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kaylopolis · 4 months

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) Chapter Four

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months sooner than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. Afterall, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plans brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down, but also challenge your grab for power…

Tags: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This chapter needed to happen to expand the plot. Don't worry, smut is coming soon - like next chapter soon! BTW this was written after episode 7 of Helluva Boss, Full Moon events have not yet happened.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Four - The Meeting

Content Warning: none, but let me know if I missed any!

Husk said he didn’t think you liked surprises and boy was he right.

Charlie screamed the second you entered the kitchen, thrusting a present box into your arms. You were pissed, having not slept, tossing and turning in the silence of the night.

You really needed to find a radio - it’s music had lulled you to sleep in the past - but now you were hesitant. The radio was Alastor’s domain, and you didn’t know what kind of power the device would have now that he was back in Hell.

It’s the same reason why you never got a cell phone - you didn’t want Vox tracking your whereabouts or having access to your video camera. It would be a lot easier to figure out who you were if you did.

You used the new collection of syrups and powders to make real creations for the staff to enjoy. You had to admit, it was fun, and finally gave you a chance to make a jasmine latte to your liking - something you hadn’t had since your early days working at the cafe.

Alastor was nowhere to be found. So he didn’t see the tension in your body as you ate breakfast. He didn’t see you slip out after Angel and Husk got into it over the news of the Porn Star’s employer - now officially revealed to be Valentino. He didn’t see you tiptoe to your room, lock the door, pull your leather armor and cloak from the Void and clean them before today’s meeting.

You checked for his shadow of course, to see if he was watching, but for whatever reason, the darkness was still.

Doning your black garb, you double checked the silver stitching around the hood of your cloak, ensuring the magic seal was still intact. A few loose strands caught your attention but nothing serious enough to disrupt the enchantment.

Okay. You were going out. In broad daylight. To attend a meeting with the most powerful Overlords in Hell.

What could go wrong?

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“Ope! Ope! Ope! Ope!”

You landed on the sidewalk in a pile of… eggs?

They stopped their incessant noise making before turning to you, confused but intrigued by the smoke pooling at your feet.

“Are you on fire?”

“Why can’t we see your face?”

“You smell like jasmine.”

“Can I touch your cloak?”

Sir Pentious’ eggs. What were they doing here?

You took the elevator to the penthouse - which was really weird. Normally you’d just fly to the top and take the terrace entrance in, but Carmilla Carmine was hosting and she had earned your respect. Not simply because she had invited you, but for the many things before.

“...I’m sure you’ve all been wondering!” Alastor’s voice hits you at the same time as the static finds your skin.

Fuck.

“Not really, but welcome back in any case.” You tried hard to hold back your snort as you rounded the corner, appearing at the entrance of the conference room.

“Ah, you’ve made it,” Carmine gestures to you.

All eyes flit to you, cementing you to the tile floor where you stood. You did your best to keep your eyes locked with Carmilla’s not wanting to send the wrong message with a wondering gaze. You weren’t here to challenge anyone, certainly not on your first day, you were here as a guest of Carmilla’s and to stake a claim to the seat which has been offered.

They room falls silent before Zestial finally speaks up. “Tis this the infamous Shadow thou spoke of, Carmilla?”

You bow your head to the Overlord - and you mean “The” Overlord for he was the first. You had never met him in person before, but you’ve heard of him.

God, he was even more glorious in person. You could taste the power wafting off him from where you stood.

“What the heck! What is he doing here?” Zeeze began to protest.

The colors of her fur were wild enough to make you sick.

“I invited him,” Carmilla answered dismissively as if it was obvious. Zeezee and a few of the other Overlords protested save for Rosie and Alastor. You didn’t dare turn to them, however, you couldn’t risk anyone in this room catching any hint of your relationship with the Queen of the Cannibals nor could you risk Alastor suspecting any familiarity.

Fucking Alastor. You blocked out his gaze the most from your mind.

“The Shadow has risen to power faster second to none other than Alastor himself.” She gestures to the Radio Demon whose eyes haven’t left your form. “He now holds enough souls to rival even your own count, Zeezee. He’s earned a spot at this table.”

Ha. Fuck you.

“This is the Shadow…” Rosie chimes in. “Ha! I thought he’d be taller.” She laughs from Alastor’s side.

“Well then!” The Radio Demon’s smile reappeared, catching you off guard. It’s a really good thing they couldn’t see your hands shaking beneath the cloak. “Please, do take a seat!” He motioned with his microphone to a chair at the end of the table. A shadowed hand wrapped around the leg and pulled it out, inviting you to sit. Once the others saw Rosie and Alastor cave, they felt a bit more relaxed - not enough to drop their guard, however.

Rosie’s eyes caught yours at the other end of the table. She gave you an imperceptibly small smile, fleeting so as not to attract too much attention.

At least you had one ally in this room.

“This year's Extermination was brutal, far more even than years past. We have assessed that about 16% of the population was lost,” a slide projector turns on behind her. “With the angelic legions now returning twice as quickly, I think it prudent we…” The door slams inwards, a loud-mouthed Velvette barging into the meeting.

God, it was good that you needed to keep yourself composed here, otherwise you’d rip her head off and burn it to ashes. Every interaction you had with her just pushed the line more and more.

She hangs up the phone, turning to grab the back of your chair and… “What in the Hell is this!?” Velvette motions to you sitting in the chair. “What is this piece of trash doing, sitting in my seat!?”

Smoke began pooling at your feet, angrily twisting about itself in waves.

“Nice of you to join us, Velvette. Will your… colleagues be joining us?” Carmilla ignored her.

“What? No, they have better shit to do than to listen to an old windbag who thinks she's tough shit. I'm here to represent or I would be if this wanker would get out of my seat.”

You didn’t move an inch. Moving would be yielding power to Velvette and you couldn’t let that happen.

“Velvette, let me introduce you to the Shadow,” Carmilla motioned to you.

Her red sclera flit between you and the weapons-dealing Overlord. “Are you fucking kidding me? What kind of name is ‘Shadow’ anyway?” She snorted. “This is so going on my Sinstagram. I can’t… Oh!” The purple phone explodes in her hand.

You didn’t do that…

Alastor laughs from his chair, “Oh my, what a mess you’ve made.” Her phone lay in a heap on the ground, electrical sparks flying every which way.

Her tan skin turned a beat red, “Listen here you cock-sucking…” Her hand phases through your cloak as she attempts to grab you. She stands stunned, staring at her hand as if she couldn’t believe it herself.

It was a cheap trick, but oh-so satisfying when it happened. No one could take the cloak off of you. Not unless you were dead or they knew who you were.

You loved old magic.

Velvette stood shell-shocked and speechless.

No one stood up for you. No one intervened. They were all just as curious to see what you would do next.

With a snap of your fingers, you pulled a chair from the Void, surrounding the materialization process with blue flame - just for flare. It was a dingy chair, metal and worn - nothing compared to the grand plush ones set aside for the other guests. That, however, was intentional. Summoning the chair wasn’t giving in to her tantrum, it was an insult in and of itself.

“Thank you, Shadow,” Carmilla nodded to you. “So, as I was saying, we need to discuss…”

Velvette uses the chair as a stepping stool, shooting daggers with her eyes at your face. She steps before you, her feet on the table, blocking your view of the room.

Bitch.

“On the subject of discussion…” She throws the severed head of an Exorcist across the table.

Oh, here we go! A dead Exorcist - if that didn’t speed up your plans you didn’t know what would!

You watched as Velvette launched herself into a - obviously rehearsed - speech regarding an assault plan on Heaven.

Ha! Vox and Valentino sure had big balls if they think they can take the fight to them. On the other hand, you would love to see that happen. They’d be squished before they even made it to the gates, turned into a pile of recycled electronics and whatever the fuck moths had - feathers?

You’d find some way to take Velvette down personally. Take her out in the chaos with an angelic blade and blame it on the Exorcists of Heaven. You wouldn’t have the credit for the kill of course but did you really need that to begin with?

The only reason you were sitting here, showing the world a face, assigning a name to your killings was because of Rosie. She was the one to convince you to take hold of the power you so rightfully earned when you were adamant about staying in the shadows.

You couldn’t lie to yourself, though; the power you had in sitting here, seeing Velvette’s face turn red, was worth it.

“We know not how this perished. Mayhaps t'was not by a demon's hand at all. If we rush to war without knowing mightn't, they purge all of Hell for daring an uprising?” Zestial chimed in.

You chuckled deep and low, earning a glare from Alastor.

“Oh, I get it. So Grandpa is too pussy to fight, so I guess there's no point, right?” She jumps into the Overlord’s face. “Oh, what's the matter, Fossil? Too senile to make a real power grab for…”

“You better show some respect!” Carmilla interrupts Velvette.

Ugh, Sinners were always so dramatic. This was like dealing with the Crimson Mafia but worse - they didn’t have some Gen Z spoiled brat to deal with.

You took advantage of the distraction, using the time to study each of the Overlord’s without them knowing. Zeezee was a big… uh… Hell hound? Which didn’t make any sense since Hell hounds were Native born, but that was a mystery for a different day.

The Von Eldritch representative was absent, but you’d never interacted with him before either. The unnamed Overlord sat to Zeezi’s right, silent and emotionless. Carmilla and her daughters you had already known for years. Zestial was… God, he was a dream.

The Overlord dripped with power. You wondered, just out of curiosity and not actuality, what he would be like to fight. He seemed so elegant and refined, sitting there sipping his tea. Is his fighting style much of the same? Would he seduce you with his lethality? You had heard that lesser demons flee just upon the sight of him. What has he done to earn such respect? You wanted to know, you wanted to…

Static crawled its way up your spine, freezing your muscles and silencing your thoughts. You felt the air shift beneath your smoke - no, the shadows shift beneath your smoke. They were cold, like how a summer day’s temperature drops in the shade. You could feel them as they shifted beneath you, slithering against your robes.

Alastor.

You looked up to find the Overlord peering down at you, both hands crossed, his chin resting in his palms. His eyes were half-lidded as they raked over your cloaked form, like he was analyzing you, like he could see straight through the smoke and shadows to you underneath. It made you feel vulnerable. It made you feel weak.

You met his gaze, not letting his intimidation show. You sensed curiosity from the Overlord. Sniffing, you tried again to smell his emotion, but the room was filled with the iritation wafting off of Velvette and Carmilla - cinnamon. Ugh, you hated cinnamon.

Your eyes narrowed at the red demon, hoping he moves his gaze, but when he doesn’t relent you decide to repay his stare with a wandering set of eyes of your own.

He was lean, yet built - his broad chest forming an upside down triangle disappearing into a slim waist line. Donning one of his well-pressed suits and matching slacks. His sense of style was impeccable you had to give him that - but of course, Rosie dressed him and you loved everything she made. Even if she forced you into a dress. He wore gloves - he always wore gloves - but his hands though…

Images of his claws scraping across your cheek and down your skin come flooding back. A shiver runs through your core at the memory of his touch on your neck, the way he licked his lips at the sight of the blood pumping through your veins. Alastor turned ravenous at the thought of tasting you. Fucking cannibals.

But the way you moaned? God, how embarrassing. You had never made a sound like that in your life. Where had it come from? Why had it happened?

And why did you like it?

Why did you want him to squeeze harder, to drag your lips to his…

Stop!

Your face heated at the thought. Alarmed, you pulled your gaze back into your lap, earning a small chuckle from the Radio Demon.

Where the fuck did that come from!? Get your shit together! You’re supposed to be a badass Overlord in a very important meeting right now. There was no space for thoughts of Alastor and… NO. NOPE. NOT GOING THERE.

Of course such a devious man would be so enticing! It’s probably how he claimed his victims up top. Get them to like him and smile at them. Maybe he flirted and twirled their hair, before taking their hand and luring them into the dark forest with promises of… NO! STOP IT!

Jesus Christ, it was a really good thing no one could see your face right now.

Velvette suddenly appeared, her nose mere inches from yours, “This isn’t fucking over!” She jumped to the ground, kicking the chair you pulled from the Void into the wall. “Safe travels back to the nursing home, fuckers! Kiss my ass!” She flipped you all off on her way out.

It was silent for a beat before Alastor chimed, “That was a productive meeting!”

What part of that was productive?

The Overlords all got up from their chairs and headed for the exit, you follow suit, a little saddened at the fact that this meeting went nowhere. You had such high hopes the moment Velvette pulled out the severed head. Ugh, guess you were going to have to continue with Plan A.

“Shadow,” Carmilla called. Her and her daughters hadn’t yet moved from their spots. “May I call on you later?” Zestial stood next to her, finishing his tea.

You nodded before…

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” Alastor stepped into your path, his hand outstretched. “Alastor, pleasure to meet you.”

Your palm was far, far smaller in his grip than you had expected. If his hands were this big then did that mean his…

You stifle a cough, hoping he doesn’t notice. “Charmed.”

His eyes narrow.

Oh, he noticed.

“May I interest you in a drink? I see it impertinent to get to know someone such as yourself as we may be able to… benefit one another.” The edges of his smile curled. It made your stomach bubble with anxiety - not the same feelings as butterflies, you should point out.

Your eyes drifted back to the room, finding Rosie absent. You knew Alastor was going to pay an interest in the Shadow once he was made aware of your presence. You had risen to power just as fast as he had - how could he not pay attention to you? You just didn’t expect it right off the bat.

“Alastor is a respectable man,” Carmilla jumps in. “He can be trusted” Her eyes weighed heavily on you. She was throwing you a bone, trying to tell you what to do in this situation.

Alastor respected only those who respected him. Insult him and he will show you no kindness - Vox being the prime example. You weren’t prepared to take him on just yet, and if he ever found out who you really were, it would completely derail your plans. Besides, if you shut the door now, there was no telling if or when it was going to open again. Remember what you had decided last night at the bar: get to know the Radio Demon, throw him off the scent.

Pulling the obsidian calling card from your breast pocket, you held it out to him. “A drop of scarlet beneath night’s mistress.”

A drop of scarlet: blood. The night’s mistress: darkness. Anyone in possession of an obsidian calling card merely had to drip a single drop of their blood atop the card. That drop of blood was the tie in you needed to begin a deal with whomever summoned you.

Only certain people carried those cards, those who you had bestowed the gift upon. Only once had a card fallen into the wrong hands - and ONLY once. You would never let that happen again. Which was why, from here on out, you needed to be picky with whom you entrusted these to. You didn’t know if you could trust the Radio Demon, but again you couldn’t let this door close.

“Oh! How ominous.” He slipped the card into his jacket pocket as you exited the conference room, doing your best to ignore the pinpoint glare on the back of your head and the demon who held it.

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SLAM! Velvette kicks the door open, stomping her way into Vox’s office. “That cock-sucking bastard! Who the fuck does he think he is!?”

Vox rolled his eyes, continuing to click away on the computer monitor, “No, please Velvette come right in.”

The brat demon slumped into a chair, her boots kicking up on the desk’s top. The female Vee reclined in the chair, a look of pure anger on her face. “He sat in my seat. My seat! And insulted me right in front of the Overlords of Hell!”

“Uh-huh,” Vox feigned interest, continuing to click away.

“And the Old-ass Hag let him! They all just sat there and let him! Where was the fucking respect!?” The Vee jumped to her feet, a thumb jabbed into her chest. “I’m Velvette - the Velvette. I’m a fucking Overlord! He’s just a glorified bed sheet with an attitude!”

“Yeah,” Vox switched to a different browser - still not listening.

“He’s dead.” Velvette declared, climbing onto the desk. “He’s fucking dead the next time I see him.”

“That sounds nice,” Vox mindlessly added.

“That sounds nice? What… What the fuck are you doin’?” The female Vee reached down and spun the monitor around.

A thousand tabs were open, each containing different social media page profiles, image searches, or links to various surveillance cameras around town.

Velvette shot the media demon a dumb look. “This is why you had to skip the meeting!? You’re still lookin’ for that girl, aren’t you?”

“What?” Vox pretended to look offended. “No! I’m not… I mean… Why would I…?” His words trailed off at the sight of Velvette’s irritated face. “Maybe.”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “Give me your phone,” she held out her hand.

“Use your own phone!” The media demon snapped.

Velvette’s glare turned lethal. “You do not want to mess with me today, princess. Give me the goddamn phone!”

Vox knew better than to argue with the female Vee when she was in a mood.

Handing over the device, he watched as she clicked across various different media sites before she paused on one in particular. All in all she took about three minutes total of searching before she turned the device around.

And there you were. Hidden amongst a million photos of bugs and random blurry pictures of red ceilings and floors was you in Angel’s arms.

“How the Hell…” Vox reached for his phone, staring dumbfounded at the photo.

Velvette smirked, a wicked gleam in her eye, “Guess where your mysterious Alley Girl is staying…”

Vox read the page name, his one eye blinking red with rage, “Alastor…”

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“The Vees are going to be a problem,” Carmilla pondered, one hand wrapped around her chin.

“I agree,” you growled from your place atop the terrace. The night was colder than expected - perhaps an ominous omen of what was to come.

“What do you suggest, Mother?” Odette chimed from the chair. Her sister silent and still as always.

“I suggest we do nothing,” she shrugged, “but wait and watch. If the Vees want to take up arms against the Angels they will not do so alone. We need to ensure that they stay alone.” At that, she eyed you.

You knew what that meant - a lot of fucking nights at the V Tower listening to a whole lot of nothing. She needed you to play spy. Carmilla would do her part, of course, watching and learning using her own set of spies - she wasn’t one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell for her weapons business alone.

You stood there and waited for her to name her price. Watching the Vees was in her best interest - not yours. She didn’t know that, but she knew you disliked them so and she knew your services weren’t free. They were never free. Finally, she laid down a number. You weren’t happy with it, but you also owed Carmilla for your seat at the table. Thus, you wouldn’t complain.

Turning, you headed for the edge of the balcony, preparing to jump before she stopped you again. “I feel the need to explain myself.”

You had another place to be tonight and, of course, you were already late.

You don’t turn back to her, expecting this to be brief.

“My girls and I have known you from the beginning,” Carmilla began. From the corner of your eye, you watch Odette and Clara’s eyes grow big. “And although you don’t trust me anymore, know this. I do not do the things I do for you because of who you are, but because of who you have made yourself into.”

Images of Clara’s blood and Carmilla’s screams fill your vision. You shake the memory away.

“The last thing I wish to see is you harmed.” Her voice breaks. “I. Am. Sorry.”

Your eyes flit to Clara, yet the girl didn’t meet your gaze, guilt held in her tight-lipped mouth.

You knew how sorry she was. You knew.

You take off into the night.

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From the shadows of the I.M.P office rose a figure clad in red.

The imp working the desk jumped in shock, spewing coffee over the papers on his desk. “Holy shit! Mr. Radio… The Radio… Over… Demon Lord…”

“Alastor, is fine. Pleasure,” the demon smiled, his teeth and eyes practically glowing in the night.

“Moxie! Millie! Fuck! Get in here!” He screamed at the door, sprinting to the otherside of the desk to pull out a chair. The wooden seat shoke in his arms, clacking against the floorboards. Even the Natives were afraid of him, it seemed.

Two smaller imps burst through, but jumped back at the sight of the Overlord seated in front of Blitz’s desk.

“The… The… Radio… De… Demon…” Moxie tried to speak from behind the cover of his darling wife, but words would not agree with him.

“Yes, yes,” Alastor waved. “I believe we’ve covered that part already, haven’t we?”

Blitz pulled out about fifty pens, only one making it into his hand and the other fourty nine spewing onto the floor. He ripped a few pieces of paper before finally pulling one free and set about writing notes. “What can we do ya’ for, your Overlordness?” He gave an awkward laugh, his elbow tipping the cup of coffee over on his desk. “Shit. Fuck. Shit. Moxie get me a towel!”

The lesser imp and his wife disappeared from the room.

“I need you to find someone for me,” Alastor purred, his hands resting atop his microphone.

“Find someone… We don’t really do…” As Blitz talked, the green glare of Alastor’s aura began to fill the room.

Blitz swallowed dryly, trying to think. “Yeah, Oh… Okay we can find someone for you. What’s their name?”

“I don’t know,” Alastor’s smile strained. He didn’t like not having the upper hand in any situation. Part of the reason why he was here, he needed more information. He needed leverage, just in case.

“You don’t know…” Blitz rose an eyebrow.

“What’s a hound got to do to get some sleep around…” A female Hellhound turned the corner, coming eye to eye with Alastor before slinking away, whining as she went.

“No, I do not know, for they are already dead and do not go by their Christian name,” Alastor continued.

“Already dead… What the fuck are you here for? We kill alive people.” Blitz was now thoroughly confused, but Alastor was having none of that.

“I want information on who and what they did when they were alive,” His smile was strained against his teeth. His patience was being tested.

“Why?” The imp asked.

Wrong thing to say.

“Oooooh, shit,” Blitz jumped behind his desk to shield himself from the growing mass that was Alastor’s demon form. “Okay! Okay!” The imp caved. “We’ll do whatever you want! We just need a name! Shit. Somewhere to start, at least!?”

The Radio Demon shrank back, finally happy to hear some progress. It was getting harder and harder to contain his anger lately.

“She goes by Thestral.”

-> Link to Chapter Five

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

#alastor smut #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #hazbin #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader smut #alastor x you #alastor x reader #smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #x reader #reader insert #alastor shadow

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accirax · 5 days

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Danganronpa: Despair Time Chapter 2 Episode 14 Dissection

I can't think of how to introduce this dissection other than just saying "god damn??". This chapter-- especially its second part-- has been a wild ride, and one that it appears we're nearing the end of. However, we still have one important question left to answer, which I'm sure I'll talk about here. So, let's chat.

SPOILERS for Danganronpa: Despair Time Chapter 2 Episode 14.

Also, I will be discussing Ace and Eden as equally likely blackened candidates in this post. If it will upset you to hear about the prospects of either or both of them being the killer, you might want to sit this one out.

Given what happens later in the episode, it's very interesting that the episode began with (more or less) Ace "admitting" that he has no idea how the murder mechanism worked. A truthful method of disqualification, or a masterful play by Ace to ask Teruko to ask him about the murder method only to pretend that he has no idea what it was? Time will have to tell on that one, because I honestly have no leads.

Similarly, is this Eden being genuinely shaken up and not remembering what transpired in the Gym, or trying to play the helpless innocent card to get out of having to help Teruko explain the murder method that she stole? Spoilers for my thoughts later in this dissection, I guess: they're so evenly matched that it's crazy.

I've always thought that Hu is the prettiest DRDT character, and this episode did nothing but prove me right. Hot damn, ma'am.

The insistence that this questioning is "traumatizing [Nico]" makes me think that Hu could be projecting her own experiences on to them. Perhaps she was once an innocent in a situation for which she kept taking the blame? That would be interesting as another connection between Hu and Nico, of both of them having taken the blame for someone else's follies.

This was a hilarious comeback; never change, Ace. Or, maybe you do need to change slightly, to become a less cowardly and impulsive person. Or maybe I should at least be rooting for you to have the chance to change in the sense that you live long enough to have that work out for you.

Yet another instance of J being the one to say that murder is bad. I wonder if this has to do with her character/backstory in some particular way (although given what we know about her past I have no idea what that would be), or if DRDTdev just needed a judgmental and confrontational person who would snap back at anyone to take over these kinds of lines.

