Please see under the cut for my masterlist of age regression fics. None of these fics contain graphic sexual content, but they may still have dark themes. Please be warned, all fics on my main masterlist are not SWF. Please pay attention to content warnings and consume at your own discretion.
Because it needs to be said, no one has my permission to translate or repost my fics anywhere.
Key:
🔥 - smut
❤ - fluff
💀 - angst (always with a happy ending because I am soft)
💫 - my favorites
Fathering (Domestic!Stucky, (f)Child) ❤
Part 1
Their Girl (Soft!Dark!Daddy!Stucky x Little!Reader) ❤💀 - Completed
Season 1:
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - Finale
Christmas Special
Season 2:
Game Day Safe
Out of the Pan (Dark!Daddy!Lee x f!Reader)💀
-> Into the Fire (Soft!Dark!Daddy!Lee x f!Reader)💀 ❤
Evaluation (Daddy!Bucky x f!Reader) 💀 ❤
20/20 (Mommy!Nat x GN!Little!Reader)
Hostage (Soft!Dark!Daddy!Ransom x Little!F!Reader)
hiii! may I request a daddy Lee pace x little reader where she is with him on set of guardians but once he’s in his Ronan makeup she’s really scared of him but he shows her that it’s not real and comforts her (I love Lee Pace but he terrifies me as Ronan)😂😭
i rly hate how this turned out but i hope u like it😭😭
Lee doesn’t think he’s ever seen you more excited; you’re buzzing, your little hand grasping his pinky and ring finger and swinging your arms wildly. You’re spending the day on set with him and he’s delighted to have his princess for the whole day - you always make everything just a little easier with your cheerful demeanour.
“Okay, sunshine, what are our rules for today?”
“Stay wif Daddy, no runnin’, ‘nd be quiet!” you recite obediently; your finger presses to your lips and your eyes widen comically. Lee chuckles, pressing his warm lips to your temple.
“Good girl.”
You spend the early morning in his trailer with your colouring books whilst he gets into costume. When he opens the door, finally finished with the languorous makeup process to transform him into Ronan, you stand, fully ready to throw yourself into his arms. But when you catch a glimpse of his face, entirely morphed into something unfamiliar and scary, you recoil. The tears are instant and unrelenting. Hiccuped sobs push their way out of your throat and you stumble back, cowering away from him.
“Sunshine, it’s still me,” Lee coos, crouching to make himself smaller and less threatening. “It’s not real, it’s just makeup, baby.” You shake your head, eyes scrunched shut; he sounds like your daddy, the same soothing voice rumbling through his chest. Tears trail down your cheeks and he frowns, holding his hand out. His heart splinters at your distress and he desperately wants to scrub the makeup off just to soothe you.
“Feel my face, baby.” He cranes his neck downwards, tilting invitingly. “C’mon.” You reach out with a shaking hand and press it to his cheek; your fingers come away blue.
“O-oh,” you sniff, “Sorry, daddy.”
“You have nothing to apologise for. I know it just shocked you.”
“You look scary, dada,” you mumble, pestering your way under his arm nonetheless.
“It’ll be gone later, sunshine.”
“Okay.”
“C’mon. ‘s time to start, and once I’m done, we’ll go and get ice cream,” he says.
“Really?” You grin, wrapping your fingers around his sleeve in place of his fingers.
“Of course, sunshine. Ice cream for my brave girl.”
Warnings: mentions of blood, gun use, mild violence, allusions to domestic abuse, implication of past sexual assault, stress-induced regression, mentions of mice, grief
A/N: Part 2 to Out of the Pan! Despite all of the warnings, this came out much softer than I’d originally planned. Lee should be the easiest character to write dark, but I just can’t do it, so I hope y’all enjoy a soft, dark sheriff daddy as much as I do.
Tears rolled down your cheeks as Bodecker’s gaze bored into you. But any plea you could think of felt pointless. He’d killed Preston and he was never gonna let you go.
He stroked your chin with his thumb, “Quit your crying now. You’re gonna be fine. Daddy’s got ya now.”
Before you could think better of it, you jutted your chin into his palm, “No.”
His eyebrow quirked, “No?”
His tone made you second guess yourself already, but you repeated yourself, “No. You’re not my daddy. I want to go home.”
