#Father figure OC

[bugaloo-bug]

Character AI interactions

Sleuth jester eclipse is by @naffeclipse

The character AI is by TieDyeSheep on character AI

(FYI the old man is My OC Kade Newborn, a retired first Lieutenant with a limp in his left leg. He owns a small bookshop. He is father figure coded)

[b-amboooo]

oc: rufus

[itzartsytime]

i love to think that Keipo would be the type of father that would never snap out on anyone unless it has something to do with his son or people he cares about

[sleepwalkersqueen]

Healthy Birb >:3

He's very kitten shaped ur honor

[assmaster-8000]

no because what if gojo satoru had found another special grade child. a child whom the jujutsu higher-ups wanted satoru to mentor because they'd be a useful trump card to the jujutsu society so naturally they'd want this child's talent to be honed till they potentially surpass satoru and be used. but satoru had seen too much of what this world had done to the person he'd love the most and he wouldn't ever be the one to subject another person to it like a tool. like a weapon. like a machine. so of course he takes them under his wing and gives them the guidance he never had, suguru never had. a 20 year old prodigy fresh with wounds of loss and grief taking in a child with greatness sitting on their head like a heavy crown cutting into their skin underneath his cape of power and blood stains. satoru is an enigma and even he himself doesn't know if it's because he wants to mold more strong jujutsu sorcerers who will change this world (because what greater irony than the child you wanted to utilize like a cold knife being the one to bring reform right to your door?), or if he wants to give them everything everyone else didn't have (please, he can't have someone follow in suguru's footsteps.), or if being number 1 was too tiring for him (but he doesn't know if it's selfish bringing them up to this blinding spotlight.)

years pass and he vehemently denies the higher ups control over his protégé, his student, his brat. he'll give them control and the means to break out of the shackles of this damned hierarchy. and even if satoru cannot outwardly say it, they're his child. as though he was there at their birth and has been ever since. his child and his best friend and he's their father and their best friend. it's either he sees too much of himself in them or too much of suguru because they're rising to the top fast and he's proud of them and so full of dangerous hope their wings aren't made of wax. (but he'll be there to catch them if they'll ever fall, of course!) they're so strong now. if he was blessed by the heavens and the earth then perhaps they were born of it because look at them go! giving the great gojo satoru a run for his money! not everyone can do that, you know? they're such a great student and person! isn't he such a great mentor?!

so he decides to have faith in them. bring them along with him to shibuya to deal with those reports of special grade curses he was being told about. this is how your teacher deals with these curses! better watch closely because you'll probably have to do it too! he has them positioned on the sidelines to ensure the civilians aren't hurt and if anything, to aid him because they're gonna be the strongest some day too so they can't be lazing a round on their ass all the time.

and they're doing so well until kenjaku comes along. satoru's breath stops and his heart rattles against the prison bars of his ribcage but it isn't the stupor of seeing his lost love that doomed him to the box. his special grade student lurches to -- what, attack kenjaku? pull satoru away? run? it didn't matter what. it was all a blur -- wards him and his body moves on an instinct that's even stronger that the compass needle pointing to suguru's body.

no, no.. that isn't suguru. it's his body and that's not him. somethings not right. but his student is right infront of him and that's them and he can't let anything bad happen to them now. flexing infront of his student can be saved for another day. but it's this mistake that ends up setting him right into kenjaku's trap and the box. the moment his gaze snaps to them and his body is torn between suguru infront of him and them kenjaku sees an opportunity and snaps it up like it's golden.

satoru doesn't even get the mere moment of chained freedom before he's fully trapped in the box. with the special grade student there, kenjaku needs to make it quick. make it count. he does. satoru is pulled into the box and satoru can't even say anything to his student. and he worries in his infinitesimal prison. satoru never usually worries unless if it's his leftovers have gone bad in the fridge.

they'll be alright.

they'll be alright.

they'll be alright, won't they?

they're strong.

they're capable.

they're smart.

he's raised them well they'll be okay they've got friends.

they'll do the right thing.

...

and when satoru finally exits the box he's sees faces changed. they tell him a lot about what they've been through, about what has changed since he's been gone, what changed about them.

he sees yuuji has been weathered with pain and a unique sense of hope.

he sees megumi has been puppeted with the strings of despair by sukuna.

he sees maki has faced the fiery trials and tribulations of this cruel world and bears it like her trophy.

he sees...

he sees nothing of his student. his special student. where are they? injured? somewhere off in the game? will they be back soon? time's a-running out, you know.

he sees the looks his students exchange and his heart drops. he knows. he knows. he knows what must've happened.

they're dead, aren't they?

and he's brought back to the time he carried riko's dead body in his arms and he was met with the disappearing suguru in the crowd and suguru slumped against the wall.

it's happened again.

they tell him they were a hero. that in satoru's absence, they did the heavy lifting and protected shibuya from the full-on destruction it would've suffered if not for them. that if not for them, the jujutsu world would've been left in even deeper disrepair. they saved some of their fellow sorcerers from certain death and suffering! they were the one to grapple with sukuna when he let all havoc ravage the city.

they paid with their life.

all because they were too worried about getting these normal civilians back home safe. about keeping their friends and mentors safe. and satoru wonders if there was someone else worrying about keeping them safe.

... atleast he didn't have to worry about them following in suguru's footsteps and the hatred of regular civilians. they were good of heart and soul. they were strong.

they did the right thing.

and satoru has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that the person he's raised for, what, 10 years? is dead. gone. deceased. that's just preposterous! he was there when they were a snobby little kid and he was there when they were going through that awkward phase and he was there when they were learning more and more as a teenager and where are they now?

sukuna asks him that. "where's that miniature personification of yours? hah, don't tell me they died the last i saw them. have the special grades of this era started to slack off?"

satoru has all the more reason to kill sukuna now. he has to show his students who are watching that he can do it.

even if they will no longer watch him do anything.

[sealrock]

paris can emote sometimes.

[lilblucat]

Had some ideas for a Solver flesh-based fankid for them (using the arrow creature Uzi made for reference). Had to set this in my existing parent AU since I've already poured a lot of thought into that. I would imagine that she looked like a blob with an eye when she was born, and then shifted her body over the years to approximate what her parents look like. So she has the drone shape to her with Solver flavoring.