(That's not me dunking on J's character btw she's valid for this)

This was a really clever way for Charles to phrase this to make Hu listen and settle down. I appreciate the out-of-the-box yet logical thinking. (Also I missed hearing Charles' voice :,D)

Woah, I was not expecting to get a Closing Argument comic for the Gym murder, but I am obviously delighted that we have one! Also, OH MY GOD, THE CEILING GRATE. How did none of us even think to consider that as part of the murder mechanism?

However, there are still some aspects of the state of the Gym that haven't yet been accounted for with this version of the murder timeline. I don't really think it's anything that would stop Nico from being Ace's would-be killer at this point, but I'll list them out here in case they are or in case they turn out to be relevant to Arei's murder. I'll also be trying to debunk them, though.

Moved Benches: Some of the benches near the pullup bar were knocked over. These probably fell either in some sort of struggle while knocking out Ace, or when Ace's body fell from the fan.

Moved Weight Rack: The weight rack was moved closer to the bench press and flipped on its back. I guess this really was also knocked over in the same fashion, no matter how unrealistically difficult it should have been to move due to its weight? Or it really was "workout preferences"???

Nico's Missing Cowl: When Teruko and Eden found Nico at the scene of the crime, they weren't wearing their typical dark cape thing. I have no clue why. You could say that Nico was trying to look less instantly recognizable, but it's not as if anyone (other than maybe Teruko) who saw a dark-haired 5'5" individual in a blue shirt instead of a gray cowl would think it was anyone other than Nico. There's also ye olde theory that they might have used it to soak up blood somewhere, but 1) Ace seems to have lost less blood than it may have seemed, and 2) the cowl was still not seen anywhere in the crime scene. I think I remember speculating that after Nico hypothetically used it to soak up blood (or, on second thought, maybe used it to gag Ace with the turpentine), they then stuck it in the fridge to hide it for the time being, at which point MonoTV discarded it and Nico got a new cape from their room. Maybe if it was used to apply the turpentine, Nico also could've put it away to prevent themselves from being affected by the fumes? I guess that's what I'm going with.

Lack of Tape on Pullup Bar: So, this one is obviously relevant to the murder already because Rose not being able to do a pullup is part of what tips off Teruko to the fact that something is off with the tape. However, I have no idea why the tape actually got removed from the bar. I still maintain that I don't think anyone could have stolen the tape off of that bar and repurposed it elsewhere-- most online sources seem to agree that kinesiology tape isn't reusable, and the fact that it was already wrapped around the bar in such a tight spiral would make it difficult to conform to any new specific shapes. My best guess is that Nico might have tried to use the bar instead of the light grate at first, determined that the tape was preventing the wire from sliding properly, and then removed the tape before determining the bar still didn't work. Or, Nico could have tried using the bar before settling on the broom, and thinking that it wouldn't work with tape on it... for some reason? Kinda scratching my head here.

I wonder how long ago it was. It's been four days since the Chapter 2 motive was revealed, although Ace was attacked only two days after the motive. Furthermore, Ace had started bullying Nico to some level already by the end of Chapter 1. I'm sure that Nico must have known what their secret was and probably didn't want it to be shared. My guess would be that they probably started cooking on murder pretty shortly after the new motive was released. That would also work with Charles-via-Whit letting everyone know what the custom weapons were in the first Class Trial.

This was the perfect response for Nico's character. They don't understand why an untruthful "sorry" would actually serve as a courtesy for most people, so they try to say what they feel and get ostracized for it.

Gotta say though, Ace, that was a pretty aggressive reaction from someone who said he "didn't need other people to tell him lies just to keep him happy" ;) (/j)

Damn, way to throw Levi under the bus. I can see why, for someone like Nico, they would want to assert themselves as not the most abnormal person here, though. I just want them to be neurodivergent buddies :(

If that's the case, then I'd have to imagine that we won't be seeing Nico as a killer again down the line. However, they could also just mean "getting caught"/"going in without a solid gameplan," so it's still possible we will. There's also the possibility of them doing something more like a sacrifice kill, although it would take a lot of character work to make something like that feel within Nico's nature.

Sorry to keep screenshotting every little thing Nico says but they keep saying really interesting things. The fact that Nico specifically mentions their father as opposed to "parents" or "family" makes me think that we'll hear more about their father specifically sometime in the future. Or, who knows, maybe their other parent left or died.

Nico: I don't expect you to forgive me. Very few people ever do. So I don't see the point in acting sorry.

This was very interesting as an addendum to the above screenshot. What exactly did Nico "ask for" forgiveness for in the past? Was it just more social blunders, as they described in ch2-e2, or did they get into more trouble closer to this level than we realized? It could also be an indication that Nico has spent time with people who believe that being nonbinary is a crime that Nico needs to feel sorry for. Fascinating stuff, indeed.

Points for Ace being the killer. We know that he went into this trial looking to suspect Nico ("[...] I'm pretty sure I know who the murderer is. It's not David, it's Nico"), so if Ace is the killer, it would make sense if he'd want to make the crime scene resemble Nico's to make his bait more credible.

Hey, it's the aforementioned T A P E T I M E, motherfuckers :D (still /j) Personally, it's quite gratifying to hear that it wasn't just a visual malfunction or a minor detail blown way out of proportion.

You're, uh... getting to this point much faster than I expected, queen. I don't think she's now going to go down the exact same distrustful rabbit hole that she was in before, but there's definitely still potential for her hopes to be crushed by the end of this chapter. Or, maybe she will accept some people as genuine friends, and instead in the future have to confront how she feels when she loses a genuine friend, or not blaming herself for the effects of her luck, or something along those lines. I like that Teruko isn't a static edgy protagonist, though. Like, don't get me wrong, I've always known and appreciated that she has depth, but it's refreshing that she isn't someone who's so stubborn about her own way of thinking that she refuses to admit when she's in the wrong. Teruko really wants friends, guys.

TERUROSE REAL??????

(Also Rose's speech was excellent as well I just didn't have anything in particular to say about it other than "wow" at the moment)

Yahoo, lockdown logic strikes again! Also, a quick

Is Teruko Correct In This Assumption?

Personally, I fully think yes, only Ace or Eden could be the culprit at this point. MonoTV confirmed that it tried to restore the Gym to the best of its ability but couldn't return the tape, which means both that there was no tape in the Gym to be taken and that there was never any spare tape in the Storage Room that MonoTV could have used to replace the roll. I guess you could say that there was an extra roll of tape in the Storage Room that someone else took before the murder took place, but that level of coincidence seems implausible at this point in the Trial.

No, for anyone other than Eden or Ace to have acquired the tape, they must have either stolen it from one of those two or asked for it from one of those two. Asking them seems very unlikely-- for starters, if it was Ace who took the tape, I don't think he'd be giving free hand-outs to anyone. And, if Eden isn't the killer herself, that means all of her fright regarding stumbling upon Ace's body was genuine. I don't think she's naive enough to then hand over what was used in Ace's murder to anyone asking... or at least not without bringing it up now. Beyond that, anyone who would ask either of them for the tape would have to know that the tape was used in the murder attempt, knowledge of which was very limited. This episode went to lengths to establish that Nico was the sole culprit behind the attack on Ace, and while it's still possible it could all be an elaborate lie, the explanation Nico gave felt very in character and important for their characterization moving forwards. So, while Nico would obviously know it was used, if Nico asked either of them for the tape, surely neither Eden nor Ace would trust them. Otherwise, I think Rose is the only one who could have found out it was gone, but even so, given that neither Eden nor Ace have tried to argue that Rose asked them for the tape, I don't think that happened.

You could also say the same of neither Eden nor Ace claiming to have had the tape stolen from them-- but I could see either of them feeling like claiming to have taken the tape at all right now would be a death sentence, so I understand why they wouldn't say it. Still, I don't know if the narrative is there to support the tape having been stolen from them. On the day after the Gym murder (Day 7), Eden isn't seen in the daily life at all. If someone stole the tape from Eden on that day, I would think that DRDTdev would at least want to show us who Eden was spending time with on that day (given that he put in the effort to make the tape sprite disappear from the Gym at the time it did), so that we would have any idea who might have done so. Ace is seen once in the Day 7 daily life, arguing with Hu, Nico, Levi, Veronika, and Arei. However, having just been attacked, I imagine he'd be hyper-aware of anyone getting close to him, and therefore would be more likely to notice if someone was rifling around in his pockets (if he has pockets?).

Really, I think the only possible candidates for who could have stolen tape from Ace or Eden would be Levi (mostly just for Ace) and Arei (from either of them). Levi might have had an opportunity to take the tape from Ace on the night he was attacked, the night of Day 6. Eden said last episode that Levi "kept trying to help him" after Ace was attacked, which could imply that Levi was the one to put bandages around Ace's neck. Furthermore, he does have a criminal past, which could make him better at stealing. Similarly, Arei is confirmed to be a good pickpocket, stealing Min's pen without Min noticing at all. I think she's the only one with the proper buildup to have taken the tape from Ace at that breakfast, and would be the most likely to have spent time with Eden when Eden was off-screen. (Although, it would have to have been before lunch, because Eden says the last time she saw Arei was at lunch.)

However, I don't think many people think that Levi is the killer anymore, and if Arei stole the tape from Eden or Ace only for the killer to then steal the tape from Arei, I would start to wonder why DRDTdev even made the tape such a scarce resource in the first place. Remember that, if the killer was purposefully trying to recreate Nico's idea, they likely knew in advance that they would need the tape to pull off their plan. It was used in enough places that seizing the opportunity to take it off of Arei seems unlikely, as it was too fundamental to the plan's inception. Besides, for the killer to replicate Nico's plan in the first place, the killer likely needs to be Nico, Eden, Ace, or Teruko, who are the ones who could have most easily taken the tape on their own.

I've already seen people accuse this Trial of being bloated, and while I strongly disagree (I only think cases are bloated when they're stalling for time and have nothing of interest to discuss, and we've still had PLENTY of interesting stuff to discuss), if we spent a whole 'nother who-knows-how-many episodes reversing all of the progress we just made to say that either Nico wasn't actually the one to kill Ace or that someone who didn't see the crime scene killed Arei, that bloating problem would only seem worse to those people.

I understand if you don't want to believe that Eden or Ace has to be the culprit for whatever reasons-- whether that be that they're your favorites and you don't want them to die or you really like your theory and don't want it to be false-- but I really think that this episode cemented that either Ace or Eden will be voted for as the blackened for all of the reasons above. Therefore, I shall be proceeding accordingly.

She was WILD for this. Hilarious line of reasoning.

What's Up With the Body Discovery Announcement?

The "reveal" of this line of logic was no surprise to me. As someone who's believed that Eden is the culprit for quite a long time, we've had to figure out ways to get around this thing before, and besides perhaps "not witnessing the murder," someone else seeing the body before the BDA rang is the most obvious way to cheese it.

However, in order for this to be a thing, we have to ask ourselves-- who would have actually seen the body first?

David claims to, but he has an alibi starting at 7:30 AM with Veronika and J. Both because Arei theoretically wasn't dead before then and because we've been operating off of the assumption that a meal takes about 30 minutes to eat, I don't think any of the three of them could have stumbled across Arei in the morning. Nico and Hu both have an alibi, which I'm going to consider solid enough to remove them from possibility-- one of them spotting the body would be helpful to make Eden the killer, and I think the only people who believe that Hu and Nico are lying only believe so under the condition that one of them is the killer. Whit is out, because him seeing the body beforehand doesn't actually accomplish anything, and so is Charles, because we can assume that, if he saw the body, he would be out of commission. I'm also going to strike Rose from seeing the body before breakfast, both because she's very likely to have been asleep and because if she had already seen Arei's body in the Playground, she probably wouldn't have refused to draw a diagram. That would leave only Ace, Levi, and Arturo as non-blackeneds who could have helped facilitate culprit!Eden from not being caught by the BDA.

However, we also have to consider that "before 8 AM" isn't the only time someone could have stumbled across Arei's body. They also could have seen it before Teruko, Eden, and Whit did while everyone was looking for Arei. So, what do we know about what happened during the search for Arei? Not much. Hu says that they should split up, while J says she's going to check Arei's room. Teruko says that most people are probably searching the first floor, an assumption that's supported by Teruko, Eden, and Whit not seeing anyone else while they check the second floor. You might think that would eliminate the possibility of anyone else seeing Arei's body during the search, but Teruko did say most people, not all. There's also what MonoTV said when Teruko and Veronika were investigating the Gym.

MonoTV: It's too high! If you stood in the movie screening room on floor one and started punching through the walls, you'd fall into the playground.

This not-yet-addressed piece of evidence got me thinking about the possibility of someone seeing Arei's body from above, standing in the Motive Screening Room. It still probably couldn't be Teruko, Whit, Charles, Rose, or J, but anyone else would theoretically be back on the table if that were the case. That being said, I can't find any visual differences in how the Motive Screening Room looks between the beginning of Chapter 2, when the search for Arei begins, and when Teruko goes to check the motive secrets (other than a curtain being added over the screen in the third case). So, unless there was already a heretofore unmentioned hole to peek through in the room, I wouldn't count on that being the case. The connection between the Motive Screening Room and the Playground will probably just be relevant to a different chapter.

Therefore, that leaves us once again with Ace, Levi, and Arturo. The main problem with believing that any of them could have seen the body beforehand is why they wouldn't have brought that up at this point in the Trial. Here are my best guesses as to why:

Ace: I have genuinely no clue why Ace wouldn't have brought up that he saw the body in the morning (assuming that he actually did) to defend himself at this point. It's not like it would make anyone more suspicious of you.

Levi: Levi does seem to be a bit dense regarding what is and isn't helpful behavior in a Trial, so the most likely possibility to me is that he just didn't realize that confirming he saw her was helpful. Like, "oh, I didn't realize that me confirming that I saw Arei would help us pin down Eden as the killer. I was just trying to figure out how David and I both saw Arei's body this morning and I didn't see him." "Wh-- David was obviously lying!" "He was?" "I already told you he was lying before..." "Levi... we talked about this..." Bonus points for it not being out of character for Levi to be unfazed by seeing a body, though.

Arturo: In Arturo's case, I think it would have to be that he'd still be worried about people seeing him as suspicious for saying he found Arei's body in the case of accusing Eden specifically. They already have a past history of conflict, and I could see someone brashly accusing Arturo of throwing Eden under the bus just to get revenge on her for the secret thing (even if I don't think he would actually do that). He also made an enemy out of Arei, so I don't think he would be particularly fazed by seeing her corpse either-- similarities to Felicity's cause of death notwithstanding. However, I also find it likely that he trailed after J in going to check Arei's room.

So, what's our conclusion here? Does this mean that Eden is basically fully cleared by triggering the BDA? I wouldn't count her out just yet, but the evidence isn't looking great for her. It's quite possible David only brought up this argument to A) hold out suspension of disbelief that it's not just Ace for a little while longer, B) drop this logic as foreshadowing for a future killer's plan, C) characterize the kind of logic he uses in a Class Trial, or D) bring up this argument in canon so that the people who theorized that the BDA might not clear Eden or Whit wouldn't be like, "wait, but what about...?" However, it's also possible that one of the possibilities I listed above, something I might have missed, or the "see no evil" idea (as FF put it) could keep Eden in contention. That dynamism is part of what makes Ace and Eden feel so evenly matched.

See, this is what I assumed David was getting at after Nico reminded me of his early-morning alibi. But then he just kept talking...

I'm not going to delve into what David was thinking here too much, because I already have an anonymous ask about what I think David's rationale was that this will almost certainly come up in. However, as a short version, I imagine that David is trying to get everyone angry at each other in the hopes that it'll incite another murder that he can get the class to fail? Or to cause enough discord in the group that they just fail this one. That would be why he also rags on Rose for not remembering the tape, and insults Arturo's sister-- he wants no one to trust anyone so that the murder-solving process will be as un-streamlined as possible.

The fact that he targets Teruko so specifically is probably because he (accurately) assesses her as the only real threat there. Charles and Rose can help, sure, but their mental struggles make them easy enough to eliminate if you play your cards right. Teruko's main flaw is her lack of trust, so if David wants to weaken her, it makes sense to go right for that jugular. Furthermore, by stating his plans so plainly and publicly, it might incite other people to fight back against him and say that Teruko should trust them. However, that kind of olive branch might make Teruko even less inclined to get close to them, if what Teruko said to Eden at the end of ch2-e03 can tell us anything. Didn't stop Eden from trying at the end of this last episode, though!

After taking some more time to think about what David was up to this chapter, I might change my mind on those being his goals. But, this post does serve as my initial thoughts of sorts, and that's what I initially think about this scene.

I wholeheartedly agree.

Does Ace Have Nothing To Do With Arei?

What Ace has to say is more or less true-- barring the breakfast in which Arei didn't talk at all (AKA, no conversation), Ace has literally never been in a small group event with Arei. However, although they didn't talk to each other, Ace did overhear the conversation between David and Arei, which does give him a connection to Arei. Quite relevantly, Arei did say this to David during their conversation:

Arei: You said that sharing our secrets would help fight against the motive. But when I think about it, not a single good thing has come out of that. Eden was stupidly naive, as usual, and tried to talk to Arturo, so now I have to protect her.

From this, Ace could probably surmise that Eden had Arturo's secret, she talked to him about it, and that Arei stepped in to save her from Arturo. He was one of the few people who could have known that Eden and Arei grew closer before the murder occurred: another connection Ace had to information about Arei.

However, before you use that evidence to call Ace the killer, let me remind you that he still doesn't have enough information to write the note from just eavesdropping on this conversation alone. As I outlined in this theory (same as the one I just linked above), whoever wrote the note had to specifically know that Arturo's secret was about his sister, which Arei doesn't divulge (quite possibly because she didn't even know) to David. Therefore, although Arei mentioning Arturo and Eden in this conversation is interesting, it doesn't actually make Ace any more likely to be the killer, because he still would have needed to find some way to spy on Eden's secret and/or Arturo and Eden's conversation to write that note. (Unless mentioning the sister specifically was an oversight plot hole, but I never want to use that as my reasoning.)

So, do I get what Arturo is getting at? Yeah, Ace and Arei were never particularly involved, and Eden clearly has a greater connection to the victim. However, there is more to the Ace/Arei bond than it might first appear, and it's possible that could come up in the Trial moving forward.

This distinction-- between "Arei was my friend" and "Arei could have been my friend"-- could be very telling down the line. Eden pauses mid-tear-filled rant to distinguish that Arei is not her friend, not because she's dead, but because they hadn't reached that point yet. Arei is not Eden's friend in death. What can that possibly mean other than that Eden killed Arei?

... BUT THEN HOW THE FUCK CAN EDEN GO AND SAY ALL OF THIS, BE THE KILLER, AND THEREFORE PROVE DAVID RIGHT???

AND THE "BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS DO" REFERENCE??? AT THIS HOUR????? I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THAT MAKES HER SEEM MORE OR LESS SUSPICIOUS!!!!

OUGH AND THE MIN PARALLELS TOOOOOOO

MIN WAS TERUKO'S FRIEND BUT ALSO A KILLER. DOES THAT MEAN EDEN IS GOING TO BREAK THE CYCLE OR DOES IT MEAN THAT WE'RE STUCK IN A DOOMED STORY IN WHICH TERUKO IS THE PROTAGONIST? IT COULD GO EITHER WAY!!!

Jumping back in time for just a moment...

A Piece of Evidence That Lines Up to Them Only

I thought about making this its own separate post, but decided not to. If you guys want me to make this part it's own separate post so it's easier to find/comment on directly, let me know, and I'll set that up.

But before you can make your decision, I suppose I have to explain what I aim to do here. Basically, Teruko has told us that she's still torn between Eden and Ace (mood), and that, while she'll start off attacking Ace, she's looking for any pieces of evidence that could prove that only one of them could have committed the crime. Problem is, we have no indication of what that specific piece of evidence could be, and, trust me, it could be a lot of them. Thus, what I'm going to do in this "mini" theory is list out every piece of evidence that I can think of, and say whether it points to Eden being the culprit, Ace being the culprit, or it can't point to either of them. Perhaps once we're done, you'll see why I'm so conflicted on which of them it would be.

I'm going to tier these pieces of evidence in terms of least likely to be the missing piece to most likely to be the missing piece, starting with all of the aforementioned unexplained gym evidence. The knocked over benches and weight rack were not part of the replicated crime scene, and I have no idea how Ace or Eden would have wound up with any version of Nico's cowl. The missing tape on the pull-up bar has the greatest likelihood to be relevant, but as we're already suspecting both of them for having the tape, I don't think it'd be a decision maker. Any of those pieces of evidence would be likely to come up in proving that Nico wasn't the one behind Ace's murder, but this theory is operating under the assumption that Nico is the one who tried to kill Ace, and either Ace or Eden killed Arei. If you want the answers for your own theory, do your own homework. (/lh)

Ace or Eden will get a point for any evidence that I think would better be used to accuse them as being the culprit. Therefore, winning points is actually a bad thing if you want to be innocent. For convenience of "scoring," Eden will be purple because of her shirt and Ace will be pink because of his "maroon" hair... and because I needed red and orange for the likelihood ranking.

UNLIKELY FINAL PIECES OF EVIDENCE

Arei's Body Swinging: This evidence has already been used to establish that Arei was killed in the morning, not at night. Either Ace or Eden could have killed Arei at 7:30 AM, so point to neither of them.

Ace Trying to Assign Himself to Guard Duty: This one is obviously a point for Ace if it were the final piece, but it's such a minor happenstance that I doubt Teruko would think to bring it up as the main thing against him. Like, she could bring it up in general, but I don't think it'd be her crowning jewel. Still, it's a piece of evidence we haven't discussed yet, so credit where credit is due.

Arei's Bound Wrists: Bound by the grippy tape that either of them could have stolen. Point to no one.

Broken Playground Lights: The lights in the Playground are broken, likely from the mechanism being hung up through the ceiling rafters. You could argue that this is a point for Ace's strength, but I don't think throwing a ball that high requires so much strength that Eden couldn't do it, especially if you might be able to use the see-saw to launch it somehow. Point to no one.

Dried Up Puddles: This has nothing to do with either of them. Point to no one.

Carousel Wrapped in Tape: Again, either could have had the tape, so point to no one.

Two Pieces of Rope: Either of them could have taken the rope from Storage and cut it; point to no one.

Food/Utensils/Napkins in Trash: Probably David's dinner. Possibly evidence of Eden and Arei having breakfast together, but that's a stretch. Point to no one.

Cups/Tissues/Palette in Trash: Rose says these were hers. Point to no one.

Incense in Trash: I know thebadjoe had (has?) theories about this being used to conceal the scent of Arei's body being hidden in the Relaxation Room a day earlier than anyone thought, but I find that to be too much of a stretch to accost Eden for it here. I think it's just filler. Point to no one.

Grippy Tape in Trash: I should just stop writing out tape evidence. Point to no one.

Broken Jugs: The killer used jugs of water to make Arei heavier, which broke when she fell. They probably had the fish water in them, but we're not talking about the fish themselves at the moment. I'll say point for Ace because the jugs are probably from the Gym, and we've seen Ace in the Gym far more times than we've seen Eden.

Needle and Black Thread: This evidence... might have to do with the ball of clothes, which we'll get to later. However, if this is relevant to the murder, it's probably from the Dress-Up Room, in which we've seen Eden but never Ace. Point to Eden.