“That so?” You’d always heard the sheriff had a bit of a temper, so this cold fury was unexpected. It gave you goosebumps, but you nodded slowly.
He chuckled softly, “Alright then, sweet pea. Have it your way.” He stood, knees cracking as he came out of the crouch, offering you a hand up from the couch.
You reluctantly put your hand in his; it felt like a trap, but it wasn’t like you had another option. So when he took you up to the front door, your heart leapt, but once outside, he didn’t lead you toward the car. Instead, he stepped off the front stoop, moving toward the side of the house.
You resisted, “W-wait, where are we going?”
“You don’t have to be my girl, but this is home now. So I’m takin’ ya to your room.” He tipped his head at the storm cellar.
“Wait, no, I- I changed my mind-”
“Nah, you’re just sayin’ that now. We’re gonna wait ‘til you mean it.”
He dropped your hand to unlock the bolt on the outside of the cellar doors and with a sharp glance at the woods, you took off. The ground here was even less forgiving on your bare feet than the pavement had been, but you barely made it to the tree line before a shot rang out, sending bark chips flying into your path.
You let out a shriek and drew in on yourself, curling into a ball where you stood. “Don’t be doing anything foolish like that,” Bodecker reprimanded. He snapped his fingers, “Get back over here, now, before I lose my temper.”
You scurried back over to the cellar doors, where he gave you an irritated look before throwing the doors open. He squeezed the back of your neck between his fingers, directing you down the steps ahead of him.
Bodecker pushed you forward, darkness encasing you until there was a click and dim light washed over the room. It was small, the single bare lightbulb able to light the whole room. It was also pretty barren. A workbench in dire need of repair sat in the corner of the room. A stack of broken down cardboard leaned up against the wall and there were several spots along the walls that looked like they were indefinitely damp.
“I’ll bring down the cot for ya, so you got somewhere to sleep,” he said, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.
You felt your lip tremble, “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I promise.”
He paused for a fraction of a second, but he shook his head, “No. You’re gonna learn to appreciate what I‘m doin’ for ya.” He cupped your chin again, turning your face this way and that, “I’ll bring down an ice pack too, so hopefully your face won’t swell up too bad.”
Then he let go, shuffling back toward the steps, leaving you standing in the center of the dingy room. True to his word, he returned twenty minutes later, huffing and puffing as he hauled the folding cot down the steps. You remained where you were, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, still in a half-numb state of shock.
Once the cot was set up in the corner, he turned to leave again, but you felt your hands reach for his, “Wait-” A sound that was almost a whimper escaped you, “Don’t leave me alone.”
He gave a self-satisfied chuckle, “I’m just goin’ t’get the ice pack.”
Reluctantly, you allowed him to slide his hand from yours and disappear back up the stairs, though a knot of fear began to form in your belly. What if he didn’t come back? He could leave you locked down here and no one would ever know.
So when he returned with the ice pack and a sandwich on a plate, as soon as he set them down, you surprised him by throwing yourself at him with a hug. He braced your shoulders and pulled you back, though he couldn’t mask the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, “What’s the matter with you, girl?”
You kept your gaze lowered, “‘M sorry, Sheriff. Just a lil scared.”
“What do you got t’be scared of? I said I was gonna keep ya safe, didn’t I?”
You nodded, looking around the grim cellar, “Lotta changes, I guess.” You had to force the words out, “Thank you- for what you did for me.”
He gave a short nod, “Been a big night for ya.” It was like you could see the temptation to reconsider pass behind his eyes, but you didn’t want to overplay your hand. You stepped back, taking a seat on the cot and scooping up the ice pack.
You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as you gingerly pressed the pack to your battered cheek- it was already tender to touch. Bodecker watched you grimace, his brow furrowing, “That boy didn’t know how to treat a lady. You’re better off without ‘im.”
You didn’t want to speak ill of the dead, but Preston was gone and you were alive. So you nodded, “He wasn’t a good man. Always mad at me for somethin’. I-” You swallowed, throat tight, “I didn’t wanna be scared n’more.” That part was true.
He sat down next to you on the cot, “You don’t have t’be. Not with me.”
You glanced at him, nodding softly as you offered him your free hand. You could practically see his walls coming down as he rested his own hand on top of yours, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.
But then his radio crackled to life, “We’ve got a one-eight-seven on east Hayesville Rd. Repeat, one-eight-seven on Hayesville Rd.”