(Also lowkey wondering if maybe the hook on the tail should come out from underneath instead since the needle on Disassembler tails comes out from underneath. Idk she might look a little too demon-ish and wondering if a retake on the tail tip would help things)

[ashvryn]

Bhaal discarded him as chosen so easily. Maybe he’ll go offer up his sword in service to a new God instead.

[coffeecakecafe]

I’m not actually sure how I managed to forget to post gun Yancy here but I *did* so here he is Now, almost a year later. if it helps his party had to wait for a year of sessions to find out that he’d had a revolver all along

[robo-milky]

Sketch/doodle dump!

Thinking of opening up an OC interaction/ask event once marks cut off is over… (Will also be prepping for MANIA-con)

[nethhiri]

Siren Charms Mermay art

🩵Jinbe deserves Mermay love too

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

THE GOOBERS !!

nyehehe :3c

I hope you like it !! I had fun sketching out these sillies :D

XFQKDSX!! The goobers... dude!! I LOVE this, it’s so good!! Your Jack-O-Bonnie is great, and you made Crimson really well!! I love thisssss...

Girl and her bnnuy father figure...

Thank you!!!

[hahasuchagarbage]

YES, the time has come for me to give a member of fearsome gang an offspring, because of course parenthood is something reckless egocentric criminals are good at!

+bonus:

[gotham-its-too-early-for-this]

Everyone’s wondering why the Riddler kidnapped half my class lmao. I didn’t even tell him about the slurs and he’s pissed.

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 1

Went a bit sideways yesterday with my wandering mind and started a TLOU fanfic. Here's chapter 1 of "Lavender," an age-gap grumpy/sunshine friends-to-lovers (and eventually friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends-to-lovers) fanfic that starts pre-outbreak.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: Not much yet! Whole fic will be very NSFW so minors DNI. This chapter is very basic. Mild violence, mention of masturbation.

Synopsis: You're a college student in Austin, Texas, who gets a summer job nannying Sarah Miller. It's not long before her dad sees you as more than a babysitter - or more than a friend.

Austin, Texas, April, 2000

You couldn’t believe you were doing this. You closed your eyes, tilting your head up toward the Texas night sky, air surprisingly cool for April in Austin, trying to keep the tears that were building in your eyes from actually falling. Like that would make a damn difference. You took a deep breath and looked down at your phone. 

You only had a few numbers saved. You hadn’t made many friends in college, the only girlfriend you had was in the frat house behind you, hanging out with her boyfriend. She was out. Your grandmother was across the country, so she was obviously out. The handsy guy who’d brought you to this damn party was a big hell no. Which pretty much left…. Joel Miller. Your boss. You winced, thumb hovering over the call button for a moment before pressing it. 

“Kid?” He answered quickly. That somehow made it worse. But at least he didn’t sound half asleep. “What’s going on, you OK?” 

“Hey Joel,” you sniffled a bit. “Sorry to bug ya, I know it’s real late…” 

“Kid,” his tone changed, almost warning you. “I told you you could call if you needed somethin’, what’s goin’ on?” 

His accent got stronger when he got keyed up. You’d noticed that over the year you’d known him. 

“Could you…” Shit, you were really going to have to do this. You sniffed again. “Could you come get me?” The words all started coming out of you in a rush then, you couldn’t really stop them. “I’m so sorry, I know it’s late and I think I can walk it if you can’t but I went to this party with this guy and he’s not really what I thought he was and I just can’t stay here with him anymore and…” 

“Kid,” he cut you off. “I’m coming to get you right now, are you close to campus?” 

“Yeah,” you sniffed again, looking back at the frat house and reading him the house number. 

“I know where that’s at,” he said. His voice was calm, soothing. “I’ll be there in less than 10, you safe?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to get out of here…” 

“Stay put,” he said. “I’m comin’ to get you.” 

“Thanks, Joel.” 

You flipped your phone shut and put it in your purse before smoothing the back of your sundress down and sitting on the curb, hoping the plethora of cars on the street blocked you from easy view. Your feet - in platform sandals that you’d been stupid enough to paint your toenails for earlier that day - were in a puddle, but it was hard to care. 

You were just finishing up your junior year of college and this was only the fourth guy you’d gone out with so of course he had to be a massive jerk. It was just your luck. 

You’d expected a bit better when you moved to the Lone Star State to go to school. It had been a change of pace from your small town in upstate New York where you’d lived with your grandmother all your life. You wanted something bigger, to actually get out of that little town and see some of the world before you settled into whatever life had in store for you. And the south was supposed to be nice. That’s what everyone said, southern hospitality and all that. But it hadn’t been very nice. 

You’d tried to make friends with your roommate freshman year and you kind of had. She wasn’t mean or anything, you just had very little in common. She was an athlete so the demands on her time were many. She was studying music when you’d rather jump off a bridge than try to perform anything for anyone. She had a lot of friends there already - she was from Houston, so plenty of her high school classmates were there, too. You’d probably spent a little too much time trying to fit in with her. By the time it was apparent that you were fine as roommates but not friends, everyone else seemed to have friends, too. 

Which wasn’t the end of the world. You’d only had two close friends back home, anyway. You’d never been very social, preferring to be on your own and quiet instead of with people. Too much time with anyone else exhausted you, unless it was the RIGHT person. 

But there was a difference between alone and lonely and you found yourself lonely here a lot. The dating scene was, somehow, worse. The first guy you’d gone out with since coming to school hadn’t even made it past date number one, he was so self absorbed it was like you had been taken to dinner just so he had someone to talk at. Number two ended up asking for your roommate’s number when he walked you back to your dorm that night. Number three had made it as far as date number three but got a little ticked that - when his hand traveled up your shirt to your bra - you’d asked him to stop. He left you at a gas station and you’d had to call a cab to get back to your apartment. 