Construction of the Note: After a bit of internal debate, I'm going to call this a point for no one. Why? Well, it's because Eden would have reason to help construct the note whether she was the killer or not. If she is the killer, she might have wanted to guide the discussion that followed its reconstruction, to urge to Rose and Whit that she's innocent and that someone must have framed her. It would also give her reason to come into the Trial already having a handwriting sample on her. However, if Eden is innocent, she also easily could have just wanted to help out. Most importantly, Eden already brought up the note being constructed in her initial defense, so I doubt Teruko would reuse it as the nail in someone's coffin.

Splashing Arei With Water: Either of them could have thought of this and accomplished this. Point to no one.

SOMEWHAT LIKELY FINAL PIECES OF EVIDENCE

Body Discovery Announcement: While this may very well play an important part in solving the case, I don't think it'll be the final smash, so to speak. That's mostly because we already talked about it a lot in determining whether Eden could have done it. In the end, I think we'll either have to come up with a way to justify Eden having cheated the BDA-- by Levi or Arturo having seen it or via see no evil-- or we'll accuse Ace without the BDA being a problem. I guess I have to call this a point for Eden because if the BDA were to be the damning evidence, I think it'd have to be for her. However, in my heart, this is totally evidence supporting Ace being the killer.

Arei's Broken Neck: I'm using this as a stand-in for the strength of the killer, in the sense of lifting Arei up and being able to stop the carousel. This is a point for Ace, because he's a professional athlete and Eden is generally the weakest person in the cast.

Scratches on the Ground: This evidence certainly seems to indicate that there was a struggle at the Playground, but is there anything more to it than that? I'm more willing to believe that Ace could have beaten Arei in a fight, but does that point to Eden because there would've been more of a struggle, or Ace because Eden wouldn't have wanted to fight Arei at all? Ace also normally wears heels (while Eden and Arei don't), which is what Hu cites will naturally scratch up the floor. This evidence is vague enough that I don't think it'll be used to point to either of them, but if it did, I think it's more likely to be Ace.

Ball of Starched Clothes: For starters, I'll share (I think it's) thebadjoe's theory that the ball was adhered together using starch from the Relaxation Room that's sprayed on the plants at night, because I saw some people questioning how the clothes could have been stuck together. Anyways, the ball of clothes itself is definitely a point for Eden, because we saw her in the Dress-Up Room specifically looking for Teruko's clothes. Although, Ace certainly saw Teruko and Hu's new fits, so he could have figured it out for himself.

Actual Acquisition of the Tape: I don't think this will be used as the final piece just because I feel like the narrative is pointing towards the damning evidence relating to Arei's actual murder as opposed to Nico's. However, it's relevant to discuss, so I'll list it here. Although Teruko says that Ace and Eden had equal odds at the tape, on the surface, it really makes much more sense if Eden was the one to take it. Star explained it well here, but I'll add my own recap: in the moments when the tape must have been taken, in between when Nico leaves and when MonoTV kicks everyone out, Ace is recovering from unconsciousness, covered in blood, full of rage, and has all eyes on him. Meanwhile, Eden is scared, sure, but she had a clear moment to actually examine the scene of the crime and is also knocked to the ground-- potentially right next to the tape-- with all her wits about her. While it's not impossible to believe that Ace sleight-of-handed the tape, Eden had a much clearer path to taking it. Point to Eden.

MOST LIKELY FINAL PIECES OF EVIDENCE

Arei's Missing Glove: To my memory, Arei's glove hasn't been brought up in the Trial at all, which is definitely strange, because it must be missing for a reason. If DRDTdev is crafting so much detail into the BDA that the swinging of the body is plot-relevant, there's no way he would have just missed giving Arei her glove. The question is, what was this used for? Those who are familiar with my theories should know that I've never been a fan of dress-up theories, so I'm going to discount that possibility. The thing I thought was the most likely was that the killer donned the glove so that their hands wouldn't get super scratched up from grabbing the grippy tape-d carousel bars, before gleamingtempest reminded everyone that both Eden and Ace already wear gloves. Still, looking at them, Eden's gloves are probably made of something more like cotton while Ace's gloves likely have some sort of tougher grip on the inside. So, Eden would probably be more likely to need something else to protect her hands. Also, given that both of Arei's wrists have marks on them, the glove was likely taken off before her wrists were tied. I can't figure out why Ace would have taken off Arei's glove before restraining her or how he would have gotten Arei to take it off otherwise, while for Eden, at least, I can imagine her asking Arei to take off her glove. Therefore, I'm going to call this one a point for Eden, while also throwing out that it might just be missing if Arei didn't bother putting on her glove for the early morning meetup.

Fish on the Playground: You've heard it from me before, Eden has an alibi through the entire time the fish could have been taken. With seemingly no accomplices (other than possibly Arei) in sight, I don't know how Eden would have gotten her hands on those fish. Meanwhile, Ace had a great opportunity. Point for Ace.

Pieced-Together Note: This evidence is very confusing, because I don't see how/why either of them would have implemented it. For Ace, I wrote that entire theory (I'm not going to link it a third time) about how, based on the information in the note and the layout of the first floor, it really seemed like eavesdropping was impossible, and the person who wrote the note had to be Arturo or Eden. Then there's what thefandomenchantress pointed out about Ace's pedantry making it seem like he wouldn't misspell "responsible" in the note, and that he just doesn't give me the vibes of someone who writes in cursive. By all accounts, it really seems like Ace can't have written that note. But then again, why would Eden have written that note? Okay, bad phrasing; she wrote it to get Arei to come to the Playground. But still, why would she sign it? Or if she were to sign it, to make sure that Arei knew it was her, why include so much detail about what Arturo's secret was? More importantly, why wouldn't Eden have just stuffed the ripped up note into her belt, or her pockets, or her room if it would serve to incriminate her? Put it wherever she put that glove! Hell, why not eat the note, if it's a life or death situation? There's the "reverse psychology" argument, but similar to what Teruko said this episode, it would have been much simpler for Eden to have pretended that Arei came to the Playground for some other reason without the killer planting some sort of note meant to frame her. And it's not like I think Eden is really the type to misspell "responsible" either. So, I'm kind of at a loss. It's such a major piece of evidence that I feel it has to come into play again somehow, but I'm not sure how. I think I'm going to call this one a point for Ace because at the very least I understand why he would want to leave this evidence here, even if I don't know how he created it. For Eden, I don't get why she'd leave it lying around, even if in pieces. You can call it revenge for Eden getting the point on the BDA, if you wish.

So, what are the results? If you add up all the points together, you wind up with 6 points for Ace and 6 points for Eden. Funny. If you tier the points, however, with 1 point for unlikely pieces, 2 points for somewhat likely pieces, and 3 points for the most likely pieces, you get 12 points for Ace and 10 points for Eden. Of course, that's using my tierlist of which pieces of evidence are most likely and on top of that, assigning the BDA and the Note the way that they are (if you flip them it's 11-11), but still. If you're invested in my findings, these are the results.

Needless to say, I hope you can understand why I'm having such a hard time determining which one of them will turn out to be the killer. Although, I must add...

If we're suspecting Ace first before we've done our Debate Scrum, that's not a good look for Eden never being suspected again in this Trial.

Concluding Thoughts

What? A conclusion? I've never done one of these on a dissection before?!!

Yeah, well, this time, I have stuff to say that I couldn't really correlate to one image in particular! And also I ran out of images, so this is what you get!!!

I spent that whole "A Piece of Evidence" section talking about the physical evidence that could support Ace or Eden being Arei's killer, but in it, I really didn't get to talk about the narrative implications of either of them being the killer at all. I know that Narrative Defenses are typically Venus' thing, but I have my thoughts on this, too. Namely, that both of them are riddled with narrative problems for being the killer at this point.

(Note: I don't mean "problems" in the sense that DRDTdev has written anything poorly. What I mean is, my own perception of how the characters are conveyed has me currently raising red flags about how either of their stories will pan out as a killer or how the rest of the story will pan out without them. At the time the answer comes, I have full faith that I'll be satisfied with the results.)

Let's start by looking at Eden, the spotlight character of the end of this episode. After that whole heartfelt speech with the CGs and the tears and the brilliant voice acting and the everything, how could Eden possibly be the killer?! I'm the one who was trying to defend the possibility of her still being the culprit after her little rant last week, and while I could probably do that again with this speech, it just felt so... I dunno, sincere. You can really feel Teruko's reluctance to put her faith in Eden, but her choice to do it anyways. Teruko already showed signs of growth this episode by admitting that she can't always solve mysteries by herself, so could that be a sign that she might come around on the group faster than we initially anticipated? If Eden was the killer, it would crush Teruko so hard. Is there any recovering from that? Can we really prove David right?

On the other hand, Ace is, quite possibly, one of the most intertwined members of the cast. He's probably Levi and Nico's #1 correspondent, and he's up there for Hu as well-- assuming they both survive the chapter, I'm sure their animosity towards each other will only grow in Chapter 3. With Ace just having given up on Levi, having just been the target of Nico's battery and Hu's verbal lashes, can the story really work without him in it at this point? Eden hardly has connections with anyone other than Teruko-- Hu's probably next, but Eden probably ranks, like, fourth on her list after Nico, Ace, and David-- which should make her more expendable. Is it really Ace's time already?

However, despite my complaints, I also think that both of them could be really good options as the killer here-- the two options I prefer over anybody else.

Eden is the character who's most connected with Arei. She plays into the chapter themes of being a good person beautifully. She's a good person, a tragic figure, that killed not because she wanted anybody dead, but presumably because she had something back at home that she had to get back to at all costs. Killing her off would break Teruko-- would break everyone. With the reveal of everyone's secrets, next chapter is going to be a living hell, so why not make that hell worse by removing the biggest conflict de-escalator here? It would force other people to step up to bat. It would give everyone a chance to change, what Eden wanted for Arei most of all. Eden's development isn't an arc, per say, but a fall-- a reminder that even the "most good" people can do the unspeakable.

Meanwhile, Ace has perhaps the most obvious reason to kill someone: he literally almost fucking died himself. Ace's execution would be a reminder of the physical reality of the killing game. That actions have consequences. Even if the guy who started all those fights is dead and gone, you can still feel his presence lingering in the arguments between the others. The guy you underestimated most of all-- not for being kind, but for being dumb-- can send you into a multi-hour spiral in which you accuse even the sweetest of participants. Ace's development isn't an arc, per say, but a fall-- a reminder that reveling in your own distrust and anger might lead you to do the unspeakable.

For someone who's spent so long believing that Eden is the culprit of the chapter, it's really amazing how down-to-the-wire DRDTdev has made the end of the case, where either option feels so believable that it's like you can picture the rope in their hands. Whether my theories, old or new, were right or wrong, I am highly looking forward to watching next week's episode and discussing it with you all. See you on Friday-- just try not to freak out too much before then, alright? (/aff)

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #fanganronpa #drdt spoilers #drdt chapter 2 part 2 spoilers #ace markey #eden tobisa #hu jing #nico hakobyan #teruko tawaki #i'm glad i got to shout out so many people in this one! :D #i try to keep a pretty good pulse on what's happening (on tumblr at least) so i can give credit where credit is due #although i obviously can't read everything lol #i was freaking out so much while watching this episode #bc i felt like i was so right but then all of a sudden so wrong. unless?#also i really wanted to put the meme of “sickos -> ”yes... ha ha... yes...!“ after teruko talking about how the tape points to Eden or Ace #but i already ran out of images so. you'll just have to imagine that one sorry #my theories

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nataliesfirefly · 7 months

Text

You and I Walk a Fragile Line - Farleigh Start x F!Reader - Part 3

a/n: omg thanks again for all the love on the last two parts! i'm probably going to make a masterlist to make all the parts more accessible <3 i feel so special when i see y'all's comments so don't be afraid to share your thoughts! this chapter is a little shorter but only because that's just how the events are playing out! btw, this one starts out with a flashback, it can be a lil confusing hehe but anyways enjoy! (also none of these are proofread LMAO so ignore mistakes)

part 1, part 2, part 4

word count: 3.0k words

warnings: ANGSTTT, language, drugs, alcohol, smoking

It was finally time to depart from your first summer at Saltburn. School was going to start in a week, and you wanted to spend some time relaxing at home before the chaos of your penultimate year in secondary school.

The summer had been a wild yet fun time. You had so much freedom to do whatever you pleased, and you didn’t really know how to spend your time, since you were usually so focused on your academics.

You warmed up to the Catton family quite a lot. You understood you didn’t really fit in, but it was nice to pretend you did. Elspeth had even gifted you one of her old necklaces that probably would have paid for a car if you had sold it.

You and Venetia spent countless hours together; by the poolside, in your rooms, doing each other's nails or makeup, and playing tennis. Although she was a few years older than you, she was like the sister you never had.

As for Felix, your friendship only grew. You were thankful for him, for being so kind to you and welcoming you into a world you had never known before.

And Farleigh. Your relationship with him was… complicated. One moment, you would hurl stupid and immature insults at each other, and the next, you would be having a peaceful conversation. But the latter usually only occured when you were alone with him, which didn’t happen often. He let his guard down when he wasn’t around his family, which you found strange, but you never questioned it.

You were going to miss this place. You had to return to your normal, everyday life as a student with a normal house and normal parents.

“We’re going to miss you dearly, love. We hope you visit again next year,” Elspeth remarked as you all sat around the breakfast table on the patio.

“Yeah. Felix, invite her again,” Venetia nudged her brother as she whispered loudly. Felix grinned and looked at you from across the table.

“So, what’s been your favorite part about your stay?” Elspeth questioned, leaning forward with curiosity.

“Honestly, I can’t even pick. It’s all been amazing. Really.” You said. You meant every single word. But you could’ve actually picked a favorite part, you just didn’t want to admit what, or who it was.

A while later, you were standing at the large front doors with your packed bags in your hands.

Venetia embraced you tightly and you dropped your bags so you could hug her back. “See you next year, hopefully,” She said with a smile after releasing you.

“Yeah. See you.” You nodded and then looked over to Felix who was now also coming in for a hug.

“Bye, mate. I’ll see you at school, alright?” He patted your back as he pulled away and you smiled with a nod.

Farleigh stood farther away, watching the goodbyes at a distance. You stared him down, trying to will him to come over.

“Bye.” He simply said, expressionless. “Bye, Farleigh,” You smiled softly at him. You weren’t sure when the next time you would see him would be. He blinked at you and held your gaze before you turned away as Duncan was opening the doors for you.

“Your cab is waiting outside the gates, miss,” He informed you. You nodded and picked up your bags.

~~~

2 YEARS LATER

It was your first evening at Oxford. You had just arrived and gotten most of your things unpacked, and then you and Felix were headed to the dining hall.

You remembered a few months ago when Felix told you Farleigh would be going to Oxford as well. You didn’t really know what you thought about this. Part of you was interested in seeing him in a different setting, not just at Saltburn during your summer holiday. Was he nicer to people at school? Did he even care about schoolwork?

“I told Farleigh to sit with us,” Felix mentioned as you walked next to him. You nodded. “Okay. How has he been?” You asked. You knew better than to care about him, since the feeling was clearly unrequited. You don’t think he would care if you died a sudden death.

But it was harmless, and only in a friendship kind of way. Or whatever complicated relationship you two had.

“Good, I think,” Felix said. “You know, his mom went to Oxford. In a way, he’ll be able to connect with her. By being here, I mean.” He explained. You could tell it was his attempt at being philosophical. You just nodded and pretended to follow what he was saying.

You both walked into the large dining hall, mini lamps placed on top of the long tables to light the dim, high-ceilinged room.

You found some empty seats and sat down. A few minutes later, Felix had already spotted Farleigh and was waving for him to come over. You followed Felix’s line of sight and saw Farleigh’s familiar coiled hair, and it seemed that maybe he had let it grow a bit longer than usual.

He was actually smiling for once, and it was such a rare sight you had to blink to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

“Hey,” He grinned as he took the seat on the other side of you, pulling it closer to the table.

You had seen Farleigh earlier this month when you were still at Saltburn, but for some reason, he looked different. Like he grew up, or something. You couldn’t put your finger on what had changed, though.

Sure, he had recently turned 18, shortly before you did. But the whole aura radiating from Farleigh felt different and more mature. Or maybe it was the new designer clothes you had noticed, or the new necklaces and rings he was sporting.

“Hi,” You smiled. You realized you must have been staring, and you quickly glanced away to survey the rest of the students filing into the hall.

You spaced out during the small talk and stared into space, pondering how your first day would go tomorrow.

“Are you going to the party tonight?” Felix nudged you. You glanced up. “Uhh… What party?” You hated seeming clueless, but when it came to this kind of thing, you were.

“You know, to welcome all the first years. Us.” He nodded as if to gesture to everyone else.

“Oh. Right. I don’t know, I want to get some good sleep before tomorrow.” You replied while inspecting your nails and picking away at them.

That statement was half true, half not. You did want to get some well-needed rest, but you were also just terrified of parties and large social gatherings. You could be awkward sometimes, and you were scared of what a real college party would include. Drugs, alcohol… It made you uncomfortable to think about.

“C’mon, please? For me?” Felix gave you the puppy eyes and you sighed. “It’ll be fun,” He reassured you. You looked over to Farleigh. “Are you going?” You asked him.

He looked offended by your question. “Duh,” He answered. You didn’t know why it mattered if he was going or not.

“Ughhh, fine.” You rolled your eyes and facepalmed. Felix grinned brightly. “Yesss,” He whispered.

You couldn’t deny that you were having a good time at the party. You made a few new friends and you were gaining some confidence.

The only problem was that Felix promised you he would stay with you the whole time, since he knew how weary you were with even going in the first place.

And where was he? Nowhere to be seen. You guessed he had run off with some girl already. Hell, within the first ten minutes of you three entering the function, about four girls were already up on him, desperately flirting and twirling their hair.

You were standing in a dark corner when you saw Farleigh approaching you. He had a glass bottle of beer in each of his hands.

“Hey, you want one?” He offered you one of the beers. You were bored out of your mind, so you shrugged and took it. The glass felt nice and cold against your hand.

“Have you seen Felix?” Your eyes darted around nervously. Farleigh shook his head. “Nope. Saw him leaving with some red-head chick, though.” He raised his eyebrows up and down which made you laugh.

He moved to stand next to you against the wall, observing the neon-lit dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He peered down at you.

You shrugged. “I guess? I’d rather be inside sleeping, though.” He groaned. “You’re so boring. You know why you’re not having fun, right?” He leaned down slightly. You shook your head. “No, enlighten me.”

“You’re not high enough,” He said, a smirk forming on his face. “Farleigh. I’m not gonna get high with you.” You scoffed and took a swig of your beer, wincing a bit at the taste.

“Some guy was giving out joints. It’s weed,” He explained, drawing a small plastic bag of rolled joints out of his pocket.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna just smoke weed from some random guy.” You blew a strand of hair out of your face.

“They’re legit, I swear.” He leaned down to your height and whispered, “I already tried one.”

You shook your head again. “I don’t smoke, you know that.” He stood up straight.

“Just try it. Look, I’m not dead yet. See?” He twirled around and you giggled. “C’mon, we can go out here.” He nodded to the side door.

You just wanted him to stop bothering you, so you let out a sigh. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” He excitedly spun on his heel and led you both over to the door before holding it open for you.

You stepped into the warm and dense air of the night, glancing around nervously like you might get caught by someone. But who are you kidding, pretty much everyone here smokes and probably does worse.

“Okay. I’ll light it for you. Do you wanna share it?” He asked, pulling out his lighter and flicking it on.

“Yeah.” You didn’t want the commitment of having it all to yourself. He lit the joint and you watched him take a hit. He made eye contact with you the whole time. It seemed simple enough— a short inhale and then exhale.

“You try,” He handed you the joint and you eyed it suspiciously before putting it to your lips. You took maybe too long of a hit and immediately began coughing, smoke billowing out of your mouth.

“Woah, easy..” Farleigh chuckled at your reaction and you felt his hand on the small of your back as you tried to catch your breath.

“You make it look so easy,” You cleared your throat and looked up at him with watery eyes. He smiled smugly at your words.

“Just takes practice,” He told you casually. “Smoking weed is something I’d rather not practice.” Farleigh laughed at your remark and took the joint to take another hit.

“Do you like Felix?” The question came out of the blue and you turned to him.

“What do you mean…?” You lifted an eyebrow as he passed the joint to you. He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.

“Like, do you actually enjoy your friendship with him?” He asked. You actually considered the question for a long moment.

“Well, he’s like… the only close friend I have,” You said hesitantly. “I continue to be friends with him because I don’t have a reason not to,” You explained before taking a small hit from the joint.

“And you like the wealth and title that comes with him, yeah?” Farleigh’s words hung in the silence. You knew he was being too nice. It was too good to be true.

“Yeah, I like the summers at Saltburn, but that’s not the reason why I’m friends with him.” Or was it? No. You refused to let yourself get gaslighted by Farleigh. But you began to question your reasoning when you said it out loud.

“I mean, what else does he have to offer?” Farleigh asked as you exhaled the smoke. Why was he suddenly turning against Felix? You thought Farleigh loved Felix. Maybe you had it all wrong.

“He’s nice to me,” You flashed him a glare and he stared back at you, drilling his gaze into yours. “I’m nice to you.” He said in a harsher tone.

“When you want to be,” You shot back, pressing the joint to your lips again, staring out into the darkness.

“What do you have against Felix, anyway?” You broke the short moment of silence and turned to face him.

“Nothing. Forget I ever said anything,” He raised his arms up as if to defend himself. “No, you can’t say weird shit like that and then expect me not to question it,” You handed the joint back to him and headed for the door to go back in. You planned on drinking as much alcohol as possible to show him that you don’t need him to teach you how to have fun.

“Do you even know how to get back to your dorm?” He asked, his brows furrowed. “What do you care?” You scowled at him before going back inside.

Sooner or later, you had downed your whole bottle of beer and then you were doing shots with some random group of girls. You didn’t remember the rest of that night, but at least you ended up in your bed by the morning, even if you had a horrible hangover.

~~~

Sunlight creeps through the window and knocks impatiently on your eyelids. You groan and sit up, opening your eyes to the bright sunrise shining through your curtains,

Memories of yesterday flood back to you. Your drama with Felix, the car ride and visit to your parents with Farleigh, and telling Venetia all about it when you got back.

Felix didn’t get back from London until late last night, so you were waiting to talk to him today.

You don’t want problems between the two of you, but sometimes he’s just so ignorant and out of touch.

A little while after breakfast, you make your way to Felix’s room. He seemed hungover during breakfast, so you wonder if this is going to turn out well.

You hesitate before knocking. “Come in,” He calls. You twist the doorknob and carefully enter. His expression softens slightly at the sight of you. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed with a book in his hands.

“Hey. Can we talk?” You ask quietly. He nods, setting the book down.

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I was in a mood, and I shouldn’t have said those things to you.” Felix starts before you can.

“Okay. But you know why I was mad, right?” You don’t want it to be that easy for him.

You can see the gears turning in his head. “Erm… because I couldn’t give you a ride?” He looks up at you, and you can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or not.

“No, it wasn’t just that. It’s the principle of it, Felix.” You shake your head. “The principle of what?” He asks, standing up.

“It just seems a lot like you care more about your popularity than you care about your best friend,” You explain, your voice shaking a bit. You don’t really like confrontation.