Bodecker took the radio from his belt and replied, “I’m not far, I’ll check it out.” You almost swore out loud; you were so close. You could feel it. But he patted your hand and rose from the cot, “Alright little lady, I’ll be back later. Might be a bit, since I got a bit of mess to clean up.”
Your stomach lurched at the thought of Preston- his blood on the sidewalk. You wondered who’d found him. Had they identified him yet? Rumors traveled fast in Meade; had someone told his mother already? She would think you’d killed him. They all would.
Tears welled up in your eyes again and Bodecker patted your head, “Don’t worry now, sweet pea. I’ll be back before y’know it.” He nodded at the sandwich on the cot beside you, “You’d best eat up sooner rather than later, else the mice’ll be after it.”
“Mice?’ you squeaked, eyes scanning the dirt floor frantically.
He chuckled, “They don’t do no harm. Don’t mind them none and they’ll do the same.” You drew your feet up off the floor, curling up on the cot with your arms wrapped around your knees, Bodecker’s eyes following your movement, “We’ll talk s’more when I get back. Think you can behave yourself until then?”
Your voice was muted, “Yes, Sheriff.”
“Lee’s just fine,” he flashed a smile that would have been charming under different circumstances. “Be back soon.” Then he disappeared up the steps and you heard the bolt on the other side slide into place.
You felt a little sick, but you forced yourself to eat the sandwich, if only to keep the mice away. It seemed like the light kept them at bay, but you could hear sporadic scratching from the walls and it made your skin itch. You hated to keep your feet on the cot- they were filthy. But you couldn’t bring yourself to put them back on the floor.
It seemed like it took ages for Lee to return; you’d replayed the night over in your head over a dozen times. You thought about what you’d do differently- what you could have done instead of running for that police cruiser. What if it had been a different officer? If anyone else had been patrolling the area, you’d be home. Likely a little worse for the wear, but you’d be back in your own bed and Preston would still be alive. It was your fault he was dead.
Despite your grief, when you heard the crunch of tires, your heart leapt. You waited, listening for the sound of the bolt on the cellar door and the creak of the steps. “You still awake, peach?” He sounded tired.
Your voice was scratchy, “Uh-huh.”
He descended the stairs and glanced at the light, “I thought you might sleep a lil bit. You can turn the light out, you know.”
You avoided his gaze, “Don’t like the dark.”
“Mice, the dark- don’t like much, do ya?”
You weren’t really sure what to say. “What happened? With-”
“Y’aint gotta worry about that. I’m takin’ care of it.” His tone was hard; you thought it was a bad idea to push it right now.
“Sorry,” you cast your gaze down.
“S’alright,” he brushed your cheek with his thumb, “Had a lot to do today. Guess I’m a little cross.”
You raised your hand to brush his arm, but thought better of it, pulling back. But Lee urged you on, “It’s okay. Go ahead.”
"Sorry to be so much trouble." You slid your fingers over his forearm, avoiding eye contact as you did so.
He rested his hand on your ankle, "Ain't nothin' to be sorry for, sweet pea. It's about time someone took care of ya." He brushed his thumb over the edge of your foot, seeming to notice how dirty they were. "What do ya say we go upstairs and get you cleaned up?"
You nodded, toying with the sleeve of his sheriff outfit. He patted your leg, "You gotta behave this time. No backtalkin'. None of this runnin' away business."
"Okay, Lee."
"If you're gonna be my girl, you gotta act like my girl. No reason to be shy."
You paused, but you nodded again, "Okay, Daddy."
At that, he smiled, "C'mon then." He stood and guided your hips down as you slid off the cot and steered you to the exit. "Hate to bring the cot down for nothin', but I'd rather you not need it." There was the hint of a veiled threat, but he squeezed your side as you made your way back up the stairs, pausing to re-lock the storm doors before going inside.
He guided you down the narrow hallway to the bathroom. It was basic, as far as bathrooms go. The small sink could do with a wipe-down, dust and stray beard trimmings decorating the porcelain. Nothing appeared to be in a state of disrepair, but it seemed a little overdue for a cleaning.
Lee lowered the toilet seat and lid, pressing you to sit while he fiddled with the knobs on the tub. “Tap’s a little temperamental- ya gotta be careful not to turn too far or it won’t go all the way off again.”