The guy tonight had been looking a bit better. Or so you thought. He’d pressed you against the wall in the hall outside your front door and kissed you at the end of your last date, his hips against yours, his tongue dipping into your mouth. You’d liked it, for a moment, until he pinned your wrist to the wall and tried to put his hand down your pants. He’d stopped and apologized, though, when you asked him to stop. That, you’d thought, was a good sign. That he was respectful, kind. So when he’d asked you to go to a party with him tonight, you’d said yes. 

But when you actually got there, he kept trying to get you to drink whatever concoction had been mixed directly in coolers in the middle of the room, pressing red plastic cups into your hand at every opportunity and getting more and more frustrated when you insisted on sticking with bottled water instead. 

Eventually, his hand had gone up the back of your dress as you threw a ball in beer pong, his fingers brushing against your lower lips before sliding up and groping your ass. You whiffed the shot, practically jumping away from him. 

“What the fuck, Jeremy?” You asked, tugging your dress down on instinct. 

“C’mon baby,” he’d said, all but stalking after you. “You gotta give me something…” 

“No, I don’t,” you glanced around you. There wasn’t much help to be had here. “I’m going home.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said, reaching for you. You stepped back again. Then there was a change in his face, like a switch flipped. He was no longer the nice boy who’d, for your first date, asked to take you to the art house movie theater in town. He was a hulking man, one who had six inches and at least 100 pounds on you, who felt he could take what he wanted by right. “I just want to make sure you have a good time, let’s get you a drink…” 

His hand closed around your wrist and he started pulling you toward him. 

“I don’t want a drink,” you curled the hand in his grip into a fist and covered it with you other hand, yanking it free. “I’m going home. Don’t call me again.” 

You stalked out of the party, trying to keep your cheeks from burning. 

The 10 minute wait for Joel seemed like an eternity. You kept glancing to your watch, feeling like ages had gone by when it had only been a minute or two. Only eight minutes had passed when you heard your name being called from behind you. You winced, hoping Jeremy wouldn’t find you where you’d tucked yourself away to wait. 

No such luck. 

“Hey!” He prowled over to you, his lips curled into a snarl. “Who the fuck do you think you are, embarrassing me like that?” 

You stood up, instinctively backing into the truck behind you before you realized that you probably should have fucking moved somewhere else before you were cornered. 

“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you…” 

He grabbed your wrist again, firmer this time, his fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you sharply against his body. 

“Well, you did,” his breath smelled like liquor and cigarettes and his body was hard. You squirmed, trying to get away from him. “You really fucking embarrassed me…” 

“Hey!”

A car door slammed and your head whipped around. Joel was storming across the sidewalk toward you, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt - he hadn’t even stopped to put on shoes. 

“This isn’t your business,” Jeremy snapped before turning his attention back to you. “Stay out of it.” 

“The hell it ain’t,” one of Joel’s hands went over your shoulder, pulling you back from the other man’s grip and putting you behind him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave her alone.” 

Joel looked to you, his brown eyes wide as they looked you over. 

“You OK?” He asked. You nodded. “This the guy?” You nodded again. His jaw clenched but he nodded toward his truck. “C’mon Kid, let’s go.” 

“Nah man, I don’t know you,” Jeremy came around you, grabbing your wrist again and yanking on you. “You’re not just gonna take off with my date…” 

Joel punched him, hard, across the face before catching you around the waist so you stayed up while Jeremy fell to the ground, groaning and clutching his face. Joel set you down gently before standing over Jeremy. “Touch her again and I’ll kill you,” his voice was oddly calm. You just stood there, holding your sore wrist to your chest. You hadn’t realized when you’d started almost hyperventilating but you were almost gasping for breaths. Joel turned back to you. “You’re OK, Kid. You’re OK.” 

He put his arm around you, pulling you into his side and steering you to his truck. He helped you up into it, watching as you buckled yourself in before getting into the driver’s seat. 

“That asshole know where you live?” He ground his teeth a bit, flexing his hand he’d punched Jeremy with on the steering wheel. 

“Yeah, he picked me up,” you were still holding your wrist. “Is your hand OK?” 

Joel glanced over to you before looking down to his hand. 

“Been in worse fights than that,” he said. “How’s your wrist? Need to take you to the hospital?” 

“Oh God, please don’t,” you groaned. “It’s just going to be a little bruised…” 

“Should report it to the cops,” he muttered. “That fucking asshole…” 

“And, what, get you arrested for laying him out?” You asked, brows raised. “It’s fine, Joel, really…” 

“Well I’m not taking you to your place,” he growled. “Not safe, not with that… You can stay with us for a bit. You said you’re moving soon, anyway, right?” 

“I really don’t want to put you out…” You began but he cut you off. 

“You half live there in the summer anyway,” he said. “I’d rather know you were safe. ‘Sides, Sarah’s at a friend’s house tonight. You can sleep in her room, don’t even have to put anyone on a couch. When do you get into your new place?” 

“Three weeks,” you sighed. “It’s really not that big a deal, this kind of thing happens all the time…” 

“Don’t make it right,” he glanced over at you again before putting his eyes back on the road. “You can stay with us for a few weeks, we’ll go get some of your stuff tomorrow.” 

You watched him for a moment. There was blood on his knuckles, the streetlights outside catching on the shaggy curl of his hair, his eyes narrowed on the road in front of him. 

It was lucky that you’d ended up working for Joel Miller. You’d know that before, too. He’d put an ad in the paper a year before, looking for a nanny for his then 9-year-old daughter, Sarah, and you’d been looking for a way to not take out more student loans. A simple enough arrangement. 

You’d met for the first time at a coffee shop near campus. You showed up a few minutes early - you always did, being late made you anxious - and Joel showed up a few minutes late. You’d recognized him by the look of general discomfort on his face, a look that made you smile a little. He was clearly out of his element, interviewing nannies, looking around a coffee house filled with college girls so that he wouldn’t even know which one to approach. You saved him the trouble. “Mr. Miller?” You asked, brows raised. You’d worn a sundress that day, too. But you’d put on the only blazer you owned with it, trying to look somewhat professional. Not that you really knew how. “Hi, I’m here for the interview?” 