“No, that’s not true. I just-“

“Yes, it is. Ever since we got to Oxford. It’s always been this way. Leaving me alone at parties to go fuck some random girl, or multiple, for that matter.” Your voice is raised now and you can feel the anger rushing through your veins. All the things you’ve always wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“You know what, you should be thankful I even became your friend. Look what I’ve given you.” He gestures to what you’re assuming is the estate as a whole.

You scoff and laugh at his statement. “What you’ve given me? Are you kidding?! I’m not some stray animal off the street, Felix. I’m not homeless. I have parents. I have a home.” You feel tears welling up in your eyes already and that lump in your throat starting to form.

“Then why are you here?” This is the first time you’ve ever heard Felix really raise his voice. You both freeze in the silence and let his words hang in the air.

“You want me to leave? I can leave,” The tears are now falling down your cheeks as you blink. “No, wait-“

But it’s too late. You’re already storming out of his room and back to yours, which is just down the hall.

You see Farleigh standing near the end of the hallway, trying to eavesdrop. He notices your tears and is immediately heading over to you.

You try to get into your room and lock the door before Farleigh can get to you, but you fail.

He guides you into your room, his hand pressed against your back firmly before closing the door with his free hand.

He embraces you in a gentle yet tight hug as you continue to sob. He rests his chin on your head and smooths some of your hair out. He holds you and lets you cry.

Farleigh was right about him. Felix thought he saved you from a horrible life. In reality, you would be fine without him. He was just a simple addition to your life.

You hardly realize the intimate moment that you’re in with Farleigh right now until your sobbing subsides.

You push away from him slightly, hands on his chest as you gaze up at him. You sniffle. “I got stuff on your shirt,” You laugh weakly and point at the wet spot on his shirt.

“It’s okay.” His arms return to his side and you find yourself missing the comfort of his arms around you and embracing you.

“Did you hear what he said?” You ask, wiping your eyes and sniffing again.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He nods. “Are you going to say I told you so?” You smile softly as you wipe the rest of your tears away.

“Do you want me to say I told you so?” He grins down at you, his brown eyes bright with amusement. You shake your head. “No way.” You both laugh, and you think you’ll be okay.

#farleigh saltburn #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x you #farleigh x reader

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thelastofhyde · 9 months

Text

ii. santorini.

pairing. tourguide!joel miller x fem!reader. series synopsis. on the brink of undergoing a life-altering change, you runaway from your problems in the only way any sane person can: embarking on a mediterranean cruise. there you meet joel miller, a grumpy, private tour-guide, who just so happens to be tasked with touring you through each stop on your cruise. from greek goddesses to roman ruins, you have ten days to avoid your fate. maybe a frowning, southern, sex-on-legs of a man is just what the doctor ordered. chapter summary. tensions are high as you and joel spend your first day together exploring the popular island of santorini. back on the boat, joel gets a glimpse at more than he bargained for. series warnings. no use of y/n, set in 2015, no apocalypse au, cruise!au, rom-com, enemies-ish to lovers, tour-guide!joel, unspecified age gap, depictions/discussions of grief, angst, fluff, a whole load of smut, a lot of cheesy stereotypical romance tropes bc i just wanna see joel not suffer ( too much ) <3 chapter warnings. mild smut ( female masturbation, mentions of oral sex + piv sex ), bickering, alcohol, mild angst, so much cheese it'll turn you lactose intolerant!! btw joel hates santorini and he makes that known, but none of his opinions reflect my own ( please don't be mean to me over things characters say <33 ) word count. 7.9k hyde’s input. the majority of this chapter was written with a mixture of medicine flowing through my veins, it's a miracle it's even intelligible. apologies for the wait, the holidays and health issues got in the way <3 as always, i hope you enjoy, comments an dreblogs are always appreciated !! previous chapter - next chapter - series masterlist

It is a known fact that your name and late rarely exist within the same sentence.

The mere thought of being late fills you with a sickness you cannot cure. The extremes you’ll go to avoid it know no bounds. From arriving four hours before a flight, to waiting in your car a whole hour before entering a lecture hall, adulthood is a phase in which you’d sworn to repair the damage of a childhood worth of not arriving late.

Late to school, late to birthday parties, late to dentist appointments.

It wasn’t that you were a particularly difficult child, running rampant around the house as your mother tried to dress you, or your father tried to feed you. Quite the contrary, really. Often, it was little-you who chased around after them, and who waited by the door, school bag in hand, tapping your foot with every second that ticked by on the clock. You were too young and hadn’t the ability nor the empathy to understand that your parents were held up with sorting through things directly influenced by your existence, like cleaning up the messes you left at the breakfast table, or fixing the doorknob you and your sister broke in an intense game of hide and seek.

Nowadays, you can count on one hand the times you’ve been late.

First, you were late to your own surprise birthday party, but that was down to you getting stuck an extra hour at work. It was out of your control.

Then, there’d been your graduation ceremony. Your father missed an exit and ended up taking you on a mystery tour of the city, trying to find the next turn that led to your campus. Again, out of your control.

The third time is the one you remember panicking over the most, knee bouncing uncontrollably with nerves as you sat squeezed between two strangers on a plane. Your sister, barely halfway through her third trimester, had gone into labour, and where were you? Stumbling around drunk on a private beach in Cancún, mumbling along to the lyrics of some early 2000s classic you forget the name of. Your niece, all 4 and a half pounds of her, had decided now was her time to shine and there was nothing, not even the 4 weeks she had yet to grow in utero, that was going to stop her. By the time you arrived, mascara smudged eyes and with the stench of tequila still on your skin, she was laying peacefully in her incubator, the tiniest little fingers clenched into fists and a name tag around her wrist. This too was out of your control.

But the fourth time you’re late, as you stride urgently across the wooden decking of the ship, weaving in and out of lounge chairs and polo-neck wearing crew members, it’s completely within your control.

Yet, it’s not entirely your fault.

An alarm that never went off. A game of hide-and-seek with your purse. An unfortunate slip on bathroom tiles adding another bruise to your knees. An elevator that refused to travel faster than the speed of a snail. It’s as though Lady Luck had set out in favour of being against you, doing her utmost to ensure you arrive exactly seven minutes past your deadline. His deadline.

Best be on the deck by 7 am, darlin’, or I’m dockin’ without ya.

Your head whips from one side to another, eyes finding a familiar figure amongst the few passengers meeting their own private guides. It’s the same man from yesterday, out on the balcony, the memory of him cheering his champagne and shooting a tipsy smile your way replaying. Only now he’s clad in plaid, with a frown etched into his forehead as he stares at his watch. There’s another man, hanging off his arm, fusing with the collar of his shirt.

“She’s late,” you overhear him say, voice firm and leaking with annoyance.

“Maybe she just slept in!” The man next to him is cheerier, tired eyes full of optimism, even as he turns his head and stifles a yawn. “Give her a few minutes.”

“What kind of shitty tour guide sleeps in?” Balcony-Man huffs, and you can’t help but think of your niece and her pouty face whenever she fails to get her own way. “Does she think I’d not rather be asleep too? Lazy c-”

“See? This is why I told you to eat that damn croissant before we left.” The taller of them seems to snap, rolling his eyes. “Brighten up, Bill, or so help me God you’ll be leaving this boat a divorcee.”

Trying to tune their voices out, as the guilt of prying crawls its way into your bones, your gaze points down at your feet. The very same heels you’d worn last night, pretty as they may leave you, have you cursing at the Sun and the Moon. If you’d have just worn your sneakers, maybe you could have ran up the stairs instead of taking the snail-evator.

Joel, tour guide, Signore Miller’s voice- though your imagination can’t quite reach his level of arrogance- rears its irritating head through your mind, recalling his words from last night. Wear somethin’ a little more… practical. That had been enough to awaken that stubborn mule inside of you, hell-bent on proving him wrong.

But now, late, and with him nowhere in sight, your heels seem to have had the opposite effect. They’ve proved him right.

Which leaves you here, moping so pathetically you’re incapable of appreciating the shine of a rising sun over the horizon of aqua blue water.

Five minutes, you decide. That’s how long you’ll allow yourself to dwell in self-pity. Then, you’ll trek your way over to the Excelsior lounge, hit up the breakfast buffet, and await the general disembarking time.

Who knows, maybe you’ll get a call to say there’s a miraculous spot opened up on one of the tour groups.

If not, you’ll be fine! You’ve travelled alone before, you’ve got an all-inclusive data plan on your phone and you’re pretty well-acquainted with the less-than-accommodating features of Google Maps. You don’t need help, or a tour guide, much less one as blood-boiling, skin-prickling, irritating as Joel Mil-

“Wasn’t sure how ya like your coffee, but you look like a milk, two sugars kind of girl to me.”

Speak of the Devil and he shall appear. Or, in this case, think of him.

Turning a little too fast, you stumble a step or two back, and, sure enough, there he is. A tight fitting, dark grey t-shirt stretched over the swell of his biceps, a pair of washed-out denims, and two well-worn running shoes, one on each foot. Trailing up the swell of his tanned neck, you count the freckles up to his eyes, and find there’s bags under them. The growth of hair on his face is just as unkempt as yesterday, yet already it seems to have grown longer, making the litter of greys stand out more. The hair that sits atop his head is damp, and the strands that have managed to dry are being messed around by the morning air. He’s still got that ever-present frown stamped into his forehead, yet his mouth doesn’t seem to curl into a snarl as he calls your name.

You must stare a moment or two past his comfort level, for he clears his throat and nods down at his hand. Two to-go cups, the smallest streams of steam floating out the hole in each lid.

He’s extending one out- the one in his right hand- towards you. “If you’d rather black, you can take min-”

“No!” You snap back into your own body, all too quickly and all too volatile. Clear your throat, and then try again, this time with a little less of that im being held at gunpoint shake in your voice. “No… Thank you. It’s fine- Milk is fine.”

It’s more than fine.

In fact, he’s gotten it spot on. Down to the number of sugars you take.

But, still stubborn, you yearn to not give him the satisfaction of being right so early in the day, and instead settle for accepting the coffee out his hand. You welcome the golden warmth eagerly, eyes unable to resist slipping shut as you take your first sip. When they reopen, you find Joel watching you, intently. Purposefully, as though you’re something to be studied.

Clearing your throat, you glance to the side and spot Balcony-Man and his partner greeting an apologetic woman.

“Thanks for the, uh,” his stare is intimidating your nerves, setting you on edge of something you’re all to eager to jump off. “Coffee. Yeah. You didn’t have to… I mean, I actually thought you’d, you know, uh-”

“You thought I left without ya.” He states. All you can do is nod. “I could’ve. I did warn you not to be late.”

“You did.”

“I also told you to wear somethin’ other than them heels.”

“I know.”

“Yet here you are, late and in heels. You’re not very good at following orders.” He exhales something akin to a chuckle, as devoid of humour as it may be, and you swear he’s suddenly closer than you remember, knuckles brushing against your own as he bumps his paper cup against yours. “Just what am I gonna do with ya, huh?”

For a moment, you swear your heart has leaped from your chest and up to your throat, threatening to choke you with the beat of it. There’s no sense you can make of it, this reaction he rouses, a heat you can’t control creeping down your loins as you drag in a whiff of some manly cologne, the kind you’d usually turn your nose up at for being too overbearing. Yet, on him, it’s not. On him it’s just right, like he was born with pine soaked skin, and a tobacco stained kiss, and-

Before you can think of pulling in another breath, Joel’s stepped back, allowing a cool breeze to pass between you and get a hold of your senses.

“C’mon, we’re slotted in for the first tender that leaves for shore.”

“Oh my God.”

You’re half certain Joel’s growing sick of hearing those three words roll off your tongue. He’s likely felt this way since it first left your mouth, feet struggling to safely step out onto the dock as your mind became enchanted by the picturesque view in front of you. Only the burn of his hand meeting your lower back, nudging you ahead to make space for himself and the other passengers to step off the tender boat, was capable of dragging you back into your own body, the wanderlust that had gripped your soul yearning to be free to explore every building that sits carved into rock, every water-taxi that flows idly on cristaline water, every step that winds up and up and up the island’s cliff where, at the top, civilisation seems to lie.

The port you’ve docked on is rather small, with naught more than two docking strips and a walkway of shops and confection stands, with boats that find no space along the docking strips tying themselves to any safety they may find over the expanse of the walkway. It is no wonder the cruise floats safely out in deeper waters, alongside several other cruise lines, with no space for such large vessels. And, yet, the port is alive with something. The ground seems to pulse, like a beat of a heart, and the air, as fresh as the grass after heavy rainfall, almost dances its way down your lungs. Voices swim all around you, tourists scrambling past each other, fighting in a race towards something you’ve yet to identify.

“So this is Gialos, also known as the Old Port of Fira.” Somewhere, behind you perhaps, Joel’s voice pipes up, a speech so rehearsed and robotic, a part of your wonders how many times he’s recited it, how many people he’s recited it to. The other part of you, however, is much too fixated on the stairs ahead to pay him true attention, eyes following as two men and several donkeys descend. “That, up there, is Fira, the capital of Santorini. We’re going to need to take a cable- Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes!” You’re quick to react, a defensive rise in your voice. He meets it with a deadpan look and the crossing of his arms over his chest, which quickly becomes something you wish he wouldn’t do as you watch the tight fabric of his shirt stretch itself thin over the bulge of his arms. “No. Sorry, I’m just… Wow.”

You hope he appreciates the restraint you show towards repeating those three dreaded words again.

“You have all day to stare,” his words trip over his own irritated scoff, and you bite back a question of why he’s a guide if he seems to hate it so much, fearful he’s too honest to not tell you a truth that may hurt your fragile feelings. A truth where it is not so much his job he dislikes, but rather, your presence and all that it brings. “Right now, we need to move. Don’t wanna spend all day waitin’ in line now, do ya?”

This need for speed that hooks the other tourists seems to filter over into your guide, who’s forcing you forward, that heat of his palm now hovering inches away from your lower back. It’s enough to lead you where he pleases. As a pair, you weave in and out small clusters of people, till the space between you both and the large gathering crowd slowly diminishes. It is there where his once telepathic leading fails, with Joel turning left towards it as you stray right, over to the ascending pathway of stairs.

“Where are you going?” His tone is offended, almost, as he comes to a halt and watches you fail to do the same, to notice the space between you both and correct it like some puppy who’s been called to heel by its master.

“Where am I going?” The question, at first, is one you mistake as rhetorical. Staring back at him with an equaled confusion, you gesture to the stairway, as though it is the most obvious answer. Because, well, where else could you have been heading? He said so himself, that up there is Fira, the capital of Santorini, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to see it. “Where are you going?”

“To the cable cars, that’ll take us up the island.”

Above the crowd of people, hanging over doors of small businesses, lay several signs. CABLE CARS - 6€ ! stands out, impossible to miss. Symbols you scarcely recognise sit beneath it, in smaller text, and you assume it’s Greek. In the distance, you spy the movement of the mobile boxes, people being carted up the length of the cliff at a speed that promises them a journey of mere minutes.

“Oh.” So, perhaps his option makes more sense than your own far longer, more tiring one. Still, stubborn as a mule, you double down on your decision to take the scenic route, inching closer towards the first step. Your guide, still in the face, refuses to move, daring eyes willing you to continue. “You want us to take the lazy man’s route? You go ahead, I’ll take the stairs and meet you at the top.”

You press one foot up onto the first step, weary of where you rest the point of your heel.

Glancing a few steps further up, there’s the unmistakable sight of a mound of brown substance, no doubt excreted out of one of the donkeys that walk ahead, tourists mounted on their poor backs.

“I don’t think you understand,” he finally inches closer, if only slightly, hands clenched at his side. “There’s five hundred and eighty-eight steps until you reach the top.”

The number is more daunting than you expect, and you pray he can’t read this on your face. “Only? I’ll be up in no time then!”

You feel more than see the way Joel’s eyes travel down the expanse of you, stuttering almost over the curvature of your chest, the dips at your hips, till they rest at your feet. The question hangs loose between you, unspoken yet evident.

In those heels?

“Listen, Joel,” taking a second, third, and fourth step, you aim for a literal higher ground, staring down below as he continues to drift closer and closer towards the stairway. “If you’re not fit for the task, or the climb’s no good for your knees, you can just say it, there’s no shame. Like I said, I’ll meet you at the top. Promise I won’t even report the fact my private guide abandoned me in favour of his own comfort.”

Defeat has never come easy.

Well, to phrase it better towards the truth, acceptance of defeat has never come easy.

There was always something more to be said, another excuse to be given for any of your shortcomings. When you’d been turned away from the school’s soccer team, you’d told yourself it was because you were a girl- ignoring the fact three girls in your year made the cut. When you’d lost an arduous game of Monopoly, you’d sworn you’d caught your sister sneaking notes out of the banker’s pile into her own. When you’d been beaten, round after round, by your own niece at Mario Kart, you’d stuck your tongue out at her and told her you let her win out of pity.

All that had been before, of course, back when you still roamed school hallways, when your sister sat across from you at the dining table, when your niece still laughed freely, wildly, celebrating her own victories with an over-the-top, uncoordinated dance around the living room.

As changed as things may be, defeat is still your foe.

It is that reason alone that you bite back a complaint.

You’d enjoyed the initial moments of your trek. Maybe it was the salty air in your lungs, or the beautiful views of your surroundings, or the idle grumbling coming from Joel, a few paces behind you, kicking up dirt under his feet with every step he travelled up. Whatever the reason, adrenaline had been flowing, into your heart and through your veins, covering every square inch of your body, a tingling of nerves from the tip of your toes to the top of your spine.

But, by the 10 minute mark, a dull ache forms in your feet. Each step of your heel feels more life threatening than the last, as the stairs grow slippier, dustier, and well-worn the further up you advanced. By stair who-knows-how-may, you take a near fatal tumble backwards, the crunch of crumbling rock threatening to be the last thing you hear. Till he appears behind you, fast as light, huffing out a breath as you smack down against his solid chest.

“Mind your step.” From anyone else, you would mistake it as a sign of care. From Joel, you know better than to think it’s anything beyond a humourless taunt.

You try to keep count of the steps, from then on, an effort to motivate yourself to move faster with each ten-pace you count. By 50, you lose your place and begin counting all over again.

The journey is difficult in other ways, too, with the constant passing of donkeys who obligate you to stand aside and make way for them. And the distant movement of cable cars, firing up and sliding down more times than you can keep track of.

When a particular step proves itself too steep, you can no longer hold back and, finally, a hiss slips out between your clenched teeth as pain shoots up your ankle, the leather of your shoe rubbing even harder into your brittle skin, threatening the promise of a blister yet to fully swell. Pushing the pain down, alongside a complaint, you take another step. Hiss. Then another, hiss. You can fight it no longer, bending at the waist to slip off your heel and examine the irritated skin.

Sure enough, it’s been rubbed raw, broken and spilling a small pool of blood.

Behind you comes an exasperated groan and, before you can straighten yourself to even register what’s happening, Joel barges past you and the figure of him up ahead slowly diminishes the faster he climbs up hill.

“Hey!” You call after him, hobbling to slip your shoe back on, but it’s to no avail.

He’s long gone, growing further and further out of your reach with each passing minute.

Cursing him under your breath, you decide to hell with the no complaints of his preferred regard for his own comfort. He’s abandoned you, injured and hobbling up the steps, all because he has the patience of a toddler who’s been waiting far too long to go potty.

“Wear somethin’ a little more sensible…” You’re bound to seem deranged to any passers by, half hopping up the steps, mumbling to yourself in a mockery of his deep voice “Yeah, right, how bout I shove somethin’ a little more sensible up your ass. Oh, what’s that? There’s no room up there with the massive stick you’re already carryin-”

“A local man warned me bout ya, on my way back down. Said there was some no-good girl casting out bad juju.” You freeze, foot stopped in mid-air. Shifting your gaze up ahead, you find Joel there, skipping a step every so often as he grows closer and closer. At his side, dangling from two fingers, sits a plastic bag. “Told him it ain’t no juju or curses you’re casting, just throwin’ a little tantrum.”

Like a fish out of water, all you can do is stare at him, wide eyes and mouth agape.

Joel pays your silence no mind, almost delighting in it. With a pop and a crack from his knees, he crouches down before you, holding out the palm of his hand.

“C’mon,” he mutters, pointing towards your injured foot. “Lemme see.”

You’re hesitant, at first, but ultimately lift it and let him curl his grip around it, holding you in place as the shoe slips off you. A tut meets your ears as his eyes meet the bloodied mess, and you watch how he contemplates, for a moment or two, before wetting his thumb with his tongue and swiping it over your broken skin.

It stings, like salt in a wound or a bee’s stinger through skin, and you try to flinch back, retract yourself from his hold. But Joel’s strong, resilient, nails biting at the flesh of your ankle to keep you in place. His free hand digs into the plastic bag he’d discarded at his side and pulls out a white box. Fiddling with it for a short period, he manages to open it at last and slips out a bandaid. He rips that open a lot quicker, using his teeth, and slips it over your open wound perfectly, thumb and pointer finger smoothing it around the curve of your heel.

“D’ya see now why I told you to not wear those things?” You feel like a child at his words, reprimanded like you once were for touching your mother’s curling iron. “And why I said we should take the cable car?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you refuse to meet his eyes. But he just won’t let you be, craning his own neck to infiltrate the space you stare off into. There’s a pleased look on his face, smugness pulling at the right corner of his mouth. Alarmingly, you think of how it’s the closest you’ve gotten to seeing him smile.

You continue your pursuit of silence, repeating a mantra of how you don’t care that he’d tried to look out for your comfort, or how he’d then tried to save you the effort of an uphill battle, or how his hand, big and warm and rough at the fingertips, is still holding your foot in place, absentmindedly rubbing your ankle in a circular motion.

“Look at ya, gone all quiet on me,” that corner of his lip curls higher. You register the rustling of the bag, his hand digging back inside it. “Ain’t one for bein’ put in your place, are you?”

Out comes his hand once more, though this time it’s not a box of bandaids. Now, resting firm in his grasp, sits a mixture of navy blue dyed cotton, stitched atop a flat, thick layer of a straw-like material. A slip-on canvas shoe. Joel doesn’t await permission, nor does he even ask for it. He simply takes charge, slipping it onto your foot, mindful as he straightens out the back to lay against your heel.

“Other foot, up.”

Switching feet, you stumble as your weight completely shifts onto your injured side. Your hands, reaching out to stabilise your swaying body, are quickly directed by his own to rest atop his head, curls of brown threading between your fingers. You contemplate asking what products he uses to achieve locks so smooth and shiny, then rethink it as soon as you imagine his reply of a disinterested grunt and a snarky ain’t use anythin’ but dirt water and a splash o’ whiskey.

“How’s it feel?”

Soft, you almost reply, then realise he’s asking about the shoe.

With a wiggle of your toes, you tell him it’s fine, and leave it at that. He doesn’t need to know they’re surprisingly comfortable.

Joel rises with a bit of a struggle, yet refuses the help you offer. Rough hands scoop up your discarded heels, tossing them into the bag, and then he straightens his back, lets out a noise of discomfort, before nodding up ahead.

“C’mon, only got a hundred or so to go. We’ll be up in no time.”

The sun sits high in the sky when you reach the city of Fira.

Crossing over that last step, 588 painted in white across it, you huff out a sigh, exhaustion aching you out of any enjoyment of your victory over the stairway from hell. Before you can even utter a word of your thirst, Joel is already reaching into his bag of wonders, unscrewing the lid off a bottle of water and passing it to you. Grateful, you take a sip, and lament the few drops that spill down your chin.

At least they don’t go to complete waste, cooling your skin ever so slightly.

It’s a shame to see Joel start moving again, moments before you’re even ready to gain back your breath, but you follow after him, nonetheless, mindful to not press your foot too hard down. Through streets he winds, past shopkeepers he walks. Eventually, after a few minutes, you ask him where you’re both heading.

“To catch a coach,” his hand moves quickly, tugging you closer as a bicycle shoots past behind you. Your own find themselves against his chest, and realise it is nothing like his hair. Solid, warm, wide. It’s almost a shame to lower them back down to your side. “Less you think you can walk from here to Oia, too.”

Truth be told, you don’t know where Oia is.

But you do know your walking for the day is over, happy to follow Joel onto the coach. You take the aisle seat, he’s by the window. Across from you both sits a couple, young and giggling into one another’s ears, as though the sounds of their joy is sacred to none but them. A pang of envy thumps your soul, and you quickly turn your face.

Only to find that Joel’s is grey.

Not the hair that lines it but, rather, his whole face, paled and blood-drained. It’s a sickly image, and one that’s quick to get your heart racing.

“Are you okay?” Any thought of keeping your composure becomes mute as you hear your own voice, a treacherous shake to it that gives your panic away. “You look…” There is no word kind enough for you to use to relay the image of him, so you lock your lips.

It takes a few seconds for you to get a reply, as your hand moves up to feel his forehead. It’s sweaty, warm, and you move to pull your hand back when he’s holding it firm in place, eyes slipping shut. “‘S cold. You’re cold,” seems to be his explanation. “I’m fine, it’s just- Carsick.”

“You get carsick, yet you work on a cruise.”

“Not the same. Ship’s big, somethin’ bout the size and my own visibility, ‘s what stops me getting seasick.”

You sit like that the rest of the coach, your hand pressed to his forehead, his eyes slipped shut.

“What’s your favourite stop on the cruise?”

As it turns out, Oia is exactly what you’d pictured Santorini to be.

White washed houses, deep blue domes for rooftops, turquoise waters, all for as far as the eye can see. Joel complains, more than tells you, of the rise in tourism over the years, of how it’s turned the beautiful village into a party-town for idiots abroad, disregarding the clean environment, shamelessly blocking paths to snap a frame-worthy shot, raising prices to the ceiling. When you ask him if he thinks he’s in part to blame, if people like him are to blame- running tours, bringing guests onto the island, earning a wage off the visiting of such a place- he grumbles out something about missing breakfast, needing lunch.

So you find a cafe. Or, more, Joel leads you to one. He greets the doorman, with a wave and a pat on the back, before sauntering his way through to a back terrace, overlooking the whole village, the water perfectly framing it. Stepping out and sitting down, the view robs the very breath out of your lungs.

It’s like sitting inside a postcard.

Joel asks if you like Greek food.

You tell him you’ve never had it.

He orders for you both, a mixture of different plates, and swears he’ll find something you’ll like.

It turns out you’re rather fond of baklava.

“Florence.” Joel’s taken his time to answer, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. Disbelief more than fear in his eyes, you have to wonder if it’s the first time someone’s thought to ask him, in all his years as a guide. Naturally, this leads you to wondering how many years that is. “It’s a real site. Full of history, a real story to be told.” He tilts a ceramic dish your way, eyes glancing down in an offering. You follow them, and spot olives. Shake your head, no, then smile, thanks. He shrugs, more for me, and pops two into his mouth. “There’s this…” he pauses to chew. “This library.”

“A library?”

“‘S not just a library.” He slips out the olive’s pip and raises another into his mouth. You try not to think about how thick his fingers look, rolling the remaining briny green pebbles around in the pot. “There’s a cinema built inside it. Plays some classic films. I always- or, I try to go whenever we dock.”

It’s hard to picture Joel inside a cinema, something about the setting too busy, too loud to place his scowling face in. Would he be the kind to have a favourite seat, perfectly picked to optimise the sound quality? Does he speak animatedly, excited any time he recognises an actor? Or is he a shusher, the kind to roll his eyes when someone dares to even clear their throat?

A part of you wants to ask him if your tour involves a trip to this library.

Something tells you it’s not a place he likes to share, though. It’s his own little corner, safe to sneak a moment of selfish indulgence amidst a week of catering to another’s needs.

“A cinema inside a library?” A waiter interrupts you, asks if everything’s alright. Joel orders another serving of baklava. “Isn’t that a bit of an oxymoron?”

“Yeah.” For a moment, you think you see a smile creep across his lips. “Suppose it is.”

Another interruption comes in the form of your ringtone, rippling the water in your glass as your phone vibrates upon the table. You’re well aware of how Joel spots the word Mum displayed across your screen. Just like you’re aware he sees how you swipe down on your screen and switch on aeroplane mode.

Before he can ask any questions, or the sudden silence can become too deafening, you throw out another question. “And your least favourite?”

“Least favourite stop?” You nod, affirmative, and he needs no time to reply. “Here.”

“Here?! How come?”

The baklava arrives, as if on cue, and you point down at it, as though it is reason enough to be enamoured with the island. It seems to do little to convince him, his hand reaching out to push the plate closer to you, inviting you to indulge yourself.

“Compared to the other stops, Santorini’s bland.” He says it when your mouth is too occupied to protest, stuffed full with layer after layer of pastry. “Kind of like a diamond, y’know? Real pretty to look at, empties your wallet, and, at the end of the day, ain’t much you can do with it.”

“People propose with diamonds.” You point out, and cough as a flake of pastry hits the back of your throat.

Joel’s already passing you your glass of water before you even think to reach for it.

“People propose with rings. Diamonds are just custom, not a guarantee.”

Sunset arrives with no warning, a hue of fiery orange melting down into the calm waters on the horizon. It’s Joel who makes the call to head back, one glance at his watch enough to tell you the last chance to catch a coach is nigh. It’s only as you go to call for the bill that he tells you it’s covered and you realise his earlier trip to the bathroom had been a ruse to go pay.

The trip back is calmer, quieter, with the coach full of sunkissed and heat exhausted tourists.

Again, you take the aisle seat, and Joel, the window.

Keeping an eye on him is easy, switching your gaze towards the approaching darkness of the night sky calling upon the street lights anytime he meets your eyes. When you notice the increase in breaths and the paling of his skin, you wordlessly unscrew the cap off a bottle and slot it into his hand, inviting him to finish off the last sips of your water.

Skipping out on a trip down memory stairway, you quietly follow him into the cable car and, when you reach the Old Port, you try your best to block out his smug remark of how easy and fast the ride was. A feat which becomes easier as you stumble halfway up the dock and turn back.

Like hours before, as you first stepped off the tender, your mouth falls agape. Only, this time, wider. The view of the island lit up in all its glory is enough to leave you breathless, hands scrambling to fish out your phone, open the camera and-

“You gettin’ on or what?” Joel calls out from behind, and you find him waiting on board one of the tenders, hand held out towards you.

It’s a demand, more than it is an offer, to hurry up. The collective of other passengers are watching the interaction, and a feeling you’ve come to know all too well crawls its way into your veins.

A burden, holding them all up, that’s what you are.

The feeling follows you back, as you slip into a damp seat and watch as the boat carries you further and further from the island, it’s lights twinkling in a way that chokes you up, drains you out, eyes stinging from more than just the salty air. You’ll love it, I swear! The memory plays out in your head, those words gushed at you. Hands squeezing your cheeks, a smile blinding you under its brightness. Just wait till you see it at night, the lights shine over it like stars!

You blink.

A tear pools at the corner of your eye.

“Here, look,” something nudges you. It’s Joel, inching his phone into your view. Through blurred sight, you glance at it. And find yourself, centre frame, lit only by the moon. In the back lies the whole skyline of Santorini, lights reflecting down onto the waters below. “Best view you can get, the whole island in one shot.”

Afraid to hear your own voice, you smile.

He answers by pointing his phone back at you, snapping another photo.

Back on the cruise, the two of you part ways, with Joel telling you to meet him in the same bar, same time as the night before.

Dinner had been part of your plans. With a glance over the listed restaurants on board, the ache in your tired bones asks you to stay in bed and make use of the room service. You listen, order something light, easy. It arrives in under 10 minutes and your hunger is satisfied sitting out on the balcony, watching the dark waves roll past.

Phoning your mother is the next port o'call.

Unlike with your food, that takes longer than 10 minutes. Much longer, and involves you countlessly reassuring her that yes, you’re okay, and no, you don’t need her to fly out and meet you in Naples.

“I’m a big girl,” you even throw in a laugh, hoping it’ll ease the worry lines you can picture splayed over your mother’s face. “I think I can climb up a mountain without my mum’s help.”

“Honey, you know that’s not what why I’m worri-”

“Did you know you can get carsick but, at the same time, not seasick?”

You hang up shortly after, with a promise to try your best to answer when she calls tomorrow, instead of hours later, when she should be fast asleep.

The time on your phone tells you there’s still forty minutes until you need to meet Joel. The image of that grandiose bathtub flashes before your eyes and, in record timing, you’re sinking into scalding waters, a complimentary bath bomb dumped in and granting you the childish gift of bubbles.

You try to relax, at first.

There’s no need to wet your hair, so you indulge yourself. Lay your head back, close your eyes. Feel your muscles loosen with the warmth, ignore the sting of soap in your blistering heel. Your hands struggle to find a resting place, until they meet your thighs. They sit still, for a moment or two, before one slips down, inching into the crease of where your legs meet.

Something stirs in your core, comes alive as you think of how long it’s been since you last felt someone. A few months, it has to be. A fellow graduate, if you remember correctly, that stupid robe still on his shoulders as he let his mouth come down on you.

Your hand is soon on your core, before you really notice, mind on a mission to recall the hazy encounter. When you think of his tongue, messy yet eager, your finger’s already on your clit, pressing against it with a tease of pleasure. When you think of his cock, uncut and thicker than your ex, splitting you open on his bedroom floor, your hips cant up against yourself, chasing friction. When you rewind how soft Joel’s hair had been between your fingers, your free hand grips one of your breasts, fingers pinching at your nipple.

Your eyes snap open.

Joel’s hair.

Joel.

Something you should not be thinking of right now, hand buried between your thighs.

You wait a few seconds, remind yourself of the graduate’s face.

His blue eyes, your fingers roll over your nipple.

His blonde hair, your legs spread wider.

Joel’s solid chest, your fingers dip inside your cunt.

Your breath is shaky, Joel’s annoyed groan echoes.

The shame of it, of thinking of him, is almost as tantalising as touching yourself, fucking your own hole full with as much of your fingers the angle will allow. It’s a one time thing, you justify. You just need to get it out your system. One and done, cum and done. No more of Joel Miller between your thighs, this is the closest he’ll get.

Someone knocks at your door.

You nearly miss it over the sound of your breathing, the pounding of your heart.

“Who is it?” You don’t like how weak you sound, but it’s too late to take it back now.

Another knock.

“Can I come in?”

A hand still between your thighs, orgasm titering on the edge, body fully submerged in lukewarm water. “No!”

“Ain’t safe to leave your door unlocked. Anybody could walk in- Jesus!”

You’ve never screamed louder.

Joel takes up most of the bathroom doorway, same clothes save for the shirt that’s got two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. You’re pressed right back into the bathtub, as physically far from him as you can get, knees pressed up to your chest, ankles crossed over.

In Joel’s defence, he’s quick to turn away, presenting you with a view of his back. A hand runs through his hair.

“Why are you in my room?!” You inch even further back, the water suddenly dropping several degrees.

“I asked to come in!”

“And I told you not to!”

“Well obviously I didn’t hear that!”

“Why are you in my room?” You’re back to your first question, eyeing up your towel.

It’s across the room, on the bathroom sink. No way for you to reach it without the risk of him seeing you reflected on something.

“You were late. Came to check if ya tripped on them heels and broke your neck.”

“I,” you’re not sure what time it is with your phone sitting by the bed, charging. That's now five times you've been late in adulthood. “Didn’t realise the time. I can meet you at the bar in ten minutes.”

He nods, and you watch him take a step, then immediately pause. “You know, I’ve heard a few things from passengers…” You may not see his face, but you swear there’s that half-smirk, smug look upon it. It’s practically dripping off his words. “The shower head, fourth setting. Seems to get the job done for most ladies on board.”

Grabbing the closest thing in reach- a bar of soap- you launch it and watch it bounce off his irritatingly wide shoulders. “Get OUT!”

You make it to the Tipsy Byson in 15 minutes.

Dressed more appropriately than the night before, your flared jeans and crop top garner less stares. It’s just as busy, if not busier, yet it’s not hard to spot Joel on a barstool, nursing a glass of something syrupy looking. Behind the bar is Luke, head thrown back at something Joel says.

They’re an interesting pair to observe, you realise as you make your way over. With Luke, so tall, so lanky, so bright-face, his energy warm and inviting, and Joel so- well, Joel.

“There she is,” Luke cheers, a little too loudly, calling attention to you as you slip into the stool next to Joel. “My new favourite customer.”

“Thought I was your favourite,” Joel’s yet to look at you, and it’s a relief. He’s looked at you enough for one day, one week, one lifetime.

“Sorry but she smells better than you, Joel,” the barman winks at you, a cheeky grin on his face. “ Plus, she’s a hell of a lot nicer to look at.”

Joel scoffs, you giggle.

“Not sure about the whole smelling better thing,” your response comes minutes later, after Luke’s already served you a glass of wine and turned away your cash, telling you he’ll put it on Joel’s tab. “But thanks!”

Unprompted and uninvited, Luke bends over the bar and takes an exaggerated sniff. “I don’t know, smell alright to me.”

“Really? I’m not even wearing perfume, I forgot to pack any-.”

“Yeah! Go on Joel, give her a whiff, tell her she smells fine!” There’s resistance on his end, but Luke’s adamant, hand clamped on the back of Joel’s head, shoving him face first into your neck. Joel’s nose brushes against you. You hear him inhale. Exhale. Inhale again, then the urge to cross your thighs begins to nag at you. “Well?”

“Yeah, smells nice- Fine. Ya smell fine.”

“Be still my beating heart! Someone alert the press that Texas said something other than-”

Joel interrupts Luke’s dramatics, scowl on his face. “Don’t you have a job to be doin’?”

Only once the bartender is down the other end of the bar, engrossed in a heated discussion over what beer pulls a better head, does Joel speak again, sipping on his drink. Whiskey.

“So I noticed somethin’, when I was checking your bookin’ info.” You nod, urge him to continue, and take a sip of your own drink. Some country song plays over the speakers and you notice a sudden shake in Joel’s knee, his foot tapping to the beat. “Says there should be two of you in my guide team.”

“Oh,” the lump forming in your throat falls safely back into the pit of your stomach as you take another drink of wine. “Must be a printing error. You know how technology can be, always complicating things.”

“Hmm,” it’s easy to write off the awkward energy between you with the excuse of earlier events, and it’s the first bright-side you find to him walking in on your intimate bath. “Well, you know the drill for tomorrow. 7 am on that deck or I’m-”

“Docking without me, I know.”

You finish your drink first. When Joel orders himself another glass, you smile politely and turn it down. Yawn, then tell him you best head to bed.

Before you can slip out the entry, someone calls your last name. Loud enough to turn more than just your own head.

It’s Joel, approaching you, effortlessly parting crowds through the lively bar as though he is knife and, the people, butter. The loud music seems to ring louder in your ear, impeding you from hearing the words that leave his moving lips.

“What?” You call out, hands clasped over your mouth in an attempt to amplify the volume of your voice.

His response is to step closer, hands holding you in place by the waist as he leans down. A hot breath on your neck, the smell of whiskey on his breath, the soft brush of lips against your ear.

“It’s your turn to bring the coffees.”

series taglist. @auteurdelabre

#joel miller series #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fanfic

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angy-grrr · 2 months

Text

btw, im not waiting a whole week just to see izu///ocha confession, and tbh I dont think hori would spend that energy in it -he didnt before after all. I just think a platonic interpretation opens up the possibilities for closing more arcs -for example, the whole control your heart, the future of heroes and villains, etc.

Doing a confession would actually be too abrupt in my opinion, considering she is here crying over Himiko, this isnt about him and loving him.

EDIT:

btw this doesnt mean im dropping bnha. Im just saying I dont think it makes sense to wait two weeks for a confession of a ship that has not that much development in the first place -and this isnt about time spent with them. Its about emotional investment. Ochako and Himiko dont have the spotlight that much when thinking about all the manga chapters and arcs, however it got a loyal fanbase because the times they are together they are impactful. We didnt even know she was this invested in Toga in those ways, like the lovely smile and liking it ever since she saw it for the first time, until she said it. After only two chapters, they felt like a very beautiful and tragic ship because they care for the other in ways incomparable with others, and their dynamic feels extremely romantic. In another hand, izu//ocha doesnt have that feeling at all even if they have more panels together -there were many ways to connect them in a relevant way, but their moments arent as emotionally charged.

When Ochako jumped to defend Izuku for example; it could have been like that but instead we have her thinking about who saves heroes when focusing on him -this isnt emotional for them together-, and when she talks about smiles, her mind jumps to Himiko crying -this is personal and emotional at the same time. If we had her thinking "who will save villains" for Himiko, it would come out as way less romantic for canon; and if we had her thinking randomly about Izuku like she did at the beginning, with drawings of her face with an embarrassing expression or starting accepting it, it would be more romantic*

Its not that they have nothing in common, or dont care about each other in a meaningful way, its just that Hori decided to focus on other relationships instead of them together. The togachako confrontation in comparison shows us how he can focus on mainly the pair without forgetting about other important characters or feelings -she thought about him, and confessed she fell in love with him, yet it hit me way harder when she remembered her sad smile.

They just are... casual? It doesnt get me invested in them because none of their moments are intimate, I think (I mean Himiko and Ochako feel way closer than Izuku and Ochako even when they share goals and have cute moments, maybe bc some of the themes that hori seemed to introduce in the beginning for them got dropped after Katsuki was chosen to remain as a supportive pillar for Izuku. I hope the phrasing comes out as I intended!)

*I guess the closer to this would be her wishing him to give his best when she was at the helicopter, but personally I dont count it as random because everyone was feeling the same -and Iida is the link to this, narratively speaking. It wasn't her in the helicopter in a different scene with nobody else discussing these topics, neither it was Izuku thinking of this aspect of her on his own. So it doesnt come off as impactful.

#bnha spoilers #bkdk #dkbk #togachako #togaocha

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ice-cream-nekogirl · 6 months

Text

BNHA 420: Nothing About This is 'Okay'

It never fails.

After BNHA 420, I'm definitely done. The only thing that's stopping me from being OFFICIALLY done is the sunken cost fallacy. And some nostalgia in that I used to LOVE BNHA. I mean I still do, I love early BNHA, but the ending is really bad.

This last chapter pretty much did everything I feared. And I was just about to eat a slice of humble pie when it SEEMED like the author faked out the idea that Eri's Rewind would be utilized. But as it turns out... I WAS RIGHT! XD They used her after all.

For once I am not happy to be right. Because what went down was just so WRONG.

Because Eri almost seems GLAD to be used. And these so-called heroes are ENCOURAGING it. She literally mutilated herself just because she thought it would 'help' Deku and the others. This child hurt herself, a child way, way younger than the high-school aged 'heroes', hurt herself. And nobody's worried about it. Not even Aizawa! I don't count that look of shock as worry, otherwise he would have been a lot more upset with her.

But no, he just accepted what this little girl did to herself. No moral qualms about it whatsoever.

Using Eri no matter what was always going to be horrible, but the way it's been done is even more horrible than I could have ever imagined. And it has an extra horrible implication.

Hurt yourself to help people, and let that person hurt themself, even if they're SIX YEARS OLD because it's a 'rational' decision. That is such bullshit btw, how in the hell is that 'rational'? That's actually extremely concerning and yet nobody is even concerned, they just think it's a heroic act? My ass.

I'm still pissed that this little moeblob is truly an example of a perfect little victim who just seems innately good even though she really shouldn't be after everything she's been through. It makes ZERO sense and I really hate it.

I really don't like Eri or her role in this arc as many others are saying now, and I never have. People love to give me flak for it, but I don't care anymore. This is definitely the last straw for me and it just validated that my concerns were right all along.

An adorable little plot device that was always meant to be used for Deku and the heroes. Even though she was used by Overhaul, it apparently makes it 'okay' if the heroes use her because they're heroes. If anything, it not only makes them just as bad as Overhaul, it actually makes them WORSE than Overhaul.

Overhaul at least never pretended that what he was doing to Eri was okay, but the heroes are such hypocrites that they're using her too and calling it 'rational' and an act of heroism on her part. It's not.

And the worst part is the fandom seems to believe that this makes Eri 'so good' when no, it's deeply concerning for a child to do such a thing to herself. Her actions should NOT be praised, and I don't like the kid, but that doesn't mean I want to see her hurt herself!

It's not okay. None of this is okay. And I am once again, really not okay with this.

#bnha critical #mha critical #bnha manga spoilers #i am not okay with this #mha spoilers #never been this unhappy to be right #hate me if you want #i don't care

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wonwoosthetic · 6 months

Note

Finding something to fight for update coming back anytime soon…? Love this story 💜

a/n: i looooove writing for this series so so so much, thank you for enjoying it so far!! Here I have part 2 of how the reader and Joel met! Yes, there’s not much romance going on (just yet! the next part will be about their first few dates) but a lot have asked for a part 2 and since Joel is a single father who was left by his wife, I can imagine love for a random woman wouldn’t come easy to him ˙ᵕ˙ I still hope you and everyone reading this will enjoy and stay tuned for future chapters! Thank you for reading and thank you for sticking around to see more of their story unfold!🫶🏼

Btw: I changed the name of the series, I hope people won’t be too confused! <3

You’re Lonely. I Can Fix That. Pt. 2

pairing – Joel Miller x female!reader; Tommy Miller x female!reader (platonic!)

word count – 16.2k (don’t even get me started, this is starting to feel like a slow-burn😭)

warnings – fighting, tiniest bit of cursing, bad writing of southern accents (somebody pls teach me)

synopsis – part 2 of this request; slowly but we’re getting there ˙ᵕ˙ the reader and Joel are getting closer🤭

series masterlist

1999

You did, in fact, not find a way to contact him. At least none that wouldn't require you to jump over your shadow and contact Tommy Miller first.

Every afternoon you had to spend in your parents' restaurant mostly consisted of you standing by the counter, and your head shooting up at the sound of the door opening. None of those times had it been either one of the Miller brothers - but each time you had hoped it would be. Praying and pleading that the universe had some last specks of luck left for you. But it seemed like destiny was not on your side at that time. Or maybe it was. How could you possibly know if he was as good as he pretended to be? Maybe the kindness Joel had shown you was just his way of holding up a normal conversation with no ulterior motives after all. Asking you about your future plans and dreams, telling you about his daughter, and driving you home seemed to be just the naturally kind gestures of a Southern gentleman... Or maybe it was just an act and in reality, whoever was up there was saving you from a big mistake before it could even happen.

'I think that if he was a real gentleman and if the looks he gave you were real, he'll find a way to contact you.'

Maria's words were once again haunting you. Even with your hopes already slowly vanishing in ever seeing the oldest Miller again. He was a gentleman, no doubt. He had to be... right? There was almost no possible way he had put on a mask before entering that bar. But...

You shook your head. Your best friend might be a good people reader, but she's also well-known for her delusions. It was fun and made life much more exciting, that you had to agree with. Having a campus crush and calling him 'your man' when all he did was thank you and call the essay you wrote a 'great piece of work', was how you kept life interesting. It was easy entertainment. Normally, it was all fun and games, something you could tease each other with, but this was different. Because with Joel, you noticed it too. You may not have noticed the 'looks he gave you', but what man would just 'like to make sure you got home safe'? Or maybe you were potentially just looking too much into it. Maybe Maria had already infected you with her delusions.

'It's a small town, it can't be that hard.'

Well... it seemed to be very hard because it had already been close to a month. And neither of you had found a way or were interested enough to look for one. At some point, you had to get the fantasy of Joel Miller you had made up in your mind out of your head. There was no way a man could possibly occupy such a big part of your brain and control how you'd act at work.

There was only one man in the past who had the same kind of grip on you as Joel Miller now had. And that guy broke your heart when he admitted to cheating on you and getting Chlamydia from the college girl he fucked. Fun times...

Other than that, the topic of boyfriends hadn't ever been more than just plain and simple entertainment for you. You didn't use them. And you never would, because, after all, you were a lover girl at heart. But they just didn't make you nervous. Usually.

You could vividly recall each and every time you managed to make a man bring you to his house and let you spend the night, just as much as the number of times you barked at them to leave you alone in a club. Yes, they were big and scary men, but you were a woman raised by an older sister who inherited the generational trauma from your mother and anger issues from your father. If you didn't want them near you, you wouldn't let them.

Crushes came and went, and the ones that stayed, you were usually able to turn into something as serious as a few fun nights or even take it a little further and turn them into the two relationships you have had in the past. But that was it. 'Chlamydia boy', as Maria had baptized him, was the last one you had let occupy your mind as much as he did.

That was until Joel goddamn Miller, in his 6ft, wide shoulders, itty bitty waist, rough hands, curly hair, shaggy beard, and grungy voice glory, just had to walk into that bar. Now you were daydreaming about a 30-year-old construction worker and single father all while he was probably just enjoying the evenings off-duty he got to spend with his daughter, looking forward to the next parent-teacher conference where the other mothers would be gawking at him and drooling while following him around like lost puppies.

That's how you found yourself. A birthday and a whole month later, in your family's restaurant just like almost every afternoon. You had finished another small exam and were finally able to enjoy the first rays of sunshine that were peeking through the clouds during the colder winter months on the way to work. But even the big windows couldn't even to some extent let you feel the freedom and fresh air from the outside. Sometimes you wondered if you should at some point regret coming back to Texas to help your family.

Back then, you had been ecstatic about the mere thought of moving away, seeing more than what that small town you grew up in had to offer. That's why you decided to study out of state. You started building your life out there. A new life. But one call from your mother, asking you to come back was all it took. You couldn't tell her simply 'no'. Not when she was explaining that your father, due to his age, was advised not to work normal shifts on his legs anymore as they were slowly giving up on him. So, you listened to her. You packed your bags and came back. You found a place of your own and a roommate to share it with. You were accepted into the college you so desperately tried to avoid during the application process back in high school and continued your studies only 30 minutes away from the house you grew up in and the garden you used to play in.

You weren't allowed to regret your decision. Not if it meant helping your parents keep the restaurant alive they had worked their entire life for.

"Where's my daughter?" The frantic voice of your mother made you sigh out loud as you made sure to fix the name tag on the right side of your shirt. "Is she here already?" Her quick footsteps echoed through the kitchen until they stopped in the doorway of the small staffroom.

"I'm here, Mom," you answered her with the slightest hint of annoyance. The simple sound of her stressed-out sound and heavy breathing could get your blood pumping in an instant. She has always been a stressed person - making situations much more hectic than needed.

A heavy huff fell from her lips. "Y'are late," she simply stated.

With a roll of your eyes, you passed her, putting your hair up in a ponytail just like you usually would. "I'm not late, I had an exam. I told you that."

"I guess, I forgot... 'bout that...," she thought out loud. "Anyways," she was quick to change the subject, hot on your tracks, following you up to the counter overlooking the somewhat empty tables. You only could sigh again. "I'll have to leave earlier today. I need to go to the pharmacy before it closes. The doctor gave ya dad a new prescription," she explained. Another new one... was there ever going to not be another medication this man would be put on? The medical bills were already piling up - you remembered the stack of letters addressed to your father you had seen just the day before when you came over for the usual Sunday family dinner.

"Y'are okay with closing? Jimmy might stay with ya if I ask him." Jimmy, the head chef of the kitchen behind you and a long-family friend. He was in his fifties and had a wife and three kids waiting at home for him each night.

You shook your head, "No, it's fine. I... I think I can clean up by myself, but thanks," sending her a tight smile that got a big grin out of her.

"Great!" She grabbed your shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. "I'll leave in a bit, alrigh'?" You nodded as an answer, your eyes already on the notes for the day your mother had put on the counter, out of eyesight from customers. And with that, you got to work.

Mondays weren't all that busy, usually. The construction workers from around the area would come in and order their usual big servings that had been keeping the family business going. Some teenagers spent their lunch break by the tables, working on their homework and having a quick meal. Just like every other day.

With a sigh, you pushed through the swinging door, separating the kitchen from the counter area of the restaurant. Three plates filled with the extra portions some of the construction workers asked for balances on your hands and left arm. In moments like this, you were thankful for the low number of customers. You rushed over to bring them their food in a respectful time, getting a round of charming 'thank you's in return, to which you nodded politely.

Just as you were about to get back behind the counter, hoping to find the next thing to focus on until new customers would come in, your eyes found a familiar face, sitting in a booth all by themselves. You smiled to yourself, watching the little kid's head buried in the book in front of them as they frantically continued to write something down with their right hand.

It was the Parker's son, Miles. A young, very bright boy, who was way too mature for his age of only 10. The first time you had seen him in your parent's restaurant, you thought somebody had forgotten him. But no, he just enjoyed the background noises of the diner in the background while doing his schoolwork. He usually showed up a few times a week, would take a seat quietly and not ask for anything unless a waiter or waitress came over to him first.

As you began working part-time, you took on the responsibility of being that exact person. You'd approach him and ask him for his order, adding a free hot chocolate or lemonade to whatever he desired - you paid for it out of your own pocket by the end of the day.

"Well hello, young man," you walked up to the boy with a soft smile on your face. The sound of your voice made him look up, pushing his glasses back up higher on the bridge of his nose.

"Hi, Y/N," he grinned at you shyly. It was only then you realised how much you had missed his rosy cheeks.

"I haven't seen you in so long. I got worried already," you admitted. It was the truth. You hadn't seen him in a good three weeks, which was very much out of the ordinary. In a small town, you would've expected to hear rumours and chatter about every family, but the Parkers seemed like a mystery to most apparently.

Miles shrugged, his eyes back down to his book. "I'm okay."

The tone of his voice told you otherwise. He wasn't a very expressive kid, to begin with, so the change in his tone stood out.

"Are you sure?" You quietly sat down on the opposite side of the booth. You were in no position to interrogate him, and neither were you the best with children - at least that's what you thought. But you were a good advice giver and could read a room usually pretty well.

It took a few seconds of silence before he spoke up again. "Mommy and Daddy are getting a divorce."

Oh.

The instability of his family was no secret - your mother had caught you up with everything going on behind their closed doors as she and Miles' grandmother were part of the Saturdays' flea market in town. And that woman had no filter when it came to the 'monster of a husband her daughter had married'.

"I see," you nodded gently. "And... you're okay with that?" It was a stupid question, yes, but how else were you supposed to not just let him sit in misery, the thoughts of his parent's divorce occupying way too much of this little kid's mind.

"I think so, yes." Miles looked at the side of the table, his pencil gliding over a crack in the wood, "Grammy said it's good. And Mommy has been crying less. So... I think I'm happy."

Your heart shattered just hearing his words. No child should ever have to go through something like that.

"Daddy said I'm not allowed to come here anymore." You glanced at him with a slight scrunch in your eyebrows. "But now I live with Mommy and Grammy, and they don't really care where I am after school, so I came back," he sent you an innocent bright smile. His bright face almost sent tears to your eyes.

"They do care where you are Miles," you tried to explain to him, not even knowing if it was the truth, but why should a child even dare to think that the authority figures in his life didn't 'care' about him. "They just... they probably know how happy you are whenever you're here. That's why they let you come over."

You noticed as he tried to avoid your eyes, glancing out the window as he spoke, "But I'm only happy when you're here too," he admitted.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you took a deep breath, about to give him an answer back, wanting to let him know how much brighter your day got whenever you got to see him, but he beat you to it.

"That's Sarah Miller," his finger was pressed up against the glass. "With her dad." Unfazed, he turned his attention back to his notes. "His name's Joel."

"What?" You accidentally muttered out, your head snapping to the window. The black pick-up truck came right into view. The one he brought you home in. Your eyes followed his every move as he opened one of the back doors, helping his daughter out of the car. He held out a hand for her to take, but she ignored it and jumped with a big smile. A whole goddamn month it took for you to finally see his face again. 30 days, if not more. Just as you had been on the verge of forgetting about your encounter with the oldest Miller brother, he suddenly decided to show up. At your family's restaurant out of all places.

Frozen in place, you couldn't help but stare, forgetting about the fact that a window worked both ways. You got lucky as he seemed to not have seen you, passing by and walking over to the front door while Sarah was skipping around the parking space in excitement. The pounding heart in your chest made you gulp.

"How do you know them?" You suddenly asked.

Miles continued to write in his notebook. "Sarah's in my class. She's nice."

"And-"

"I told her about this restaurant. Told her I like you and the food. And the free drink you always bring me," he sent you a quick grin, making you chuckle. The smile vanished quickly though as the sound of the bell above the entrance door rang through the room. To everyone else, it was just another customer coming in, but to you, it was the desperate crush on a 30-year-old man, who had no business occupying your mind as much as he did. There was no time to continue your daydream of finally seeing him again as he and his little one walked further into the restaurant, looking around to see which empty table they'd claim. Joel proposed the one in the corner right next to the door, which Sarah seemed to be okay with after taking another quick glance around the open space. They'd be waiting for someone to come and take their order. And that someone should be you. It had to be you. There was no other waiter on shift for this afternoon.

"I'll be right back," you quickly excused yourself, making Miles glimpse at you in slight confusion at your rushed tone, but the notebook in front of him was much more interesting anyway.

With a few deep breaths, you strutted across the floor, brushing over the apron covering the front of your thighs. You passed the register area to snatch the small notepad you used during your shift before finally making your way over to the duo.

Just before you were close enough to their table to stop, you heard the girl's faint voice mumble, "He said he'd be here." Her head turned upwards to grin at you as soon as you came to a halt, pen and paper in your grip.

"Hey, what can I get for you, guys?" You clicked the back of the bullet point pen.

Joel snapped his head up, his brown eyes staring at you as soon as your voice registered in his head. His lips parted, stopping for a second before he spoke up.

"O-Oh- hey," he sat up straighter.

"Hi," you smiled at him, slapping yourself internally at greeting him a second time when you literally just did that.

"Hey," he nodded, his lips curling up just a bit. "Y/N... right?"

While the name Joel Miller had branded itself onto your brain, he seemed to not even be sure about your first.

You nodded with a tight smile that was close to disappearing, but you had to keep a professional face on, "Yeah- yeah, Y/N," and pointed to yourself like an idiot. His eyes didn't leave your face, almost dragging you in, but you were quick to snap back, the sound of someone clearing the throat to your left catching you off-guard.

"Introduce me, Dad," Sarah tried to whisper, holding her hand to the wrong side of her mouth, where you could still clearly see her lips moving.

"Hm?" Joel's head turned towards her, "Oh- that's... that's Sarah. My daughter."

With a wide grin, the girl reached her hand out to you, which you gladly accepted, shaking it with a similar facial expression.

"Nice to meet you, Sarah."

"It's very nice to meet you too, Y/N." Once she dropped your hand again, her gaze quickly flicked over to her dad, who politely coughed into his elbow. "Do you know my, Dad?" She suddenly wondered.

"I- ehm...," you were quick to open your mouth before you could even come up with a full reply, wanting to kick yourself in the shin.

Thankfully, Joel decided to answer her, "She's a friend of Uncle Tommy."

Sarah gasped, her eyes widening, "You know Uncle Tommy too?" She gazed up at you in amazement, making you chuckle. Calling you a 'friend' was much easier than explaining your relationship with him to a 9-year-old, so you accepted it.

You nodded, "I do. I met him a long time ago." Not a lie.

"Cool," she said out loud, looking down at her intertwined fingers on top of the table. "What do you-"

"Babygirl, you wanted to eat, didn't you?"

The voice of her dad made her lift her head to grin at him, "Can I get pancakes?"

Joel put the menu he was holding down with a soft sigh, but a kind curl to his lips, "You can ask Y/N if you want to."

Quickly, she whipped her head towards you, "Can I have pancakes, please?"

You couldn't hold back a subtle chuckle. "Of course." The fact that pancakes were on your breakfast menu was unimportant. If the girl wanted pancakes, you'd get her her pancakes, even if it was close to 5pm. "And for you?" You turned to the man on your right.

"Can I get a simple turkey sandwich? And a black coffee?"

You nodded, writing down just quick abbreviations to remember their order. "Coffee's free here," you added.

"Oh, great," he commented, putting his hands down on the table, "That's all then."

"Alright, I'll be right back."

"Thank you," Joel gave you a nod and a grin, his attention back to his little girl as soon as you turned around and heard her whisper.

"Why do you know so many people?" Making you chuckle.

In the kitchen, you handed over their orders to Jimmy, who glanced at you with a frown, re-reading your handwriting on the piece of paper.

"Pancakes? At 5?"

"Can you do that? It's for a little girl, she's really sweet."

With a wink, he moved over to the stove, "'Course I can, no worries."

You grinned, "Thanks, Jimmy."

Getting a, "No worries, kid," in return.

Just as you were about to leave, you made a stop at the fridge, opening it to get the glass jug of homemade lemonade. Along with three clean glasses from the cabinets right above your head. You filled them up equally before putting the lemonade back and heading out to the counter again, balancing all three on a tray. You didn't expect the man standing right across from you, making you stop in your tracks.

"Hey," Joel smiled at.

"Hi," you copied him. Again, feeling the need to slap yourself. How many times have you now said these two words in exchange to each other?

"I...," he started, looking around the empty bar area. His hands glided into the back pockets of his jeans before he locked eyes with you again. "I'm sorry, I... Sarah- she forgot to order a drink. Is it okay if I- can I do that here?"

"Yeah," you nodded your head frantically, putting down the tray, as your eyes landed on the filled-up glasses. "I- I was actually just about to bring two of these over to you guys." Taking them into your grip and lifting them to his eyesight.

"Oh- did she-"

"They're like a... signature thing here. I thought you'd... might want something to drink." You placed them down on the bar top, "On the house."

"Oh no, I can't let-" he started, but you were already shaking your head.

"No worries. A little welcome gift," you brushed him off, your fingers slowly digging into the wood below you.

Slightly hesitant, Joel reached out for the two lemonades.

"Gotta keep the customers coming back somehow," you added with a soft chuckle, getting a humourous laugh from him in return.

"Yeah... well..." he turned back to take a quick glance at his daughter before looking back at you, "we might be coming back more often anyways. Sarah got a recommendation from a classmate... and she's been really beggin' me to take her here. And we were in the area, so..."

"Miles, yeah... he- he told me," you nodded along with his storytelling, fidgeting with the dainty bracelet on your wrist - an older Christmas gift from your sister.

Joel raised his eyebrows in interest, "You know him?"

"Yeah," you nudged your head over to the left side of the diner, with the boy in the only occupied booth, "He's sitting over there."

"Aah...," he took a deep breath in, "Gotta make sure to tell Sarah," he mumbled slightly more to himself, but you were still able to catch it.

"Are they friends?"

Joel slightly shrugged his shoulder, "I guess so, yeah... they're both in an advanced Math course for middle schoolers, so... yeah."

"Advanced Math?" You wondered in astonishment. He hadn't told you all too much about her back in the car a few weeks ago, so this was news to you. You knew Miles was in that course, Christ, he had proven it to you many times before whenever you asked if he needed help with his homework, but you didn't know Joel's daughter went the same path. "A little genius."

"Yeah," the older Miller brother chuckled, looking down at his feet, "Kinda like you," he met your eyes. "I mean- not like you... really... because, you know, not... College level, but... she- she's interested in it too. But I- I guess... I don't know if she's really interested in it, but she seems to enjoy it so far, so..."

If your eyes and ears weren't playing with you, you could almost hear a slight added raspiness to his voice as he tried to avoid your gaze, talking on and on about his daughter. The grin making its way onto your lips was only an indication of your amusement at his rambling.

"I understand," you laughed. "Smart girl."

He nodded gently to himself, "That she is... she sure is..."

Your awkward chuckle was followed by a second of silence. Maybe a few seconds, actually. Joel could've excused himself to go back to the booth they chose, but he didn't even move an inch. Not even made an indication that he wanted to leave. Your eyes travelled around the counter, trying to look for something to busy yourself with, but there were no notes left, every other customer (there weren't a lot) seemed to be happy, so there was nowhere to go for you. You were stuck to stand still across from him, forced to bring the conversation to a halt as neither one of you knew what to possibly say next. Not until you went through each line that had spilled from his lips, remembering-

"You said you were in the area? Do you live here... or...?" What a smart move. Ask the stranger if he lived close to where you're working, fucking creep.

Joel cleared his throat, politely holding up a fist to his lips. "No no, she- Sarah... she has soccer practice every Monday 'round here."

"Oh," your eyes lit up, "At the old Ramson's field?" The corners of the man's lips curled up at the mention of the area that was once a strawberry farm. It was sold years ago by an elderly couple, the Ramsoms, to give the kids a place to run around freely. Somebody took the chance and turned it into a local soccer team's training ground.

"Yeah, exactly that. You know it?"

You nodded excitedly, "My sister used to go there. She was really active. Always the sporty one in the family, you know..."

For a second, Joel pursed his lips, smiling to himself before he answered. "So... sister's the sporty one and you're the smart one? Your parents got lucky."

"Well...," you talked down his compliment with a soft chuckle, "I don't know if I'd say I'm the smart one...," thinking about your next words for not longer than a second, "I did get in the car of a basically stranger who took me home while I was definitely intoxicated, so... don't know how smart that really is." Smirking at the mention of the evening.

The older Miller's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Why would you do- Oh." Stopping himself before he could continue. He shook his head with a laugh, "Right... yeah..." Just for a second, he had forgotten how truly unfortunate, or maybe not so unfortunate, your first meeting actually had been. "But," he took a deep breath in, "You got home safe. So it was a smart move, I guess."

"I got home very safe, yes," you agreed, a dreamy smile playing on your lips, as you pulled your hands back to yourself, feeling the chipped wood digging into your fingertips. "Thank you, again... really."

"All good," he gave you an assuring nod, "Rather getting in the car of a stranger than hangin' out with Tommy's group of... whatever they are."

You couldn't hold back the laughter coming from your lungs at his clear dislike of his younger brother's group of friends. Already back in the bar, it was clear to tell Joel was not a fan of them or the comments they made or truly anything about them all together, and he seemed to like making that very clear. He joined in your laughter with a slightly softer one, only to be interrupted as a voice from behind you suddenly shouted out.

"Pancakes and a ham sandwich!" Jimmy came through the swinging doors, the two plates in each of his hands as he stood next to you.

You turned to the side, giving him a quick smile.

"Oh- you were quick, thanks."

"I can take 'em," Joel was about to reach out, wanting to take his order, when you stopped him.

"No, no, it's fine. I'll bring them over," you assured him. "In a second."

"You sure?" He asked you cautiously.

You nodded, your lips pressed together tightly. "A girl's gotta work," you shrugged with a smile.

Joel gave you a quick nod before taking the two glasses of lemonade and going back to his table, the eyes of the little girl waiting for him getting big as she saw what he had brought along. You grinned at the sight.

"Y'sure you wanted to make the girl happy or the dad?" The old man's voice rang through your ear. Your head snapped towards him, taking a step in defence back.

"'Xcuse me?"

Jimmy shook his head in amusement, putting down the two plates of food. "I was in there tryin' to avoid interruptin' you two, but Lord..."

"What?" You wondered, a slight edge to your tone as you were interested in hearing what he was about to say.

He glanced at you with a soft smirk. "It was painful listenin' to that poor attempt of a flirt."

"A flirt? By who?"

"Y'know damn well by who," he pointed a strict finger at you, the smile still evident on his face as you tried to hide your own.

You arrogantly lifted your head, making sure to stick your nose up extra high as you crossed your arms. "I have no idea what you're talkin' abou'," purposely copying his very Southern accent badly. "That wasn't flirtin'."

"Damn right, it wasn't."

"Oh, I'm sorry that I don't have forty years of flirting experience," you bit back jokingly, about to snatch the two plates off the counter.

Jimmy scoffed with a shake of his head, "I wasn't talkin' 'bout you, darlin'." And with those words, he left through the doors again, going back into the kitchen.

You stopped in your tracks, hurriedly following him.

"Wait-," you called out, "You think he was flirting with me?"

"A poor attempt of a flirt," he corrected you, his back already turned to you as he started cleaning the counters. Before you could say anything more, he stopped you with a raise of his hand, "Go back to work, sweet pea. We'll talk about this later," giving you a last wink.

Joel and Sarah got their meals, and you brought Miles his free lemonade as well. It was already past 7pm, almost closing time as you usually locked the doors at 8pm. Most customers had left, besides a few teenagers you decided to hang around for a bit, enjoying the cheap prices of the food. The father-daughter duo in the corner had split up, leaving the oldest Miller brother to sit alone at the table, his finger furiously trying to type out a message on his phone, only to give up with an annoyed sigh and switch to calling the person. His little girl had joined Miles at his table after her dad had told her that he was there.

It was a rare sight. You had never seen the young boy interact with people his age. Or really with anyone but you or your mom. Other adults had tried to make a few conversations work, only to be met with silence from him. He didn't enjoy talking to strangers much, understandably so. The sound of the two giggling brought warmth to your heart and a smile to your face. He hardly ever grinned as much with you as he did right at that moment with her. You had no idea he even had people around him that could make him this happy. He didn't even smile at his mother when you once saw her pick him up. It was a one-time-only experience, he usually took the bus home alone. Sometimes you accompanied him, just out of fear and worry as to who would even think to let their own child travel by public transport in the dark. But maybe that was your big-city brainwashed mind talking and small-town parents saw the world completely differently than you did.

"We got any new ones?" Jimmy's smoker voice brought you back to the present and made your eyes leave the two kids to look at him.

You shook your head, "No, I think that was it for tonight, you can start closing up." You rarely ever got any new customers past 7:30, so you gave him the o.k. to clean up in the back while you started at the front.

Rounding the counter, you passed the tables, now empty, to get the last few plates and glasses that were left by people who had left merely a few minutes ago. Some others noticed you cleaning, handing you over everything they didn't need any more along the way. With full hands, you came back to the bar area, placing each dirty plate, glass, and mug on the window sill, between the front area with the kitchen. Jimmy gave you a grateful smile as he got a hold of them.

As you turned around, you were once again faced with the dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty of Joel Miller standing in front of you. He had stacked their two plates together, with the cutlery right on top, and the now empty lemonade glasses right next to them.

"Oh-," you chuckled, "Thank you," taking them off the counter to turn around and put them on the sill as well.

"It was really good, so, thank you," he commented with a tight smile.

"I'll let the chef know."

"The chef knows!" The older man shouted out from the kitchen, letting his head peak out the window with a big grin. His facial expression made both of you chuckle.

You turned back to face the oldest Miller, glancing up at him slightly shyly, not even trying to hide it. "You're leaving?"

Joel nodded, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans, "Yeah... Tommy needs to get picked up. And Sarah's got school tomorrow. Gotta check if the homework's all done." You nodded along to every single word dripping from his lips, even daring to take a few quick glances down to see each movement and curve of them. "I mean- she always does them, I don't... I don't think she'd ever not do her homework, she'll even do them in short breaks or... in the car or something. But..."

"Just to make sure," you grinned at him, blocking his further rambling.

Joel nodded, a heavy breath falling from his lips, "Exactly... yeah..." He opened his mouth just a bit one more time, but wouldn't dare to speak, making you wait in silence, begging he would continue whatever his mind had come up with next.

He cleared his throat, looking over at his little girl, before switching back to you. "I- I should get her."

You gave him a hasty nod, "Yeah, yeah, of course."

Just as he passed the counter to walk over to the two kids who still seemed to be as giggly as they were 30 minutes ago, Joel turned back around.

He called out your name, making you whip your head around with hope.

"Yeah?"

"D'you know if his parents are gonna come pick him up?"

Not the question you were desperately waiting to come out of his mouth, but at least something.

You shook your head, "No, he usually takes the bus. I'll go with him after closing."

Hesitantly, but still, he nodded, mumbling a quick, "Alright," before continuing to make his way over to the other corner of the diner.

In the meantime, you got back to wiping down the front counter, before moving onto each table in the room. Even the ones that hadn't been used that day, you made sure to clean. In the position you were in, you could see Joel and Sarah heading for the front door, only to stop and wave at you.

"I'll see ya," the oldest Miller smiled, "Have a good night." You waved back, chuckling as Sarah excitedly waved as well.

"Bye, it was nice to meet you, Y/N!"

"You too, Sarah. Good night."

Your eyes didn't leave their forms until they were back in the car after Joel opened one of the doors on the passenger side in the back, waiting for his daughter to jump in. You couldn't help but grin at the sight. Other customers who passed you, said their goodbyes, making you walk over to their tables to collect the money they left for the food they had eaten. Arrived at the table the father-daughter had occupied merely minutes ago, you glanced at the money, counting the bills with your fingers only to realise the generous tip Joel had left for you. Damn it, there you were smiling again.

Miles was entertaining himself outside, still in the same booth while you joined Jimmy in the kitchen. Every table had been swiped over, the counter cleaned to perfection, the cashier counted and the money stored safely in the safe. You had found a comfortable place on top of one of the counters in the kitchen, a mug of the last bit of coffee that was in the pot now in your hand. Just as you were about to take a sip, a groan fell from your lips as the memory hit you.

"Huh? What?" The older man looked up from the floor he was sweeping over.

"I forgot to give him his coffee...," you mumbled out loud.

Jimmy's thick brows furrowed, "Who?"

"Joel..." He had ordered a black coffee. You had even told him it was free, and he never got to taste it... but then again, he didn't ask you a second time...

He seemed to think for a second before the corners of his lips curled up, "Aaah, Sir Handsome."

Your head shot up in confusion, "What? Sir Handsome? Really?"

Jimmy just shrugged, "That's what I'm gonna call him."

"His name's Joel. Joel Miller."

"Miller?!" He stopped in his tracks, coming to a halt with the chore, almost dropping the broom to sit against the counter. "From 'round here?"

You nodded.

"Miller, like Thomas Miller?!"

You glanced at him in confusion. "You mean Tommy Miller?"

The man rolled his eyes, "Whatever that punk's name was," and went back to cleaning up. His reaction got a chuckle out of you.

The name Tommy Miller, or like Jimmy sacred to call him, Thomas Miller, had embranded itself onto the entire staff of the Diner. Even past employees knew about him. Hell, even the food inspectors that used to come around once a year knew about him - he had the fantastic idea of following the lady around the diner like a lost puppy, flirting with her the entire time. The fact that she was well over 30 and he just a good 18 years old was so not important to him at the time.

He and his entourage were well-known around the area for multiple reasons. Their bad reputation had followed them all throughout their teenage and young adulthood, leaving a memory of their presence with each and every one who had ever come in touch with them.

"Yeah... they're... brothers."

With a clearly unamused facial expression, Jimmy glared at you, making you sit up straighter in an instant.

"Joel's the older one. And he's nothing like Tommy," you assured him. "I promise."

"And how d'you know that, young lady?" He popped his hip out to the right side, leaving the broom to lean against the counter as he took in his stance.

Jimmy might not be your father, but he's someone's. And you can tell. Your dad had been sick for longer than you'd like to remember, leaving Jimmy to take on the role of the next best thing of a male parental figure with a slight touch of a close friend.

"He- We...," you sighed, looking at the booth behind you to take a quick peek at Miles, colouring some pictures you had given him as entertainment. "I was at a bar-"

"When?" He nagged.

"Not too long ago."

"When?"

"A few weeks ago," you answered him with a sigh, trying to continue the story, when he interfered again. He shook his head, sighing your name out loud as he ran a hand over his face.

"Jimmy-"

"I won't tell your Mom, don't worry," he raised his hands in defence. "Just wantin' to know you were safe."

"I was," you told him, "partially thanks to Joel." Making him frown. "So. As I said. I was at a bar and Tommy, Joel's brother, was there with his group of friends-"

"Oh, Lord, help me...," Jimmy mumbled.

"Not his teenage friend group!" You called out, "I don't think so at least... I don't know," you brushed off the thought, "Anyways, I was there and Tommy invited me to sit with them. And at first, I wasn't really sure, but then Joel came too and I was like... why not, you know?" The older man gave you a knowing smirk. "But that quickly turned into a mistake because his friends, high school friends or not, were jerks, so I wanted to go home, but I had a few drinks, so Joel drove me home."

"You gave a random man your address?!"

"This is a small town!" You defended yourself, "If he was bad news, everyone would know!"

"That's not the point-"

"The point is!" You interrupted him, "I only got into his car because he was genuinely nice and the only one of them all that listened to me and actually seemed like he wanted to talk to me at that table." The part of your best friend technically forcefully reserving you a seat in the passenger side of his car was left out.

"Yeah...," Jimmy shook his head with a sigh, "You know who else was this charismatic?"

"Who?"

"Ted Bundy."

"Jimmy!" You threw your head back with a big laughter erupting from your lungs.

The audacity to even compare these two men.

"Dark hair, dark eyes, nice smile. Sounds like Ted to me." Like he knew the guy...

"You can't say that," you scolded him, wiping away the tear that had fallen from your eye in the middle of the fit of laughter. He joined you with a wholehearted chuckle, coming closer, to stand right across from you.

"So, what about him?" He suddenly turned serious, crossing his arms in front of his small beer belly.

You shrugged. "I like him," thinking for a second before continuing. "I only met him once- well, twice now, and I think he's really handsome. But... I don't know. I don't think he looks at me like that. This crush might be one-sided."

"Why not? Y'are a pretty lady!" He called out with another frown. It would let people believe he was mad when only compliments kept falling from his lips. "Ya smart, good with kids, polite. Why wouldn't he like ya?"

"He didn't even remember my name from the last time we met!"

Jimmy couldn't hide his smirk of amusement, "Sweetheart..."

"What? This isn't funny! I'm in a crisis."

"Y'are wearin' a name tag."

Your right hand immediately flew up to your chest and onto the plaque you always wore on the right side of your shirt. Glancing down, you saw the piece of plastic staring right back at you. How could you even forget that you were wearing that thing?

"But why..."

"I told ya," the old man shrugged his shoulder with a chuckle, "A poor attempt of a flirt."

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes, hopping down from the corner to take off the apron and mentioned tag. "That's really what you call flirting?"

"I think, he's a man probably somewhere around his thirties with a little girl by his side. How much female attention ya think he's been gettin'?"

"Have you seen him?" You stared at him with wide eyes. "I think quite a lot."

"Okay, how much female attention ya think he's lettin' get to him? This man probably hasn't even spent a night with another woman in YEARS. Where's the mom anyways?"

You shrugged, "Izzy said she got pregnant in college and everyone just thought he left her. But he has a daughter now and I hardly believe he would let his high school sweetheart alone with a baby while keeping one from another woman."

"Ya really thought a lot 'bout that, huh?"

With a smirk, you looked up at the ceiling before glancing to the side, trying to avoid his eyes as you mumbled, "Maybe a little..."

"If ya asked ya sister 'bout it, I doubt it was a little," he chuckled, noticing how riled up you were getting about the subject as you threw your apron on the counter.

"Alright! I thought about it a lot, okay?! I don't want to come off too strong when he has a whole family waiting for him at home. But so far... I don't think he has... but... I don't know." You crossed your arms in front of your chest. "I have to get my information somehow."

"Could also just ask him, ya know?" Jimmy tapped your head as he snatched your apron off the counter after taking off his own and heading towards the employees' closet.

"I feel like that's rude. Imagine just talking to someone, kinda 'cause you're forced to do it and suddenly she's all up your business, asking you about romantic partners and whatnot." You came to a halt in the doorway, leaning against it as you watched him pull out his jacket and hand you your own.

"I don't think he'd be flirtin' so poorly with a girl if he had someone at home. "He sent you a stern look, "And if he has and still does that, he's a piece of shit." Making you chuckle as you put on the piece of outerwear.

"Can you stop saying poor flirting? He was talking. Maybe he's trying. He was telling me about his daughter."

"Jesus, sweet pea, he told ya her entire life story. Ya could write her autobiography with all the ramblin' he did today," Jimmy joked, shaking his head in disbelief.

You laughed along with him as you grabbed your bag and headed back to the kitchen. "You're overreacting."

"Am not!" He told you. "The last time I sounded like that was when I tried to get to sweet talk my beautiful Betty." Your lips formed into a smile at the mention of his wife. This man could talk about her for HOURS. He's a true role model for the upcoming generation, and you were hopeful for his children getting to watch a couple truly in love right in front of their eyes.

"Plus," he added, "I have a cousin. Jeff. Single dad for three years. He's been tryin' to get himself out there again, and good God... Jesus help him. This man knows nothin'. Nothin'. That Joel kid reminds me of him a little," he stopped for a second to look at your blushed cheeks that had started to heat up. "Like I said, I didn't want to interrupt ya, but it was painful. Just like with Jeff."

You shook your head in defeat. There you had your confirmation. If what Maria had told you wasn't already enough, you better trust the wise words of a fifty-year-old man, married to the love of his life for a good thirty years.

"So," you cleared your throat, taking a deep breath in, "You think I have a chance?"

Jimmy sighed. He shook his head. After a step forward, he stopped right in front of you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders, only to cup your cheeks right after.

"My dear," he made sure you were looking him straight in the eyes. "I think ya could make a man build a castle with his bare hands for ya. And I think ya know that too."

You smirked, retrieving a small memory from that night in his truck. "Well... he is a constructor."

Jimmy gave you a laugh with his whole heart, pulling your face in to place a warm peck on the top of your head. He let you free again, giving you a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"Just give that man some time. Y'are a beautiful lady. He's nervous." With a final nod, he left through the back door of the diner, leaving you alone in the kitchen. He knew you'd be taking the bus to make sure Miles got home.

Speaking of, the last sounds echoing through the empty area were your beating heart and the scraping of the coloured pencils getting dragged over the paper by Miles. Your head turned to the side, and with a smile, you watched the young boy.

Just give him some time.

A week later, on Tuesday, you saw him again.

Monday had passed and there had been no sign of Sarah or him. Miles had been at the diner, entertaining you with some casually fun stories from school, including the young Miller girl in a few of them, but never anything else. And you weren't going to pester him about why she hadn't visited the diner after her practice on Monday.

But there he was, strolling into the room on Thursday, 6:30 in the evening. You were writing down the order of a group of teenagers when you heard the bell above the door. Right after you lifted your head, just wanting to call out a quick, "Welcome!", your breath got caught in your throat, making you cough out loud awkwardly. With a hand in front of your lips, you tried to cover it up, going back to writing down the order before disappearing into the kitchen.

"He's here!" You shout-whispered at the cook, who whipped his head around.

"Who?" He wondered, answering you quickly, but as soon as he saw your wide-eyed stare, he got the message. Jimmy smirked as he placed two finished plates on top of the counter. His eyes drifted from your form over the open window out into the restaurant, his smile dropping in an instant.

"Fucking Miller," he cursed out loud. You turned around to follow his gaze, finding not only Joel but also Tommy taking a seat in a booth right across from you. The older Miller's head seemed to notice your stare, glancing up, only for you to quickly turn around again.

"What do I do?" You continued to whisper, now even more careful about the others possibly hearing you as they were only a few feet away and an open window wasn't much of a sound barrier.

The cook rolled his eyes and turned back to the stove. "Get that punk out of the restaurant."

"Wh- Not Tommy! I don't mean him," you explained. "Joel."

Jimmy looked back at you, "Just be yourself, Jesus," grumbling something to himself that you couldn't quite understand.

Defeated, you took a deep breath in, reminding yourself of who you actually were and trying to get your act back together. If Maria could see you, she'd be filming you for a future Comedy sitcom - she'd have a field day with the state you were in. Nervous because of a man...

Just as you turned around, ready to face the outside world again, Jimmy's call out of your name made you stop.

"Huh?"

"Give me that," he nudged his head towards your hands.

"What?" With a frown you glanced down, seeing the order you had just written down, already long forgotten again. "Oh- right," you ripped the piece of paper off the block and put it on top of the counter before trying to walk away again. But there he was, the older man stopping you one more time.

"What?" You asked him, clearly on edge now, slightly amusing him.

"I swear to God, I'll spit in his food. Don't matter what he'll order." You knew exactly, who he was talking about, making you roll your eyes with a chuckle.

You pushed the swinging doors, taking a quick look around the space, trying to see if anyone needed something for you, but it was, just like the last few times, barely packed. Going past the counter, you crossed the floor to the other side of the restaurant, already noticing one side of the handsome face you had been so desperate to see again.

"Hey, guys," you approached them with a smile, stopping right by their table, now also finally getting a peek at the younger Miller. Both men were still in some type of work attire and you noticed the slight shine and curl to their hair. Tommy's was longer and darker, but you prefered Joel's.

"Hey, girly," the youngest grinned at you before slapping his older brother's arm that was perched up on the table. "See, I told you, she'd be here," he turned back to you, "How have you been?"

You nodded, "Good, busy. The usual, you know. You?"

"Good, good," he continued, "Getting back into the American lifestyle, chasing the American Dream." You didn't notice the roll of the eyes from Joel.

You couldn't help but chuckle, "You're chasing the American Dream?"

"Sure am," he answered you proudly. "Might not be as smart as you are, but a man's gotta try."

"'Course, why not," you shrugged, a smile still on your lips, hoping your answer would be enough.

"So," he huffed out a big breath, taking the menu into his grip, pretending to read over it. "I heard your turkey sandwich and pancakes are still as good as I remember."

You had to admit, the thought of Joel and Sarah telling him about their dinner at the diner warmed your heart a bit.

"I mean," you smirked, "I might be a bit biased, but I'd say so, yeah. Jimmy's still making them as good as always."

"Jimmy's still here?" Tommy wondered, making you nod a take a step to the side, letting him take a quick peek into the kitchen. "Ey, Jimmy!" The old man turned around, meeting the young Miller's eyes with a glare. Tommy lifted his hand for a wave, but the cook's attention was already back on the food he was making.

"Still doesn't like me, I see," he mumbled, shaking his head slightly as you laughed.

"Wouldn't be surprised if he spat in your foot." Joel suddenly spoke up. You looked over to him, giggling at the comment, making his lips curl up in return.

"He offered," you let him know, getting a chuckle out of him,

"Well," he shot his brother an annoying smirk, "Aren't you a treat for this town."

Tommy looked up at you, a hasty response dropping from his lips, "Tell him I decline. Gladly." Before scowling at his older brother.

Suddenly, you felt like you were interrupting something between the two. With a deep breath, the younger Miller brother was back to his old self, fixing the fit of his jacket. "Well, then... I'll take the turkey sandwich and see if it's still holdin' up to the good ol' times."

Your lips curled up into a teasing grin, deciding to just throw out the comment tickling your tongue. "You're doubting Jimmy's talent?"

"I would never," he quickly told you, making you chuckle and gently shake your head before you diverted your attention to the older brother, seeing him already looking up at you. The menu was barely in his grip as his fingers played with the laminated corners of the paper.

"I'll take the same," waiting for you to be done writing it down asking Tommy to pass him his menu and handing both over to you.

Before you turned around to get the orders over to Jimmy, you asked, "Coffee?"

Joel nodded, "Sure, thank you," intertwining his hands on top of the table as he looked at you. He didn't comment on the fact you forgot about that the last time he was there. You sure wouldn't forget it this time.

"Make that two, please," Tommy quickly added with a thankful nod after you assured them to be right back.

Trying to keep your eyes off the man was harder than you had hoped it would be. While you were able to busy yourself with taking orders and repeatedly cleaning the counter - you swear, it had never been cleaner than that day - you couldn't help but let your eyes wander over to the seat right by the window.

Joel and Tommy were sipping the coffee you had brought them, munching on their sandwiches, hopefully, oblivious to the internal fight you had going on with yourself. Miles was almost finished with his free lemonade and you were actually close to getting him another one, just so you had something to do. You couldn't just lurk around the counter like you usually would, otherwise, you'd find yourself staring at one of the brothers for too long.

During your little cleaning frenzy, you were able to let not only Jimmy's words but also Maria's re-run in your mind again. The evening, right after Joel and Sarah had spent their evening time in the diner, your best friend got every single detail from you, the moment she stepped into the apartment at 4am. Yes, you had stayed up to tell her. The session ended at around 6, the sun lighting up the living room being the indication to finally go to bed, where you found yourself awake for another good 40 minutes, just begging for a good dream to finally find you.

You had recalled the entire few hours he was in the same room as you. The moment he and his daughter stepped into the diner, the brief conversation you guys had, the coffee you had forgotten, up until the moment he had to basically verbally drag Sarah away from Miles' booth to get her home. Maria's screeching and excited jumps on the couch made you smile to yourself as you remembered the evening. It came close to a miracle that you got away without a single purple mark on your arm, considering she was repeatedly hitting you, smacking the naked skin of your upper arm each time his name fell from your lips.

She had put extra emphasis on the "I'll see ya," Joel had left the diner with. To which you sadly had to explain to her the casual meaning of those few words. It was a somewhat polite way to say goodbye to someone you know, not necessarily meaning that you'll see each other again. Maybe indicating it, but definitely not meaning it word for word - but Maria stood her ground.

You had also told her about your gossiping session with Jimmy afterwards. She had only met him a handful of times, her own working hours not leaving her much time to come and visit you at the restaurant, so told tales would have to do it. But even without really knowing the man, she agreed to each and everything he had said.

"You know, there's not a lot that I would believe coming from a man or even listen to. But if anyone knows about a man's poor flirting techniques, it would be another man."

You had hidden your face in one of the pillows on your couch, the heat shooting into your cheeks being almost too much to bear, resulting in another few slaps to your arm from her. Jesus, could could start giggling and kicking your feet right now too, just at the mere thought of there being some sort of truth to their words and Joel's actions. But there was a barrier of reality still right in front of you. Not only had Jimmy mentioned his 'poor attempt of a flirt' but also the fact that your not-so-silly little crush was a 30-year-old father, with possibly very limited dating experience in the past few years. It wasn't something you had even tried to consider before Jimmy mentioned it. Add the unnecessary comment from one of Tommy's friends back at the bar, and it suddenly made sense.

"This poor man probably has no idea that you're even interested in him," Maria had whined out loud, "He's trying his best, but God..." You chuckled at her voice in the back of your head.

You ditched your daydream the moment the coffee pot was fully filled up again, the coffee machine making its usual sound to let you know it was done. With that, you began your usual round within the diner, passing each person who was holding onto a cup, asking them for a refill. Most happily accepted your offer, leaving you with a half-empty pot once you reached the two brothers.

"Another cup for you two?"

Tommy smiled up at the sound of your voice, "Sure, thanks, Y/N." You made sure his mug was properly filled up before turning towards Joel, who politely declined.

"Not for me, but thank you," nodding his head at you.

"Still trying to cut down?" His younger brother wondered, speaking over the brim of the mug he had brought up to his lips.

Joel took a deep breath, "If you had a 9-year-old lecturing you about the effects of caffeine each morning, you'd start thinkin' about it too." The explanation got a chuckle out of Tommy and made your lips curl up into a smile. Before you even thought about turning around to walk back behind the corner, you decided to continue the conversation. Taking every shot you could, just like Maria had told you.

"How is she?" You asked, "Sarah."

The older Miller brother lifted his head with a somewhat surprised expression on his face, but you just continued to smile at him. Tommy continued to hold his cup up against his mouth, hiding the smirk forming on his lips.

"Good," Joel let you know, "Very good. She... She had a test today. Lot to study yesterday... so we couldn't come over."

"I see," you humed, "I was wondering where you guys were."

A brief moment of silence followed your comment, almost making you regret admitting to the longing. Thankfully, the younger Miller got up from his seat with a clearing of his throat, making Joel perk up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"Gonna take a piss. You wanna control that too?" Sending his older brother an unreadable facial expression, almost glare, before he disappeared to head towards the toilet.

You frowned when a sigh escaped Joel's lips. "Everything okay?" You asked him, eyeing the older man carefully as he ran a hand over his face.

"Yeah," he mumbled, "Just... Tommy being Tommy."

A chuckle fell from you, making you cover your lips with your fingers. "Sorry," you excused yourself as he lifted his head, "Just... if I had a dollar for every time I heard those words from someone with that expression... I wouldn't be working here anymore."

Joel laughed. You managed to get the scowl off his face to replace it with a genuine laugh. He looked down at the table, shaking his head, but you could see his shoulders shaking and the unmistakable sound of joy coming from him. You tried to hide your amusement, the moment he locked eyes with you again.

"I thought you worked here because you were a good daughter," he commented. He remembered the conversation in his truck. On the way to your place, you had briefly mentioned the reason you had come back to Texas. And he remembered.

You grinned, "Oh, I'm a great daughter." Joel chuckled. "But I wouldn't mind the extra cash." Your own words let a thought flash into your mind. "Speaking of," you started again, "Thank you for the tip... last week. It really- you... you didn't have to do that."

"All good," he sent you a quick smile, "Good service needs a good reward."

"Even though I forgot your coffee," you sheepishly admitted, just getting another chuckle out of him.

"We got good food and free drinks, so you won't find me complaining," he simply told you, making you smile and look down at the pot of coffee you were still holding onto.

"Well," you had started to tap around with your fingers, trying to look for the next words to say, "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"'Course," he nodded at you before you turned around to get behind the counter again.

Only a few minutes later, the two brothers decided to call it a day and stand up to leave. You were just coming back out from the kitchen when you found them standing at the register, both smiling when you came to a halt.

"Just wanted to say goodbye," Tommy grinned at you, gently smacking his hand on top of the counter.

You chuckled, "Bye, have a good evening." 'Night' would've probably been more suitable as it was pitch black outside. A quick look towards the clock would also tell you it was already 7:51pm - almost closing time.

The younger one turned towards the exit door while Joel stood still, waiting for your eyes to lock again.

"I'll see you next week. Goodnight," he simply said with a smile, turning around without another word. His soft voice lingered in your head even after he was already through the doors and on his way to his beloved pick-up truck.

You quickly pulled yourself back into the presence. With a swift turn around, you rushed back into the kitchen. Even before the door was fully closed again, you were jumping around the space, getting a shocked facial expression from Jimmy in return.

"He said 'See you next week!!" You squealed in exactly, your arms moving around in the air as you got closer to the chef.

With a tight grip on his arm, you shook him, "He said 'SEE YOU NEXT WEEK'!"

The older man just grinned at you, shaking his head as he watched you dance around the kitchen.

"How much joy just a few words can bring to ya, kid," he softly spoke, throwing the dishcloth over his shoulder to cross his arms and lean against the counter.

"Just a few words?!" You stared at him, stopping your movements, "He just promised me that he'll come back next week! He WANTS to come back!" Reality hit you for a split second. "I sound really delusional, but I. Don't Care." Before starting your little happy dance around the space again. Jimmy's deep chuckles bounced off the walls.

"Can't remember the last time I've seen ya so happy." He admired the pure happiness spilling from you, filling the room with nothing but joy. With a sigh, your spinning around came to an end.

"I'm happy because I get to see a good-looking hunk of a man again! Can you blame me?"

"Hunk of a man?" Jimmy laughed out loud, his entire upper body shaking as he walked around the corner to push you towards the door. "Get to locking up and then ya can tell me all about Sir Handsome again."

"Okay!" You squealed again, pushing out the door, the echo of his laughter still in the background. Suddenly, getting through the rest of the week seemed to be much more enjoyable than before.

On Friday, one of the only days, you had gotten off of work at the diner, you decided to join Maria in the bar. While she was working, you were enjoying your time sitting at the counter once again. You were sipping on your second drink of the night, drinking slowly as you weren't looking for something wild tonight, but rather just enjoying a nice calm evening. It was around 11pm and even though you had been sitting there for a good 2 hours, there was not a massive amount of alcohol rushing through your body as you had asked your best friend to keep the drink mild. But some people had other plans that night.

"Well, hello there," a deep voice slurred next to you. With slight confusion you turned to the right, eyeing the man that had tumbled up to the bar counter.

You sighed, "Hey." Nothing against drunk people, hell, you were one of them from time to time, but God... sometimes you can just tell, you know?

He blinked at you, "A pretty little girl so alone in the middle of a bar in the middle of the night?" His dirty blonde hair was roughed up and the plaid button-up hung loosely around his frame. It seemed to be a size too big.

"Yeah," you nodded, "And I'd prefer to keep it that way, to be honest." For tonight, there were no plans. You were waiting for a beautiful man on Monday, that was plan enough.

The guy chuckled, holding onto the counter as he stumbled back, "I'm Cody and I'm sure I could change ya mind. I could show ya good time, I promise."

"You're trying to sell yourself here? I'm not interested, thank you," you simply told him, internally begging for Maria to come back to the front, but she was being kept busy in the back apparently. Nobody else seemed to be interested in what was going on between you and the drunk fuck next to you.

With slight confusion written across his face, he continued to stumble over his words. "Who says anythin' about sellin'? I ain't sellin' myself. Ya can get this here for free," pointing towards himself.

"As I said," you repeated yourself, making sure annoyance laced your voice, "Not interested." Just as you tried to get up and move, hoping to get behind the bar and into the backroom, you felt a tight grip on your arm.

"Listen," the man stopped you, "You don't know what ya missin' out on here, sweetcheeks."

"And you don't know what you're getting yourself into if you continue to talk like that to me. Let go of me," you hissed at him. You were taught how to use your words, not your hands though, so you didn't really know what exactly you were threatening him with.

A disgusting sarcastic chuckle came from him while his grip just tightened. You glared into his eyes with a hint of fear as he let his face get closer to you, "Look, I don't wanna do this another-"

"Hey, what's goin' here?" Never would you have ever thought to be thankful to hear that voice. Whipping your head to the left, you found a wondering Tommy Miller, glancing between you and the drunk guy. A sigh of relief tumbled from your lips. "You two are lookin' awfully close."

"Get back to ya own business, cowboy," the guy spat at the younger Miller brother, his eyes raking over his frame when he found the boots Tommy was wearing. "I'm just talkin' to the pretty lady 'ere."

"Well, but I know that pretty lady, so it kinda is my business, you know?" He simply answered him, daring to take a step closer. Tommy glanced at you, "You know him, Y/N?" He asked.

You shook your head with a gulp, to which he just nodded, but before he could even say something, the drunk, still holding onto you, beat him to it.

"She's lyin'! I just introduced myself!"

"You know, I believe her," Tommy stopped him, raising his hand to place it on top of his that was gripping your arm, "So how about you take your-"

"Get your fucking hands off me!" The other guy snapped at him, pulling his hand off you, reacting to Tommy's touch like it was fire.

The younger Miller could just laugh at the reaction. "What?" He chuckled, "So you can put your hands on a random woman but as soon as I do it it's uncomfortable? A bit ironic, don't you think?"

"What are ya tryin' to do here?" With a few steps, the guy was head to head with Tommy, making you take a quick jump back. "Ya think ya gotta prove you've got some big balls here?"

"Me?" Tommy pointed to himself with a chuckle, "Nah, I just wanted to know if I gotta play translator." His comment got a look of confusion from the man in return. "I didn't you understood the English language because I'm pretty sure she said she wasn't interested, but you just... ignored that?"

"Ya makin' fun of me?"

"Am I?" Tommy continued to nag at the guy, making you take a step forward, trying to reach for him.

"Tommy, don't-" only to get pushed back by the dirty-blonde man.

"Get the fuck away!" He shoved you, making you stumble backwards, hitting the back of another guy, to whom you quickly excused yourself.

The younger brother looked at you in concern, but as soon as he saw you safe on your feet, his attention was back on the drunk in front of him.

He sighed, "Look," he motioned towards you. "Now I have to hit you. Because you just hit her."

"I didn't hit her," the guy scoffed, "I barely even pushed her."

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you did that," with a strong force, Tommy pushed into the guy's chest. "Maybe even a little harder, like this," and repeated it with some added strength.

In clear annoyance, the drunk man shoved Tommy's hands off of him, only giving it another second before he let his fist swing. The Miller brother was quick to react, moving out of the way before landing the first official punch to the guy's side. The blonde groaned at the impact, only letting it affect him for a split moment before pushing Tommy further away. It gave him the time and space to land his own first hit to Tommy's face, making you gasp out loud.

The entire's bar attention was now on the two fighting men, creating some space for them as they stumbled across the floor. You could only hear a few mumbles around you as your eyes were fixed on the fight in front of you. You tried to look for Maria but a crowd had formed right in front of a bar with mostly men, taller than you, hiding the counter area.

One punch made Tommy land on his ass as the other guy whipped his hand over his lips, you guessed there was some blood. You took the opportunity, to get down on the floor, your hands on the Miller's arm.

"Come on, stop this, don't waste-"

But before you could finish it, somebody shoved your body away from Tommy, making your back hit the wooden pole right behind you. You groaned out loud, closing your eyes for a second.

"Y/N!" You heard Maria's voice as she suddenly appeared, standing in front of the crowd with a glass bottle in her hand. In the next moment, she held the bottle up, swinging it to let it hit the back of the drunk guy's head before he could land another punch to Tommy's face as he straddled him. The man fell to the side, right by your feed, making you flinch away.

"Are you okay?!" Maria was right by your side, crouching down as she helped you up.

You nodded, "Yeah, yeah," you had only hit your back, which would definitely leave a mark, but not much else. Your worry lay on the guy who hadn't gotten up yet. No, not the clearly drunk one.

"Tommy," you rushed over, watching him as he groaned, blood rushing down from his nose. You couldn't even tell if there was blood coming from his mouth as well.

He huffed out, "Ah, fuck," trying to steady himself with his hands on the floor as he pushed himself up.

"Jesus Christ," Maria whispered out loud. The hushed voices around you got louder, making her raise her voice, "Everybody either get back to their table or out of here! There's nothing to see here!" After the first guy went after her demand, the rest followed.

"Tommy," you sighed, "I think we should get you to a hospital."

"Are you okay?" He suddenly asked you. You nodded quickly,

"I am. But you don't look good."

"N-No... no hospital," he told you trying to stand up more, making you stumble up as well as you tried to hold onto him even though he was putting half of his weight on you already.

"You have to, Tommy. Your nose is probably broken."

"If only the nose," Maria commented, suddenly having an ice pack and some paper tissues in her hold. "You wanna take my car? Get him to the hospital... I'll see what I can do about... this one," she nodded towards the guy on the floor that was slowly coming back to consciousness. "Probably have to call the police."

"Did that already!" Out of nowhere, Steven suddenly shouted out from behind the bar, making your best friend roll her eyes.

"Where the fuck were you before?!"

"I can't let... I...," Tommy groaned, not finishing his sentence as his mouth seemed to hurt.

"Take my car," Maria quickly told you, handing you the ice pack, tissues and the keys from her bag pocket, "And call me once you're there. I'll handle this here." She also got your bag for you.

You smiled at her, "Thank you," to which she nodded, giving you a soft touch on the back before you tried to move Tommy towards. He seemed to be okay walking, but his face was clearly in pain as he held his head down. The walk towards Maria's car was quiet, only his groans and moans filled the air between the two of you.

In the car, you put on the radio, trying to let the silence not become awkward.

"Are you okay?" Tommy asked you again.

You nodded, "You asked me that already. I'm okay. Only hit my back."

"Fucking idiot...," he mumbled, mostly to himself probably, but you shook your head.

"You too," you told him, "Why would you start a fight like that? I thought those days were over."

"I ain't lettin' a man talk like that to a woman, no matter what. And I know you, so I'm definitely not walkin' past that," he defended himself, almost raising his voice, but the situation told him not to.

The rest of the ride, the two of you listened to whatever was coming from the radio.

At the hospital, the two of you were told to wait in the waiting room as his injuries were not severe enough for him to be put in the emergency room. If it wasn't as late as it was, you would've started something with the personnel, but you already had enough of that for one night. They did offer you a new ice pack though and some more tissues.

You took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs next to Tommy, trying to find a bearable position. "Should I call Joel?" You asked him, knowing how close the two seemed to be.

Tommy groaned, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, "Fuck..." He thought for a second before continuing, "No... let's not do that. Unless you really wanna see him." One quick glance to the side, you found him smirking at you, giving you a quick wink. Even with all the blood on his face, this man was still able to joke around...

"You...," you shook your head in disbelief, "You're in the hospital. This is about you. I think he should know about his little brother being in the hospital," you snapped at him, but he only continued to smile.

"But you want to see him again, right?"

"Tommy-"

"I heard you in the diner."

Your head snapped to glance at him. The annoying grin was still plastered on his face.

"What?"

He chuckled. "I left my hat in the booth. When I came back to get it I saw you dancing around the kitchen singing that he'll see you next week."

With a pout on your lips, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and turned your head to look away. You knew there was no blame on him for this situation and all the blame was to be put on you, but you couldn't help but feel sulky towards him.

You scoffed, "It's not nice to listen to other people's conversations."

"But now I can help you," he nudged your side, hissing softly as he moved. You stared at him, trying to figure out if he was in serious pain and if you needed to get a nurse. He seemed fine as the smirk returned.

"Get your nose fixed first, then we'll talk."

With another groan, he sat forward, suddenly reaching into the back pocket of his jeans before falling back into the seat with a groan. He handed you his phone.

"Call him."

"Tommy, you didn't want him here. I'm not-"

"He'll be pissed at me, yes. But y'all can talk while I'm in there," you glanced at you, "Get to know each other a little better," wiggling with his eyebrows. You couldn't help but roll your eyes, your lips curling up against your will. He nudged the Nokia closer to you, giving you no other possibility but to take it.

"I'll be right back," you mumbled, getting a giggle out of him.

"Start the call with 'hey babe'!" He shouted after you, putting on a fake high-pitched voice to mock you. A harsh 'ssh' from one of the nurses made him sink back into the chair and you turned around and threw him a quick middle finger before disappearing further into the corridor.

You pressed the buttons to get to his contact list, not finding anyone under J that wasn't a girl's name, so you decided to just look through the entire thing, starting with A, until you finally reached B.

Barbara, Beatrice, Billy, Boobs-

He had a contact for 'Boobs'? You shook your head.

Brother Old.

This could either be someone else, an old number of Joel or, as you had hoped, Joel's current number. You pressed to call it, putting the phone up to your ear. After four rings, somebody on the other side picked up.

"What?" An annoyed groan erupted through the speaker. The familiar roughness to his voice was unlike any other's.

"Hey Joel, it's Y/N," you answered him. Some shuffling around seemed to happen in the background before his voice rang through your ear again.

"Y/N? What's going on? What happened?" He hastily wondered.

You took a second of silence to form a good sentence, just thinking about what he was currently doing or even just looking like. It was in the middle of the night, and just taken from his voice, you'd say you had interrupted his sleep. Did he sleep in a pyjama set? No, he was a dad. A true dad wouldn't sleep in much else but some shirt and boxers. Or maybe he's not wearing anything at all to sleep. You were drifting off.

"Ehm... So... Sorry for calling so late-"

"It's okay, don't worry," he quickly assured you with a heavy breath.

Out of habit, you bit down on your lip before continuing. "I'm calling from the hospital. Tommy got into a fight."

"God damnit..." Joel cursed under his breath. There were more incoherent sounds in the background as he spoke. "Which hospital?"

"St. David's."

"Alright, I'm on my way," he told you.

You nodded even though he wouldn't be able to see it, "Okay, we're in the waiting room right at the reception."

"Good, thank you."

"You're welcome, bye."

With a sigh, he put the phone down, ending the call and making your way back into the waiting room.

Tommy lifted his head at the sound of your footsteps getting closer to him.

He grinned at you. "And?"

You shook your head, handing him his phone back. "He wasn't thrilled."

"Ah," he brushed off your answer, "I bet your face will make him happy."

"Joel- Tommy, I mean-"

"I'm already getting confused with him? Wow, I'm honoured," he nudged you as soon as you sat down, the smirk still evident on his face.

"Shut up," you rolled your eyes, not even trying to hide your amusement. "It's late."

"But you do like him."

"I barely know him," you defended yourself.

"But you find him attractive," he continued to nag further.

You nodded. There was no reason to hide it from him if he had already caught your burst of excitement back at the diner. "But I think half the female population of Austin would too."

"But half of the female population of Austin isn't you."

His comment made you turn your head in interest.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" You squinted your eyes at him.

Tommy smiled. "I think I know my brother well enough to notice when he finds someone attractive."

You laughed at his answer. "Wow, you're just gonna out him like that?"

"Somebody's gotta do it," he shrugged, "What else he got a younger brother for." You shook your head in amusement.

You may not be the closest to Tommy, but this was the most time you had ever spent with just him. Plus, he had just admitted to noticing his brother's attraction towards you. That brought a thought to your head.

"Can I ask you something?" It probably wasn't the ideal situation, but oh well, if you already had him sitting right next to you, confined to a chair, why not. Shooting your shots.

"Sure."

"Is there... you know... I mean... with Sarah, I was thinking about like... her mom?"

He shook his head, "Don't worry 'bout that," he let you know, turning to meet your eyes. "It's not my story to tell, but... she's not in the picture."

You almost felt stupid. You had only seen this man a total of three times, yet he had managed to enarmour you and let you think that you suddenly had the right to know everything about his personal life.

"Why?" He asked with the smirk back plastered on his face, "You wanna ask him on a date?" The question took you by surprise, making you open your mouth, ready to defend yourself, but nothing came out. Your lips quivered as you tried to come up with an answer, but Tommy just laughed at your surprised reaction. The rose blush to your cheeks gave you away.

"You should," he told you, "It's been like... God, I don't even know, like... two or three years. Christ, maybe even four."

"Since his last relationship?" You wanted to be careful with your questions, but there was no way when Tommy played open book to you.

He shook his head, glancing at you. "Since his last date."

"Oh..."

So Jimmy was right.

"Yeah," Tommy nodded to himself, "You'd be surprised how many women get scarred off by the whole dad thing." Your lack of answer made him look over again. "But not you."

"Hm?"

"You ask about Sarah. He likes that."

"Well... she's his daughter, so... kinda obvious to ask about her," you were taken aback by the disinterest of the other women he had mentioned.

He shrugged, "Yeah, but like I said... not many care 'bout that."

A few moments of silence followed. Neither one of you seemed to have any will to continue your conversation. You didn't want to keep nagging further and you were pretty sure Tommy had started to doze off in his seat. It gave you some time to think, but a sudden jolt from the man next to you brought you back. He was about to sit up straighter when his eyes caught something behind you making you flinch and duck into the chair again, groaning at the impact.

"What?" You wondered, turning around to only find two police officers in the hallway, talking to a nurse. With a frown, you turned back to the Miller brother. "What?"

"They can't see me like this."

His reaction alarmed you immediately. "Why not?"

He seemed to think about his next answer before spilling out, "I know those guys. And they don't like me. If they see me like this, I'm fucked."

"What?"

"I just got a new job, I can't get another mark in my record."

Your eyes widened, "Your criminal record?" To which he just nodded. "Tommy!" You shouted-whispered at him, making him shush you. "How many fights did you get in."

"A few, okay? Just," he put his finger up to his lips, signing for you to keep quiet. You dropped back against the backrest of the chair with a sigh, shaking your head as you ran both hands over your face, mumbling to yourself.

From the side, you tried to watch the two officers as they passed you, hearing a relieved chunk of air leaving Tommy as he sat up again. You couldn't believe it. You knew he wasn't an angel and you remembered his troubled time as a teenager. What you didn't know was how that time had continued to chase him into adulthood.

Noticing his still slightly on edge stance, you decided to change the subject, hoping to give him some kind of distraction. And it just so happened that you had an actual topic of interest for you personally.

"You think I should ask him out?" A gulp followed your question, unsure if dropping that would reveal itself to be a mistake or not.

"On a date?" Tommy's voice was steady again as he looked at you, his lips curled into a soft smile. You nodded, making him chuckle. "Give him some time and he'll ask you himself."

"You think?"

He nodded but continued. "I mean, you can ask him. I... I don't know how he'd react, to be honest, but he wouldn't leave you hangin'. He's just... he's a traditional southern-"

"Gentleman," you said in union, chuckling together.

"I mean," Tommy started, "You know, if a woman offered herself to me, I would never decline-" You stopped him with a soft shove to his arm, making sure not to be too harsh since you didn't know how severe his injuries were. "But," he pushed your hand away from him, "Joel's a bit more old-fashioned in that way."

"I see," you nodded understandingly. Hearing this in connection to any other man would've probably made a chill run down your spine and the sick feeling of pure disgust bubble in your stomach, but for some reason, it didn't when it came to Joel. Tommy spoke so softly about him being s traditional gentleman, he made it sound good and proper. Not conservative and old.

A nurse's voice, calling out for Tommy made you look up as he tried to get out of his chair. You offered to help him, but he brushed it off, telling you to 'wait here for Joel' with a wink before following the nurse down the hall.

Only a few minutes later, heavy footsteps stomped through the corridor, coming to a stop at the reception. Before the older Miller brother could even ask for information on Tommy, his eyes found you. Curled up on a chair, your eyes closed and your shoulders lifting and dropping in an even beat. With the time now being well over midnight, you had given into your body's pleas for sleep and found some form of comfort in the waiting room chair.

He tried to be as smooth as possible, getting into the chair right next to you, previously occupied by his brother, but even at the slightest sound, you jerked up, lifting your head to find him.

"Hey, sorry for wakin' you," Joel excused himself, brushing his hands over the top of his jeans. He had thrown them on even though they should probably already be in the wash and the shirt was wrinkled as he had fallen asleep in it. His unruly hair, messy and curly, showed the sleep you had woken him up from. But even in this state, which most would describe as dishevelled, he still managed to look good. He looked comfortable. Warm.

You shook your head with a tired smile, covering your mouth as a yawn escaped you. "It's okay."

"How long have been you here?"

"Ehm...," you tried to look around for the clock on the wall. 12:05. "Not too long, like 40 minutes or something."

He nodded, letting a sigh fall from his lips. "What happened?"

You rubbed your eyes, forgetting about the makeup you had put on a few hours before, but it probably was already smudged either way. Unsure if the story Tommy would tell would hold any truth or if he'd make up something, you decided to tell it in whole.

"There was a guy," you started, continuing to explain the entire situation to Joel, meeting his eyes a few times during the story, watching him go from annoyed, to concerned, to slightly irritated. He let you finish before asking further questions.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded, "Yeah. Just hit my back."

Joel frowned, "How?"

"I tried to get to Tommy after he got pushed to the floor, but that idiot threw me against a pole," you let him know, the scowl on his face only deepening. His wrinkles weren't just a sign of age. This man had been frowning too much in his life. Yet, it somehow suited him.

"You don't wanna get that checked? You sure you're okay?" He asked you further, but you just continued to nod.

"I drove here. I'm fine," you shrugged it off. Joel just sighed again, looking around the room before he continued.

"Anyone called the cops?"

"Probably," you answered him honestly. You didn't know for sure, but there was a high chance that you just got out quick enough. His deep breath in and out made you remember the reaction the two officers brought out of Tommy. "But I don't know. Maria said she'd handle it. My friend at the bar," you quickly added.

Joel glanced at you, his elbows digging into his thighs. "That's nice of her. Thank you." But you just nodded again.

Carefully, you decided to get closer. "Tommy mentioned something about a new job..."

"Yeah," the older brother sat himself up straight, letting himself fall back into the chair, "I got him a job at the company I work at. Just carpenter stuff, but... if they find out he was involved in a bar fight," he shook his head, "I don't know. My boss already took him in just because I practically begged him to."

"I see," you answered him, just letting him know you had been listening.

"Thank you for staying here with him. And for bringing him. And thanks to your friend for handling the whole police-" Joel began to ramble, but you were quick to stop him, subconsciously just putting your hand on his upper arm.

"It's okay," you smiled up at him, getting a thankful nod and soft smile in return.

It was only then it hit you.

Not only did this man have the responsibility of raising a nine-year-old girl, but he also was taking care of a man in his mid-to-late twenties. Letting him live with him, making sure he had a job, and picking him up from a hospital after a bar fight. You could see the tiredness on his face, and it didn't only have to do with the fact that he had to get up in the middle of the night. It was years old tiredness. You know it from your father. Carrying the world on his shoulders, dragging him, not letting him live to his full potential. The constant instinct to care and worry following his every step.

On one side, you couldn't help but find it attractive, his primal instict of protection, but on the other, you felt deeply sorry for him, you realised. If he hadn't been a met-three-times 'stranger' you would've offered him a hug. He looked like he could need one.

joel taglist: @corvusmorte @aniia-x3 @skysmiller @lizlil

pedro taglist: @leslieelainetrask @sidelnes

#tlou #the last of us #series #couldn’t love more #Joel miller x reader #Tommy miller #Joel miller #hbo!joel miller #Pedro pascal #x Reader #Pedro pascal!joel miller #fluff #pre-outbreak!joel #hbo!tlou

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