probably safe since you’ve refused to even fuck me in there!”

You’re quick to get up and leave the bedroom, slamming the door behind you before Katsuki could even get another word in. You sob as you make your way to the kitchen, the sight of half-eaten take out boxes sitting on the counter pushing you further over the edge. You barely make it to the trash before the contents of your stomach make their reappearance.

After cleaning yourself up and rinsing your mouth out with some water, you sit at the table and wait in the deathly silence. Too many thoughts run through your mind as you try to figure out if this is reality or not. Your mind supplies you with the reminder of how you noticed Katsuki’s behavior change not long after he had hit Number Two. How he seemed to have more late nights at the office during your second pregnancy, and even after the birth of your baby. How his days off were either spent here at the house by himself or the two of you doing your own things around the house.

The worst thought your mind supplied you is how rarely you were intimate with Katsuki anymore. You had just brushed it off as his sex-drive lowering because of the busy life you both lived. You never would have thought that he was getting his pleasure from other women while you were blissfully unaware and having to pleasure yourself..

You flinch at the sound of the bedroom door closing and your chest aches with every footstep approaching. The sound of the chair across from you being pulled away from the table makes you cringe as the feet of it scrape along the floor. You can feel Katsuki’s gaze on you, see his arms resting against the table top from your peripheral vision. You stare down at the spot on the table in front of you for another moment until you gather the courage to look him in the eyes.

“How long?” You ask quietly, your voice shaking.

Katsuki bits his bottom lip and his eyes shift down to his hands, “Please, Y/N.. I-I fucked up, I was a damn idiot, but please we can work-”

“How long, Katsuki? How long have you been screwing other women while I take care of our children? While I clean our house! While I do your laundry! How long have you been fucking other women in our bed while I’ve been playing loyal wife?!” You ask with such a bitterness and rage that Katsuki flinches.

“..it started a couple months after we found you were pregnant again.. " Katsuki admits quietly, his fists clenched and guilt written all over his face.

You choke on a muffled sob and your mind surges back to to the first message you had gotten from him telling you that he was staying late at work. Every single other message flashes through your mind until you’re reminded that he eventually just stopped sending them and left you to assume.

“..Wh-why? Di-did I do something? Wh-when did I become not enough for you?” You ask brokenly as you wonder how your heart is still beating even though it feels like it should be failing.

“Baby.. Y/N, y-you didn’t do anything.. not on purpose. Y-Your body was so sensitive when you were pregnant, it seemed like every little touch caused you pain.. A-and your mood swings were so constantly changing and I didn’t want to take my frustration out on you because you were carrying my fuckin’ child, so I just bottled it up..” Katsuki tries to explain, but his excuses are poor at best and rage burns in your veins.

“So instead of talking to me about it, instead of having a conversation with your wife, you chose to cheat?” You ask incredulous and hurt.

Katsuki clenches his jaw, his tell-tell signs of anger appearing on his features, “It felt like my wife didn’t want me around, let alone touch me! So, yes, I took advantage of the fact that women willingly throw themselves at me and I got my rocks off that way!”

You flinch as if his words are physical blows and another sob tears from your chest, “You tore apart our lives just to get your dick wet? I am so sorry that my difficult pregnancy pushed you to such an option. I am so sorry that I was so sore that even wearing clothes hurt. I am so sorry that I was so full of hormones that the mood swings that made me feel like shit, made you feel so unwanted. I am so sorry, Katsuki, that carrying, birthing, then caring for both of your children forced you to go put your dick in other pussies!”

Katsuki lets out a frustrated growl, his own anger firing up, “Christ, Y/N, I’m sorry! I’ll be sorry for the rest of my fucking life! I’m sorry that I wasn’t better, but I can be better! I won’t touch another woman again, I promise you! We can work through this, I still love you, damn it!”

A dry, humorless laugh bubbles out of your mouth and you can’t breathe for a moment. Katsuki pants across from you, caught up in his emotion, and stares at you bewildered.

“You’ve made promises, Katsuki,” you spit once you’ve caught your breath. “You stood across from me at that damn alter five years ago, said the same vows that I did. We made the same promises for each other, but the difference now is that I upheld mine! We can’t work through this, I don’t trust you anymore! You’ve single-handedly burned us to the ground-”

“Don’t it, baby, please! Don’t say what I think you’re gonna say,” Katsuki begs as he half stands from his chair to try to reach across the table for you.

You push away from the table, standing fully from your chair and looking at Katsuki with anger and hurt, “We’re done, Katsuki, I want a divorce. In the mean time, the kids and I will be staying at my parent’s house. Don’t bother wasting your efforts trying to fix the shit you’ve broken. We are done.”

You leave Katsuki half hunched over the table stunned with tears in his eyes. You rush to the bedroom and hastily throw articles of clothing into a suit case. You grab a couple pairs of shoes, then quickly leave the bedroom nearly running into your husb- Katsuki. You shove past him as he starts spilling apologies and pleas for you to stay. Every weak grasp on your arm or wrist is met with you wrenching yourself away from him.

Ripping open the front door you rush to your car, throwing your little bit of belongings into the back seat. You climb into the driver’s seat and turn the car on, taking the picture of you and Katsuki off of your sun visor and throwing out of the window. As you back your car up to turn it around, you catch sight of Katsuki one more time. He’s standing on the front porch with guilt, shame, and sadness on his face. Tears cascade down from the eyes that you used to find so beautiful and you have to will yourself not to put the car in park and go running back into his arms.

Your tires screech as you pull out of the driveway, but it doesn’t cover up the sound of you screaming your heart break at your windshield. Tears pour down your face and hinder your vision as you try to maneuver through traffic. You’re desperate to see your babies, to hug them and tell them that you love them and that you’re sorry for what their future is going to become. You’re also desperate for someone’s comfort, whether it be your parents or Izuku and Ochako. You need a shoulder to cry on, a pillow to scream into, and maybe a stiff drink or two.

As you scream, sob, beat your steering wheel, and drive a bit haphazardly, too many thoughts flood your mind. Why would he do this to you? How could he do this to you? Why weren’t you enough? What more could you have done? Is this all actually happening? Is this really your reality?

“This is my reality..” You say aloud hoarsely as you sit in your car looking at Izuku and Ochako’s front door. Your body is simultaneously numb and aching all over. Your mind has finally gone blank, but it’s in the worst way possible. Tears still roll down your face and you sniffle every now and then as you continue dazedly staring.

How is it that your entire world can shatter within the span of a day?

Sorry if it wasn't angsty enough! But I hope that you stick around for future angst! I really cannot thank you enough for the ask/request, it means a lot to me that you'd want to reach out to me at all! My hope is to start interacting with my readers more, so I hope that others see this and want to follow your lead!

Hope you enjoyed the read and keep being amazing, Lovely! <3

#bakugo brain rot #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #mha #shasta rose asks #asks #request #writing requests #angst #hurt/angst #no comfort

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imaginecolby · 5 months

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Friends with Benefits || Part Three - The Adjustment

as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt like you wanted to throw up again.

Pregnant. your mind was a blank, almost as if you’d forgotten what the word meant. you had no emerging thoughts about where you were going to go from here.

“pregnant.” colby repeated, barely above a whisper. you watched as he sunk to his knee, taking your hand in his. “y/n, will you-“

“oh, nuh uh.” you interrupted. “you are not proposing to me right now.” you said, pulling him up from the floor.

“why not? we’re going to have a kid!”

“colby, we’re not even officially dating. i don’t expect you to propose to or marry me just because im having your baby.”

“you’re right, sorry. my head is just all over the place.” he sighed, sitting back down on the couch. you watched his face as the gears turned in his head. you were scared he was gonna bolt and leave you to make decisions on your own.

“tell me what you’re thinking.” you said quietly, moving to set next to him.

“a lot of things. scared of how this is gonna change us, worried that im gonna fuck this up. are we ready for this?” he asked.

"i don't know. i mean, ive always wanted kids, but this is not the way i wanted to go about that."

"me either." colby said, taking his hand in yours. "but im glad we're gonna be in this together. we've been in each other's lives for so long, at least we're not toal strangers."

"that's true." you sighed. you both sat there quietly before you spoke again. "so, where does this leave us?"

"we're still us. we're friends before anything, and we're a team in this. i'm gonna be here for you through everything." he said, squeezing your hand.

"thank you." you said softly, leaning into his side and hugging him tight. colby squeezed you tight and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head.

"we got this." he said softly, giving you another squeeze.

the first trimester was a bit rough, as your routine began to change. your symptoms were already killing you. between the morning sickness, constant pain, and overall nervousness of this life changing event, you were already more tense than you'd ever been in your life.

you were at the doctor's office every week. but you were glad that you weren't doing this alone. colby made it a point to make every appointment with you. he made a promise to you that he was going to be there for you through every part of this pregnancy, and he was keeping good on his word. along with your appointments, he was going shopping with you to get all the necessities for the baby, helping put transform the guest room in your house into the nursery. you and him were researching and learning all the things you could about parenting.

you were still pretty nervous, really more nervous than you could ever explain. this feeling was probably going to last your entire pregnancy, but you were so glad that colby was doing this with you. you felt like you could accomplish anything with him by your side. but you couldn't help but worry that all you were ever going to be was co-parents, and nothing more. you knew you and colby had sort of an "agreement" about your relationship, but you were feeling like you wanted to be more. you were just too scared to bring it up to him, in case that was going to be too much to add to his plate. especially right now.

one afternoon, you'd just gotten home from a busy morning of some shopping and a quick trip to the drugstore for some more prenatal vitamins. you were resting on the couch, your hand falling into place on your belly. you still couldnt believe you were growing a human in there. as you sat there with your thoughts, pictures of your future child began to flash through your head. a baby boy with dark hair and blue eyes like colby, or a baby girl with soft hair and skin tone that beared a strinking resemblance to yours. you truly were so excited for this next part of your life, and you couldn't wait to raise your baby.

your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing on the coffee table. you picked it up and saw a text from colby.

"are you home? i have something for you." he text you.

"yeah, i just got back. :)" you replied.

"perfect, see you in ten."

while you waited for colby to come over, you put up your purchases and changed into some more comfortable clothes. you were walking back into the living room just as you heard a knock on your door.

"hey!" colby said with a smile when you answered. he pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"whatcha got?" you asked, pointing to the numerous bags in his hands.

"oh, i know better than to you come over without food." he laughed, handing you the food bags. "now, i don't know how your appetite has changed since getting pregnant, but i hope you still like, and can actually eat, chinese."

"oh yes, i will never turn away chinese." you said, taking the food from him. you got plates for the two of you and moved to the living room. you and colby sat down on the couch and set the food up on the coffee table.

"and what's this?" you asked, pointing to the gift bag he had.

"daddy's first gift for the baby." he said, his face lighting up as he started to open it. he pulled out a ball of fabric, unrolling it to reveal a onesie with a familiar logo on the front.

"oh my god! this is so cute!" you cheered, taking it from him.

"baby's first piece of xplr clothing."

"colby, this is adorable. this'll be their coming home outfit after they're born." you laughed.

"perfect, that was my intention." he laughed. the two of you sat down to eat, and conversation quickly ensued. after a while, you decided to take a more serious turn.

"so, my first trimester is up. i think it's time we start telling people." you said.

"yeah, i've been thinking about that these past couple days. but, i think we need to talk about our relationship first."

"oh?" you asked, sitting up and focusing entirely on him.

"i think we should be exclusive. y'know, boyfriend and girlfriend." he said, taking your hand in his.

"what? are you serious?"

"well, you wont let me propose, so," he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. "y/n, i love you. i know i told you at the beginning of all of this, that i wasn't looking for a relationship. but i love you. i've loved you since the day i met you, but i was too scared to commit to relationship because i was at a place where a lot of girls were using me."

"you know i'd never do that to you." you said softly, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand.

"i know, and i feel bad for ever thinking that of you. but i'm over that now. i want to be with you. fully and completely. we're gonna be starting a family, and i want us to be as commited to each other as we'll be to the baby. you don't have to say anything now, but i just wanted to put my feelings on the table, and be completely honest with you."

"i'm actually glad you said something because i've been thinking about us as well. you know ive always liked you, as more than a friend. and i've wanted to be exclusive with you. i didn't really want to be part of this "friends with benefits" type thing we've had going on in the first place, but i just wanted to be with you, in any way, so i agreed to it, thinking your feelings would eventually change. i definitely didn't think this was going to be the thing that would change your mind about us, but im glad it did. i love you too, and i wanna be with you. officially, and fully."

"officially and fully." colby repeated, leaning over to press a kiss to your lips.

"im glad we've figured this out. once we start telling people we can avoid the whole ‘yeah! we're having a baby without even being together!’ conversation."

"oh, i know. i wasn't looking forward to that either." he laughed. "speaking of, how are we gonna do our announcement?"

"i don't know. i've been trying to figure something out, but all the ones ive gone through online don't seem fitting for us." you sighed.

you sat there quietly for a moment, the both of you racking your brain for ideas. suddenly, a light bulb went off in your head.

"oh my god, yes!" you sat up, an idea running in your mind.

"what? what did you think of?" colby asked. you sat there without saying anything, picking up the onsie.

"a little explorer!"

#colby brock imagine #colby brock #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagines #colby brock x reader #fwb

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zialltops · 5 months

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honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: Howdy Ya’ll! The song for this chapter is Shake the Frost by Tyler Childers! Im not going to lie, after three chapters writing from Joels POV, this chapter was hard to get into at first. Ive always had a vision for the different ways they perceive each other and it was realllly fun to paint two different pictures of the same people from each others POV. So without further ado, the moment we’ve alllll been waiting for, I give you honeys POV.

Masterlink

ao3 link | spotify link

4. Shake The Frost

Your life in a nutshell has been…uneventful. Your parents had you into their late thirties, you were their last shot at the child they had always wanted and that was a lot to live up to, being the only surviving member of your family when they are gone and the sole proprietor of the Rising Sun Ranch. It was a lot for one awkward, clumsy girl to take on, but you packed up your bags and moved to the city for just long enough to get a real education in keeping your family's dream alive. When you left this place, you had twenty dollars and a full tank of gas. You had horrible hormonal acne, the same damn braces you’ve had for the past six years and you were the furthest thing from desirable a person could ever get.

You were never very popular in school, but considering your graduating class was a whole eight people, you understood why. Everyone around these parts kept to themselves, passed judgment too quickly and all they ever saw in you was an inelegant, unskilled, ugly little duckling.

Four years away earned you a new outlook on life, the discovery of skincare and a little bit of confidence in yourself, but not nearly enough to hoof it in this cruel world. That's why you found so much comfort in the thought of running home, as much as you would miss your friends from college. Here you weren’t gangly and clueless—you could just be yourself.

Yourself with just…a little bit of alteration. Because two years ago, your mom called you to tell you about the new ranch hands that started working, how much weight it took off their plate. A few weeks later, she told you as much about them as she could, about Joel who was charming and gruff. Tommy, who was kind of strange but a nice boy, how Joel takes care of him and watches out for him. A month after that, your mother calls to tell you how much of a gentleman he is.

Two months later, you call your mom and tell her about the date that stood you up and she tells you how handsome Joel is, how kind his eyes are and how she thinks you would really like him, how much you would hit it off and she wished you’d find someone a little more like that—someone who could appreciate you.

Two years pass the same way, your mom calls you all the time just to talk about Joel and Tommy—you understand it's the most exciting thing that's happened around the ranch in the last twenty years, but the more you talk about it with her, the more you build up this impossible dream about a man you’ve never even laid eyes on. You daydream about going home and meeting him, hitting it off like two old flames. You imagine his eyes in the middle of class and miss half your lecture, you think about the way his voice sounds the few times you accidentally overheard him in the background of your moms calls.

Your best friend and roommate, Melly, tells you that's you’re delusional to make up fake scenarios in your head about a relationship you don’t have with a man you’ve never met, but you’ve already hyper focused on it long before that conversation happens, so getting it out of your head is already out the window by then.

All that build up, all the imaginary things you thought up, the way you’d meet—what you would say to him to catch his attention from the moment he sets eyes on you. All of it is for nothing, because he’s not prince charming like you’d imagined, he’s rude and he left you in the fucking snow to die, when you’d spent so long falling in love with a man that didn’t exist. He avoids you like the plague, like it hurts him to be in the same room with you, thinks you’re this stuck up too good city girl, when you’d been so proud to have your shit together. You’d been so fucking excited to get home and finally put a face to two years worth of ghost like fantasies of a person you didn’t know.

And god did it make you so angry at him, when you’d spent so long wanting to meet him, and he was nothing like you’d expected him to be. What is it about you that repulses him? Every time you leave anything exposed, he’s running away with his tail tucked. You look at him from across the dinner table and he takes his food and leaves. Sometimes you can't help the way your anger gets the best of you, starting arguments just so he’ll talk to you, trying to do things that might impress him even though he thinks you’re the most incapable person in the whole world, apparently.

You help your mom with dinner because you remember her telling you that her chili was Joel’s favorite, so you spent half of the afternoon making it, maybe then you could both move on—something, anything. You watch him from the fridge while he fills his bowl with Tommy and they head off to the dining room. By the time you’ve made your own bowl, hatching a plan to tell him you made this, his spot sits empty and his food is untouched for the rest of the evening.

That night, your dad shows you the statement from the bank, the mortgage is two months behind and they don’t have two nickels to rub together. You cry at the kitchen table for an hour, wondering what you did in a past life to struggle so badly in this one. Of course Joel would catch you there, tear stained cheeks and a desperate desire to curl into that broad chest and sob.

He hightails it out of the house before the real water works come down.

Theres a ache in your chest that doesn’t leave you for days—when you spot him in the stable on Christmas eve, it pounds in your chest worse than ever, it hurts so fucking bad to look at him in that brown coat, that long curly hair and scruffy beard. You want to run out the door across the yard and jump into those strong arms, have him twirl you around in the snowfall and kiss you silly. But that's not plausible, so you turn away from the window and make yourself some hot cocoa to starve off the cold, eating you up from the inside.

On Christmas morning, you watch him shovel from the window of your bedroom, hiding behind the curtain while you think about how much he hates to be around you, he must think you’re so unpleasant and hard to look at, because he never even meets your eyes. It bubbles up so much emotion, you cry angry tears before you can make it out of your room. You wash your face in the bathroom to rid yourself of the evidence and make your way down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the steps when you spot him at the bottom, smiling at himself in the vanity mirror, wearing a goddamned cowboy hat like all your wild fantasies about slipping his hat on your head and riding him until he’s a mumbling mess. You would have changed if you knew he was here—would have put on some clothes so he doesn’t go running out on you again. He takes one look up the stairs at you and your brain goes fuzzy and angry, how dare he look so good when you know you can’t touch, how dare he flaunt it right in your face just to take it away again. Who does he think he is, smiling at you like that when he abandoned the dinner you’d made him at the table the night before?

He tells you Merry Christmas and you want to sock him in the mouth.

You chase him off all on your own this time and the guilt eats you up when you watch him work from the window. He doesn’t stop for a second, just keeps going and going and going while you sit on the couch and listen to Tommy’s insufferable rambling about things you don’t care about. He doesn’t come to dinner, so you make him a plate in the kitchen when your mom comes in behind you. “What are you doing, dear?” You wrap tin foil over the hefty plate and give her a look. “I thought I should bring him dinner…no one deserves to be hungry on christmas.”

Your mom squeezes your shoulder and smiles brightly, waves you off when you head out into the storm with his dinner in your hand.

When you meet him on the porch, sleepy look in his eyes with messy hair, you almost invite yourself inside—hardly fighting off the urge to set that plate down and offer yourself for his Christmas dinner instead.

You're halfway thankful for the half mile walk tugging a one ton heifer behind you, at least this way the cold wills away the throbbing between your legs.

That night, you wrap two fingers in the necklace chain, burry your face in the pillows while you fuck yourself on three fingers wishing they were the man sleeping on your couch instead of your own. You try not to whimper his name when you cum, but it slips right out with a rush of air.

Wanting him—is absolutely killing you.

You want to call it a turning point, finally he can see you as capable of something. By the end of the following two weeks, he’s right back to the way he acted before, but it’s like it’s worse somehow. You come down the stairs with a chipper smile in your favorite pair of Levi’s one morning and he nearly falls out of his chair trying to get away from you. You show up in the stable with your old white straw hat on and he hides in the bathroom for a half hour until you leave, like he’s repulsed by you, like he can’t stand to be around you. Is it something you’re doing? Something you’re wearing? He gets so uncomfortable when you have any skin exposed, you can tell based on the way his eyes will bounce to you then away in a hurry, trying to find something—anything else to keep himself busy. Is it because you're his boss's daughter? Because you’re ugly? Because you’re too young and too inexperienced?

By the end of January, you’ve successfully chased him back to his cabin in the evenings unless you aren’t in attendance. He’s avoiding you again, but at least now you have Tommy, who you would consider a friend, a friend who flirts with you too damn much and drinks way too much alcohol. He’s also lazy and doesn’t take much initiative, Joel does most of the work around here, you’ve noticed. But Tommy listens to you when you talk and he doesn’t run away from you any time you try to make conversation.

This morning, you were in the kitchen when Joel came in, cowboy hat and wranglers that hugged his ass. You walked out of the kitchen in an apron with a bowl of preserved raspberries ready to can. “Mornin’, Joel.” You greeted him with a smile and picked the spoon up out of the bowl. “Want to try some? I’m making jam.” You were about to wash the spoon anyways.

“Uh, no, thank you—I ate this morning.” You shrug and lick the spoon clean with one stripe. Five seconds later, Joel is out the front door with a hurried step, like he can't wait to get away from you. Did your breath stink? Was there something on your face, in your tone? By the time Joel is gone, Tommy comes in like there's a rotating door on the house, constantly filtering out one Miller for another.

“He’s in a hurry.” Tommy laughs, pointing behind him with his thumb. “I think I said something.” You roll your eyes at him and finish off the spoon. “Dang girl, how come you don’t ever lick me like that?” It's a light hearted joke, you know that, but you still slug him in the arm for good measure. “Oh, fuck off, Tommy.” You make your way back to the kitchen to can up the preserves and he follows right behind you. “So I was thinking, Joel is heading into town this mornin’, what do you say we scrounge up some change and grab a bottle of something strong?” You used to drink heavily when you were in college, lots of parties and Friday nights out with friends, but now it's closer to once a month if you’re lucky and you can't remember the last time you were good and drunk. “You know what, lets do it. But you have to ask him.” Tommy makes a pained face and shakes his head. “No, I asked last time—it’s your turn.”

“He’s already pissed at me for no reason, and I don’t even know where he is!” Tommy laughs at you and takes the bowl from your hands. “And besides, I have to pee—why can't you go?”

He pulls the jars out and starts to fill them. “Go ask him and then go pee—I saw him go into the stable.” You huff dramatically and turn on your heel, removing your apron, trying to get rid of your nerves as you head towards the door. What’s he going to do, shout at you? Get angry? Say no? You can handle all of that, you’ve handled it up until now.

When you reach the barn, you search around the stalls with no sign of Joel. Wherever he is, he’s long gone. Whatever you did to him, it was enough to send him running all over again. For the millionth time, you find yourself wishing you could just read his mind, know what it is about you that has him running for the hills any time to approach him.

You pet a few muzzles on your way towards the door, wishing it was spring already so you could ride like you’ve longed to do for the last four years. There's less of a chill today, there hasn’t been a storm in a week, but that’s going to change soon. You could stay out here until Joel shows up, but christ do you need to pee right now, so you take a quick detour to the small bathroom in the corner of the barn. The door doesn’t have a working latch, so it pushes open easily.

You just needed to pee, that's it—just needed to pee but it’s too late by the time the artificial light inside mixes with the sunlight filtering into the barn. Lent over the sink with his hand pressed to the mirror, his other on his cock, stands Joel—his balled up fist working up and back down, those huge hands that look tiny on his dick—holy shit, it’s massive, bigger than you’ve ever seen in real life, bigger than most exaggerated porn videos you’ve watched—he could probably fit both hands around that thing, has to be at least ten inches of just Joel. He must hear your tight gasp, because his hand stills and he whips his head around to look at you, his face flushed with shock and shame. You step away quickly and the door slams shut behind you.

You aren’t sure what it is bubbling up inside of you—anxiety, desire, a bit of curiosity and a whole lot of confusion. You saw him not five minutes ago and he was fine, but now you can hear him scrambling in the bathroom across from where your feet have glued themselves to the floor.

“Fuck! Fuck, Honey, hold on.”

Joel Miller is the most hung man you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s also the most annoying and hard headed—but all of that flies straight to the back of your mind when he pulls the small door open, having stuffed himself back in his jeans, jesus christ it goes half way down his leg, how does he have any room in there? His chest is absolutely heaving and his face is beat red from embarrassment. “I…I’m sorry, I just needed to use the bathroom.”

His hand reaches down and you follow the movement, how he stuffs it into his pants and adjusts himself. “I can explain—“ you shake your head quickly, eyes bouncing back up to meet his. Fuck, he looks like he’s going to cry right now. “Please spare me the details, I should have…knocked, that's my fault.” What was he doing in the first place? He ran away from you because…because he needed to jerk off? Is that where he’s been going every time he runs away from you?

Did you make him do that? But no—of course not, because Joel hates you, hates you enough to actively avoid you even after buying you the same damn necklace you clutch every night when you sink your hand between your thighs, bite your pillow and attempt to muffle his name on your lips.

Joel doesn’t want you, when you’ve been thrown around every corner trying to hang on to him. He left you in that damn snow and all your mind could think about was how sharp his jaw was, how big his hands were, how angry you were that he robbed you of your fantasy of him.

“I just—I…don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean for you to see that.” Well of course he didn’t mean for you to see that. “Yeah, no I assumed—I’m the last person you want seeing you—like that. I’m sorry, again.” There's something in his eyes, a deep sorrow woven into his features. “How…how much did you see?”

God, does he really have to go there, when your thighs are pressed as tightly together as you can get them, when heat is pooling between your thighs and you have the urge to run up stairs and lock your door behind you. You reach up for your necklace out of instinct, run your fingers along the chain for an absent sensory input, thinking about the way it feels in your hand when you clutch it for dear life.

“I mean—about all ten inches, I’d say.” Its an easy joke you're hoping will ease the stress of the encounter, but Joel leans back against the walk and his head flops against the wood, eyes closing tight. You take the opportunity to drink your fill, let your eyes really roam over the softening bulge in his jeans. “Nine and a half—I…It’s nothing to…boast about or anything like that. I try not to…let anyone see that.”

See that? The biggest dick you’ve ever laid eyes on? He’s just walking around, hiding it from the world? “Why?” You don’t mean to ask, but how could Joel just walk around all day with a third fucking leg and not tell anyone about it?

“It’s embarrassin’. No one wants anything to do with that, nobody wants to deal with what it entails—I sure as hell don’t. Look, can we please just—please forget this happened? Don’t…tell anyone, please.”

Don’t tell anyone? You can't keep this to yourself? Joel miller, every daydream and fantasy you’ve had for the last two years—you can’t just keep that in if you tried—you have to tell someone. “Yeah, no of course not. This was traumatizing enough for both of us.”

His face drops further and he turns himself away, running his hand over his face—the same hand he just had on his dick—oh, fuck, you have to get out of here before you offer to finish him off, just to see how heavy it would feel in your hands, your mouth, your pussy—“I gotta go—“ you start to head for the door, but you remember why you came in the barn in the first place. “Can me and Tommy come with you to town later?”

He only turns for a moment to gaze at you. His eyes look shinny, his lip is drawn between his teeth because its shaking. Had you really embarrassed him that much?

When he speaks, his voice is tight and wobbly. “Yeah, that's fine.”

You leave as quickly as you came, already pulling out your phone and pulling up your best friend's number. When you get into the house, you make a bee-line for your room, slamming the door behind you while the call goes through. When she picks up on the other end, you’re already rambling. “Girl—hold on, I can't hear you. You’re talking too fast, slow down.”

You take a deep breath, clutch your necklace and try to calm yourself down. “I just walked in on Joel—it was an accident, but dude—dude it was huge.” There's a sharp gasp and a laugh on the other end of the phone. “Wait like, you walked in on him and someone?”

“No—I walked in on him jerkin’ off in the bathroom, he…ran away from me again this morning and Tommy came in right after, asked me to ask Joel if we could go to town with him and when I went to look for him, he was in the bathroom with his hand on literally the biggest dick I’ve ever seen.” Melly, on the other end, is laughing her ass off at you, trying her best not to snort at your bad luck. “This isn’t funny! He was so embarrassed, Mel—he said he doesn’t show it to people!”

She huffs on the other end of the phone. “Then how does he fuck anyone?”

And—well… “I never thought about that. Maybe he just…doesn’t? He seemed so ashamed, I don’t know what on earth there is to be ashamed of.” Ashamed of being blessed? Ashamed you walked in on him? Maybe it was because it’s you and you’re the last person he wants seeing him naked.

“Alright, let me get this straight—he ran away from you and five minutes later you found him beating his meat in the bathroom?” For lack of better words, well, yeah.

“Yes—that’s basically what happened, but it was more like three minutes? Because I wasn't far behind him.”

The silence on the other end of the phone is deafening, then Melly clears her throat. “Have you considered the idea that he runs away from you because you turn him on?”

You? You turn him on? You with your awkward posture and too gangly features? You can't even turn a car on half the time, let alone a grown man like Joel Miller. “Not a chance—he hates me, Mel, we’ve been over this.”

“You’ve been over this—you say he hates you all the time when maybe this whole time he thinks its you that hates him.” But that can't be true, because Joel can’t stand being around you. He hated you from the moment he saw you, hated your stupid fucking shoes you don’t wear anymore, hates that you went to college and lived in a big city and don’t let people walk on you. He hates you because you wanted to look pretty for him and he told you to crawl back to whatever place you came from, not even knowing that place was filled with longing to meet him. “No, you have to see it for yourself. You’re still coming down here for my birthday, right?” It’s in the middle of February, when the snow starts to subside.

She tells you that she is, but that she has to get back to work, so you hang up the phone and let yourself sink into the mattress. Its a lot to process—Joel running away from you to…masterbate, catching him in the act—that dick, Christ, even if you want to fuck him, you aren’t even sure if you’d be able to take him. A little deep dive into the internet tells you that you absolutely can—if you work up to it. With ample time and stretching, you’d be able to work up to that, and should it ever happen, you want it to be easy for him, after all, he seemed so ashamed that you’d seen him like that. He said he doesn’t show people, so that must mean it’s been a while since he’s had sex. That in and of itself, makes your heart ache from him—no matter how much he pisses you off, no one deserves to have the ability to receive pleasure stripped from them for merely having a larger—uh, tool. It’s not his fault he was born that way.

A few wrong turns on amazon and you find a (within your budget) toy that's, you guessed it—nine and a half inches and by the looks of it, the same girth as Joel. There is no other option for you but to purchase it—express mail straight to your doorstep.

And even if you never stand a chance with a six-foot towering cowboy, you can at least pretend for the rest of your life. Maybe that will finally starve off your want, fill that void you’ve had for the last two years longing for a made up man and this version of Joel wearing his skin.

It’s a few more agonizing minutes of thinking about the way he’d looked at you in the mirror when you’d spotted him in that bathroom, before you can actually track back to the before, how into it he was—working himself over quickly with a rough calloused hand and his ragged pant.

Fuck it—you have time, lots of time—Joel is probably going to avoid you for half the day before he heads to town, that is—if he even tells you he’s leaving. So you do what you're best at, roll yourself over to bury your face in the pillow while you sink your hand past your waistband and get to work. Its easy to picture something still so fresh in your mind, the way his shoulders heaved when he drew in a breath, how he would probably feel in your hand, your mouth, you’ll have to practice that too, how he’d probably hold you down and tell you to take it. He’d probably be ravenous if he could get past the hatred part. How long has it been since he’s been inside of someone?

You sink your teeth into the pillow and try to retain the sharp whine in your throat, but when you picture his disdain for you morphing into desire, the way the two would clash together in the most impossible way—it’s easy to bring yourself right to the edge. Easy to let yourself drift into that full bodied bliss that shoots up your spine and blooms at the base of your skull. God, the things he would probably say—the filthy fucking words that were made for that accent—the way he’d call you—

“Honey?”

“Amph-“ your eyes shoot open but its too damn late, that twangy southern draw sounds so fucking good saying your name like that and it’s the final straw, deep shadows of your relief robbing the vision from your eyes as they roll back, hand stilling with just the faintest of muffled whimpers to follow it. Yeah—he’d say your name just like that—just like he did on the other side of your locked door while you get off to the sound of it.

Your first big draws of air when you start to come down are into the pillow, trying your best to stifle the ragged way your lungs fill with oxygen until you’ve caught back up with yourself.

“We’re headin’ out in a few, if you're comin’.”

You pull your hand away and jump off your bed, trying to fix your hair and pull yourself together. One glance in the mirror tells you that this is as good as its going to get. You pull the door open and he’s already trying to find anywhere to else to put his eyes than on you, on your tight workout leggings and crew neck sweater—you aren’t anything special and you just saw his dick a half hour ago, so you understand why he wouldn’t want to look. “I was just, uhm—doing a workout zoom with my friend, you ever done one of those?”

God, did you just say that out loud? A fucking workout zoom, its no wonder this man wants nothing to do with you. “A…zoom workout? No—I get my cardio in before the sun's up. Real fuckin’ weird world you come from.” He turns his body slightly, like he’s trying to make his way out of this conversation but he doesn’t quite know how, so you lead the way. “I’ll just get my shoes on and I’ll be right down.”

He turns back and this time he does look at you, but it's at your feet, then a swift bounce up to your eyes. “You’re wearing shoes.”

One glance down and what do you fucking know—you are wearing shoes—stupid fucking shoes you suddenly hate. You hate that you can't get a single thought through your head when it's swimming in dopamine and adrenaline. Hate that he’s taken up so much space in your brain you can't think straight anymore. “If you don’t want to go because you’re…uncomfortable, you don’t have to stall so that I’ll leave. You can say it.” He holds his chin up bravely, you have to give him props for that. Thirty minutes and he can still hold his head up with dignity when he feels like he needs to stand up to you, but does he have to do it so accusingly? When did you give him the impression that you wanted to stay behind? When you’d asked him if you could go not two minutes after seeing him white knuckling it in the bathroom? When he knocked on your door and talked you through an orgasm without even knowing?

“Why do you always do that?” You cross your arms and feel that attitude creeping up on you. “Do what? Spare myself the humiliation?” The humiliation like he’s not staring you down fresh off a mind boggling orgasm. “No, decide what I’m feeling for me—what the fuck gives you the right to make up my mind for me?”

This bastard, who can pull an argument out of you in an instant—when you’d just been thinking nice things about him. “I’m coming with. Tommy’s promise of hard booze is sounding better and better by the minute.”

He huffs at you and it's all you get for a response. You follow him down the stairs and out to the truck, Tommy is waiting down stairs with a confused look, but you shake your head at him and he tails behind you on the way out the door. Joel moves fast across the snow covered yard, climbing in the already running truck with a slam of the drivers door. “What’s his problem?” Tommy makes a face at you when you stop at the tailgate of the truck. “He’s not in a good mood.” Tommy nods his head and walks over to the passenger door. “Course he isn’t, why would he be?” There's a laugh and he opens the door for you, but he doesn’t get in first—he makes you sit beside Joel, with his knee bouncing and his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He won't look at you, but you can tell he’s riddled with anxiety right now. When Tommy squeezes in beside you, you find yourself pressed up against Joel, from shoulder to his solid thigh.

The drive is uneventful because Joel turns on the radio and he doesn’t say anything. Not for the whole twenty five minute drive, Joel doesn’t make a sound, so you and Tommy sit in the uncomfortable silence and try to ignore the way his fingers tap and flex against the steering wheel. When you get into town, you give Tommy all the money you were able to scrounge up and he runs into the liquor store close to the feed store. You were going to sit in the truck and wait, but Joel leans against the door frame with his hands perched on the roof and his cowboy hat blocking the run from your eyes. “Since Tommy’s preoccupied, you’re gonna have to help me.”

Help him? You? “I have three hundred pounds of feed to load, unless you're afraid you’ll break a nail.” Does he have any idea how that works, that you don’t have long fake nails anymore like you did in college? “Well, I guess it's a good thing they are already busted then.”

Helping Joel load the truck means you get to watch him work, carrying two feed bags to your one, but his shoulders bulge when he lifts and you nearly have to cross your legs to push away the nagging thought. He probably looks so damn built under all those layers, beneath that Carhartt. By the time the truck is loaded, Tommy is back with a half gallon of bottom shelf whiskey that looks like a hangover just waiting to happen.

Joel doesn’t give the bottle a second look, but the ride home is just as quiet as the drive there.

It isn’t until later that night when you and Tommy crack open the bottle. It’s dark, but Joel is nowhere to be seen when Tommy makes a fire in the pit out front of the cabin. Your parents went to bed early and the last thing you wanted to do was keep them up, so you took the long walk to the cabin with a few blankets to keep you warm until the whiskey kicks in.

Thirty minutes of having your feet propped up by the fire while you pass the bottle back and forth and Joel finally comes into view, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he tries to walk straight past the two of you. “Come on man, can’t you join us? Sit by the fire with your brother?”

The older man shoots him a look, one you can't read but Tommy obviously does. “Come on, Joel—Tommy’s going to make me drink all of this by myself.” He steps onto the porch with his back turned, wiping the snow off his boots. “I don’t drink anymore.” Is the only response he gives. Like you hadn’t seen him drunk off his ass before.

Another hour passes before you see Joel again and by that time the half gallon is half empty, sitting between the two of you while you giggle and laugh about stupid humor Joel would probably huff at. Can someone remind you why it's the broody brother you want? Not the slightly asshole-ish one who knows how to take a joke? Tommy doesn’t exactly do it for you—not your type, no drive, no motivation—but he is Joel's brother, the closest thing you ever get to having the real thing.

You wonder if he’d fuck you like Joel would—they are brothers, so Tommy has to be just as well endowed at Joel, right?

Right on que, like he could hear you thinking about him, Joel comes out and stands behind your chairs. “Think you guys have had enough. Last thing I need is to be up all night because Tommy’s pukin’.”

He gives the emptying bottle a tap with his foot and you glance up at him. “Oh, come on, Joel—why are you always such a fun sucker? You just hate seeing people smile, is that it? Is it bad for maintaining your shitty mood?” Tommy laughs beside you and you ride off that chuckle, but not for long. “And here I thought alcohol would make you plaint, but I guess it just makes you more of a bitch.”

If your head wasn’t swimming in booze right now, you’d probably swing at him, but you aren’t coordinated enough for that right now, so you settle on a hard glare. “I don’t know man, I think I have a good idea of how she gets when she’s drunk.”

Joel's eyes shoot over to him like he already knows exactly where this is going. “Bet you get real feisty, huh? Whiskey always makes girls want it—get’s um horny.” When he talks, he’s looking straight at you—if Joel wasn’t standing right beside you, you probably couldn’t have the courage to hold his younger brother's gaze like that. You want it right now, god you do, but not from the brother that's asking.

“You’ve got no idea,” you tell him and Tommy smirks at you, then up at his brother who’s gone stiff. “Is it me or him? Because this one doesn’t look too willing to give you any kind of sugar.”

Joel downright growls at his brother. “Knock it the fuck off, Tommy—she’s a lady.” A lady that wants him to bend her in half and stuff her full right now—no matter how much it might hurt. “No she ain’t! A lady doesn’t drink half a bottle and want to fuck.”

There's a hard thud behind you and when you look at Tommy, he’s holding the back of his head where Joel smacked him. “I’m walkin’ her home.” He tells his brother, but doesn’t once ask what you want. It’s been too long, been way too long since someone touched you—and it might be the alcohol in your system or the desperation for a Miller that sends you down this path, but both directions lead you to the same destruction.

“Like fuck you are! You aren’t my dad, Joel—you don’t get to decide what I want all the time. If I want to drink half a bottle and fuck your brother, then you’re going to have to suck it up and listen through the damn wall.”

Joel’s look of anger quickly morphs into something you’ve never seen on Joel Miller—fear. Oh—yeah, you struck a nerve on that one. What does he think? You’re going to soil his baby brother? Does he really look down on you that much, that he’s afraid of you sinking your claws into Tommy? You don’t want Tommy, you want Joel, but you’ll never have that—so you grab Tommy by the hand, yank him up until he’s standing on equally wobbly feet before pulling him down to meet your mouth. He tastes like whiskey and it's nothing to write home about. There's no electricity, no real desire on your part. But you know you hit your mark when there's hard footsteps headed towards the house and a hard slam of the front door.

Tommy gets into it fast, his hands on your hips and his teeth nipping at your lips like he’s as desperate for you as you are for his brother. “Let’s go inside,” he hums and you agree—you’re already this far and you want to make Joel feel what you’ve felt for the past twos months, all this anger and bitterness, why the fuck doesn’t he want you like you want him.

“Do you think he’ll hear us, through the wall?” Tommy pulls away and makes a face of confusion. “Do you want him to?”

Do you? Want him to hear the way you could moan and gasp for him? The way you could beg him for more, deeper, harder? Absolutely. “Yeah—I want him to hear it.”

It's a rough and awkward tumble to his room, you fall against the wall and Tommy does his best to keep you up straight. The door beside Tommy’s room is closed and the light is off, but you can't hear anything inside.

You try not to think—try your hardest not to imagine Joel instead of his brother, but it's a futile attempt. All you can see right now is Joel with his cock in his hand lent over the bathroom sink and how much you wanted to get on your knees for him right then and there. “Can I suck your dick?” Tommy groans from where he stands at the end of the bed, you propped against his pillows, both of you in the midst of discarding your clothes. You get down to your panties and underwear by the time Tommy is left in just his briefs. “Yeah-fuck yeah, you can.”

It’s good, it’s working for you—until he drops his underwear and you’re left…underwhelmed. “You aren’t as big as him?” If it wasn’t for the alcohol in your system, you probably wouldn’t have said it in the first place—but how could you not? He’s half the size of his brother, if you’re being generous. He’s still decent sized, you’ve had bigger, but you cant help the pang of disappointment that you won't be able to pretend just for now.

“I—no, wait you saw it?” You wince and Tommy pulls his boxers back up, suddenly the room is filled with something other than desire. “It was an accident—I didn’t mean to, but I just thought…you’re brothers and all.”

Tommy sighs, turns himself and sits down at the end of the bed with his head in his hands. “You don’t want to do this with me.” He says. “I didn’t say that—“ he shakes his head at you and turns enough to look at you. “You’re disappointed that my dick isn’t as big as his—you don’t want this with me. I don’t want to fuck you while you’re imagining my brother.”

Okay—ouch, that one stung. But you can't argue a point because you have no truth behind it even if you tried. You were going to imagine him—press your hands to the wall and imagine you were on the other side of it. “I’m sorry, Tommy…It’s not you, I promise…you’re a good friend and you’re a nice guy, I just…”

He smiles at you and it eases some of your anxiety. Tommy might not be Joel, but he is a good friend. “It’s okay, I can see it…Don’t think I could take somethin’ that's already his.” But you aren’t, his, after all. He doesn’t look at you like that, doesn’t want you—doesn’t want to touch you like this when he’s so busy despising you.

“He doesn’t want me like that, Tommy.”

Doesn’t want to see you like this in his bed, half naked and begging for him. “How do you know that?” You fiddle your hands with the band of your underwear, where a string is fraying on the edge. “He hates me…can’t even stand to look at me, he’s made that pretty clear.”

Tommy chuckles slowly and tosses you his shirt. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Honey. Try, you might surprise yourself.”

You pull the shirt on and curl up on the pillow, letting your head swim in the whiskey that's starting to take its toll on you now. “Sleep in here tonight, won't try anything—I promise.”

He takes the spot beside you and you smile sleepily, pulling the blanket over the top of you. “Thanks Tommy.”

Sleep comes easy when you’ve drank as much as you have tonight and you try not to think about the other side of this wall.

In the next room, Joel sits fully clothed at the end of his bed with his head in his hands, trying his damndest to stop the tears burning his eyes and tracking down his face.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #archive of our own #joel tlou #cowboy joel #dbf joel miller

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emepe · 13 days

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— Pairing: Eren x Reader, friends to lovers

— General info: series, 18+, modern AU, serial killer AU, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

— Summary: Fate is a tricky thing. Certain situations can’t be avoided as much as certain people’s lives can’t be kept from intertwining. With a serial killer on the loose, and unexpected relationships blooming, how will the universe intervene?

— Chapter summary: The past is revealed to Eren, who can only do his best to prove that it doesn’t change his feelings.

— Content warnings: past child abuse/neglect, drug use, unstable family life, grooming, SA, slightly nsfw, mention of unprotected sex.

— Notes: Sorry for the cliffhanger last week lol but you should be used to it haha. Chapter 10 is now here! <3 There’s a lot going on in this chapter so please pay attention to the content warnings before reading. Don’t be shy to stop by my ask box <3 If anyone else would like to be added to the tag list, lmk. Happy reading!

Links: Read on AO3 | Chapter guide | Masterlist

then and now

It wasn’t always so bad.

My earliest memory is that of my mom giving me a warm cup of tea and honey when I fell incredibly ill at three years old. I'd eaten something unclean and I was stuck in my parent's bed for a week, feverish, with little appetite and even less strength. If I concentrate enough, I can still hear echoes of my parents sitting at the kitchen table, crunching the numbers from their pooled savings so they could afford a doctor's visit. My mom remained by my side the entire time to make sure the IV drip didn't spontaneously clog, or that I didn't move the hand that was connected to it and started bleeding out into the tube. The doctor said a little bleeding was normal, but she was scared of it happening at all.

I developed a hatred for cabbage, which is what the doctor recommended to help regain strength without hurting my stomach. My father went out to buy it and my mom fed it to me in soup. She'd make a game out of it, and she promised to take me to the park to play as soon as I got better. I remember my childhood fondly if I focus on that first memory. So, I'm pretty sure anything before that was just as good.

I didn't know until I was way older that my mother did drugs before she had me. She struggled with addiction at sixteen, which was well into her relationship with my father. The only difference was, he remained clean after my mom told him she was pregnant during their senior year of high school.

I couldn't understand that I was witnessing her relapse after I started kindergarten. Apparently, being four and a half years old is the cutoff for being worthy of staying sober for.

That's when everything started spiraling. My mom failed to pick me up from school several times, leaving me to spend hours tucked away in the library, keeping Mrs. Zacharias company while she pretended to rearrange already organized books. My father worked long hours at a factory, some of which had to be punctured like swiss cheese so he could take me home because my mom was nowhere to be found.

By the time she stumbled through the door, she was being brought in by strange men. I never met them, I just knew they were there because the noise would wake me up in the middle of the night and I'd hear my father arguing with my intoxicated mom after thanking them for bringing her home.

My mom looked sick. As her number one fan, I was worried. She was getting skinnier, she barely ate and she seemed tired all the time yet never got enough sleep to heal the dark circles under her sunken eyes.

The first time I attempted to cook something, I was six. I could easily get by during school days. I had breakfast and lunch there, and sometimes Mrs. Zacharias would give me pretzel sticks if I read a book out loud to her while we waited for my father to come get me. But on weekends, I was on my own. My father was working even on weekends to make ends meet and even when my mom happened to be home, she wasn't truly there.

So, while she was locked inside the bathroom for hours, I went into the kitchen and tried to boil an egg. I couldn't find the small pot we always used, but my pink plastic bowl was on the drying rack from last night after my father fed me dinner.

I didn't know you weren't supposed to put plates onto a hot stove. The plate cracked and stuck to the burner. I tried to pry it off but I burned my hand. It would take years for the scar to fade.

When my mom saw what I'd done, she slapped me straight across the face. I was dragged by my hair and locked in the minuscule storage closet as punishment. That was just the first of many times.

My father would always be the one to let me out when he got back from work late at night, and I'd quietly call him from the inside, scared because I'd urinated myself and he'd probably be just as mad as my mom. But he wasn't. He'd clean me up, scrape the plastic from my now useless pink bowl from the burner, and feed me.

My father grew tired of it. All the money that was meant for food and supplies went directly to dealers, meaning he had to spread himself even thinner. When he found out my mom had ransacked the secret place he kept his savings for the sixth time, he snapped.

I was twelve by then, so I understood everything that was going on.

They had a huge fight and he stormed into the bedroom to pack his clothes into a bag. But my mom was ballistic. She took a pair of scissors and started cutting anything she could get her hands on into pieces.

I heard a series of slapping and punching before my father passed me by in the living room — no money or clothes on him — and slammed the door shut behind him.

Things got even worse.

My mom would constantly yell that if it hadn't been for me, my father never would've left. She'd tell me I ruined her life and that I was a burden. Had she not gotten pregnant at eighteen, her life would be a whole lot simpler.

But now we didn't have any money, I didn't have a father, and my mom's addiction pushed her into getting a job. Even back then, at twelve years old, I felt guilty because she had to work because of me.

She started off at a laundromat. Mrs. Zacharias visited our apartment because I hadn't gone to school for a few days and she wanted to check in. Despite my mom's foul language toward the kind librarian, she helped her get the job.

My mom was very happy to work at the laundromat, though it had less to do with having a purpose than it did with the crumpled bills she'd find in people's clothes that would later serve as pocket change for her dealer.

After a year, she was fired after being caught stealing from the register. It was surprising she even lasted that long in that place.

But now she was even more desperate.

And that's when the men started coming.

I spent my elementary and middle school years hearing my mom having sex with strangers inside the room she used to share with my father while I did homework on the kitchen table.

Some of them were nice. Some of them weren't.

Sometimes my mom's dealer would be the one to come around.

One day, when I was thirteen, I'd just gotten back from the school library from working on a group project and I was making myself a sandwich when he came out of the bedroom, still buckling his pants.

“Hey there, princess,” he said.

“Hi, Steve.”

I didn't think it was strange to be on a first name basis with the guy. He was around a lot and that in itself meant it was okay to be close with him, in my mind.

Besides, he wasn't that much older than me. I think about eighteen or nineteen. It just made sense to be friends.

“How's school?” he asked as he leaned back into one of the chairs at the table.

I knew he didn't really care — that's why he dropped out, he'd say — but I still answered him honestly.

“Math's getting a bit hard but I'm doing okay.”

“That's ‘cause you're smart,” he praised as he lit up a cigarette and took the first drag. “You're gonna make it outta here real quick with that brain of yours.”

He held my gaze as he blew out the smoke away from my face. It didn't matter because it drifted back to me anyway.

“You're pretty, too,” he murmured before taking another long drag.

I shook my head, an unamused scoff leaving my lips.

“I'm serious,” he laughed.

I turned back to look at him again, suddenly feeling shy.

He had very nice eyes. Sometimes bloodshot but always very blue.

I always liked how blue his eyes were.

I also liked that he complimented me. Outside of school I was barely praised for anything.

“You think I'm pretty?”

His smile slowly faded as he squashed his cigarette butt on the floor and leaned closer to me.

“Yeah, you're fuckin’ pretty, darlin’,” he murmured, his eyes flitting to my lips. “Wish I could taste you.”

I could feel my face grow hot at his words. At the time I thought he meant he wanted to kiss me, and perhaps that was all there was to what he said, but I found myself leaning closer to him, too.

I had my first kiss with a nineteen year old drug dealer. I didn't know what I was doing, of course, so I just tried to mimic his movements. He tasted awful but I felt my stomach fluttering at the thought that someone thought of me as pretty and not a disgusting nuisance.

The kiss was cut short when my mom caught sight of the scene and angrily kicked him out.

She was fuming when she got back to me, and I could feel my stomach trying to climb up my throat in anxiety.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she yelled.

I tried to explain that he asked to kiss me first, that he made the first move. But she overpowered me.

“You think I don't notice the way you look at all my men?” she sneered. “It wouldn't kill you to stop wearing that skimpy little skirt around, you filthy slut.”

I was next to be thrown out of the house.

Living on the first floor of our apartment building included some perks, one of them being we didn’t have to climb the metal stairs attached to the side of the building to get to our apartment. There were no stairs connecting the apartment floors on the inside, either, which meant there was plenty of privacy.

But it also meant I had no way of getting back inside that night.

It was December. It was snowing. And I slept outside.

From then on, I was nothing but a whore, a vicious slut who was interfering with my mom's business. I had to leave the house each time she had someone over, or be locked in the closet until they finished. My mom said that as long as I was in view, men would be more interested in me, the pretty young thing, instead of her. And that wasn't fair.

Over the next couple of years, we coexisted with each other. I stayed out of her way as much as I could, a habit that ultimately translated to other aspects of my life. And she spared me just enough attention when I needed to be punished for taking money for school supplies and food.

It got to a point when I started hanging around my high school more than I should. I'd get there extremely early and leave as late as I could without getting in anyone's way.

And I actually really liked school. Steve wasn't lying when he said I was smart. I really did have a knack for picking up on things easily, and good grades came to me like a birthright.

I was top of the list for everything.

Minus social skills.

I kept to myself. I was smart but I barely raised my hand in class so as to not rob anyone else of the opportunity to participate. I ate lunch alone in front of my locker to not take up any space at a table in the cafeteria. But I was fine with it.

Everything was fine.

Zeke Fritz was the youngest teacher at my school. He was well-mannered and charming, and he was very popular among all his students — but especially the girls.

He just had a dignified presence that drew everyone in. A lot of the female teachers would shamelessly flirt with him but he always remained very composed.

As the only male born to politicians with connections just about everywhere, Zeke Fritz could've lived a cushy life with a breezy job that would keep him comfortable for life.

But he wanted to be a high school teacher. So, fresh out of a masters program in math, he quickly snagged the open position at the high school I enrolled in years later. Not that an open position was a sign of good luck. For Zeke Fritz, spaces were manufactured for him wherever he chose to go.

He was well qualified for the job, though. He'd also taken a liking to me during my first and only semester of my first year. I was the first to pick up on every formula he taught and he found that endearing.

“I think I want to be a teacher someday,” I confessed one late afternoon when he asked me to help grade my classmates’ recent pop quiz.

I'd accepted out of a sense of duty, and because if I had rejected him, it surely would've caused him trouble of some sort.

Right?

“You'd make a fantastic teacher,” he smiled.

So, there we were. Looking back, that must've been the day I dug my own grave because Mr. Fritz seemed awfully delighted that I didn't reply to his request for help with an excuse, and that I basically confessed to looking up to him. My compliant attitude must've looked a lot different for him than it did for me.

He drove me home an hour later and watched me open the door to the apartment before leaving, like a perfect gentleman. I waved him goodbye and he smiled at me from inside his car, waving back as he sped off.

That was one of the last few times I saw him. Because just two weeks later, I dropped out of school.

Little by little, my mom had built up a large debt with Steve, and seeing that she'd taken loans from different people, whatever she earned from selling sex just didn't cut it. Our water, gas, and electricity bills were more than we could pay for, so I had no choice.

I started mowing lawns, raking leaves, cleaning pools and houses, and walking dogs for extra cash. I wasn't rich by any means, but I'd split most of the money to appease debt collectors and whatever was left to save for a rainy day.

When my mom noticed I was bearing most of the weight, she began slipping away from her own, leaving it for me to pick up. She continued abusing, and even developed more expensive tastes. There wasn't much I could do at that point. I could beg her to stop and flush her pills down the toilet but we'd just go in circles for hours and I'd end up huddled in the corner with tears, hugging myself in an attempt to feel some warmth.

I landed a waitressing job at a diner. I'd go three days a week and on my off-days I'd keep working odd jobs to stay afloat.

On one occasion, Mr. Fritz walked in.

He pronounced my name with surprise. I was even more surprised he remembered me. An entire year had gone by since I'd seen him, and I was sure he had plenty of fresh faces to occupy himself with to remember his student of roughly four months.

I politely nodded at him in greeting and showed him to a table. That night, after he insisted on driving me home, I finally caved at his fourth try.

However, as we neared my neighborhood, I burst into tears. He pulled into a dead-end street and turned off the car. I cried for the longest time, explaining through sobs that I was tired and that I missed school but I felt forced to leave.

He held me in his arms, his hand brushing down my back in comforting strokes until I calmed down.

He began frequenting the diner after that. Every Friday, he'd invite me to sit with him during my break and he'd fill me in on what he was teaching that week.

One night when he came in, I had a nasty bruise on my face. In one of my countless fights with my mom, she'd thrown a broken glass at my face and cut my jaw. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to leave a mark for a couple of months.

I didn't go back home that night. I felt awful for intruding on Mr. Fritz’s space, but he was adamant I stay with him until I figured what to do.

He provided me with food that night and clothes the following morning. I didn't want to burden him, but he'd already bought them, so I accepted the clothes with a polite nod. I remember my face warming up when I noticed his generosity went as far as new underwear and a plain white bra that fit me a bit awkwardly, but he seemed unfazed.

His place was closer to the diner I worked at, and odd jobs could be found just as well in his neighborhood. So, as long as I stayed there, I kept my routine and even helped tidy his apartment as a thank you.

At sixteen and a half, I started studying for my GED. Mr. Fritz helped me cram for the math portion and did as much as he could for other subjects. I was incredibly grateful.

The afternoon the results were posted on the testing portal, I was a nervous wreck. Mr. Fritz stood behind me, his hands resting comfortably on my shoulders as he assured me I'd done just fine. I scrolled down the web page in search of a passing score. When I saw it, I jumped out of my chair and screamed excitedly. Mr. Fritz picked me up and spun me around as he rejoiced in my success.

Even when he put me down, he kept his arms around my waist as he smiled down at me.

“Congratulations,” he murmured.

And then he leaned in.

The kiss took me by surprise. His hold was strong so I merely stumbled as I tried to draw a distance.

“Mr. Fritz—”

“What's wrong?” he gently asked me. “Don't you like me?”

My face warmed at the question, and I barely stuttered out a response.

“I do, but–”

I wanted to explain that my fondness was out of admiration, but he cut me off before I could.

“Then why can't we kiss? I like you, too. I always have. It's only natural. I'm a man and you're a woman. We live together; it was bound to happen.”

Confused, but trusting that his logic was a compelling argument, I nodded.

“I guess that's true.”

“And besides, I've been helping you this entire time. I did it because I care. I'd be hurt if you didn't think I was worthy after all I've done for you. Think of it as a token of your appreciation.”

“I don't want you to think I'm ungrateful,” I murmured.

My voice was barely above a whisper, but my meek demeanor made him smile.

Lifting my chin, he leaned down to kiss me again. I didn't stop him that time, and he just kept going.

Before I knew it, I was routinely bent over his dinner table or pushed down to my knees so I could repay his kindness.

This went on for months.

I felt a bit guilty. Because even though I could feel it in my gut that his logic had its flaws, I still let him have his way with me. But a few weeks in, I was convinced I was in love with him.

It was only natural, as he once said.

People who love each other do everything together. People who love each other kiss in the shadows all the time. They sleep next to each other in the same bed and they wake up at three in the morning to have sex, which ends with the guy telling the girl he loves her because the girl asked what she means to him. People who love each other would rather stay home than go out on dates where people can see them because love is best kept private.

That's what Zeke told me.

And I trusted Zeke. I loved him.

After the diner I worked at closed down, I started making deliveries for a nearby restaurant owned by a family of the name Grice. They could only offer me weekend hours, which meant I had to move my other jobs around but I accepted their offer. Since I couldn't drive a car or a motorcycle, I had to bike everywhere. Thankfully, the Grice's eldest son, Colt, gave me his old bike to use.

Colt Grice was nice. He was only a year younger than me but we'd never met until I started working for his parents. He went to private school, so it made sense we'd never crossed paths.

Colt Grice also had a thing for me. He asked me out a couple of times but I always politely declined. I couldn't tell him a name, but I let him know I was seeing someone. So he remained a distant admirer.

One Saturday afternoon, as I was cycling to and from the restaurant to make deliveries, I got lost looking for the last address on my list.

I took a wrong turn and ended up in a neighborhood I couldn't recognize. Frustrated, I hopped off Colt's bike and started walking, hopeful to find someone to ask for directions.

I passed by a dead-end and there I saw it. Zeke's car.

Confused as to what he was doing there, but relieved nonetheless, I started walking toward the car to surprise him. But I never made it.

Because as soon as I stepped forward, I caught a second figure inside the car. A girl around my age, or maybe even one or two years younger was sitting on his lap in the back seat, fervently kissing him — and he wasn't doing anything to stop her.

Stunned, I rushed out of there as fast as my feet allowed me.

By the time I came through the door of the Grice restaurant, I'd succeeded in my last delivery but I was a mess. Colt's parents rushed to me, asking if I was okay but all I could do was apologize for the delay.

Seeing as it was already dark out, Colt offered to walk me home. He remained quiet the entire way to Zeke's apartment building, which was perfect because I didn't have it in me to talk. As I stepped one foot in front of the other in a zombie-like daze, I thought about how crummy my life had been so far. I kept seeing flashes of Zeke and that girl in the backseat. I also thought about whether I should actually be with someone like Colt Grice.

If I was honest, had Zeke never entered my life, I would've said yes to Colt Grice ages ago. He was kind and tall, and he was nice to look at. Not to mention he was closer to my age than Zeke was.

So when we reached the front steps of Zeke's apartment building and Colt bid me goodbye with a smile, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.

He was taken aback, of course. But he kissed me back as soon as the shock subsided.

Blushing, he asked if I'd like to get a smoothie with him after work tomorrow.

I decided right then and there, on the eve of my eighteenth birthday, that I would cut ties with Mr. Fritz.

“I'd love to.”

Colt nervously laughed, amazed that I finally accepted his offer.

“I'll see you tomorrow, then,” he smiled, my name sweet on his tongue.

I didn't know Zeke had been watching us the entire time from his living room window.

My resolve to leave him was literally beaten out of me as soon as I walked through the door of his apartment.

I never brought up the girl from the dead-end street.

I never showed up for work the next day, I never showed up for my date with Colt, and I never saw the Grice family again even after I left Zeke for good six months later.

I went back to living with my mom. As expected, she was still a mess but by then all the crap in her system had worn her out so much that I had to do everything for her.

She couldn't fight with me like she used to just a year and a half ago, but it was still hell. She'd throw plates at me and scream horrible things at the top of her lungs until I'd break down crying each time. And that just wound her up even more.

I couldn't just leave her. She was all I had and I was all she had.

But even the most patient hearts are worn out, and so even though I held out as much as I could for six years — and I was probably just waiting to keep her company on her deathbed — I left. She was too out of it to realize who she was talking to, but angry enough to throw a picture frame at the door when I walked out.

I moved to a new city and got a job. I used my savings to furnish the small apartment I found for myself, filling it with soft pastel colors that made the place my safe haven.

I started wearing neutral colors, not wanting to draw attention to myself, and eventually found comfort in treating myself to the nice things I never had.

I only went back to my hometown to fill out paperwork when I got a call that my mom had died. That same week I spent there, I heard through the grapevine that Zeke got arrested after he failed to manipulate the young daughter of one of his family's friends, bringing shame to the Fritz name. I never saw him, or Mrs. Zacharias, or Colt Grice ever again.

You don’t seem to notice that your hands have been shaking for a while now, but Eren does. He's been holding them the entire time as they prune in the cold water.

Tears are pricking at his eyes but he refuses to let himself cry no matter how heavy his heart feels. It just doesn't feel appropriate when he's not the one trembling at the retelling of their life's story.

Words don't come easy to him, either. An apology seems out of place, and any string of comfort just doesn't seem to cut it. He wanted to know everything and now he does. Now he's just lost on what to say that could prove to you that you made the right call to trust him.

“I'm sorry,” you murmur, lacing your fingers with his, pulling his hand out of the water, and kissing his knuckles.

The gesture makes him ache.

“I know it's a lot.”

Eren could never lie to you. Everything you just told him definitely took a toll on him, but he’s also grateful that you shared it with him. And you shouldn't be the one to comfort him. It's given him an entire new perspective on who he wants to be for you.

It rips him apart from the inside to think that you grew up believing you weren't worthy of healthy parents or a proper home. To think that the only time you experienced love it wasn't even real, and that distorted your understanding of the word forever. To think you were present to help anybody you could without someone to do the same for you without any ulterior motives. To think you made yourself small when you deserved just as much as anybody to take up space in the world.

What can he say to a person who refuses to believe she could be genuinely loved but whom he loves like it's breathing?

If he had met you sooner, he would've done everything to protect you. It kills him that he couldn't keep you from being manipulated and used.

“Do you still like me?”

Your timid voice wavers in the air.

It dawns on Eren that he has yet to speak a word, and that you have no clue of where his head has been for the past few minutes since you caught him up to your present life.

You don't turn around to look at him, nor do you make any other move. You just remain with your back to him, looking down at your naked legs through the soapy water.

When Eren peers at you over your shoulder, lifting your chin with a wet pruned finger, you struggle to meet his gaze.

“Why wouldn't I?”

You crumble in his arms.

Eren cradles you as you cry into his chest like an affection-starved baby. He presses your naked body against his chest, rhythmically shushing you as his hand soothes your bare back and he presses his lips to your temple.

You cry out twenty-four years worth of pain with Eren as your anchor. Your eyes swell and your features contort in anguish as you sob so violently, the movement reflects on your shoulders and your cries are mute. You cry until there are no more tears to shed and all that's left are a few hiccups as your body comes down from its panic.

Eren turns on the shower and scrubs your body down. His fingers massage your scalp as warm water pours down your fragile frame. He sweeps the suds from your face with a gentle hand, as he looks down at you, teary-eyed but smiling as warmly as ever when you blink up at him.

A soft, fluffy towel is ruffled over your hair as he draws out the excess moisture before he wraps a second around your body and lifts you in his arms in one swift motion. You cling to him while he carries you to bed, where he carefully sets you down and he hugs you to his chest, coaxing you to sleep while the world outside your window slows down and darkens.

It's around three in the morning when Eren stirs awake. As his eyes adjust to the darkness, he finds you looking at him.

“How long have you been awake?” he whispers.

You smile.

“A while,” you admit. “I didn't know watching someone sleep could be so fascinating.”

“Well, now I'm embarrassed,” he laughs, his voice still groggy.

“Now you know how I feel,” you smirk, reminding him of when he's done the same.

His hand comes up to cup your face.

“How are you feeling?” he tenderly asks, his bright emerald eyes shining in the dark.

“Better,” you murmur. Then you meekly add, “I didn't think I would cry so much. I'm a little embarrassed about that.”

Eren leans forward to plant a brief kiss on your lips.

“Thank you,” he says, to which your eyebrows upturn in confusion.

“For trusting me,” he explains. “I know it couldn't have been easy to relive everything.”

He clears his throat as he strokes the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“I didn't know what to say at the moment. If that freaked you out, I'm sorry. But I promise none of that changes the way I feel about you. Not that, not anything. I swear. I won't fail you.”

You thought you were dried out, but Eren's words draw another series of tears to well in your eyes and cling to your lashes.

“So you still want me?”

He smiles.

“I told you. I'm in it for the long haul.”

As you melt in each other’s embrace, you realize this is what genuine love is. People who love each other want to know each other. They hold hands and play on swings in childlike glee. They wake up at three in the morning to watch the other person sleep, careful not to disturb them because the image of them dreaming is just too precious. And whether it be in light or shadows, people who love each other kiss slowly as words of praise and worship are poured into each other's mouths and warm hands caress each other’s scars.

The last two days leading to the New Year's Eve party at the Jaeger house are spent making last minute arrangements and check-ins with the catering service, florists, pyrotechnicians, and others.

You and Carla spend the last day shopping. You brought one of your fancier dresses in your suitcase, but after witnessing all the crates of champagne being delivered and hauled into the house in preparation for the party, as well as a preview of the flower arrangements, you felt the need to seek something livelier than the original sleek black silk dress.

It takes several stores and countless fittings until Carla finds you the perfect dress. It's simple but pretty and you and Carla are over the moon with the way it fits you when you step out of the changing room.

The following night, the music from the main house's terrace can be heard all the way inside the pool house. You haven't met anyone yet, but the sound of car doors and alarms have been faintly echoing in the background for a while.

Eren’s fixing his bow tie in front of the bedroom mirror when you slowly wander into the bedroom, in your pretty pastel dress and strappy heels, fixing your earrings as you go.

Eren's mouth falls open when he turns around and takes in the sight.

“What do you think?” you shyly ask.

You're in a flowy midi knife-pleated dress, washed in pastel colors that blend seamlessly between lavender, pastel pink, blue and green, like a watercolor painting. The bustier-style bodice is connected to dainty straps in the same soft colors.

His lips part and close as he struggles to find the right words. When you giggle, he finally grins and pulls you in by the waist.

“Are you even real?” he murmurs.

You laugh as he pushes you back against the wall, smiling and cradling your face with one hand as the other keeps you pressed against him by the small of your back.

Your hands drape around his neck as he catches a glimpse of the angel necklace resting below your collarbone.

“I think we should bail on the party and just celebrate here,” he grins as his nose brushes against yours. “You know, in some cultures, New Year's is more of a private holiday.”

You throw your head back in laughter as he peppers your neck with short, eager kisses.

“Seriously,” he says, leaning back just enough to admire your smiling face. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you,” you shyly reply. “You look really good, too.”

“Well, I remembered you liked me in a suit,” he smirks, eliciting a pleasant shiver to run down your spine. “So… what do you say?”

Giggling, you shake your head.

“I think your mom will notice if her only son doesn't show up to the party.”

Eren pouts.

“You're right. Then at least I'll get to brag about having the prettiest woman in the world with me.”

He enthusiastically pulls you into a kiss, drawing out an amused giggle from your lips as you melt into his touch.

When he pulls back, you're both smiling, connecting in one enamored look.

“Eren, I love you.”

Your eyes twinkle as they blink up at him.

“I know I haven't said it in a while but… you know I do… right?”

Eren's heart frantically pounds against his ribs as he caresses your cheek with tender strokes of his thumb.

“Of course,” he murmurs.

Your shoulders visibly relax, like you've been holding back on repeating those three words and this moment has finally granted you with relief.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you nod.

“Okay,” you sigh happily. You peck the corner of his mouth. “Come on, Carla's probably wondering what's taking so long.”

Eren doesn't move, keeping you in place against the wall.

“Wait,” he says, his voice quivering slightly at the end.

He brings your hand to his chest, giving you a second to feel the fervent beats.

You look at him curiously as your name rolls off his tongue.

“I love you.”

His features soften before you as the words leave his lips, like pronouncing them has lightened an unknown weight on his shoulders.

“I didn't say it back then,” he adds. “But it wasn't because I didn't feel it. I was just surprised you said it first. But you know I've loved you this entire time… right?”

His shy confession lines your eyes with tears.

“Of course,” you murmur.

He sighs heavily in relief as he kisses you once more.

“I love you,” he repeats, the words falling from his lips like it's what he was put on this earth to pronounce.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.”

You cling to him, your fingers carding through his hair as he ruins your lipstick with his fervent kiss.

“I love you, Eren,” you repeat, as you fall back onto the bed, where his hand snakes up your thighs and his fingers tug your underwear to the side.

“I love you,” you sigh as he buries himself inside you, the contact raw without a single thing to keep you apart.

“I love you,” you whimper as your legs wrap around his middle and he finishes inside.

You both rest on the bed, hands laced together as you regain control of your breathing.

“I love you,” Eren smiles, your full name bouncing off his tongue and making you giggle.

“I love you, Eren Jaeger.”

The music from the string quartet on the terrace begins to play, reminding you of the night's agenda.

“Let's go,” Eren says, helping you up with one hand.

“I'm gonna need a minute,” you tell him as you fetch a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser. “I'll be quick.”

He nods, a cocky grin taking over his lips when he notices the streak of your lipstick smeared on your chin.

“I'll wait for you outside,” he smiles. “I gotta make a call.”

You nod and slip into the bathroom.

As you take in your reflection, an excited flutter stirs in your stomach.

Being with Eren doesn't compare to anything else in your life. He's the warmth you've craved your entire life. He's deep in every cavity of your being, patching you up from the inside with his strength and affection.

You decide at this moment that you've never loved anyone until him.

As you trade your ruined lipstick for a tinted lip gloss and you clean the remnants from your spontaneous lovemaking, three little words shaped by Eren's warm voice echoes in your ears.

I love you.

With one last look in the mirror, you walk out to meet him.

As you shut the pool house door behind you, you pick up the last of Eren's call.

“I gotta go… Yeah… Good luck, buddy.”

Eren ends the call with a quick tap to his screen before turning to you.

He holds out his hand for you to take.

“Ready?”

The party is in full swing on the terrace. Champagne bottles have been popped and music and lively voices fill the air.

You feast on shrimp and cream puffs, bacon-wrapped asparagus and antipasto skewers. You clink your champagne flute with Carla and the ladies from her book club as you suggest titles for their next read and you look over at the pyrotechnicians as they finish setting up for the fireworks show with ten minutes to spare.

Eren never leaves your side.

He laces your fingers with his as he tugs you away from the railing to dance. His hands fix your arms around his neck before settling on your waist.

He's not much of a dancer, but you follow his lead in swaying to the music. Your limbs tingle with the light buzz of brut.

“Are you happy?” he asks as he presses his forehead to yours.

You smile.

“I'm never not happy when I'm with you.”

He laughs.

“I guess I'm stuck with you, then.”

“You are,” you murmur as you draw closer to his lips.

He pulls back teasingly, chuckling when you inevitably pout at his evasion.

“Easy, you'll get your kiss in a couple of minutes.”

Resting your head on his chest, you continue to sway. It's not long before someone calls out that it's a minute to midnight.

As fresh champagne flutes are handed out to every guest, you turn around in Eren arms so you can face the fireworks show. As everyone around you excitedly counts down the last ten seconds of the year, Eren hovers over your shoulder and lifts your chin between two fingers.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” you murmur back.

The two of you kiss as golden lights burst in the sky.

Later that night, buzzed from champagne and with a new bottle tucked under Eren's jacket, you stumble into the pool house, giggling like teenagers who just stole from their parent's liquor cabinet. As you clumsily undress each other and exhale sweet words in the air while reconnecting your bodies one more time, you think to yourself that Eren has managed the impossible — to heal every wound and make you happy.

The following morning, you'll find a new series of text messages where Mikasa and Jean let their friends know they're engaged, and you'll be even happier.

Two days into the new year, you part from Paradis Island.

At the airport, as you, Eren, and Carla have a quick lunch before you leave, Eren pulls out his phone and asks you and his mom to pose for a picture together, before asking a security guard to snap a photo of the three of you.

Carla hugs you tightly as she makes you promise you'll be back soon even for just a few days. You hold onto her just as tightly, thanking her for everything, even for the things she didn't know she gifted you, and you swear this isn't the last she'll see of you.

Roughly thirty minutes later, as you look out the window, waiting for the plane to take off, Eren's hand gently envelops yours.

You turn to smile at him and he dips forward to kiss your temple.

“I love you.”

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interlacrimas · 4 months

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hm, i guess its time for headcanons!! (Since its been a while since ive been here or on tiktok, i thought maybe it would be fun!

Hajime is allergic to peanuts, he never tell anyone because he just assume that it was unnecessary info, till when he ate something kazuichi made to him and he fell on the ground, almost dying

Fuyuhiko HATES yakult, as lactose intorelant, he had to drink it very often, mostly as a child and he absolute hates it

Hajime hates physical touch, but he pretend to like it, Fuyuhiko loves physical touch, but he pretend to hate it

Fuyuhiko can tell if izuru is the one talking easily, sometimes people go and say things like "hajime is acting so different today", he stares and just say "probably because it isnt fucking hajime"

hajime smells just like those baby soaps, he rarely uses perfurme, fuyuhiko like those expensive perfumes, he really likes those, specially the strong ones, but he rarely uses them either, because he is embarassed to

Both have shitty families on different ways (btw, this isnt fully headcanon, most of this topic is in fact canon) fuyuhiko's family is violent, they often fight, to the point of death threats between his parents, he had to grow up in an extremely hostile enviroment. Hajime on the other hand had parents who were neglectful, they probably just didnt care about him, his urge for feeling special probably came from this, hajime's parents wanted a trophy, not a child, and they probably let hajime do a LOBOTOMY because, 1 - he would finally be useful, and 2 - his presence wont be missed

Hajime and fuyuhiko both have a hard time sleeping, they spend the night awake talking to each other, sometimes they fall asleep in the middle of the chat, other times they just spend the whole night awake

hajime loves talking about his interests, but never got the chance to do that, once fuyuhiko found out about this he made hajime talk to him about it for hours, fuyuhiko actually make good commentary about it and seem to actually care and get his excitement, which makes hajime happy

Hajime and fuyuhiko are both overworkers, and always call out for each other, even thought they do the same mistake

Fuyuhiko is totally Japanese, hajime isnt, as thought as he is Japanese descendant, he is also latin American, specifically brazillian, he was on brazil between the age of 0 to 10, he then moved to japan, even if it was pretty early on his life, hajime likes the dishes from his homeland and make fuyuhiko try them, fuyuhiko fell in love with the brigadeiro, which was sweet just like he likes, hajime makes them often for him, sometimes when fuyuhiko is alone at his Office he eats them

Just like fuyuhiko like sweet things, hajime doesnt mind food, but he like bitter and spicy food, like REALLY MUCH, fuyuhiko thinks he is insane to drink Juice without sugar or to eat so many spicy things without a cup of water, i guess hajime's favorite bitter thing is...fuyuhiko! I love this analogy, like hajime is a sweetheart and fuyuhiko like sweets, its only far for the opposite to happen!

hajime when he gets mad he often stop talking and just ignore the person he is mad about, fuyuhiko not only mock him and his angry mood, but he often treat the person equally bad, he didnt even care about the motive, he just did, fuyuhiko didnt ask why he was mad thought, he knew it was frustrating hearing this type of question, but still he says things like "just say how much of a bastard this piece of shit fucking is! I have no idea what this mother fucker done but if youre mad it must been pretty mess up"

They like to watch EVERYTHING togueter, hajime is the type to say "no...please dont do it *character* dont do it youre gonna to die dont do it" for the TV, fuyuhiko is the type to "STOP GOING THERE ASSHOLE YOURE GOING TO DIE, COME BACK. COME BACK." In the end the character die and they both stop talking, but probably thinking the Same thing, that it was the most obvious thing ever

Fuyuhiko relationship with izuru is...weird, they often dont talk, they spend their time in silence, which is often more comforting then scary, fuyuhiko sometimes Braid izuru hair, fuyuhiko is aware izuru is just a repressed version of hajime, even if people try to make them different persons

And for the final headcanon, izuru wakes up early at 9:00 to watch mikudayo show, for some reason he likes it, he watched it in the past, and had a few memories that he didnt remember, so he started to watch those episodes everyday, the first time fuyuhiko saw him doing it was like "huh, hajime what are you doing awake right now" to realize it was izuru, he then see the mikudayo program and gets confused, how could izuru like it, he just silent watched too, fuyuhiko now likes the mikudayo program, he just dont admit to anyone

I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED!

#fuyuhiko kuzuryu #hajime x fuyuhiko #kuzuhina #super danganronpa 2 #interlacrimas #hajime hinata

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spacedlexi · 4 months

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Wait, people think Carver is the best TWDG villain?? I always thought he was basic as hell, and the fact that he was beefing with an 11-years old girl... Now Stranger on the other hand was great, he was super intimidating and off-putting and I was genuinely so scared he would hurt Clementine. I also liked Minnie for the same reasons (she was so creepy/off-putting), but I still think Stranger is the best villain bc he had a great setup while Minnie was kind of a secondary villain. But going back to Lilly/Carver, I also definitely prefer Lilly over Carver even though neither are my favorite... And now I'm kind of curious how you would rank the rest of the TWDG villains? 🤔

carver being the best villain is a sentiment ive heard for years 😭 im sure its coming from the "S2 is the best season" crowd tho which i also dont agree with 💀

the stranger is an effective villain. hes not exactly the typical villain type people expect. but hes very unsettling and him stalking clementine for who even knows how long through the walkie talkie is 🤢 he really makes me feel sick. she was using that talkie to deal with the loss of her parents, and this fucking creep took advantage of that so hard he was able to convince her to trust him. ugh he makes me feel so gross. and think of all the guilt clem must have about that situation. trusting this freak to help her find her parents, when if she had just stayed then lee wouldnt have gotten bit looking for her, and her parents were already dead the entire time anyway. oof. theres no way that isnt one of the biggest regrets of her life

carver is fine. i definitely think his character wouldve made more sense if they put kenny in that role instead. that way theres less "i am a grown man beefing with an 11 year old" and more "this is a child i helped look out for once, and im gonna make sure shes raised Right". but i agree that carver as he is is just over the top. overly villainous to the point of it being a little comical. like when villains are all tough like that my reaction is usually "god i WISH youd fucking kill me already so i dont have to hear your bullshit anymore do you know how GOOFY you sound??". if it was kenny in that role i definitely think they wouldve been able to tone it back a bit, and him "having a good side" wouldve been way more believable. as he is carver is kind of one note

joan.... definitely the weakest of the bunch. i dont really have much to say about her. david isnt even technically a villain but i definitely saw him as the better antagonist for the season. i mean hes definitely a villain in clems eyes. and is a constant semi-antagonist towards javi throughout the whole season. joans just kinda.. there.. doing things behind the scenes to cause conflict until the final confrontation. and then she can just disappear... okay

i like the way the antagonists work in S4. theres more of a discussion around what actually makes someone a villain and the difference between a person who fucked up and made (very horrible) mistakes, and a person who is straight up a threat. and i like that it connects back to the idea of lee and his murder of that senator. did he do something horrible? yes. did he destroy his relationship to his family? yes. does he regret what he did? i think so. and he definitely has guilt about his fucked up relationship with his wife. in S1 they mention how non-guilty people got sent to prison all the time. while lee is Definitely a murderer, we get to see over the season that hes a good guy who just wanted a family and in a moment of rage and betrayal did something he can never take back. this is why i never hated marlon. did he fuck up and do horrible things? of course. but he was a scared fucked up teen leading a group of other scared fucked up teens. he knows he fucked up, and continued fucking up to cover for his previous fuck ups lol. but he can be talked down. its a shame it ends the way it does, but i really like being able to teach aj the difference between people like marlon and people like lilly

lilly takes that kenny/carver idea and applies it to a clementine that has grown up and has been looking out for herself (and baby aj) for years now, instead of the 11 year old trying to figure shit out she was in S2. shes too old for lilly to be able to sway her in a way she couldve been more susceptible to in S2, and when lilly finally realizes this she just turns her attention to aj instead, seeing the potential in him (a potential clem does NOT want aj to live up to, wanting him to get to be a kid and not just a survivor, let alone a killer). lilly is fun because you can see in her that she WANTS clementine on her side, and throughout the season progressively realizes that its just never going to happen. both lilly AND clem come to the realization that this person they once considered family is beyond reason, their views too different, and so the fighting begins. their fight at the end of EP3 really feels like a "so its finally come to this" moment for both of them, their final fight. i always shoot her.

whats interesting about minnie is seeing her evolve from secondary antagonist in EP3 to straight up primary villain in EP4. the things shes done, the way shes been broken. she becomes her own downfall, seeing herself as someone beyond redemption. that this is just who she is now, its how things have to be. because if they didnt have to be this way? well then theres a lot more guilt she'd have to deal with. yelling at her in EP4 to just STOP FOR THE LOVE OF GOD YOU DONT HAVE TO DO THIS ANYMORE but she has been changed (in her eyes) so irreparably that she cant see any other option. and she progressively sees clem as the one who fucked everything up for her, instead of accepting that it could all finally be OVER. after killing sophie, the delta was all she had left. it cant have all been for nothing. and so she blames clem for taking it all away from her, even tho clem is just trying to protect her family. the family that used to be minnies. and so in her rage she gets bit. something else that she couldve avoided. but shes just too lost to her own downward spiral, unable to be reasoned with. by that point she just wants it all to be Over. and she wants to take tenn with her so she can finally pretend things can all go back to the way they used to be. her, sophie, tenn, and their parents all together again, where no more bad things have to happen to them. shes super tragic and i love her for that. and i love how she holds this dark mirror up to clem. clem struggles to let go of her past too, and the guilt she has over the things shes done and people shes hurt. and that if she cant learn to let go and move on she could get lost to it the same way minnie did. theres a reason clem is so quick to accept her fate, but shes finally able to leave that guilt holding her to her past behind in that barn. and she returns to ericson a much happier and lighter person, so much weight finally lifted from her shoulders. its finally over for her too

so yeah. my fave villains are definitely the S4 ones due to their nuance and layers. then the stranger, then carver, then joan. if i had to put david on this list he'd probably be above carver. but thats mainly because he has more nuance than carver ever did

#S4 addressing themes of rehabilitation makes me sooo happy #twdg #long as post be upon you #replies with lexi #incognito

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mooncakesofpan · 2 years

Text

A MILF

Teen dad!Billy Hargrove x Teen mom!hopper!Reader

Summary: Over hearing some of the moms in Hawkins can cause you to have your doubts.

A/n: sorry it took so long to put out another part to this. Also i think ive mentioned this before Reader is Adopted.

Warnings: teen parenting , fluff, non sexual nudity(reader is breat feeding), mentions Neil's terrible and abusive parenting, established relationship, strong language, Billy threatens to beat Mikes ass, She/her pronouns

Word Count: 1.3k

Stranger things Masterlist | Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK

Something about the middle-aged women and their own vendetta with you because of Billy and your’s child Victor, always rubbed you the wrong way. You had told El. you would pick Miked up on your way to Billy’s cause the group was gonna go biking to the arcade from there.

You got to the Wheelers and saw the group of moms huddled around the lemonade stand on the warm day of Holly. they all recognized your truck. you had tried to keep it down low but secrets are hard to keep in a small town. No one had seen you for a good few months you trying to avoid being seen on the way to doctor appointments, but when you had Vicky you looked different. It was hard to miss you around town with a stroller and a baby or the fact that sometimes you would have to drop Vicky with your dad to go do things. It didn't take long for theories to come to the surface and the truth to come out once Vicky was seen with Billy and the noticeable similarities were mainly Billy’s pretty eyes and, his widow's peak. You pulled up and Vicky was asleep so you opened the door and stepped out to ask Ms.Wheeler to get MIke while the ac ran in your car. You could feel the eyes of the neighborhood moms as they spoke about you. “Hi Ms. wheeler can you let Mike know I'm here to pick him up,” you say with a smile. “Yes of course hun,” “Of course” you could hear the other moms behind you "To think getting pregnant so you thank goodness my daughter would never be so irresponsible,” one mom said. “She must have slept around a lot and it finally caught up to her,” another whispered. “She's not a very good mother I hear, Marcy told me she sees her all the time alone around town and doesn't spend nearly enough time with the baby,” one of the moms says. You rolled your eyes getting back in the truck, it stuck to you. Were you a bad mom? Sure you were new to everything but you thought you were doing well considering your situation. The times you were seen without Vicky he was either with billy or with joy so you could shop for you El., and your father. You were drawn out of your head by the sound of a door slamming, seeing Mike go out his front the door and walk to your truck “Hey Mike,’” you say smiling “Hi Y/n” he gets in and looks at Vicky. sees the baby is miraculously still asleep. You take your guy's ride to the Mayfield-Hargrove household in somewhat silence Vicky wakes up about halfway there not too fussy more or crying cause he was hungry. “Sorry he must be hungry but we're almost There," you say feeling slightly embarrassed about the fact that Vicky was hungry and you still had about 10 mins left in your drive. your insecurity setting in. Sure it was just a 14-year-old who probably didn't care but in your head, the fact you didn't stop and weren't immediately feeding the baby was eating you a bit. Even tho you were less than 10 minutes away from Billy's. “Oh it's fine,” Mike says shrugging. You finally get into the driveway and Mike says thanks while hopping out while you grab the backpack with Vicky's stuff and pick the fussy baby up. “I know I'm sorry Vicky I know I know mama's gonna get you some food,” you saw Max walking out the door billy in tow his shirt slightly unbuttoned “Hey hot stuff, woah someone upset,” Billy says chuckling a little as he walks up to the two of you. Leaning in to hug you careful of Vicky. “Yeah uh let's get inside he's hungry,” you say as Billy kisses your forehead. He grabs the bag as you head inside you hear the sound of your door slamming close. You get into his room and he closes the door. you laid the crying baby down on the bed trying to slip some of your top off to try and feed Vic. Billy could tell something was upsetting you probably from the way looked like you were gonna cry outside in front of your car or the fact you still looked like you were gonna cry while trying to get Vicky to latch on which seemed to not be going so well. Vic not latching on was frustrating you more Tears filling your eyes. This entire day was hard on you, and the more the day went on the worse felt. Billy could see the tears welling up in your eyes and decided that he should probably do something other than stare at the situation in front of him. "Okay doll let's try something else huh?” Billy said lifting Vic out of your arms carefully. “Lean on the pillows,” he says. The few pillows on his bed propped up you lean up more against the pillows on the wall the pillows are nice and soft surprising, and defiantly new in the teen boy's room. He closed the blinds a little more allowing a little light threw and turned off the lights so that the room was a bit darker and put a cassette in the player but kept it on a low volume. The room became calmer allowing you to relax a bit. “Now while Vic Feeds your gonna tell me What got you all fussed up,” you nod there was more success the second time trying to feed Vic. “So I was getting Mike and-” “That little Dip-Shit didn't say anything I have no problem beating a 14-year-old as-” Billy says leaning up from the spot he was laid back on, on his bed. “No! no, he didn't say anything, I was gonna say I was asking Ms.Wheeler to call mike out and some of the other neighborhood moms were there and they started talking about me, and it's just-, Billy am I a bad mom?” the words were followed by tears running down your face. Billy looked at you with confusion written all over his face. “You a bad mom? Doll, your probably one of the best moms to ever grace this earth, one of the hottest fucking moms too,” Billy swears ”Language,” you say looking up from Vic's little face “an absolute MILF doll” you felt warm by Billy’s words. The smirk on his face on top of his flattery was enough, to create butterflies. “Your so attentive to Vic, you juggle taking care of you, Vic, your sister, and pretty much your dad while you're at it too, it would be a damn shame to call you a bad mom when you take such good care of our kid. I don't want you believing that crap okay, you're a good mom, you understand?” Billy says seriousness laces in his voice. “And you still find time to do stuff with those kids bad mom my ass” he mumbles the last part. The reason for your falling tears changed with Billy’s words. “Thanks, Billy” “Only statin’ truths Imma go grab you a snack” Vic in true baby fashion had fallen write back to sleep with some milk in his system. You had swaddled Vicky up and placed him in the crib in Billy's room and you had laid down your head in Billy's lap when he got back. "I'm sorry I try to block that stuff out but sometimes it just gets to me," you say softly as you feel Billy's hand rubbing soft circles on your cheek. It was moments like this you wouldn't have it any other way your boyfriend could be a little rough around the edges but he cared a lot for you and Vicky. He was determined to be a better man than his father. "Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault," he said plainly. A toothpick sticking out of his mouth that he had been chewing on. You leaned into his Touch. "Thanks, Billy,"