“Hi,” he looked relieved. “Sorry I’m late, got held up on a job… Can I get you a coffee or… somethin’? I’m gettin’ somethin’…” 

“Sure,” you smiled. “Thanks.” 

You stood awkwardly beside each other in line, Joel insisting you order first which made you feel bad when you got an iced lavender latte and he just got a black coffee. 

“Sorry, I’m such a sucker for lavender,” you smiled, somewhat sheepishly, over your cup. “There’s a lavender farm down the street from where I grew up, could always smell it on the air at the right time of year…” 

You were babbling. You set the cup down. 

“Sorry,” you smiled again. 

“No, no, you’re good,” he smiled a little too. “I’ve never done this before, so…” 

“Me either,” you said quickly. “I nannied for the kids of some friends of my grandma’s but they already knew me, so didn’t need an interview.” 

“So, you’ve got experience watching kids?” He asked, turning his paper cup absently in his fingers. 

“Oh yeah,” you nodded. “I love kids, I started babysitting when I was 13 and have nannied in the summer since I was 17 but I’m staying here this summer because of my lease, so I need something local.” 

“You’re not from here then?” He asked. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I’m from New York? Not like.. the city. The state. The boring part.” He laughed a little at that. You smiled. “I came here to go to school. I’m studying to be a teacher.” 

“A teacher?” He asked. You nodded. “You must like kids. What do you want to teach?” 

“High school biology?” You asked more than answered. “Really, I’d love to be a pediatrician but the loans… But teaching high school would be great. There were some teachers I really connected with in high school, the ones who believed in me and trusted that I could become something. That’s what I want to be for someone else, you know?” 

He nodded and took a sip of coffee. You tried to not watch his throat as he did. Mr. Miller was almost weirdly attractive - way hotter than any dads you’d worked for in the past. You didn’t want to blow this interview just because it felt like you could write a book of poetry about the man’s jaw alone. 

“Can you tell me about your daughter?” You asked after a moment. “I think you said she was nine?” 

He nodded again. 

“Yeah, Sarah,” he said. “She’s a good kid, smart as a fuckin’ whip.” He noticed that he cursed, his eyes going wide. “Shit… sorry, no…” 

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “I’m a big girl, I can handle some adult language.” 

He looked relieved. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Sarah’s… I don’t know what I did to deserve a kid like her but it had to be somethin’ in a past life because it sure as shit ain’t this one. She’s such a sweet kid, so smart - way smarter than me, not a clue where she got it from - funnier than hell. You’ll love her, everyone loves her. She’s easy to watch out for, part of why I’ve never had to do this before. We had neighbors who were happy to look after her for me during the summer but they moved to Dallas about a month ago.” 

“Could I meet her?” You asked. “I mean, assuming you’re interested in potentially hiring me, I’d like to meet her, get to know her a bit…” 

“Well,” Joel looked awkward again. “You’re… the only interview I got. I must not be offering enough, didn’t get any other takers…” 

“I’m not opposed to being a last resort,” you smiled. He laughed. “And I’m fine with the pay. It’s enough that I won’t need to take out another student loan.” 

“That’s good,” he sighed. “Because I’d love to offer more but…” 

“I get it,” you said. “Will I be meeting Sarah’s mom?” 

“No,” he replied. “She hasn’t been in the picture in years. Her loss, but still. It’d be nice to have a… female presence in her life.” 

“That’s hard,” you leaned in a bit closer to him. “I’m really sorry. If it helps, I know a bit about what that’s like. My dad left before I was born, my mom not too long after. I grew up with my grandma. She’s great, I love her more than anything and she’s done so much for me but… I dunno, I guess I was always wondering why I couldn’t be enough for them to want to stick around.” 

“Speaking from experience,” he replied. “It ain’t got shit to do with you, Kid.” 

It was the first time he’d called you that. Now it was practically all he called you, you couldn’t remember the last time he’d said your name. You kind of liked it. Your grandmother had been the only person close enough to you to have given you a pet name, it was nice to have a term of endearment from someone. Even if it was a bit infantilizing. 

You realized Joel must have been fucking flooring it to get to you as fast as he did. It took almost 15 minutes to get back to his place and the TV was still on when you stepped into the living room, a horror movie you didn’t recognize playing. 

“C’mere Kid,” he jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Should ice that wrist.” 

You followed obediently, still cradling your injured arm as he rifled around the freezer. He pulled out a bag of frozen corn and dropped it on the counter before squeezing it a few times to break it up. He wrapped it in a towel. “Hop up,” he patted the counter and you obliged. He held his hand out and you put your injured wrist in it. He turned it over gently in his hands, examining you. 

“You’re already bruising,” he growled. “Should’a fuckin’…” 

“You got me out of there,” you cut him off, voice gentle. “I don’t even want to know what might have happened if you hadn’t come to get me…” 

“Me either,” he muttered, gently pressing the frozen vegetable bag to your arm. You winced. “Sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?” 

“Positive,” you replied. “Nothing’s broken. I broke my arm once when I was a kid, it was way worse than this. They’d just send me home with some Tylenol right now.” 

You looked at his hand. 

“You’re sure you’re OK?” You frowned. He glanced down. 

“Definitely,” he said, going to run his hand under the faucet. He glanced up at you. “You know how to throw a punch?” 

“I think so?” You replied. “How hard can it be?” 

He shut the faucet off and dried his hands before stepping in front of you.

“Let’s see,” he said. “Make a fist.” 

You obeyed, using your uninjured hand. He shook his head, taking hold of your fist. 

“Your thumb has to be on the outside of your fingers,” he said, gently opening your hand and freeing your thumb. He nudged your fingers closed again and brought your thumb over the top of them. You’d never noticed just how large his hands were until you saw them contrasted with yours. “Like that. You’ll break your thumb if you do it the way you had it. When you go to punch, bend your knees a bit. It’ll stabilize you. All your power is going to come from your lower body, start there and carry it up. Strike with your middle knuckle and then follow it through.” 

“Thumb outside, knees bent, start low, follow through,” you repeated, your hand still in his. You tried to ignore the electric current that ran over you where his skin touched yours.

“Right,” he said, releasing your fist. “So next time some asshole puts his hands on you, do that at his nose, OK Kid?” 