You nodded your understanding and a half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the floor caught your eye. He followed your gaze, cheeks flushing a little, “Sometimes I like to relax in the tub with a drink. You know- after a tough day at work.”
“Sounds nice,” you agreed, nervous to step out of line again.
He smiled, “Maybe I’ll show ya sometime.” He rolled up his sleeves and tested the water before putting the stopper in, “Alright then, you climb on in. I’ll be back with somethin’ clean for ya to change into.”
You glanced at the water filling the tub; he wanted you to be naked in front of him. With Preston, that only meant one thing. You bit your lip- it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. Still, you took your time undoing the buttons on your dress and you were just climbing in when you felt his hand on your back, guiding you into the tub.
Your cheeks flushed hot and you couldn’t help the way you jumped at the unexpected contact. Once you were in the water, you glanced at him, your heart hammering at the furrow between his brows.
“Sorry. ‘M a little nervous,” you squeaked. Your hands instinctively drifted down to cover yourself.
“What’s to be nervous about? ‘S just a bath.” He sounded annoyed, but the weight in your chest lightened a little.
“You mean- you don’t wanna-” Your cheeks burned again; you couldn’t say it.
He sat on the toilet seat, looking frustrated, “You thought I wanted to-” He heaved a sigh, “You’re-” The words seemed to elude him, “Small, right?”
You nodded; the stress of the past twenty-four hours had been pushing you further and further into a little headspace.
“Then now isn’t exactly the time, now is it?” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. But the way you stared at him answered the question he hadn’t asked and he sighed again, his posture slackening as the irritation drained from him, “You gonna let me clean ya up then?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Your voice was so clear, it surprised even you. But you were slowly realizing that Lee wasn’t like Preston. He was bad too, but in a different way- maybe in a way you didn’t have to be scared of.
With a satisfied nod, he moved to the floor, a groan escaping him as he knelt. But he quickly set to getting you cleaned up. “I’m a lotta things, but I never forced a lady to be with me.” You looked away; there were no good responses considering that you were here because he’d literally forced you. He seemed to realize the irony, huffing a little, “‘N I know what you’re thinkin’, but this is different. You’re here so I can keep ya safe, but you ain’t gotta do nothin’ with me that you don’t wanna. In fact, if you still wanna go after you get some sleep, I’ll drive ya back to town myself.”
You weren’t about to call his bluff, so you stayed quiet for the rest of your bath. Once you were dried and dressed in a much-too-large button down, Lee sat you down at the small table crammed in the corner of the kitchen and set to cooking.
You fidgeted at the table while you watched him work, “Can I help?”
“You wanna help?”
“Well, usually-”
“Usually nothin’. Y’ain’t gotta worry ‘bout takin’ care of me. I’m a big boy, aren’t I? ‘S my job to take care ‘a you.”
Your voice was small, “I like helping.” This wasn’t entirely true; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d helped someone else in the kitchen. At home- your old home, you were responsible for everything. It felt wrong to have someone bustling around the kitchen while you sat on your butt.
He glanced over his shoulder, “Alright, c’mon over then.”
You helped him prep dinner and watched him cook before the two of you sat down at the table to eat. It’d been a while since you’d done that too; ever since you’d gotten a television, Preston had wanted to eat in front of it. And none of this prepared you for how different it was to eat food you didn’t have to cook.
A soft, blissful hum escaped your lips as you took your first bite, drawing a chuckle and a smile from Lee, “You don’t gotta grandstand for me, sweet pea. I’m no cook.”
But you shook your head, insisting through a full mouth, “‘S good.”
He seemed pleased at that, leaning back in his chair while he ate. Once you’d both finished eating, he pushed his chair back, spreading out and heaving a sigh. He patted his knee, “C’mere, sweet pea.”
It was incredible what a bath and a hot meal could do; you approached him without hesitation, coming to a halt between his knees with your hands clasped behind your back. He grasped your arms and pulled you in closer, so he could hoist you up on his knee. Cupping your chin, he brushed his thumb over your cheek, “That still hurt, peach?”
“A little.”
“We’ll get you patched up real soon, don’t you worry.” He squeezed your knee, “What d’you say we listen to the radio for a little bit before bed, hm?”
You nodded, sliding off his knee and following him to the sitting room. He shooed you off toward the sofa while he fiddled with the radio. “There we go,” the static crackle faded into some sort of program, the voices bantering with one another as Lee made his way over.
The couch creaked a little as he sat down, throwing his arm over the back over the sofa. He closed his eyes, listening to the people talking. That didn’t interest you much, but you kept sneaking glances at him. He had his feet up on the coffee table and his head tipped back on the back of the cushions. He looked comfy.
Inching closer was easy- the dip in the couch from where he sat allowed you to gradually get closer until your hip bumped his thigh, but still, he kept his eyes closed. You curled in close, resting your head on his belly.
Still, you jumped a little when his arm slid down around your back, but he only stroked the back of your arm, “Don’t worry peach, Daddy’s got ya.”
He was warm and soft, his breathing making your head rise and fall. Your mind drifted, your thoughts going fuzzy. There was a voice in the back of your mind that said you should be ashamed of yourself- accepting this without more of a fight. But that voice was growing quieter as time went on, masked by the slow glow of being cared for and the feeling of peace that came with breathing easy for the first time in god knew how long.
But once you fell asleep, that guilt seemed intent on being heard. You stood on the pavement again, feeling the dust of leaves on the soles of your feet. But this time, it was you Lee was aiming at. You squeezed your eyes closed when the shot rang out, it was just as loud as real life, but no bullet came. Opening your eyes, you realized you were holding Preston in front of you like a human shield, until he crumpled to the ground at your feet.
The scream that left you burned your throat and it was then that you felt the cool tears on your cheeks, realizing it was no longer a dream. Your breath came in gasps as you scrambled up, finding yourself in an unfamiliar bed. But Lee’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into his grasp and he shushed you, “Hey sweet pea, it’s alright. ‘M right here- it was just a bad dream.”
But it wasn’t just a bad dream; that was real life. It had happened. You’d killed Preston and everyone knew it, even if they had the details muddled. And even if they’d let you return, there wasn’t anything left for you in Meade. So, you cried; you cried for Preston, and for his mom, and for your old life. Fat tears spilled over your cheeks as your shoulders heaved until you couldn’t breath, trembling in the bed under the weight of Lee’s arm.
But he waited, murmuring soft reassurances as he laced his fingers through yours and held you close. When your sobs died down, leaving only ragged breathing, he gave your hand a squeeze, “It gets easier, peach. I promise.”
Even though it seemed unbelievable, you believed him. You had no reason not to; everything he’d done so far had been for you. So you turned over, burying your face in his chest and focusing on breathing. Lee’s breath grew steady and deep once again, his arm growing slack over your waist and though it took some time, you eventually fell back asleep.
Over three thousand words later, but I've finally finished the next part of I Walk The Line, tomorrow y'all will be getting the Daddy!Lee X Babyboy content you deserve. Here is a preview
Lee relaxed into the neon lights and smokey atmosphere of the bar as he waited for his payment. Overhead, he heard the crash of pins falling over and the gears of the machine grinding to set them back up again rattled on. The rhythmic sounds were comforting, familiar to Lee for so many reasons just as the smell of popcorn eased his mind, seeped into every surface in the bar, even more so than spilled beer and cheap cigarettes.
This was his last stop of the day. He was ready to go home with his fattened up wallet to a cold-cut sandwich and a cool shower. Anything to cut through the heat before he laid in his bed and fought a different kind of heat. One that pooled in his dick as his mind inevitably wandered back to the town hero for the hundredth time.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the boy, couldn’t get that look out of his mind. He was so utterly beautiful, heavenly even when beaten down. Lee wondered more and more what he’d look like with tears in his eyes and a cock between those lips. He’d be at work, reading another report about a chopped up body being found in the river, and his mind would warp and twist until all he could picture was that boy, whole and ethereal, floating in the river calling out to Lee, begging him to join him in the cool water. The sheriff knew his little obsession would probably get him nowhere, but-
I want Daddy!Lee to come home and see me with all my stuffed animals after long day at work and he immediately knows what to do. Customers can be so mean 😪
Daddy!Lee's knows exactly what to do Nonnie. He will bundle you and you stuffies up in your favourite blankie and cuddle up with you. He will give you all the loving you need Nonnie and because we are talking Sheriff Daddy, you can be certain if complain about one customer in particular, they won't be a problem ever again.
[Put a word in my askbox and I will give you a bad AND good memory from my muse's past that associates with said word.] Ice cream.
Put a word in my askbox and I will give you a bad AND good memory from my muse’s past that associates with said word.
Bad Memory
Four days. Four days he’d been cooped up in the motel room while his mother alternated between shooting up in the bathroom and sleeping it off on the tousled double bed. His father was out on a job–a demon, and sometimes it could take weeks to track and trap those. Lee was down to his last slice of bread; not that there had been anything to put on it to begin with. He had found a stray salt-packet in one of the nightstand drawers and sprinkled that on top, thankful just to have anything at all. The five-year-old didn’t have the luxury of being a picky eater; after all, hunger was the best spice.
Pushing the motel room door open, the child padded outside to sit on the concrete step and eat what would likely be his single meal of the day. He chewed his first bite slowly, savoring the hint of salt on the otherwise stale slice of white-bread. That was when he heard the dulcet tones of some childhood nursery tune blaring on a loudspeaker across the street. Lee stood up, curious, and crossed the parking lot to get a better view. A big white van with colorful signs plastered all over it stopped in the street; children from the adjacent neighborhood swarming happily all around the open window as a man leaned out and handed them ice-cream cones. One of the little boys with a big cone of strawberry ice-cream in his hand spotted him and waved. “Hey! Wanna’ come play?” The kid shouted. Licking the salt from his chapped lips, Lee turned away without a word. The bouncy tune blaring from the loudspeaker was like nails on a chalkboard; his stomach grumbled as he hurried back to the motel room and went back inside to finish his slice of bread. The next day, he stayed inside.
Remi had only just begun to sit up on his own; chubby little arms wobbling out to the sides as the infant attempted to remain so. Lee had stacked pillows around him in every direction in case the boy tipped over, but thus far the makeshift impact protection had gone underutilized.
“DAAAA!” Remi squawked impatient from his fortified spot on the floor.
“I’m comin’, hang on…” Lee muttered, padding back over from the little kitchenette refrigerator in the motel room with a pint of Butter Pecan ice-cream and a spoon. The hunter sat down in front of the couch, pulling the baby over into his lap and prying the lid from the carton as Remi picked up the spoon and waved it around like it was the best toy ever. “Lemme’ show ya’ what that’s all ‘bout, Shortstack.” Lee chuckled, gently pulling the spoon out of the infant’s hand and scooping up a small bit of the sweet cream. “Open big…”
Obediently, the boy opened his mouth and allowed his father to feed him his very first bite of ice cream. Remi’s blue eyes grew wide as saucers, and for a moment he peered up at Lee as if to ask ‘What sorcery is this???’
“Ya’ like that, huh?”
“DAAAAAAA!” Remi exclaimed, reaching for the spoon.
“Yeah, me too, son.” Lee smiled, taking a bite for himself.
"That a loaded question? Look, I know I ain’t winnin’ any awards for father a’ the year or anything, but I’m tryin’ my best. It ain’t as easy as they make it look on tv…ain’t like kids come with an instruction manual, either.
My Pop was so deep in the bottle I can’t hardly conjure a good memory ‘bout him, ‘sides he died when I was little so he wasn’t much of an example for me. Only father-figure I ever really had was Marcus, an’ I don’t mean ta’ sound ungrateful ‘cause I know it wasn’t easy havin’ ta’ step in an’ raise a kid brother he never even wanted, but he didn’t ‘xactly put the parentin’ side first.
I guess what I’m tryin’ ta’ say is I’m kinda’ flyin’ blind here…I don’t know how ta’ be that perfect dad who balances out bein’ fun an’ bein’ strict. I never had that. All I know’s that I suddenly got three little people who need me, an’ I don’t wanna’ let ‘em down. Already missed out on half a’ Scout’s childhood—Arty’s, too. I ain’t real happy ‘bout that, but it is what it is. Best I can do is be there for the rest of it. I want them ta’ have a better life than I did.
But what’s it like? Best way I can describe it’s like watchin’ yer heart walk right out yer’ chest; knowin’ everything ya’ ever thought was important to ya’ ain’t nothin’ compared ta’ sittin’ on the porch playin’ Legos with your kid. It changes ya’, I think.”