“Something tells me it won’t be as effective as when you do it,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his. 

“Maybe not,” he shrugged. “But it’ll still hurt and give you a chance to run. Which is what you do. And you can always call me. OK?” 

“OK.” 

He helped you down from the counter. 

“Don’t know about you,” he said. “But I’m a bit too keyed up to sleep quite yet. Want somethin’ to drink?” 

“Is it weird to ask for a beer?” You almost winced. 

“Not like you’re workin’,” he said, going for the fridge before turning back for you. “Wait, you turned 21 last fall, right?” 

“Yes, Joel,” you smiled, rolling your eyes a little. “I’m fully legal. Well, except to rent a car.” 

He laughed as he got two beers from the fridge, opening them with a bottle opener that was attached to the counter. He passed you one and you both went to the living room, the credits rolling on whatever horror movie he’d been watching. 

“Sorry I made you miss your movie,” you said, sitting on one end of the couch and taking a sip of beer. 

“It was shitty anyway,” he shrugged. 

The TV switched to a commercial break before teasing “When Harry Met Sally.” Joel went to change the channel but you stopped him. 

“What, don’t tell me you like that… romance crap,” he was almost teasing you. 

“Have you ever seen ‘When Harry Met Sally?’” You asked. He made a face. You rolled your eyes. “Joel. C’mon. It’s one of the best movies ever made.” 

“No,” he scoffed. 

“It is!” You insisted. “The dialogue? The pacing? The acting? Ugh, so good. It’s one of my favorites. Give it a try, pretend there’s a heart somewhere in there.” 

He was still looking at you, skeptical. You’d somehow closed the gap on the couch, your arm brushing against his. 

“I will lose all respect for you if you just refuse to even try it,” you challenged. 

“Oh because you’ve got so damn much of that,” he snorted. You elbowed him playfully. “Fine, Kid. We’ll watch your little romance movie. But only because you had a bad night and I’m not a total asshole.” 

“You’re not?” You clutched your chest in mock surprise. 

“Don’t tell anyone.” 

You kept glancing over at him as you drank your beer, your legs tucked up beside you as he leaned against the arm of the couch. He was actually paying attention, you’d give him that. 

“Well?” You asked during the second commercial break. 

“It’s… not bad,” he looked over to you. 

“You like it!” You twisted to face him. 

“No, I do not,” he fought to keep from smiling. “I just don’t… dislike it.” 

“Joel Miller: father, contractor, rom-com lover,” you smirked, taking a sip of beer. He just shook his head, a twitch in his jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you tickets to opening night of the next Meg Ryan movie, it’s the least I can do.” 

You caught him stifling a laugh more than once and, about an hour into the movie, checked your injured wrist before taking the still half frozen corn back to the kitchen and coming back with two bottles of Shiner, passing one to you. 

The beer made you bold - and tired. Your head drifted onto his shoulder and he didn’t stop you, your blinks becoming longer and longer until your eyes stayed closed and you fell asleep against him. 

*** 

You’d been right about the movie. Joel shouldn’t be surprised. You had good taste in most things. The books and music you brought around, the food you invented on nights where he worked late and you made Sarah dinner. Your taste in men left something to be desired, though. 

Joel ground his teeth, glancing over at your sleeping frame, the almost empty beer bottle still in your fingers. He gently took it from you, setting it on the side table to not disturb you. You sighed happily and pressed yourself closer to his side. His eyes trailed down your body. You were wearing one of your damn sundresses again - seemed like that’s all you wore this time of year. He thought you were going to be the death of him the summer before, him coming home every night to see you in one of your damn sundresses or cut off shorts and a tank top, looking soft and sweet and beautiful as you made dinner or did a science experiment with Sarah. 

He’d never known a person as kind as you. That he was sure of. The first time he called you on a Saturday morning to ask if you could come watch Sarah on your day off - there was an emergency at a job site and he was desperate - and you made it sound like he was doing you a favor, not the other way around. 

“Of course!” You sounded actually excited. “Do you think I could take her to the zoo? There’s a cool program there on Saturdays, I was thinking of asking to take her sometime, anyway…” 

He’d tried to pay you for it but you waved him off. 

“I’m just hanging out with my best friend at the zoo, why should you pay me?” You looked at him like he was crazy. Sarah was glowing. 

You were everything bright and good and the fact that someone had put his hands on you… He ground his teeth again. He was surprised that you weren’t more upset. He’d have expected you to be crying, at the very least. It sounded like you had been when you called. But, by the time you got to his place, you were your usual self. Like somehow one asshole wasn’t going to ruin your outlook on the world. 

Joel hadn’t realized how strong the drive to protect you would be. He’d never needed to before. He’d told you pretty early on to call if you ever needed something. He’d even told you to call if you were drunk at a party and needed a safe ride - didn’t want you getting in a car with some idiot college kid who’d had a few too many behind the wheel. You’d rolled your eyes a bit but said thank you all the same. But he wasn’t expecting you to ever need to take him up on it. At least, not like this. 

He hadn’t realized that he’d run out of the house without shoes on - without even locking the damn door - until he was halfway back with you safely beside him. You’d sounded so hurt and so scared, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. He’d had to keep himself from beating the shit out of the man who’d been holding you. 

And now you were asleep on him. 

There was so much wrong with what he was thinking about you. There’d been so much wrong with what he thought about you since the day he met you. He called you Kid as much as a nickname as to remind himself that you were far too young for him, closer to Sarah’s age than his own. It didn’t matter that you were an adult, you were barely out of your teens when he met you. Men who preyed on young women disgusted him. He wasn’t about to become one just because he could spend all damn day just watching you exist. 

He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch. Was it fair to even have you work for him this summer if he felt this way? He was going to, regardless, he just wasn’t sure how shitty he should feel about it. Offering you his home as a place to stay for a few weeks wasn’t a smart move, though. He was already around you all the damn time when Sarah was out of school - and pretty regularly outside of that, too, you coming by a few times a month to keep an eye on her when he needed to take care of something on evenings or weekends. You even tutored her in math and science when she hit a rough patch back in February, you figuring out her stumbling blocks and reframing it so she could wrap her head around it. Sarah had been so excited when she got an A on her test, the first thing she wanted to do after telling Joel was call you. He’d heard your excited yell through the phone from a few feet away, Sarah beaming with pride. You, in his space, with your damn sundresses and your CDs and your books in fucking French were going to kill him. 

He tucked your head tighter to him, slipping an arm below your waist before maneuvering you into his arms. You sleepily mumbled something - totally incoherent - and he carried you to Sarah’s room, setting you gently on her unmade bed. He took off your shoes before tucking you in and paused. You’d painted your toenails red, the same shade as the cherries on your sundress. You’d painted your fucking nails for the asshole who’d put hands on you. He clenched his jaw for a moment before pulling the blankets over you and closing the door behind him. 

Joel tried to think about anything but the way your breasts looked in that dress, knowing you were just down the hall, as he fucked his own hand before passing out alone. 

He woke up before you the next morning and stood awkwardly in his kitchen, wondering what he should do. If you were a woman - well, a woman he’d fucked - he knew what he’d do. He’d try to make you breakfast, something that was good enough that you might want to come back and fuck him again. What did he make for his babysitter who he rescued from a bad date and then fell asleep on his arm? 

He started with coffee and waited, standing there awkwardly leaning against the counter where he’d had your hand in his the night before. Thankfully, you woke up not long after him, shuffling into the kitchen in bare feet, your hair mussed and mascara on your cheeks. You’d put on an oversized zip up hoodie that Sarah had stolen from him and never given back, the sleeves pushed up to your elbows, the sweatshirt not that much shorter than the dress below it. 

“Morning sunshine,” he teased you. It took you a moment to register that he was there, looking almost surprised when you did. “Coffee?” 

You wordlessly nodded, shuffling to the kitchen table and sinking into a chair before putting your head down on the table. He smiled and shook his head, pouring you a cup of coffee and adding some milk and sugar before putting it in front of you. 

“Not a morning person?” He asked, sitting beside you. You shook your head, lifting the mug to your lips and taking a long drink. You looked surprised again, looking from the mug to Joel. “Use your words, Kid.” 

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?” Your voice was still scratchy with sleep. 

“Took a guess,” he shrugged. “Didn’t quite have the materials for a lavender latte.” 

You glared at him before taking another sip of coffee and sighing happily. 

“How’s the wrist?” He asked, nodding to your arm. 

“Fine,” you said, stretching it out in front of you. There were black and blue fingerprints on it. Joel clenched his jaw. “Just a bit sore. How’s the hand?” 

“Fine,” he said, voice gruffer than he’d intended. You just nodded and drank more coffee for a moment. 

“So,” you said, setting the coffee cup down and crossing your sweatshirt-clad arms on the table. “Did I fall asleep on you last night? And if yes, how embarrassing was it?” 

“You did,” he replied, half smiling at the memory of you against him. You groaned, putting your head down on the table again. “Not embarrassing though. You only snored a bit, sounded like a very small chainsaw…” 

“I snored?” Your head shot up from the table, eyes wide. He just laughed, taking a sip of coffee. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Cruel. That’s what you are, you’re cruel. Such a weird trait for a man who’s favorite movie is ‘When Harry Met Sally’ but what do I know…” 

“You hungry?” He asked after a moment. “I could make you somethin’. Not sure what you might want…” 

“You have to get me to my apartment today, right?” You asked, fidgeting with your mug. He nodded once. “Well, there’s this great diner around the corner from me, makes the best waffles you’ve ever had in your life…” 

“Not a Waffle House is it?” He asked, quirking a brow at you. You glared at him. 

“No, Joel, it’s not a Waffle House,” you shook your head but you smiled a bit all the same. “I could take you to breakfast? It’s the least I could do…” 

“I know what I pay you, Kid,” he said. “I’ve got breakfast. But yeah, let’s go get these famous waffles. I gotta grab Sarah this afternoon, was thinkin’ of calling Tommy and having him meet us at your place…” 

“Why?” You frowned. “I’m just grabbing some clothes and stuff, hardly need a team for heavy lifting…” 

“Because if that asshole comes around again, I’ll need someone to keep me from kicking his ass,” Joel said wryly. 

You rolled your eyes but went along with him, finishing your coffee and walking barefoot to Joel’s truck, your shoes from the night before dangling from your hand. You rolled the window down on the drive, hanging your head out with your eyes closed until Joel got closer to your apartment. 

“Turn right here, instead of left,” you said, pointing to a place with red and white awning up ahead. “It’s just up there, on the right.” 

You led the way inside, the small restaurant bustling for early on a Saturday. One of the waitresses did a double take as she saw you with your face all but pressed against the dessert case. 

“Girl, what are you doing here this early?” She asked, snapping her gum.

“Just getting an early start,” you smiled. “How’s your morning going so far Luce?” 

“Oh you know how it is,” Luce looked you up and down. You were still wearing Joel’s hoodie from Sarah’s room. “You doin’ a walk of shame?”

“Luce!” You swatted her arm. “C’mon, give me SOME credit. You know I’d tell you immediately how it was if that ever happened.” 

The waitress barked a laugh and shook her head. There was a bell at the kitchen window and she looked behind her before going back to you. 

“Sit tight for like three minutes,” she snapped her gum again. “I’ve got a table that’s ready to cash out, let me run this food and take care of them and you can sit with me.” 

“You’re the boss,” you gave her a small salute before turning back and smiling to Joel. “Prepare to have your life changed, Joel. I’m telling you, these waffles? Will ruin you.” 

“Nah, you’ve built them up too much,” he shook his head, frowning. “Can’t be that good.” 

The waitress you’d talked to before brought you to a table and put menus in front of you before leaning in conspiratorially to your ear. 

“Thought you said this wasn’t a walk of shame?” She looked Joel up and down. 

“Luce, this is my friend Joel,” you gestured across the table. “I look after his daughter in the summer. Joel got me out of a tough spot last night…” 

“He could get me out of a tough spot any time,” she winked. You gaped up at her. Joel just laughed. “Sorry, sweetie! We’ve just been dying for this girl to actually come in with a man at some point. She’s been on dates, never seems to go anywhere! She’s too cute to die alone, if she doesn’t have hope none of us do.” 

“No, you’re right, this restaurant is life changing,” Joel smirked at you. You went red. 

“Thanks Luce, I’m going to just die here now, appreciate you,” you smiled sarcastically up at her. She just laughed. 

“Usual drink, babe?” She asked. You nodded. She turned to Joel. “And for you sugar?”

“Just coffee.” 

“A purist,” she snapped her gum. “Be back.” 

You watched her go before groaning and burying your head in your arms. 

“I really should have known better than to bring you here,” your voice was muffled. “This is really on me.” 

“How often to you come here?” Joel asked, smiling as you emerged from your makeshift shelter. 

“Every Saturday,” you said. “Usually like an hour before close when it’s a bit slower. I sit in….” You twisted and pointed to a small, two-seat booth in the corner. “That booth so I’m out of the way and I just people watch and have coffee and waffles and catch up with everyone here. They’re all really sweet. Plus they’ll sometimes send me home with stuff from the display case that’s getting tossed that I then use to bribe your daughter with during the week.” 

“That explains the sugar highs,” he said dryly. 

Luce returned, putting something frothy in front of you and a coffee in front of him. 

“Whatcha eatin’?” She snapped her gum again. 

“Can you do me just the hugest favor,” you bit your lip, eyes wide. Luce sighed. 

“Tell me,” she said. 

“Can you make the sampler for my friend here?” You asked. “He’s never been here before and he absolutely HAS to understand the depth of affection I have for the waffles.” 

“Only because it’s you,” she shook her head. “I just let you get away with murder…” 

“It’s because you love me,” you smiled. She just sighed. “And I’ll do… the chicken and waffles please.” 

She turned to Joel. 

“You’re getting a bunch of waffles sweetie,” she said. “Whatcha want with em? Eggs?” 

“Scrambled.” 

“Any meat?” 

“Bacon.” 

“Done,” she took your menus. “Don’t let her run roughshod over you like she does over me.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Joel smiled. 

“I’ve made so many mistakes in the last 24 hours and this might just be the worst,” you sighed, taking a sip of… whatever it is that you ordered. 

“You just make friends with everyone, don’t you?” He asked, watching you across the table. Your face turned serious for a moment and then you smiled again. 

“I try to,” you shrugged. “But I end up on my own most of the time. Which is totally fine, by the way, I like being by myself. Lots to do and solitude is a good way to do it.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“What about you?” You asked, stirring your drink with a straw. “Haven’t seen you bring many friends around. Except Tommy but family doesn’t count.” 

“Not a lot of time for friends,” he shrugged. “Got work, Sarah….” 

“Rescuing hapless college students.” 

He smiled. 

“I stay busy.” 

You stirred your drink again, bobbing your head slightly, in time to a song Joel could barely hear over the buzz of people in the cramped restaurant. 

“You really tell them all about your dating life?” He asked, half smiling at you. 

“Oh God,” you groaned and then laughed. “Yes. But only because it’s basically non-existent and I have almost no one else to talk to about it. Luce is convinced she’s a matchmaker. Maybe I should listen to her, she’s been right every time I’ve told her about a guy I’m seeing.” 

“Every time, really…” Joel’s jaw twitched a bit. He didn’t like thinking about you with other men. But he did have fun making you squirm a bit in your seat. “How many times is that, exactly?”

“Are you asking me about my love life, Joel?” You teased, leaning across the table at him. 

He matched your stance, his face ending up only a few inches from your own. Even now, you smelled good. Sweet, floral. A bit like lavender. 

“Curious about your track record,” he replied. You laughed. 

“It’s real bad,” you said, sitting up straight again. “Jeremy was the fourth guy I’ve gone out with since I came to Texas. He’s the only one who made it to date four and we saw how THAT ended. The others weren’t QUITE so awful. One came close to being that bad but otherwise, just run of the mill not working out. Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of guys beating down the bio-lab door to get at the teacher in training.” 

Joel sat back in his seat, too. 

“Men are idiots,” he shrugged. “Especially when they’re in college. They wise up when they get older.” You bit your lip for a second before shaking your head to yourself. “What?” You scrunched your nose and shook your head. “C’mon kid. What were you going to say?” 

“They get better when they’re your age?” You blurted, blushing as you asked it. 

He watched you for a moment. 

“Like to think so.” 

Luce had been right. You’d ordered him a mountain of waffles. There were three of them, each quadrant a different flavor, topped accordingly, looking like a rainbow of food in front of him. He gaped at you and you shrugged, smiling as you cut into your own. You were right, too, though. They were the best waffles he’d ever had. And he wasn’t even that crazy about fucking waffles. Luce whispered something in your ear when she gave you a hug as you were leaving and it was enough to make you swat her on the arm before going to the truck, still smiling and shaking your head when you buckled up. 

Tommy asked few questions when Joel had called to ask him to come to your place and he’d beaten the two of you there, leaning against his truck. 

“Hey Tommy!” You hopped out of the truck and waved. You always sounded like whoever you were greeting made your day just by being there. It never seemed fake, either. Joel didn’t understand it. 

“Hey Kid,” Tommy smiled, hugging you briefly. “Heard I’m here to run interdiction.” 

“Your brother is paranoid,” you rolled your eyes, absently fidgeting with the sleeves of the hoodie. Tommy noticed the bruises at your wrist in the brief second they were exposed, grabbing your hand and shoving the sleeve up your arm. 

“The fuck is this?” He looked to Joel. 

“It’s nothing, really,” you took your hand back and Tommy didn’t fight you on it. “Just a… misunderstanding that Joel got me out of last night, that’s all.” 

“Misunderstanding my ass,” Joel muttered. 

“Some guy do that?” Tommy demanded. “What, he your boyfriend? Where is he?” 

“No!” You closed your eyes for a second and crossed your arms, Joel noticing the first traces of pain on your face since he’d picked you up last night. So you weren’t as OK as you looked, you were just damn good at hiding it. It passed quickly. “No, it’s just a guy I’d gone out with a few times and it just… didn’t go the way he wanted is all, it’s fine, it’s a misunderstanding, it won’t happen again, it’s fine. I promise it’s fine.” 

It didn’t look settled for Tommy. Didn’t feel settled for Joel.

“That’s why we’re getting some of her stuff,” Joel said. “He knows where she lives, she’s gonna stay with Sarah n’ me until her new place is ready. Wanted you here in case he showed his face.” 

“Afraid you can’t take him alone?” Tommy smirked a little. Like he knew the real reason. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel muttered. 

“OK so if the dick measuring contest is done, can we go inside and stop making a scene?” You fished your keys out of your purse. Joel’s eyebrows went up. He didn’t think he’d ever heard you say the word ‘dick’ before. Or be quite so blunt. 

“Sure Kid,” Tommy said. “We’re at your service.” 

“Such gallant gentlemen,” you smiled a little, leading the way to your apartment. It was on the ground floor of the small complex, a neighbor saying hi to you as you passed and giving a cagey look to the men trailing behind you.

Joel had never been inside your apartment before but, when he stepped inside, he imagined it was what it would be like to step into your mind. 

Everything was light and bright with soft things everywhere - a blanket draped over the back of the couch, pillows on a beanbag in the corner. There was a small cluster of plants on your windowsill and Christmas lights framing your bookshelves which were loaded down to the point that the boards were sagging in the middle. 

“Give me like five minutes to get changed?” You said, setting your purse down on the small breakfast bar that looked to serve as your only dining space. “Make yourselves comfortable, help yourself to anything…” 

You disappeared down the short hall and Joel took a minute to indulge his curiosity. He started with your bookshelf, the most worn copies. “Pride and Prejudice” looked like it was hanging on by a thread, the spine barely readable. He almost laughed. That fit you. “The Bell Jar” was also particularly worn. He hadn’t read that one, so he pulled it off the shelf and looked at the back, frowning. This seemed less like you. Or what he knew of you. He put it back. There were a lot of books on your shelf he didn’t know, and a lot that were in French that he may have known something about but fuck if he could tell what they were. 

You didn’t have many pictures, something he found oddly disappointing. There was one photo you’d framed of you with a girl who was the same age but it was years old, you couldn’t have been more than 15 in it. The few others there were looked to just be photos of you with an older woman, who must be your grandmother. There was a painting on the wall next to the bookshelf, almost too big for the space. A lavender farm. Of course it was. 

“I painted that.” 

Joel hadn’t noticed you come back in. You were still tying your mass of hair on the top of your head, wearing jeans and a threadbare t-shirt and the canvas tennis shoes you wore with fucking everything - the damn sundresses, the shorts that drove him crazy. He looked back to the painting. 

“It’s good,” he said. He wasn’t lying. He’d have never guessed you hadn’t bought it somewhere. 

“It’s that lavender farm, near my grandma’s place?” You stood next to him, looking at the painting. “Anyway, safe to say that can stay for now. Is it OK if I bring my plants? I don’t want them to drop dead because I’m not watering them when they need…” 

“Sure, Kid,” Joel smiled a little at you. “We’ll find a spot for them.” 

You looked relieved, finding a big, plastic tub to pack the plants in before going back to your bedroom. Joel followed you there and you handed him a worn duffle bag as you started to grab things to pack. Your bedroom, like the rest of your home, was you personified. There was a quilt on the bed that had to be about as old as you, tiny flowers covering the thing. The windows had frothy, white curtains, your bed had about six too many pillows. Stack of books on the nightstand, pressed framed flowers on the walls. All sweetness and softness and light. 

“Can you…” your face scrunched. “Close your eyes for just a sec?” 

Your hand hovered by a dresser drawer. He laughed. 

“Sure, Kid,” he obeyed, closing his eyes. “Pack your underwear without this old man watchin’.” 

“Not that old,” you muttered. He smiled, resisting the urge to sneak a peek at what it is you wore under those little dresses. 

It didn’t take long for you to gather your things, you turning in circles in each room a few times, muttering to yourself before nodding once, a sense of finality to it. 

“We can always come back if you forget somethin’,” Joel said. “But that’s a ‘we,’ no comin’ here on your own.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “But still, trying to avoid leaving stuff for school behind. I have exams soon, I need to study… Think I’m good, though.” 

You grab your purse and one of the three bags you’ve filled with the things you’ll need to survive a few weeks with Joel and Sarah. Joel grabs the other two, Tommy the box of plants and you fill up the bed of Joel’s truck. You’re about to get in your old car - a beater from the early 80s that Joel is still amazed made it from upstate New York to Texas in the first place - when a late model Ford F-150 that’s never done a day of work in its life pulled into the lot, closing your car in. You froze, a deer in headlights, as the fuckin’ guy from the night before stalked over to you and threw you against your car. 

Joel was over to you before he even realized he was moving, pulling the man away from you and shoving him to the ground. 

“What’d I tell you, boy?” He growled, pulling a fist back and bringing it down on his face. “Told you I’d kill you if you touched her again, didn’t I?” 

Joel hit him again, the man trying to protect his face, and he pulled his fist back to hit him again when you caught it, pulling him back. 

“Joel!” You were yelling it, like you’d been screaming it for a minute. Maybe you had been. Tommy was on him then, too, pulling him off the man on the ground. “He’s not worth it, Joel, he’s not worth it…” 

Joel got to his feet, breathless, the man on the ground curled in on himself. He turned to you, your eyes still wide. He wanted to hug you, hold you close. Instead, he just looked at you. 

“You OK?” He asked after a moment. You nodded once. He turned back to the man on the ground. “Take your truck and get the fuck out of here.” 

The man scrambled to obey and you watched, your body stiff, until he was out of sight. You deflated a bit when he was gone, the hint of a tear at the corner of your eye. 

“You’re OK Kid,” Joel said quietly. You looked at him, your eyes wide, trusting. “I’ll keep you safe. You’re OK.” 

You looked at him like you believed him.

[xxxdizzy19]

𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐒𝐚𝐲 '𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞'