#graham is a man of few texts it seems

[specialagentlokitty]

Lestrade x reader - making it right

Could you do one where the Reader is pregnant with Lestrade's child, but he keeps being oblivious and it's only when Sherlock deduces it that Lestrade realize he's going to be a dad, but Reader is mad at him until Sherlock gives Lestrade money to get Reader her favourite chocolate and flowers and fluffy ending. - Anon 💜

You had been trying to get his attention for the last week, trying to tell your boyfriend for the last week that you were carrying his child, but he was so busy he just didn’t seem to notice any of the clues you left for him.

You tried everything, including showing him photos of baby clothes.

“Aw that’s cute, is that for your friend?”

You rolled your eyes at him and stuffed your phone in your pocket with a heavy sigh and kissed his cheek.

“I’ve gotta go, see you at home?”

“Of course darling.” Lestrade smiled.

You left and went to the only person you could talk to about this since he happened to accidentally walk in while you were talking to your doctor about it.

You went into the flat and looked around for John.

“Hey Sherlock, is John home?”

“Shopping. Why?”

You sighed and sat down in johns chair, holding the cushion close to your chest as you slouched down a little bit.

“I just need to talk to him…”

Sherlock looked at you before looking back to his book.

“He still hasn’t gotten the hint?” He asked you.

“Who? What?”

“Graham.”

You blinked and did a double take before looking at Sherlock.

“You mean Greg?”

“Who?”

“Oh Jesus Christ Sherlock Greg Lestrade? My boyfriend? You know the man I’m dating?”

He quickly clapped his hands together.

“Yes! That’s what I said! Anyways he still hasn’t realised that you’re pregnant.”

“Sherlock how the hell do you know?!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and set his book down, looking at you.

“Well for the last week you’ve been cautious about what you eat. You haven’t been drinking coffee nearly as much as you used to, holding your stomach, morning sickness. Oh and John told me.”

“He can’t keep quiet.”

Sherlock agreed with that and picked up his violin, plucking a few strings as he began to play a soft tune.

You felt yourself relax to the soothing sound, and a smile graced your face as you closed your eyes.

“I’ve tried everything, aside from outright telling him. He either just doesn’t care or he’s really not paying attention to a single thing I say or show him…”

“You could just avoid all of this if you just told him.” Sherlock said.

“At this point I doubt he’ll even listen…”

Sherlock looked at her before he carried on playing his violin.

You were feeling insecure, worried, scared.

You were having doubts, and you were angry at Lestrade, feeling like he was ignoring you and he didn’t really care for anything you had to say to him.

Now, Sherlock wasn’t great with emotions, but he knew these weren’t great feelings, and he knew a pregnant woman shouldn’t be stressed, she should feel supported.

You laid there for a little while, and you had drifted asleep and Sherlock set his violin down just as his door was thrown open which is what made you wake up.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes a little and looked up to see your boyfriend talking to Sherlock.

“(Y/N)? What’re you doing here?”

“Just talking to Sherlock about something, and then I fell asleep. I’m leaving now.”

Lestrade went to kiss you but you just walked away and he stood there feeling a little lost and confused.

You never left without giving him a kiss goodbye, and he didn’t know what to do with himself so he simply just turned back to Sherlock.

“Why did you text me? Make it quick because I need to go.”

“She’s angry with you.”

Sherlock turned around and started to look for something.

“What? No she isn’t. What did you want Sherlock?”

“(Y/N) never leaves sighing kissing you. She always smiles when she sees you, when you came in she was pretty eager to leave. Really what is it like living with such a boring mind?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Bloody hell Lestrade she feels like you’re ignoring her! Like you don’t care about her or anything she’s trying to tell you!” Sherlock exclaimed.

Lestrade’s face dropped and he looked at Sherlock in surprise and sadness.

“W..what…?”

“She’s been trying to tell you she’s pregnant. Go buy her some chocolate and flowers and apologise to her.”

Sherlock shoved his wallet out to the other man who looked at it confused.

“She’s… she things I don’t care…?”

“Please save the pity party for when you’re in your own home.”

Sherlock took his bank card out and handed it over to Lestrade and then he went and sat on his chair.

“She’s.. she’s pregnant…”

“Are you going to have a mental breakdown? Because if you are I don’t want to be here for that.”

“Sherlock! This is serious!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gestured to his bank card.

“Like I said, buy her chocolates, flowers and whatever else you want I don’t care. Just go say sorry she’ll forgive you.”

Lestrade stayed where he was for a moment.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Lestrade nodding, taking the bank card he thanked his friend and rushed to the shops to find everything he could.

He had to search a few stores in order to find your favourite flowers, and he brought a few different kinds of chocolates and he made his way straight home.

He didn’t know if you were back yet, but he was praying you were because he really had to talk to you.

Rushing through the front door he quickly closed it and stopped in the hallway.

“(Y/N)?”

He heard some movement from the living room and he walked in to see you wiping a few tears from your face, doing anything you could to avoid looking at him.

He set the things he got for you on the table and sat next to you.

“Darling I’m so, so sorry…” he whispered.

You sniffled a little.

“It’s fine…”

“No, no it’s not fine (Y/N) you’re sat here crying because of me. You shouldn’t be crying because of me…” he said softly.

You shook your head.

“I’m crying because I dropped my ice cream…”

Lestrade leant forward and saw where you had in fact dropped your ice cream on the floor and he cracked a little smile and a laugh.

“I’ll clean it and get you some more, wait here.”

He cleaned up the mess first, and when he came back from the kitchen he handed you some more ice cream which you sniffled and took.

He sat down again and look at you but you still wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t listen or care, I.. I never meant to do anything like that…”

You didn’t say anything.

“I.. I.. I Uhm got you some chocolate, and flowers, see?”

He quickly gathered everything to show you what he had gotten for you and you set your bow finished ice cream down.

You looked at the flowers, the different kinds of chocolates, soon looking really expensive.

“Greg.. you didn’t have to…”

“No, no but I did. Okay? I did, because I never meant to upset you and I want to say sorry for it and Sherlock gave me his bank card but I didn’t know what chocolates you would want so I had to get a few just in case.”

“Sherlock gave you his bank card?”

Lestrade nodded his head and set everything on the table again before turning to face you, taking your hands in his.

“I know….”

You didn’t say anything.

“I know your pregnant and I can’t believe as someone who’s in the police force I didn’t realise what you were trying to tell me.” He sighed.

You smiled a little and squeezed his hands.

“It’s okay Greg, okay? You were tired and stressed, I understand…”

He looked up at you with puppy dog eyes, and gave you a gentle smile.

“Will you forgive me?”

You looked at him and you couldn’t help but smile even more as you got lost in those soft brown eyes of his.

You knew ever since his ex wife he was always going to be unsure if what he was doing was really the right thing, but you were prepared for that.

You reached around his neck and hugged him softly.

“Of course I will you moron… I love you…”

Lestrade smiled brightly and let out a sigh as he quickly hugged you back, burying his face into your shoulder.

“I love you to…”

You pulled away, kissing him softly and he eagerly responded, missing the kiss you gave him before you left sherlocks flat.

Lestrade pulled away and gently touched your stomach.

“I can’t.. I can’t believe this.. we’re going to be parents…?”

“We’re gonna be parents, I have an appointment tomorrow if you want to come? I was gonna take John but I’d rather you be there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world darling.”

You smiled and kissed him again.

When you pulled away from the kiss you looked at your loving boyfriend and he watched as a grin snaked across your lips.

“Do you still have his card?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Can we order Chinese?”

Lestrade thought for a second. Sherlock did give his card to Lestrade so he could make it up to you.

“Okay!”

You guys placed your order and while you were waiting his phone chimed.

Reaching over, you picked it up and you both read the message across the screen.

If you’re going to order food with my bank card then you can order some for me and John. S.H.

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 9 - Obsession

Hey look, another piece for this series! Amazing!

This one doesn't really have any plot, but it takes place sometime after she gets back home from the hotel and before Oliver starts texting her all the time. Thank you to Nox for helping me brainstorm this idea!

Taglist: @justplainwhump , @whump-ventures

Masterlist

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.” | Polaroid

Contains: referenced parental death, referenced broken ribs, grief

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There’s an album full of old photos buried in the recesses of her closet. It’s one of the only things she has left from her old life. She never had much in the way of mementos or sentimental items, anyway, and she got rid of almost everything that could tie Cady Graham to Cadence West when she moved. She’s never even shown the photos to Janaysia and Devin, some irrational fear that it might somehow put them in danger holding her back. 

But sometimes, on days like today when she needs comfort or catharsis or something else that she can’t quite name, she pulls out the album, locks the bedroom door, and sits cross-legged on the bed to look through it. 

Her dad was obsessed with this Polaroid camera he found in his parents’ attic when she was a kid. Film was expensive, so there aren’t the copious amounts of pictures that most people take today, but there’s at least one from every birthday, Christmas, and other special occasions, and a few everyday moments scattered in between. On the bottom, white portion of every photo, he’d scribbled the date and a short description in his near-illegible handwriting. 

‘Cadence’s 5th birthday at the park’

‘Cadydid’s first day of school’

‘A new bike for my big girl’

The photos continue into her teen years, the years when she thought she knew everything and that her goofy dad and his stupid Polaroids were so annoying. Everyone else was starting to move to digital, but no, he just had to keep up with his obsession of instant-print, horrible quality photos. Her moods swung back and forth at random, so in some pictures she’s actually smiling, and having a good time, while in others it’s obvious that the smile is forced, merely appeasing her dad. 

There’s one picture in particular that’s always been her favorite. It’s one of very few in the album that her dad is actually in. Their faces are smooshed together, nearly identical eyes and noses side by side, and the framing is all off. Her dad’s ear and half his cheek are cut off by the edge of the photo. It was his attempt at a ‘selfie’, a much more difficult feat without a front-facing camera, and he was being so ridiculous while trying to make it happen that she was laughing aloud when he finally took it. 

That girl in that photo was so innocent, so naïve. She wanted to grow up so badly. Having to do what an adult said instead of going off and living her own life was such a horrible tragedy, or so she thought back then. 

If only she knew. If only she realized how short the time she had left with that precious man was. If only she understood how absolutely horrible life could actually be. Cady presses a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. She would give anything to go back to those days, back to that moment. Back to when she didn’t know pain, when the worst thing that happened to her was not being allowed to date or go to a co-ed party. 

Back to when her dad was her protector and hero. 

Her finger traces the edges of the photo, carefully swiping across his label - ‘Me and my girl’. She sucks in a shaky breath, hand pressed into her still-healing ribs, and rubs tears away with her sweater sleeve. 

“I miss you, dad.”

[sunnydreams17]

(( this is the next chapter to my fanfic for " Hannibal"

I've decided to name the story "A Heart That Bleeds Gold"

If you've not read part 1 of the story here is a link to it!

Hope you all enjoy! ))

" ....please... please let me go... I gave you enough information on the reds! I gave you enough! I told you everything you wanted! I went against my own people to be able to go under the golds radar! Why are you doing this to me th- AH UGH "

A shout of pain rings out in the jail cell. The cold hard floor starting to soak with red blood as the man's stomach was stabbed. Above him was no other then the warlord himself, Hannibal Lector.

" I apologize for leading you on piggy but you've already seen to much and know to much about my activities. I don't need the people under me knowing what I do for fun " Hannibal hums and pushed the knife just a little deeper but made sure not to damage the things he wanted to eat " then again I'm a gentleman and I can make this less painful for you and allow you to live" Hannibal bends down slowly making eye contact with the man " do you know of anyone named Will Graham? Anyone at all? Come come speak to me~ or I'll just have to get you to speak in other ways "

The pain was to much and the man felt as if he would pass out but hearing he might live allowed him to have some fighting chance " Will?" He whispers and closed his eyes " there are many people with that name.... most of them already dead or missing in action in the war." He opens his eyes again " though there was one said to have just ran away for some reason. I....I heard it was because of what he is"

" and what is he?" This peaked Hannibals interest now " what is he?

" i....I'm not sure it's classified even to me " he groans and lifted his hand " please I've told you all you wanted....I beg you let me go "

Hannibals eyes showed no light in them as he slowly pulled the knife out. Whoever Will Graham was he was a naughty man. A man that could face death for being a red living as a gold or even worse " hmmm~ yes, you're right. " Hannibal got up looking at the soaked knife " you've done well

" you'll let me go then!?" The man held his stomach trying to cover up the wound and stop the bleeding

" oh? What made you think I would let you go? You're a naughty boy~ I only said you can live. I never said how long" Hannibal turned away walking to the wooden door " be grateful " he said before he left the room closing and locking the door behind him.

.............

It had been a few days after the huge party the king had held. Will was grateful for the end of his suffering and glad he rushed out of there before he could lose it anymore then he had already. Though in his rush he realized right when he got home that he had taken Hannibals suit. Which meant that Will had to find someway to return it but it's been a good 2 weeks and his not seen the man for so long. Will was thinking of just selling it off because he didn't want anything to do with the ruthless warlord. Though it seems luck was never on Wills side now was it?

Will had walked into the headquarters of the "Royal FBI Academy" he was a part time teacher here and also did some cases when Jack needed him. Today was one of those days where Jack didn't stop texting him to come to the office. Will didn't have much of an idea on what was going on. Though once he got to the office and looked through the glass window seeing other people in the room who were in the royal military uniforms. This peaked Wills interest and also worried him. What was the military doing at the academy? Though the more Will looked around the more worried he got and that's when he spotted Hannibal himself standing in the room. His uniform was a black color and neatly pressed on. Everything seemed to fit this man like a glove. As if no clothing in the world would ever dare make this man less then what he was.

Will wanted to turn away and rush home but he pushed open the doors to Jack's office and walked in. The room was filled with chatter. Young men from lower ranks in the military sat on the sides of the table while Jack was at the head and Hannibal at the other head of the table. Will spotted one seat and walked towards it sitting right next to Jack.

" will? Glad you made it " Jack nods his head to the side a little. He was dressed up in a nice dark blue suit. If Will knew that this was a damn fashion show he would have just worn the suit Hannibal let him used.

" what's going on? " Will asked and glanced towards the soldiers sitting next to them. He leans in so Jack could be the only one to hear " why is the military here?" He whispers softly and felt the hairs on his arms stand up. He glanced to the side of him and saw Hannibal watching him with amused eyes.

" no need for whispering " Hannibal smiled and placed his pen down. The candle lights around the room lit up everywhere except where Hannibal was. It casted a dark shadow around him and made it seem like his eyes were glowing. " what is your question dear Will? "

Will frowns and moves from Jack before he turns his attention to Hannibal " I was just confused on why the military is here. Our unit handles civilian problems so I'm shocked the military is here

" indeed I am too " Hannibal hums " but as you know the war has taken a turn for the worse and even though we are on the winning side...it doesn't mean we aren't facing challenges" Hannibal crossed his legs and grabbed a report passing it to one of his soldiers. The soldiers started to pass it down till Will had it in his hands. Will opens it and was greeted by a picture of dead soldiers. Their bodies shaped in a inhuman way. The birds eye view of the picture showed the bodies had made some sort of face " what is this?" Will whispers

" that's what we are here to find out. More deaths have been reported to be.... not war related at all but our men are dying and that means less soldiers for the golds. Which means we could be outnumbered by the reds "

" which means " will finishes " the reds could use this to their advantage " he gulped

" indeed, that's why we're here to ask for help. My hands are filled with other matters of war and I don't have time to have my men investigate this " Hannibal taps his finger softly against his pocket watch " but as the leader of the military I also need to know what is endangering my men at all times and whoever this person is... clearly is a threat to not only my men but also the war effort. I heard your mind is a special one Will"

" special? I wouldn't call it that " Will places the photos down

" though that is what I would call it. I heard you've found almost 90% of your killers because of that mind of yours. I can't help but wonder what goes on in it " Hannibal sits tall, this man even with sitting made it seem he was demanding for power and respect " I've already spoken to Jack and his said that it's alright for you to join my unit and help us in the war

" what!? " Will lost all his composure. He didn't care if he got rude looks from the fellow soldiers who respected Hannibal " join your unit? Your unit fights in the war.... i... I've already did scannings and it says I'm unfit for war! " he looks at Jack fast " you can't agree to this if I didn't even know this was happening!

" will calm down! " Jack raised his hand slightly " listen, you won't be fighting in the war. You'll be just under commander Hannibals orders and that's it. You won't have to fight at all. Your job is to look into what happened to those men and what is killing them

" his right " Hannibal kept calm pushing the excitement down as he kept a cold yet stern face " you won't be fighting in the war at all. You'll be under me so I'm able to get a deeper understanding on what's happening to my men out there and also so I can protect you from the war.

Will felt like he was falling down a deeper hole that he couldn't get out of. The commander of the military is basically telling him he had to join his unit and Jack was no help either because he basically gave him up to Hannibal " but joining your unit has special orders by the king. The king will have to personally allow me to join you

" that's all taken care of dear Will" Hannibal takes out a paper " the king has already allowed it. All we need is for you to say yes. Will, I know this isn't something you might not want to do but you'll be saving lives. You'll be saving your fellow country men's lives "

Though those men weren't his country men. The golds were Wills enemies and it made Will sick to know he would be helping the golds out. He half hoped the reds would find someway to destroy the golds but with Hannibal leading the golds it was unstoppable. Though, whoever this killer was it could pose hope or even a threat. Who knows if this killer wasn't doing the same to the reds.

All eyes were on Will and Will knew he couldn't say no at all. That would make him suspicious and he couldn't be suspicious in front of these men " .... okay, I'll do it then "

Hannibal claps his hands softly " good, since that's settled. I think we can all rest easy tonight. We can dismiss this meeting."

Jack nods " agree and will be sending Will down to the outer walls of the kingdom to where the military camps are by tomorrow " Jack gets up " thank you commander "

Hannibal nods and gets up. This movement made the other soldiers get up too " no need to thank me " he gave a small nod and left the room. His soldiers following after

Jack turns to Will and sighs " don't give me that look"

" I will give you this look because you handed me over to the military like a golden goose egg! You think I'm happy about this? Just because I'm under the protection of the commander doesn't mean I'll be 100% safe. War isn't 100% safe anything could happen! " Will shouted but went silent when Jack gave him a look

" Hannibal is a very carful man he can handle even you. I trust him with you and you should know that I wouldn't put you into danger"

What a damn lie Jack was spitting! Will was always in danger because of Jack. Maybe not physically but mentally this man pushes him to the edge and everytime his close to falling over he has to fight his way to stay balanced. " next time something like this happens come to me before you send me off to a war zone " is all Will said before he left the office. His whole mood was ruined that was for sure. He was so angry that he started to walk faster and didn't see that he had bumped into someone till he looked up to come face to face with Hannibal. This time the man was alone " I'm sorry" will stumbled back and frowns trying to fix his wrinkled shirt

" oh? Will, no need to apologize it was an accident " Hannibals voice was soft " you seem to not be in a good mood. It must be because of the news yes? "

" no...no of course not. I'm happy that I'm able to serve under the military " though Will couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. This earned Will a hard chuckle from Hannibal

" I don't like when people lie to me " a brush of Hannibals hand against Wills cheek was all that had gotten Will to pay attention to the older man " don't lie to me ever again understood?

Will gulped and his eyes widen as he felt the very soft touch against his cheek. He sighs softly " it was a small lie not a big one "

" yet still a lie nonetheless " Hannibal added " it's important for us to build trust and not a bridge of lies. Trust is my main thing, especially when it comes to being at war. " Hannibal moves his hand away slowly " I didn't get to see you in the suit at the party I'm sorry about that. I couldn't see you at all it's a pity everyone else got to see you but not me

Will tried so hard not to roll his eyes at the word trust but god it slipped and he knew Hannibal didn't like that but he couldn't care less " the suit? Oh yes, thank you for it. I still have it I'll make sure to bring it with me tomorrow so you can have it back

" no need " the annoyance Hannibal felt was pushed down and he gave a smile in return " you may keep it. As I said it was my ex- husband's and I have no need for it anymore. " Hannibal looked at the pocket watch and sighs " I really must get going " he takes Wills hand bring it close but instead of kissing Wills hand he kissed Wills wrist " till tomorrow dear Will. " and with that Hannibal turned away and left leaving Will in shock yet again with this man's boldness. Will just had one thing running through his mind. Why did he feel like he was stepping into the lions den?

[dilfdemolisher]

PERSEPHONE - CHAPTER TWO

“Persephone, queen of the underworld. Hades runs Hell, but she’s in charge of punishment.”

Series Summary: A serial killer who works with the police herself has a tumultuous past with Jack Crawford and his new profiler Will Graham. While trying to rebuild what she once broke Hannibal Lecter sticks himself in the middle of the few things she cares about - Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, dead bodies, reference to suicide, drug addiction and homelessness. Slightly comedic drug deal, plentiful of awkward tension and angst

Word Count: 7.5k - thank you endlessly to the amazing @whipitgod for helping me edit this, there's no words to describe how appreciative I am for you to give your time to oversee my writing, but I hope a thank you can suffice<3

You step out of your taxi, the Nichol’s home ahead of you. You can feel the sorrowful atmosphere of their house emanating from down the street. You requested that the driver drop you off far from the residence. At the time, it sounded smarter; you could be the one to walk up to Will and Jack, who're standing just outside the house. You could be the one to confidently initiate conversation, making it seem like the past two years haven't happened and that you've moved on. But now that your theory is in practice, you feel much more cowardly.

As you take your steps forward, Jack looks at you with a sharp nod. Will, whose back is facing you, whips his head around and makes eye contact with you. His face was already so emotionless, but you swear it drops more. You're sure he knew you were coming; Jack only replied to your text with, “See you soon”. But there's no way he didn't know you were coming, so he’s just upset to see you.

You can’t blame him, you left. Hell, you're upset to see him, not because he did anything but because he reminds you of what you’ve done. Not only that, but you know if he saw the bloody amalgamation you are now, something that so closely emulates but is just uncanny and hollow enough to be able to feel something's off. He’d be disgusted.

Embarrassment tightens its grip around you as your hand hesitantly lifts for a feeble wave. Will fully pivots his body around to face you.

“Hi.” You shamefully mumble, the weight of your own self-doubt pressing down on every syllable. Fuck, this was going so much better in your head. 15 minutes ago, you were so sure of yourself that you could approach with confidence, but now this feels mortifying.

You can see the thoughts jumble in Will's head. He’s not sure if he should speak or if he even wants to.

Behind you, Jack emits an exasperated sigh, his footsteps signaling his retreat toward the home. With a final glance at Will, you follow your temporary boss.

With three loud, deliberate knocks, Jack announces your presence at the doorstep of the grieving parents' house. Inside, a symphony of shuffling feet accompanies the opening of the door, revealing a man—presumably Elise's father and his wife—standing closely behind him.

“I’m Jack Crawford, I'm with the BAU; we’re here to discuss your daughter, Elise Nichols.” Jack says, keeping his voice stoic and stable.

The father's eyebrows shoot up in recognition. "Oh yes, of course, of course. Um, who are you?" He inquires, his gaze flickering between you and Will. You hear Will take a sharp breath inward and speak, “I’m a Special Agent.” He manages, his discomfort evident.

“Oh yes, yes.” The mother chimes in; her eyes linger on you.

"I specialize in forensics," you offer with a warm smile, hoping to ease the tension. However, the warmth quickly dissipates as their expressions falter into fear, immediately assuming the worst. "I, um, also dabble in profiling, but officially, I'm in forensics.”

Jack exhales audibly, breaking the awkward silence. "Shall we step inside?" he suggests, his tone firm.

The parents retreat slightly, allowing space for you all to enter. "Yes, of course," they murmur in unison, their desperation evident in their every movement, a silent plea echoing in their eyes for the return of their beloved daughter.

“Take a seat.” The woman says,

"We'll stand, but thank you. Please feel free to get comfortable," Jack replies courteously, closing the door behind him with a soft click, sealing off the outside world and enclosing them within the cocoon of grief that suffocates the room.

The father makes a few unintelligible noises before putting himself together and starting to speak. “She could have gone off by herself. She was a very interior young woman. She didn’t like living in a dorm. I could see how the pressure of school might have gotten to her. She likes trains. Maybe she just got on a train and… ” He trails off, uncertain.

Will's gaze drifts downward to his boots as the mother timidly adds, “She looks like the other girls.”

"She fits the profile," Jack asserts matter-of-factly, punctuating his statement with a nod of affirmation.

Mr. Nichols looks at Jack and asks, “Could Elise still be alive?” He ventures, desperation lacing his voice.

“We simply have no way of knowing.” Jack says. You don't know how he does it, not console. Maybe it’s because he does not need to be performative; maybe it’s because it’s so natural for him, like it used to be for you.

“How’s the cat?” Will interjects. Oh, how you’ve missed hearing his voice.

Both of the parents look entirely confused. “What?”

“How’s your cat?” Will repeats, his tone gentle yet insistent, “Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat weird when you came home? It didn’t eat all weekend, it must have been hungry.” He explains.

The Nichols look at each other, confused for a moment, unsure of how to respond, “I didn’t notice.” Says the husband.

With a subtle nod to Jack, Will gestures for him to follow as they move aside, their conversation veering into a more discreet realm. You don't join; you figure Will would rather keep his distance from you. They take a few steps away before Will begins speaking. “He took her from here.” Will says low. You hear both of the parents gasp as he continues his. “She got on a train. She came home. She fed the cat. And he took her.”

Jack pulls out his phone and starts to dial immediately. “The Nichols house is a crime scene. I need an ERT immediately. Zeller, Katz, Jimmy Price.”

In response, the couple springs to their feet; their agitation is palpable. "Would you mind if I took a look at your daughter's room?" You inquire politely.

Mr. Nichols steps forward and says. “The police have been in and out of there all day.” He says exasperated.

“That's fine.” You reassure. “I’m not necessarily looking for evidence or DNA. I just want to see it to get a better understanding of her. If you don't mind, bringing my kit is really just a formality.” You explain while giving it a pat.

The father remains silent, offering only a nod as he leads the way. You follow closely, your hand delving into your bag to retrieve a pair of gloves. A glance over your shoulder reveals Will doing the same, his movements mirroring yours with quiet efficiency. Brief, awkward eye contact passes between you before both of you swiftly redirect your gazes, focusing on the father who stands sentinel before his daughter's bedroom door, a silent guardian of her sanctuary.

With a steadying breath, you address him, "May we enter, sir?" You sense the gravity of the situation settling upon him, the realization dawning that this is no longer a mere inquiry from the local authorities but a visitation from the FBI.

As the father reaches for the doorknob, Will intervenes. “I’ll get that. Mr. Nichols, would you put your hands in your pockets and avoid touching anything, please?” He instructs, his words tinged with a hint of frustration.

“Oh. My wife and I have been in and out all day.” So the police never told you not to contaminate your daughter's crime scene. Great.

“You can hold that cat if it’s easier.” Says Will.

With gloved hands, you turn the knob and push open the door, the hallway light spilling into the dimly lit room. Elise's form lies motionless on her bed, her peaceful repose. Her greying body faces the ceiling and her arms are by her side, belying the tragedy that has befallen her.

Her father utters her name, his voice thick with emotion. Both you and Will quickly turn to face him, with Will raising a gloved hand to halt any further movement from the father.

There's a glimmer of hope in Mr. Nichols' eyes as he calls out for his daughter. “Elise?” A desperate plea for the impossible to be true, for his daughter to awaken from this nightmare and return to him unharmed.

You’re uncertain of the appropriate response when a parent finds their previously missing teenage daughter lying dead on her mattress. Though you imagine the best reaction to have is to console him, “I am so sorry, sir,”

You can see the moment reality crashes onto Mr. Nichols, his eyes widening in horror as he takes a shuddering breath, his entire being tensing with anguish. With a hollow thud, the cat slips from his grasp, forgotten at his feet, his gaze cemented on his deceased daughter as you hear Will call for Jack.

2 YEARS EARLIER

The DNA wasn’t a match for the victim, but it was a match for Patrick Glynn; his rap sheet read like a litany of woes—a DUI, allegations of domestic violence, and a trail of police calls marking his descent into chaos. His current whereabouts are unknown. Once a successful businessman fell into drugs after his only child committed suicide, he now spends his time begging his ex-colleges for money to prick a needle into his arm once again. Though, no history of mental illness.

He grew up in an affluent family, got a woman pregnant; they both decided to co-parent and seemed to live a balanced life. Up until his daughter's death, after he had started his affair with drugs. First, what was probably just a rail of coke seemed to spiral out of control as his assistant found a burnt spoon he left on his desk, prompting a drug test that came back overwhelmingly positive. He lost his job, therefore his money, his house, and everything but his sleeping bag that he sleeps on the Virgina streets with. Or should be; he hasn't been seen in weeks.

His peers assumed he was dead, that he'd overdosed somewhere and that his body’s still yet to be found. The question that Jack put into everybody's head is why. Why was Glynn’s DNA at the crime scene?

Jack's voice sliced through the fog of your thoughts. You blink, suddenly aware of the sterile surroundings of the briefing room. Dr. Bloom was chattering about the brains of psychopaths and how some parts of the brain process empathy differently. The monster that was able to commit a crime as heinous as the one you’re all dealing with now would have to be someone so cognitively distant from society.

You shake your head as if you’re trying to remove the needless ramblings from your skull. “Parden?” You murmur, your attention snapping back to the present moment.

Jack clenches his jaw slightly, clearly frustrated by your lack of attention to the matter. “The attachments—were they made pre- or post-mortem?”

“Attachments.” What an odd choice of word you think to yourself. “Everything is indicative of it happening postmortem. The preliminary autopsy also showed severe bruising and ligature marks around the wrists and ankles, which could indicate the victim was bound for periods of time.”

Brian's voice cut through the tension, injecting a note of grim reality into the conversation. "There was content found in the victim's stomach as well. Most of it was fully digested but seems to be all pig feed; there were also signs of dehydration."

Dr. Bloom gives a tight lip smile to the both of you. Something that you assume was just meant to be for acknowledgement but it felt a bit snooty. You're honestly not sure why; it could be you just in your head, still embarrassed from your brief dissociation earlier. Or it could just be her appearance; everything about the doctor looks so sharp. Her cheekbones are prominent, and she has the kind of bone structure that demands attention. Her haircut is shorter and lands just above her collarbone, with dark, blunt layers that surround her head. Her mouth also seems to rest in a frown. It makes sense, though; if you had to pick into the brains of psychopaths for a paycheck, you fear you’d have some sort of permanent scowl on your face as well.

“The victim was missing for five days.” She says while raising her chin. “That suggests an elaborate kill ritual for a serial killer.”

Now that caught your attention. “It was just one body; how do you know it's a serial killer?” You interject, unable to mask your scepticism.

Her face quickly turns to you. “I doubt this was his first kill. Those are usually more spontaneous, this was planned ahead of time and a lot of thought went into it.” The more she speaks, the more confident she grows, though you have to disagree. This could very well be a first kill, just a very well-thought-out, methodical one. You can’t imagine that a first kill from this killer could be sloppy in the slightest.

Despite your reservations, you hold your tongue, deferring to her expertise. After all, she was the psychologist, your job is to stay in a dark little room that's your office.

“I’m thinking we’re looking for someone at least in their 30’s.” She continues, “Intelligent, organised. Takes great pride in his work. I think he’d enjoy the fact that we’re talking about him right now.”

Jack nods in silent agreement before questioning, "You think there will be more?"

"I would be surprised if there aren’t. Any suspects?" Dr. Bloom's inquiry hung in the air.

“Yes.” You respond, the sound emerging a tad too loudly from your mouth. "A drop of Patrick Glynn's blood was discovered at the crime scene, originating from his nasal cavity. It appears to be drug-induced, with traces of cocaine present within the sample."

Jack immediately continues the moment you cease speaking. "Alright, let's broaden our interviews with the victim's friends and coworkers," he declares, his voice commanding attention.

"We need to pinpoint where the victim intersected with the killer." His gaze shifts to you, a silent directive embedded within his eyes. "You stay on the DNA," he directs firmly before exchanging a wordless glance with Bloom. The doctor starts gathering her papers that she previously set down as she speaks. “Thank you,” she says politely before walking out of the room.

Jack's words to you hung in the air like a silent reprimand, a gentle reminder that your role in this investigation was strictly defined. You had a tendency to delve into matters beyond your expertise, often veering into the realm of detective work where your contributions were unnecessary, if not unwelcome.

Dr. Bloom's presence reinforced the point—her expertise in psychology far outweighed your own, and her insights held sway over the collective understanding of the case. Despite your consistent eagerness to lend a hand in cases, Jack's command served as a subtle cue to step back and resist the urge to insert yourself where you didn't belong.

As the others rise from their chairs, departing the briefing room, you settle into yours. You recess into your own thoughts. Frustration simmered in the pit of your stomach, a stubborn defiance against the prospect of being sidelined.

The feeling was born from a sense of injustice, a gnawing resentment at the notion of being replaced. You have poured your heart and soul into assisting with cases, going above and beyond the call of duty in pursuit of justice. You’ve delved into tasks far beyond your designated role, driven by a relentless determination to solve the unsolvable, asking for nothing in return—not even a fucking raise—and Jack does what? Find your replacement the moment you get a little queasy at a crime scene. Bullshit.

You’ve helped in so many aspects of cases that are not your obligation, all for the sake of solving the case. You never even asked for a raise and what? Find your replacement all because you got a little queasy at the crime scene, bullshit.

But to be cast aside so easily, to have your contributions overlooked in favour of someone new—it was a bitter pill to swallow. As you sat in silence, stewing in your frustration, a stubborn resolve took root within you. You may have faltered, but you refused to be sidelined. If he wants to find a replacement for you, he can. You can just do your own detective work off-hours.

PRESENT DAY

You are in the hallway, floundering around, waiting until Will has finished his…thing. It’s a bad habit, you know, but you can’t help but stare at the framed photos in the homes of the victims. A portrait of what once was, before their bodies had begun to decompose. Just a moment of what was forever captured into a rectangle that hangs on the wall.

Jack and Brian hurry past you, their footsteps echoing down the corridor. You feel a fleeting brush of Zeller's coat against yours before he disappears into the victim's bedroom. You can’t help the curiosity that tugs at you, compelling you to follow.

"You’re not supposed to be here." Jack's voice carried through the walls, a sharp reprimand aimed at an unseen intruder. Intrigued, you creep closer, your footsteps soft against the floorboards.

Inside the room, the scene unfolded before you like a macabre tableau. Will, Jack, Brian, and Beverly clustered around the bed, their expressions a mixture of determination and unease. Beverly's voice cut through the tension, her words tinged with excitement as she revealed her findings.

"Found antler velvet in two of the wounds," she announces, her gaze flickering towards the door where you stood. “It seems like she was gored. I was looking for velvet in the other wounds but I was interrupted.” Beverly continues, alluding to Will.

Will's gaze meets yours briefly, his expression inscrutable before he turns away, his attention drawn to the window, looking at the street full of police cars that sit on the street.

“Deer and elk pin their prey, put all their weight on the antlers and try to suffocate them. That’s how they would kill a fox or a coyote.” Brian interjects, his scepticism evident in his tone.

Jack's voice cut through the debate. “Elise Nichols was strangled and suffocated; her ribs were broken.” His words carrying the weight of authority.

“It’s not rutting season,” Brian counters once again, his disbelief evident. “Male deer aren’t competing for female deer this time of year.”

Will ceases his silence and joins the discussion. “Antler velvet is rich in nutrients, it actually promotes healing. He may have put it there on purpose.” His voice pierced the tense atmosphere, words landing with a weight that seemed to reverberate through the room. Each syllable felt like a punch to the gut, a reminder of the strain that had settled between you too.

You were once a sense of comfort around him and now you make him tense. You watch as he stiffens, his body tensing every time he hears the sound of your voice or looks at you. His back straightens and his shoulders rise so close to his ears that you almost wonder if they're going to touch. That's not what you wanted; it’s why you left in the first place. The prospect of death is better than harming Will. You had hoped to spare him from the turmoil that plagued your own path, to shield him from the darkness that was consuming you.

And now that you’ve come back, you realize it was all for nothing. That coming back dug up the grave of what once was between you. Not only that but joining a case that he’s on is like throwing the dirt-covered bones of friendship in his face and laughing.

Jack's voice pulls you from your muddled thoughts, “You think he wanted to heal her?”

Will quickly exhales; a subtle tremor runs through his body, a sign of his nervous system struggling to find equilibrium. It was a reflexive response, a subconscious attempt to quell the rising tide of tension that threatened to overwhelm him. You know it's from the entirety of the situation that's been placed on all your laps yet, despite the rational understanding of the external pressures at play, a nagging sense of guilt gnaws at you like a dog with a bone. It’s a persistent voice in the back of your mind, whispering accusations of fault and responsibility.

Jack's words cut through the somber atmosphere. “He put her back where he found her.”

Will's gaze remained fixed on Elise's body, his eyes holding a haunted expression as he spoke, “Whatever he did to the others, he couldn’t do it to her.”

“Is this his golden ticket?” The detective asks Will.

“No.” He shakes his head, his gaze never leaving Elise's still form. “This is an apology.”

The word hung in the air, an apology. It's caught in Will's throat like a bitter pill. He ran a hand over his forehead, the strain of the moment etched into the lines of his face. "Does anyone have any aspirin?"

2 YEARS AGO

The victim, Cristopher Myers, seemingly ate himself to death. His stomach was abnormally large, even for a man his size and the interior wall had been ripped open. He had food shoved down his throat till he almost burst, though the cause of death was actually sepsis from the unhygienic and faulty procedures the man went through.

A one-of-a kind kill, and yet you’re tasked with doing blood work for a case where a woman was stabbed by her boyfriend, who was seen covered in blood, driving away from the scene when you could be giving your insight into this case off hours.

Despite Jack's request, you’ve been diving into the case. And something good came out of it—you found Glynn’s dealer and were looking at him. You will say that investigating unofficially comes in handy when you don’t need to go about things cautiously and legally to avoid a lawsuit.

As you step out of the safety of the car, the door closes softly behind you, walking into the darkness of the city. Across the street, the figure of Glynn's dealer loomed in the dim light, his back turned to you.

With a cautious glance at both sides of the street, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement at the irony of the situation. Here you are, approaching a known drug dealer who had ties to a suspected murderer, and yet you still find it important to heed the warnings your mother would give to you as a child about road safety.

“Hey!” you shout out to catch his attention. The dealer turns to face you, his hand lingering in his jacket pocket. Good to know he’s probably strapped you suppose.

"Um, are ya’ selling?" You stammer, your confidence faltering in the face of his guarded demeanour. It wasn't the smooth delivery you intended, though; you doubt a junkie looking for a fix wouldn’t be the most cheery.

Drawing closer, his gruff appearance becomes more noticeable in the offcast from the far streetlamps. “Who’s asking?”

Summoning all the guile you could muster, you concocted a lie on the spot. “Me. The dude who usually sells to me just up and disappeared. He mentioned buying from you a couple times so I was hoping you could hook me up.”

You see his guarded demeanour drop for a moment; he hasn't heard from his customer either. “Who?”

“Pat.” You say, hoping the nickname will subtly nod to your nonexistent relationship with a missing man.

His face flashes with recognition. “I ain’t seen Patrick in about,” his eyes trailing up to the sky while pondering the time. “Three weeks. I heard him and a few buddies were sleeping at that old school they’re bouta’ tear down.”

“Shit,” you say before you even have time to think. The murder was committed about a week ago, which gives Glynn plenty of time to torture the victim. It’s only circumstantial, but it could be evidence.

Before you had time to fully process the revelation, the dealer's next question brought you back to the task at hand. "What do you want?"

You'd almost forgotten the original purpose of the interaction amidst the whirlwind of information. "Coke," you blurt out, feeling a surge of adrenaline as you watch him sling his backpack onto the sidewalk.

"How much?" he asks, his demeanour shifting to that of a salesman.

“3 grams?” You reply, assuming that's an appropriate amount.

"250,” he says while pulling out three little bags of the white powder, presumably containing a gram each. The little bags are honestly kind of cute despite the illicit substances in them, you think to yourself while grabbing the cash out of your pocket. You’re out of tens and fives, only having twenties so just give him an extra ten.

As he begins to count the cash, you see his eyebrows furrow and his mouth open to begin to speak, but instead you seize the opportunity to make a swift exit. You grab the little bags out of his hand before walking away and calling out over your shoulder, "Keep the change!" with a forced cheeriness that felt out of place in the shadowy alleyway.

As you settle into the driver's seat and discreetly stash the bags of drugs in the glove compartment, a sense of urgency gnaws at the edges of your consciousness. There's a task at hand, a lead to pursue, and time is of the essence. You can deal with disposing of the drugs later. Right now, you punch the address of the old middle school into your GPS, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the dim interior of the car. You’ve got to give it to him; the abandoned school isn't the worst place to hide out. It’s due to be torn down soon, then rebuilt in the spring once the snow is gone.

As you shift the car into drive, a fleeting thought tugs at the corners of your mind—a debate over whether to inform Jack of your newfound information. You’re unsure whether to call Jack to relay your new-found information, but you're also not sure how to explain it. You suppose it’s best to keep your findings to yourself for now.

In the front of the school, doors that were once chained shut have silver chains laid tossed aside on the ground. You step cautiously through the school's entrance, your footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust that coats the floor. The air hangs heavy with the scent of neglect, and the silence is broken only by the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards.

As you venture deeper into the deserted corridors, your flashlight illuminates the remnants of a forgotten institution of learning—classrooms with broken desks and peeling paint, a library with shelves barren of books, and a gymnasium echoing with the ghosts of past games. It’s the gym where you find who you’re looking for.

The stench of death and decay hangs heavy in the air as you take in the sight before you. Patrick Glynn's lifeless form lies sprawled on the gym floor, surrounded by a display of blood-filled jars.

Your mind reels with horror and revulsion at the sight, struggling to comprehend the sheer depravity of what you're witnessing. Each jar is filled to the brim with crimson liquid, the sickening smell of iron mingling with the musty air of the abandoned school.

As you approach closer, the beam of your flashlight reveals the true extent of the horror. Glynn's body is covered in shallow cuts and abrasions, and his skin is mottled with bruises and contusions. It's clear that he endured a torturous ordeal before meeting his untimely demise.

But what truly sends a shiver down your spine is the realization that these jars of blood are not simply a gruesome decoration. No, his scenes are art pieces, exhibits of brutality. Each one a testament to the lives he has taken and the souls sacrificed at the altar of his twisted desires.

You hastily grab the phone out of your jacket pocket, shakily calling Jack. Before he can even greet you, you stop him and say, "Please don’t be upset with me.”

Jack's voice crackles through the phone, his tone tinged with concern. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Your heart races as you struggle to find the words to convey what you've just found. "I found Glynn… He's dead," you manage to choke out, your voice trembling with emotion. "But it's not just that—oh God, Jack, you have to see it for yourself."

There's a pregnant pause on the other end of the line as Jack absorbs the gravity of your words. “Where are you?”

You clear your throat before speaking, “Um, it’s an abandoned middle school outside of Fredericksburg; there's a high school right by it and it's all near a golf club. No one is in the building. He—the killer—left him here for us to find.”

"Just stay put, okay? Don't do anything else." He says firmly.

You nod, even though he can't see you. The weight of the situation presses down on you like an anchor. "I won't," you promise, though you think it’s a bit too late for it. As you end the call and tuck your phone back into your pocket, you can't shake the feeling of dread that hangs over you.

You feel the two parts of your brain clashing once again. There's a piece of you that's terrified and absolutely disgusted by what's in front of you. And the other part of you, the part that you bury. But you can't help but visually devour the awful scene in front of you.

You’re shaking and can feel the adrenaline flow through your veins with each pump of your heart. But that's it; it’s adrenaline, not fear.

You lower yourself to the cold floor beside him, the lines of the basketball court below you. With trembling hands, you reach out to touch one of the blood-filled jars, the cool glass sending a shiver down your spine as you trace its contours. There's a morbid fascination that grips you, compelling you to study every detail of the scene before you, even as your stomach churns with revulsion.

You can feel the conflicting emotions warring within you—the terror and disgust warring with the dark, primal curiosity that lurks deep within your psyche. You pick up the jar with your mitten-covered hand and tilt the jar to the side to see the dark liquid shift inside the glass.

Curiosity is the true reason for your career choice—an insatiable hunger to uncover the unknown. And blood is the most honest way of doing that. Blood is the body’s truth.

PRESENT DAY

The clock ticks past two in the morning as you guide your car into Will's driveway. The ride from the airport in Baltimore had been long and tiresome, but there was a pressing matter that couldn't wait—the need to speak with Will.

You had intended to catch up with him after wrapping up your tasks for the night, but he scurried out immediately, leaving you with no choice but to make the impromptu trip.

You see Will on his front porch, staring at his pack. You figured he’d be up tonight; you know him well enough. You understand how he becomes consumed by swimming in the minds of the worst of the worst.

The dogs bark upon your arrival, seeming to snap Will out of whatever haze he’s in. You have the same vehicle so you know he recognizes you. You inhale through your nose and exhale out of your mouth as you shift the gear into park.

With a steady breath, you swing open the car door, the cool night air washing over you like a balm. "Hi," you offer tentatively, raising your hand in greeting.

Will's reaction is a study in mixed emotions—confusion, perhaps tinged with a hint of apprehension. You can't blame him; after all, your unannounced arrival at this hour is bound to raise questions, if not suspicions. And you’re the one who left and didn’t give a reason; you’re the one who acted like he didn’t exist.

You stand there, on the threshold between darkness and light, uncertainty hanging heavy in the air. He stands up and walks towards the porch stairs, leaving his old wooden chair behind him. “What are you doing here?”

You offer a nonchalant shrug; the weight of your impromptu journey suddenly feels much heavier. "I was just driving around," you reply, a touch of evasion in your tone.

"Driving around in the middle of the night, two and a half hours away from Baltimore?" Will raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips

You meet his gaze steadily, the truth hanging in the air between you. "I felt like I had to see you," you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Will's expression softens, a flicker of understanding passing over his features. "And what? You never did before," he challenges gently, his voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and frustration.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me, but now I’m here anyway and I think we should talk," you blurt out, the words tumbling from your lips in a rush. "I think that's what people are supposed to do in awkward situations."

Still, Will remains silent, his expression inscrutable, as he waits for a better explanation and a clearer reason for your sudden appearance.

"Fuck," you curse under your breath, uncertainty gnawing at your insides. Running a hand through your hair in a gesture of agitation, you can't help but think about how stupid you must look from his perspective and how coming here to mend things in the middle of the night is a terrible fucking idea. "I'm sorry, coming here was a stupid idea," you admit, the words heavy with self-deprecation.

“Yeah, it was.” The softness in Will's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, his words carrying a weight of their own. You meet his gaze, seeing the conflict in his brain reflected in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the awkwardness of the situation.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air heavy with unspoken thoughts and emotions. You can feel the regret pooling in the pit of your stomach, a reminder of the consequences of your impulsive actions. You knew this was a stupid idea, which is why you hadn't done it earlier.

Without a word, you turn away from Will, retracing your steps back to your car. Just as you're about to slip inside the vehicle, Will's voice breaks through the silence, laced with a quiet vulnerability, "Do you want to come in?"

The invitation hangs in the air, and for a moment, you hesitate, weighing your options. But then, with a sigh, you nod your head, a silent acceptance of the olive branch he’s extended to you.

As you approach, he spins around and swings the front door wide, a welcoming gesture that belies the tension simmering beneath the surface. The dogs, stationed on the deck, wag their tails furiously in greeting, but your attention is drawn to a dark metal crate off to the side, housing a medium-sized dog.

"Who's that?" you inquire, a note of curiosity in your voice.

"Just found him a couple of hours ago and gave him a bath. This is their first meeting.” He points to the rest of his dogs.

“Oh,” you say. Suddenly, the thought of stepping into his house feels overwhelming, almost suffocating. It’s selfish; you shouldn’t be one to be uncomfortable, let alone ask for accommodations. But you know you can’t step into his house and you have to try to mend your relationship.

“Do you want to talk outside? It's not cold; the weathers nice.” You excuse, total lie. You have no idea how Will’s not freezing his ass off in his white tea-shirt and his pants.

He looked taken aback for a moment. He doesn't know how to navigate this either, you think, and he ushers the dogs into the house before closing the door.

You take a seat on his porch steps; he does too after a moment. The silence is so thick around you, it’s nauseating; you feel almost carsick.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, cutting to the chase. You’re sure he has a scroll worth of questions and that it’s more efficient to just cut to the chase.

Without hesitation, he fires back. "What changed?" His blunt tone takes you off guard. "You made it clear you never wanted to speak to me again, and yet you're sitting at my doorstep."

“I still don’t want to speak to you but it’s inevitable now and you deserve answers that I should have given you before.” The words crawl out of your mouth harshly. You’ve never been good at behaving when getting told off, no matter how much you deserve it.

“Why do you think you’re the one who gets to make things right? Did you ever consider that if I wanted to talk to you so badly-to get closure—I would have done it myself?” He snaps. You stare at him for a moment, hoping that his angry words were a momentary burst of frustration. Though the more seconds that past only show that his anger won’t be fleeting, no, this has been festering.

“I know that you think I’m a piece of shit, and I am. But I left because if you saw how awful I’ve become, it would be so much worse than whatever negative image of me you already have in your head.” You admit. You have to look away from his gaze; you’re ashamed in so many ways that you don’t know where to begin or how to apologize.

"Do you want me to leave?" you ask, nervous energy tingling through your fingertips as you pick at the stray dog hair that somehow floated onto your jeans.

“I want a better answer, one that’s not a lie.” He grunts out.

"I wasn't lying," you protest, but he interrupts you, his voice sharp with disbelief. "I don't believe you. You can't tell me you left because you didn't want to be friends anymore. That's too juvenile, even for you."

He’s right; you know he is. It’s just much easier to tell yourself that your move was entirely for Will’s well being, but you know that is for self preservation too. You couldn’t keep up with your new hobby in Quantico, you had to move away. You couldn’t commit the acts that you do with Jack breathing down your neck.

“I’m too different now, Will. You can’t do the things I’ve done and stay the same. And I want you to know me as the person before, not the one you found covered in blood.”

You can’t tell him how selfish you’ve become. You're now someone who allows themselves to become fully encompassed by their desires and what more do you want than Will? You couldn’t have held yourself back for long; you're too impulsive.

You couldn't hold back your need to touch him—to break him. You’d never hurt him intentionally; you want to hold and cradle him, but you can’t help the desire in you to squeeze. Squeeze till he’s red, till he bursts like a ripe cherry in your fingertips. You want to see the red mess; you want to see how beautiful he is inside and out. You want to devour him, to watch him, to strip all his layers and to digest the sight of him raw in front of you.

Your love disgusts you.

He sighs; disagreement is written all over his face. “You could have tried-”

“I did try; I did. I tried to heal myself, grow thicker skin. But every single time I brushed up against something, all of my progress was peeled right off me. So I bandaged myself up; I don't think I’m wrong for that.” You insist, desperation creeping into your voice.

He doesn't respond. A part of you is upset; how can he empathize with others but not you? What makes you unworthy of his understanding?

“I couldn’t stand the way you looked at me or how everyone looked at me. You looked at me like one of your strays.” Your voice breaks, at that, he turns to look at you. “You looked at me like that because there was something wrong with me, except it’s not fleas or ticks. It’s something inside that eats away at me. And you saw it. I think you saw it clearer than me at first and that's why you felt the need to tend to me. But this is something that contaminated me and everything I do, and I knew it was going to get to you if I didn’t leave.”

You can’t help the tears that start to pool in your waterline. You’re sure he wants to talk, but he doesn't. He lets you continue. “And I left for selfish reasons, your right, and I won’t lie to you; I won’t ever lie to you Will, but it’s not like this is what I wanted; it's what I had to do, and I’ll do what I can to prove that to you, but if you don't want me to, I’ll leave you be.”

He looks at you deeply, like he’s trying to dissect an autopsy on your emotions. “I think it would be best for you to go.” He finally says, his voice barely a whisper.

“Me too.” You say before rising off the steps and walking to your car. Once inside, you see him staring at you through your windshield, his face unreadable in the lack of light.

You turn on your car and reverse out of his driveway.

2 YEARS EARLIER

Your knuckles rap urgently against Will's front door, the sound echoing through the silent night as dogs bark in response while you hear Will’s clunky footsteps as he walks towards his door.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, his voice heavy with alarm as he takes in the distress etched across your features.

“I found him, Glynn he-” Your words dissolve into a choked sob that jumps out of your throat.

“It’s cold; you need to come inside.” Will urges while placing a gentle hand on your back as he guides you inside his home.

"He was murdered, I-I found him," you try to explain, but Will interrupts you once again, your emotions clearly overwhelming him. “I think you should sit down.” He suggests, his voice strained. “Let me get you something to drink.”.

“Yeah, yeah.” You manage to murmur, your throat tight with emotion, as you sink into his old, worn couch. “Coffee please.”

You see Will's eyes momentarily spark up from amusement. “I’ll get you some water,” he says before disappearing into the dark kitchen. You can’t help but feel guilty; from his groggy demeanour and the lack of lit light fixtures, you most likely just woke him up.

You hear the noise of a cabinet opening and shutting before you hear the tap run. A few moments later, Will walks out with a glass in his hand. He hands it to you as he takes a seat on the dog hair-covered sofa beside you.

You look at Will but his face stays staring at his hands in his lap. “I know there's not much to say that can console you on this, so I’m just sorry.” He murmurs sincerely.

You appreciate his honesty because he’s right; there's little solace to be found in empty condolences.

“You don’t have to bother with condolences, Will. It’s fine. I’m sure I’ll get plenty at work tomorrow.” You say with a pitiful laugh, the bitterness of the situation is far from lost on you.

His reaction is swift, his head snapping up to meet your gaze with disbelief. “You should take time off, I’m sure Jack would allow that.”

“No-no-no.” You insist, shaking your head vehemently. “I need to keep busy, I’m to invested now.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He offers.

“I was…entranced by what I saw.” You answer honestly.

Will was visibly taken aback by your words. “Does that make me awful?” You ask, the weight of guilt settling heavy in your chest.

He takes a deep breath before responding. "No. I think you were shocked. It wasn't a regular crime scene; you stumbled upon something that, yes, you were looking for, but it was something you didn't expect. Your brain is trying to rationalize; it's trying to make what you saw less scary."

Weirdly, his attempt at comfort made you feel disappointed. "Yeah. God, I don't know what I was thinking. It was just… so much blood," you confess, the memory still fresh in your mind.

His face dropped, “Did it.” He stops speaking, you can see him trying to fraze his next words carefully. “Bring you back?” He asks indirectly, though you know what he’s referencing.

“I don’t know, maybe subconsciously.” You sigh. You didn’t even realize how much you'd calmed down since walking through its doors. Moments ago, you were on the verge of an anxiety attack and now your nervous system has calmed down dramatically.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

He doesn't pry, nor does he press for further explanation. Instead, he offers you a genuine, small smile. "Of course."

next chapter

[nyctimus]

Text symbols meme thing for Ivanpez and Talix and like lit anyone else you wanna do it for.

Set in MB:R verse!

IVANPEZ-

MORNING text.

8:03 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Hi handsome! Don’t forget you promised to meet me for brunch at that cute little bistro on main, okay?! Can’t wait to see your pretty face! 🥰

text that WASN’T SENT.

9:30 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] My mother has enough money to cover the slack for us if you just quit your job

RUSHED text.

4:45 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] I’m SOOO sooo sorry I’m running late :((( Got stuck in the goddamn metroplex traffic, swear to god I’ll move to the wilderness and abandon the city completely one day. I’ll be there soon! Promise!

DRUNK text.

3:09 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Move in with me wuit your job. I’ll quit mine. We can go somewhere nice like ...  3:12 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Whefe? Where you what to go 3:13 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Beach? We c an skinny dip every night 3:13 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Hou can buiold a nice beach hut an I will make nice curtains for it, okay?

SUGGESTIVE text.

2:57 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you insisted on wearing that skimpy little white tank to work in just to try and tempt me to tear it off of you. 

LATE NIGHT text.

1:15 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Come here. I want cuddles, and my bed is nicer than yours

HATEFUL text.

5:44 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Peter. 5:44 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you, but I promise I’ll right it. 5:49 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] What do you mean? Of course I have, why else would you have worn those atrocious, eye- searing shirts every day for the past WEEK if not to punish me? 5:51 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] What? 5:51 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’re punishing me. 5:52 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Still too angry to tell me what I’ve done, I see. Okay. I’ll try again later.

RANDOM text.

2:32 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Gold or indigo? I can’t decide.

SCARED text.

6:45 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Hey, I thought you’d be back by now? 7:02 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Pete? 7:13 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Peter??? Please pick up 7:26 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Baby please

LOVING text.

10:50 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Good night, sweet boy, I hope you have the very best dreams... I know you’re nervous about tomorrow, but you shouldn’t be... you’re perfect. 10:52 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] You’ve got this. Now get some rest... don’t make me come over there 10:52 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Fine, then. See you soon

CURIOUS text.

3:13 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] What are your favorite appetizers? Salty or sweet? Party hosting has become just a little more complicated since I started caring more about your opinion than my own. Feelings can be so pesky sometimes 😛

EXCITED text.

3:13 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Pete!  3:13 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Can you believe we’re leaving on our veeeery first vacation together as a couple together today? Even if it’s just a little two day getaway, I’m SO excited, I’ve been looking forward to this all week. 3:13 pm [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Can’t wait to have you all to myself. You may be sick of me by the time this is over. Fair warning!

ACCIDENTAL text.

1:19 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s entirely possible I’m just a way for him to pass a little time. And I’m fine with that. Obviously. Why wouldn’t I be?

HEARTBREAKING text.

1:19 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] Pete? 1:24 am [Kolya → Lyubimiy❤️] My mother just died. I.... I’m packing to head home to Paris now. Can you go with me?

/ / /

TALIX-

MORNING text.

5:25 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I know you’re sleeping and won’t even see this for another 6 hours or so, but if you come give me a ride home I’ll smuggle you a whole loaf of that cinnamon coffee cake you like. Please

text that WASN’T SENT.

10:17 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] How do you do it? Live like that constantly? It was a ten minute experience two months ago but I’m still having nightmares

RUSHED text.

3:59 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] K, I know Ellis would probably throw the entire knife drawer at your face if you show back up here but there are SO many drunk assholes here right now it almost seems worth it to beg you to come save me

DRUNK text.

9:42 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] U just reality want you to hold me brighttnkw 9:42 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] Plea.Se. And pet my hair, Anne kiss my nose. Ok?

SUGGESTIVE text.

4:35 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I know this is fucked up, okay... 4:35 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] And idk if it’s the full moon or what, but I can’t stop thinking about you with your gun when I’m getting off 4:35 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] Your actual gun. Not your dick, love that one too but the one you... you know what I mean  4:35 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] The way you hold it. Your fingers. Those fucking veins in your arms, Jesus Christ

LATE NIGHT text.

1:32 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] Are you okay? I know it’s silly to be afraid for you every single time the news mentions turf wars and casualties, but I worry about you. Text me when you can

HATEFUL text.

5:18 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] Swear to fuck next stuck up ass businessman that walks through these doors, orders coffee and then wrinkles his nose when he tastes it is getting the whole pot poured on his fancyboy suit. Why do people come here wanting Starbucks? I’m going to scream

RANDOM text.

7:30 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] ...Pretty sure your kid is here staking me out right now. Not even subtle. Staring me down as I text this. Should I be concerned? Pretend I don’t know him? SOS

SCARED text.

4:06 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I think someone’s following me. I keep seeing the same car. At work, outside my apartment 4:07 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] In the parking lot at Krogers. What should I do? 4:08 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I know if they see you it might make things worse but can you come get me? Please. I’m scared

LOVING text.

7:31 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] Hey, hot stuff. I’ll be dead to the world by the time you read this but I just wanted to tell you I hope you have a good day. Kick everyone’s ass. Don’t get arrested. 💖 xo

CURIOUS text.

9:22 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] What do you have planned for Thanksgiving? My brother’s hounding me to bring you back to the farm. No pressure either way. He’s kind of a lot. I think he wants to shovel talk you, so... feel free to be busy, haha

EXCITED text.

5:48 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] You know that cat I’ve been leaving canned tuna out for for like, the last month and a half? 5:48 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] SHE CAME INSIDE 5:48 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] And killed my favorite plant, but! SHE CAME INSIDE!!!

ACCIDENTAL text.

8:57 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I know you’re just worried about me, and I get that 8:57 pm [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] But you need to fuck off. It’s none of your business, man

HEARTBREAKING text.

6:22 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I know I’m being an asshole doing this over text 6:22 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] But I’ve been trying for weeks to say it in person, and I just can’t. I look at you and it wipes everything else out of my brain 6:22 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I don’t know how to commit to a guy with a kid. 6:22 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] And I know you warned me, first thing, and I know I’m being horribly selfish 6:22 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I just. I guess I’m looking for something else. 6:22 am [Felix → Sweet Po-Tate-o 🍠] I’m sorry.

/ / /

DONNY/GRAHAM-

MORNING text.

7:37 am [Graham → bitchboy] it’s cold, jackass. if you’re gonna fucking leave me here to freeze by myself you could at least turn up the heat wtf 7:37 am [Graham → bitchboy] inconsiderate motherfucker

text that WASN’T SENT.

7:36 am [Graham → bitchboy] please come back, i dont sleep as well without you

RUSHED text.

6:44 pm [Graham → bitchboy] fucking setup? target expecting me so find your leak

DRUNK text & ACCIDENTAL text.

2:57 am [Graham → bitchboy] i wasfn EXPECTING him, tyler 2:57 am [Graham → bitchboy] i mean everypnoes heard of him. what an asshole he is. cause he is. but hes this asshole who owns a TEDDY BEAR 2:59 am [Graham → bitchboy] of course you won’t believe nme but im not lyin i swear it on my mams grave 3:02 am [Graham → bitchboy] and its not his sons. its his. its so cute. hes cyte. ill stab your duck if you tell anyone 3:03 am [Graham → bitchboy] duck 3:03 am [Graham → bitchboy] duck 3:03 am [Graham → bitchboy] y ouknow.  3:04 am [Graham → bitchboy] god. 3:04 am [Graham → bitchboy] its’ terinle

SUGGESTIVE text & EXCITED text.

11:52 pm [Graham → bitchboy] finally finished up here. 11:52 pm [Graham → bitchboy] eta 47 mins, have your office clear and my reward ready ;)

LATE NIGHT text.

12:02 am [Graham → bitchboy] sometimes i feel like you’re intentionally giving me the lamest possible fucking targets. wtf. i like killing bitches that will stab me back, not pushing pathetic ass grannies down the stairs while her 50 cats watch me? im picking my own files from here on out 12:03 am [Graham → bitchboy] and im bringing the cats 12:03 am [Graham → bitchboy] maybe youll think twice before pulling this shit on me again

HATEFUL text.

6:26 pm [Graham → bitchboy] you sign my paychecks. thats it. you dont get to tell me what to do outside of that. dont get it twisted just because were fucking, asshole

RANDOM text.

8:32 pm [Graham → bitchboy] idc what we do for dinner but i really want cheesecake so

CURIOUS text.

4:30 am [Graham → bitchboy] idk what you and dj usually do for holidays. should i head out? i can crash at my old room at tys, i dont mind

SCARED text & LOVING text & HEARTBREAKING text.

4:29 am [Graham → bitchboy] idk, got me good thus time. pulling over. behind sunoco on 35. dont wnna crash but you should send someone to gt rid of the folders if not my body too by rhen. too much evidence sorry 4:30 am [Graham → bitchboy] im really sorry 4:30 am [Graham → bitchboy] i love you. sorry for not telling you until now . sorry. im so sorry

[jrob64]

One Thrill Ride Leads to Another - A CS Modern AU Chapter 2 (Karaoke and Kissing)

Here we have the second chapter to this story, and to give @snowbellewells a belated birthday present, Graham Humbert makes his appearance! It now looks like this story is going to stretch into 4 chapters PLUS an epilogue, and as of now, a new chapter will post every Sunday. 

Many thanks to @kmomof4 and @hookedmom who have make this story so much better. 

Story Summary: While working at Universal’s Islands of Adventure, Killian Jones meets Emma Swan, slips his name and number into her phone, and later sends her a text asking her out. His snap decision could lead to her blocking his number, or to an adventure much more thrilling than a ride on a roller coaster. 

Rating: M (for smut in future chapters)

Words: 4968 (Chapter 2)

Chapter 1 on Tumbr here

Also found on ffn and Ao3

*********

“I have two suggestions for where we can go,” Killian said, once Emma and Ruby told him their decision. “One is called Red Coconut Club and has a tropical theme. They have live music during the day and through dinner hours, but by this time, a DJ has started playing club music. The other one is Rising Star, which is a karaoke bar with a live band and backup singers. I do have to tell you that my roommate loves to sing, and since we both have the day off tomorrow, he’ll more than likely be there tonight.”

“You have a roommate? What’s his name?” Emma asked.

“Graham Humbert.”

“What’s he like?” Ruby questioned.

“Nice guy, tall with light brown hair. Actually, he’s also from Ireland…”

“I vote for the karaoke bar!” Ruby interrupted loudly. “Point me in the right direction!”

Killian laughed, then turned to look at Emma. “Is that good with you, Swan?”

She shrugged. “Sure, just don’t expect me to sing.”

As they started along the sidewalk around the end of the waterway, Killian noticed how quiet she was. “Are you alright, Emma?”

She nibbled on her lip for a few short moments before answering. “Look, Killian, you seem like a really nice guy, but…I just don’t want to put myself in a situation that could be…dangerous. I mean, at the Chocolate Emporium with Ruby there, it was fine; but now we’re going to a club and your roommate will be there and it just seems a little…less safe.”

He stopped and turned toward her and she came to a halt, too, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the sidewalk. “Emma, I promise you this is not some kind of set-up. I don’t even know for sure if Graham will be there, and I’m sure he has no idea that I will, because I’ve only been there a couple of times. I just thought it would be fun to show you more of what CityWalk has to offer, but if you feel uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to go.”

Emma looked up at him. “I appreciate that, but Ruby really wants to…”

“If you would feel better going only with her, I’ll bid you goodnight and take my leave.”.

She studied him and saw nothing but sincerity and a hint of concern in his expression. After hesitating another moment or so, she said, “I don’t want you to do that, but if we go with you, Ruby and I will buy our own drinks so we’re sure no one has tampered with them. I know that sounds paranoid, but…”

“I don’t think it’s being paranoid, Swan. That’s very reasonable and smart, and I understand completely. After all, you barely know me and you can never be too careful.”

Emma huffed out a breath. “Thank you for understanding. I already made a deal with Ruby that if I start to feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave.” She glanced up to see her friend quite a distance ahead of them. “We better catch up to her. I don’t think she even realizes we’re not with her.”

Killian laughed. “She does seem rather eager, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, well, offer her a man with an accent who can sing and a karaoke microphone, and she’s off to the races!”

*********

“Is your roommate here?” Ruby asked, as soon as they were inside the club.

Killian began looking around the perimeter, craning his neck to see over the crowd of people. “Umm…that might be him…yeah, there he is,” he said, pointing toward the area in front of the stage.

“Which one? What’s he wearing?” Ruby inquired, directing her eyes to the place he indicated.

“He’s got a blue button-down shirt on.”

“The one with the wavy brown hair?”

“That’s him.”

“Well, they must grow them gorgeous in Ireland, that’s all I have to say!” Ruby grinned.

“If only that’s all she has to say,” Emma leaned in to mutter to Killian, causing him to chuckle.

Ruby looked over her shoulder at them. “What are you waiting for? I need to be introduced to that perfect specimen of man.”

“What did I tell you?” Emma smirked.

Killian grinned as they started to follow Ruby, working their way through the crowd. “She might scare him. He tends to be a bit shy when meeting new people.”

“As you might have guessed, Ruby is not,” Emma laughed.

“Yeah, I could tell.”

By this time, they were in the vicinity of the table where Graham was sitting. His attention was fixed on the stage, where two people were singing “Shallow”, accompanied by the band. Ruby stopped short of approaching him and motioned for Killian to speak to him first.

He tapped Graham on the shoulder to get his attention, then gestured for him to follow them, planning to introduce him to the ladies in a quieter location. They found a corner over by the restrooms, away from the direct line of the speakers.

Graham’s eyes were flitting between Ruby and Emma. “What’s up, mate?” he asked Killian.

“Graham, this is Emma Swan and Ruby Lucas. I met them at the park today when they rode the Velocicoaster. Ladies, this is Graham Humbert.”

“Oh, uh, very pleased to meet you,” Graham greeted, holding a hand out to shake first Emma’s, then Ruby’s, who held onto it longer than necessary, stepping closer into his personal space.

“You look familiar,” she said, studying his face intently. “Do you work at Universal’s Islands of Adventure, too?”

“I…I actually work at Harry Potter World.”

Ruby finally released his hand and snapped her fingers. “Weren’t you working at the Hogwart’s Express?”

He dipped his head and scratched the back of it. “Uh, yeah. That was me.”

“I thought so!” she crowed. “Well, you can board my train anytime!”

“Oh, my gosh!” Emma groaned. Killian watched his friend closely to see his reaction.

Graham’s face reddened, but a grin stretched across it. “So, Ruby, do you like to sing?”

*********

After buying drinks and finding a place where all four of them could sit, they chatted and listened to people sing for about twenty minutes.

“When do we get to hear you sing?” Ruby asked Graham.

“Would you like to come with me to put my name on the list and pick out a song?”

“You bet!”

Emma and Killian watched them leave the table, then turned back to their drinks. “Those two seem to be hitting it off,” he commented.

“Yeah, Ruby has a type.”

“Which is…?”

“Male and good-looking.”

He laughed before asking, “So what else do you ladies have planned before your vacation ends?”

“Tomorrow we were going to take a break from the amusement parks and go shopping at Disney Springs. I’m not sure about Thursday. We talked about going to a water park, but it will probably depend on the weather.”

“Are there certain stores you want to visit tomorrow?”

“Well, World of Disney and The Lego Store for sure, just because everyone says to go there. Is there a Disney Christmas Store, too?”

“Aye, there is.”

“I’m sure we’ll go there. Have you been to Disney Springs very often?”

“Quite a few times.”

“Are there any other stores you would recommend?”

“It depends on what you’re looking for - clothes, accessories, toys, food, name brand merchandise?”

“Yes!” Emma giggled.

“Ah, well, you’ll have plenty of possibilities then. You should probably make a plan before you go. Otherwise, you could wander around for hours and not see everything you want to see.”

She sipped her drink for several moments while they listened to another singer. When the song was finished and the applause died down, she reached over to lay her hand on Killian’s forearm to get his attention. “Did you say you have the day off tomorrow?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Would you, um…would you be interested in showing us around Disney Springs? I mean, unless you have something else to do. It would just be nice to have someone who knows their way around to…”

“I would be happy to show you around, Swan,” he said, interrupting her nervous babble.

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he assured her. “In fact, I think Graham would probably be quite willing to join us, too, if that’s alright with you.”

“It’s fine and I’m sure Ruby would like that.” They both looked toward the stage as another singer began to perform, then noticed Graham was the next one in line.

“I wonder what they chose for him to sing?” Killian queried. Turning back toward Emma, he said, “May I make a suggestion for a restaurant at Disney Springs tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Raglan Road. It’s an Irish Pub and Restaurant and is one of my favorites.”

“Gee, I wonder why?” Emma smirked.

He grinned, his dimple becoming very pronounced, which sent another flutter through her chest. “The food is good - a little expensive, but worth it. I’d really like for you to see the entertainment though; they have Irish dancers that perform while you’re eating and a couple of musicians before and after the performances. There’s also a store right next to it that has souvenirs with an Irish flair,” he told her, waggling his eyebrows.

His teasing made her smile as she answered, “That sounds great! Will we need to make reservations?”

“Yes,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I can take care of it online. Do you want to go for lunch or dinner?”

She pondered for a moment before answering. “Maybe we could go sometime in the afternoon and make it the big meal of the day? The hotel where we’re staying has a pretty good breakfast, then we can just grab a snack if we get hungry in the evening.”

Killian felt a warmth go through him at hearing her talk about plans to spend the entire day with him. “What time shall we meet tomorrow?”

“Ruby and I haven’t been getting up very early; we are on vacation, after all. We’ll probably eat breakfast around nine, so how about if we meet at ten?”

“Works for me. The Lego Store has an outside display of Sleeping Beauty’s prince fighting a dragon. We can meet there.”

“We still need to figure out what time to make the lunch reservations.”

“Since you’ll be having a late breakfast, how does two-thirty sound?”

“Perfect!”

She watched him tapping on his phone screen for several seconds, and then he looked up. “All done.”

“That was quick! Thank you, Killian. I’m looking forward to it!”

“So am I, Emma.” The way he was looking at her, his eyes full of warmth and sincerity, made her breath catch.

The applause of the crowd for the previous singer’s performance broke their moment. Turning toward the stage, Emma and Killian saw Ruby give Graham’s hand a squeeze before he took his place, gripping the microphone. The band began to play and he looked at Ruby standing off to the side as he started to sing:

Hey there, little red riding hood,

You sure are looking good,

You’re everything a big bad wolf could want.

Little red riding hood,

I don’t think little big girls should,

Go walking in these spooky old woods alone.

“Have you ever heard this song before?” Killian asked.

“Yeah, Ruby has it on one of her playlists. Her nickname is Red, and we tease her about being Little Red Riding Hood. I’m sure she’s the one who picked it out.”

“I’ve never heard Graham sing it before, but it seems like he’s familiar with it.”

What big eyes you have,

The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad,

Just to see that you don’t get chased,

I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.

What full lips you have,

They're sure to lure someone bad,

Until you get to grandma’s place,

I think you ought to walk with me and be safe.

Gonna keep my sheep suit on,

‘Til I’m sure that you’ve been shown,

That I can be trusted

Walking with you alone.

“From the way Ruby is looking at him, she might be the one who can’t be trusted,” Emma laughed.

“It might be mutual,” Killian commented, noting the looks his roommate was giving the dark-haired beauty.

Little red riding hood,

I’d like to hold you if I could,

But you might think

I’m a big bad wolf, so I won’t.

Emma saw the huge smile on Ruby’s face and knew her friend really wouldn’t mind if the man singing did decide to hold her.

What a big heart I have,

The better to love you with.

Little red riding hood,

Even bad wolves can be good.

I’ll try to keep satisfied,

Just to walk by your side,

Maybe you’ll see things my way,

Before we get to grandma’s place.

Little red riding hood,

You sure are looking good,

You’re everything a big bad wolf could want.

Emma and Killian began clapping as soon as Graham finished the song. When Emma saw Ruby rush up onto the stage, throwing her arms around his neck, she groaned and dropped her face into her hands.

“What’s wrong, Swan?” Killian asked, confused by her sudden change of disposition.

“I just have a feeling Ruby might want to bring Graham back to the hotel room tonight. You don’t have any noise canceling headphones I can borrow, do you?”

“Does she make a habit of doing things like that?”

“Not a habit, but if she meets a guy she likes, she usually jumps at the chance. Is Graham the kind of guy who would accept that kind of offer?”

Killian rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated his answer. “In the three years we’ve been roommates, he’s dated a lot, but has only brought a handful of girls home with him. Ruby does seem to be his type, though. If she presents him with the opportunity, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him accept.”

Emma blew out a sigh and slouched in her chair. “This could be a very long night.”

Killian was still chuckling about her comment when Ruby and Graham returned to the table. She had her arms tightly wound around his waist and one of his was draped over her shoulder.

“Did you hear him? Wasn’t he spectacular?” Ruby gushed. “He sang that song for me!”

“Yes, we heard him. You really have a great voice, Graham,” Emma said.

“Thank you. It’s easy to sing when you have such a lovely source of inspiration,” he beamed, then brushed his lips across Ruby’s temple.

Emma didn’t think her friend’s smile could get any wider without splitting her face in two. “We’re already signed up to sing a duet, but there’s still a few people ahead of us. How about another round of drinks?” Ruby proposed.

Killian spoke up. “Sounds good to me. Same thing for everyone?” At their nods, he rose from his seat and asked, “Would you like to come with me to help carry them back, Swan?”

After placing their order at the bar, Emma reached over and laid her hand on top of his. “Thank you for sticking to our deal, Killian.”

He tried to keep the pleasant shiver he felt as a result of her touch inconspicuous. “Of course, Emma. I wouldn’t do anything to betray your trust.”

She blinked rapidly several times before giving him a warm smile, and had just opened her mouth to speak when the bartender reappeared, setting the four drinks in front of them. They paid and worked their way back to their table, where Graham and Ruby were sitting close together, listening to a trio of giggly young ladies attempting to sing “Love Shack”.

The four of them talked and enjoyed their drinks, until it was Graham and Ruby’s turn on the stage. They had chosen “Hungry Like the Wolf”, which caused Emma to wink at Killian. “I’m sensing a theme here.”

“They sound really good together,” he observed.

“They look really good together,” she admitted, watching them move in sync with the music and each other.

Their duet drew the most boisterous round of applause of the night so far. Ruby bowed ostentatiously and threw kisses to the crowd, while Graham grinned like a Cheshire cat, before they returned to their seats.

Another hour of sharing drinks and conversation passed and Emma felt herself gravitating closer to Killian. Soon, she was leaning against him and felt a thrill of excitement at the feel of his firm muscles under his polo shirt.

After much persuasion and a little more alcohol, Graham finally talked Killian into singing “All Right Now” with him. As soon as Killian sang the first few words, Emma’s jaw dropped. His voice was sexy and mesmerizing, the sound of it practically causing her to melt into her seat. When he made eye contact with her and threw her a roguish wink, she felt heat pooling between her thighs and rubbed them together in an effort to alleviate it. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had affected her like this and she knew it wasn’t just due to the three tropical drinks she’d finished.

Her only saving grace was that no one was paying attention to her, until Ruby turned around. Squinting her eyes for a few seconds, she suddenly burst into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Emma demanded to know.

“Oh, girl, you are horny for that man!”

“Ruby!” Emma hissed. “That is not true!”

“Liar! Your face is all flushed and your pupils are dilated. You are completely turned on!”

Emma brought her hands up to palm her reddened cheeks. “It…it’s just the drinks. They’re really strong.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, Em.” She gave her friend a wide, disbelieving grin, before turning back to listen to the rest of the song.

Emma squirmed in her seat until the final notes the guys sang drifted away, then quickly excused herself to go to the restroom. Before returning to her friends, she splashed cool water on her face in an attempt to calm herself down. As she pushed open the bathroom door, she felt it connect with somebody on the other side and heard a muttered ‘oof’.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” she gasped, then chanced a peek around the edge of the door, where Killian stood rubbing his shoulder. “Killian! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Swan. No harm done.” To prove his point, he dropped his hand and gave her a sheepish grin. “Guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Her hand moved almost instinctively to massage his upper arm. When she lifted her eyes, they connected with his electric blue ones, sending a shockwave through her body. His hand landed on her waist and she stepped into his touch, while her other hand slid up his opposite arm, across his shoulder and into the soft fringes of his hair. She guided him towards her and tentatively brushed her lips against his before she could come up with any excuse not to kiss him.

He pulled her closer, moaning against her lips and it shot heat down to her core. She breathed into him and slid her mouth over his, feeling him respond with a slight flick of his tongue. It was all the encouragement she needed to become bolder. Tugging lightly on his hair to shift the angle, she traced the seam of his lips with her tongue, tasting the rum and coke he’d been drinking.

He granted her entrance and allowed her to explore his mouth, while his hands slid up her back and found her silky tresses, gliding his fingers through them like he’d been yearning to do all night. Her mouth was as sweet as he had imagined, and it was more intoxicating than anything he’d ever tasted.

They were so lost in the moment, they didn’t hear someone trying to get their attention, until a loud “Excuse me!” broke into their consciousness and they ended the kiss abruptly. Opening their eyes to look around, they saw a woman glaring at them. “Could you please move? I’m trying to get into the restroom and you’re blocking the door,” she spat.

“Sorry,” Emma and Killian both mumbled, shuffling out of the way without letting go of each other. They laughed after the woman went through the door, then Emma dropped her forehead to rest it on his chest.

“I was wrong, Swan,” he murmured against the crown of her head.

“About what?”

“I was in the right place at exactly the right time.”

She looked up at him with a bright smile and hummed her agreement, then stole another quick kiss. “Maybe I should hit you with a door more often.”

As his deep laugh resounded in her ear, she snuggled under his collarbone and sighed contentedly, feeling his heart hammering under her cheek.

*********

While Killian used the restroom, Emma returned to the table to find Ruby and Graham engaged in a heated kiss. She sat down and tried to look anywhere but at the two of them, remembering the feeling of Killian’s lips against her own. She couldn’t bring herself to be upset for giving in to her attraction for him in a moment of weakness. She had thoroughly enjoyed kissing the man and hoped to do it again very soon.

She could blame her boldness on the pleasant buzz from the alcohol, along with the warm looks and smiles he’d been giving her, but the truth was, he had been nothing but a gentleman all evening and she knew he wasn’t going to push her any further after his daring first move that afternoon. So even though it was completely out of character for her to kiss a man after only knowing him for a few hours, she had no regrets.

Killian slid into the seat beside her just as Ruby and Graham came up for air. Both of them licked their kiss-swollen lips and grinned at their friends. “We were thinking…” Ruby began.

“Looked to me like you were doing more kissing than thinking,” Emma teased.

Ruby’s smile widened. “Very true, but before that, we wondered if you guys would want to get one more round of drinks, then head out.”

Emma and Killian exchanged glances and he shrugged. “It’s up to you, Swan.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. If we’re going to go shopping tomorrow, we better not stay out too late tonight.”

“Okay, so one more round, you two sing a duet, then we leave,” Ruby smirked.

“Wait…what?” Emma questioned, as her brain caught up with what her friend just said. “Nuh-uh, no way! When we decided to come here, I said I wasn’t gonna sing.”

“Oh, come on, Em! Just one song?”

“Nope, not gonna do it,” she insisted, folding her arms across her chest.

Killian’s eyes darted between the two women, seeing determination on each of their faces and wondering who was going to win the battle.

“I hate to interrupt this standoff, but perhaps we should go get the drinks, Swan?” he suggested.

She continued to stare at Ruby until he put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. Sighing, she said, “Fine, we’ll get the drinks and when we come back, I don’t want to hear another word about me singing, got it?”

Ruby very maturely stuck her tongue out at her friend, which made Graham laugh. Emma pushed herself out of her chair and took Killian’s offered hand to follow him to the bar.

As they waited for the bartender to fill their order, Killian put his hands on Emma’s hips and drew her closer to him, looking into her eyes. “Why don’t you want to sing?”

She heaved a sigh. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just curious.”

“I…I don’t know. I don’t have a very good voice and I’m afraid I’ll look like an idiot.”

“Like I did when I was up there?”

Her eyes widened dramatically. “Are you kidding? You sounded fantastic! You’ve got an amazing voice!”

He ducked his head and looked up at her through his lashes. “Thanks very much, Emma. As you know, I didn’t want to go up on the stage either, but then I thought, what the hell? I’ll probably never see any of these people again, so why am I worried about what they think? And guess what? When I got up there, I had fun! Now, I’m not going to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, but why not give it a try? I’ll be right there with you and if you falter, we’ll get through it together.”

She chewed her lip thoughtfully for several seconds, then slid her hands up to rest them on his chest. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“It will only be one song, Emma…”

“I’m not just talking about the karaoke, Killian. I mean, I’ve never…kissed a guy so soon after meeting him, or…or felt as strong an attraction to someone like I feel for you. This is…it feels…”

“Right?” he offered, voicing what he himself felt.

Her eyes met his, searching for the honesty she already knew would be there. “Yeah, it feels right and…it feels good.”

He grinned and nodded in agreement, then dipped his head to place a tender kiss on her lips.

When they separated, she sighed, “Okay. One song.”

*********

Their drinks were almost gone before they were called because it was their turn to sing. They had chosen “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart”. Emma cringed at the whoops and whistles Ruby unleashed as they made their way to the stage, and in the moments before the band started to play, she stood on shaking legs, her nerves threatening to overwhelm her. Then she felt Killian take her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. When she looked up, he was wearing a brilliant smile that immediately put her more at ease.

Once they sang the first few lines, Emma started to focus on the song and really began to enjoy herself. The alcohol in her system, combined with the pounding beat of the drums, the encouragement of the crowd, and the touch of Killian’s hand, helped her to let go of the lingering insecurities about trying something new.

When they began the repetitive back and forth lines of Don’t go breaking my heart / I won’t go breaking your heart near the end of the song, they were facing each other and she saw a change in his demeanor. He no longer had a playful, lighthearted look on his face. His eyes grew serious when he sang “I won’t go breaking your heart” with more intensity than before and she felt goosebumps raise on her arms.

As the last notes of the song faded away, Emma moved into his arms and hugged him tightly. The applause and cheers from the crowd were loud and boisterous, but all he heard was Emma’s voice in his ear saying, “I’m very glad you sent me that text today, Killian.”

*********

It was nearing one o’clock in the morning when the four of them left the bar and walked out into the Florida humidity to wait for their Ubers. Ruby and Graham shared more lengthy kisses, while Killian wrapped his arms around Emma and she laid her head on his chest.

She had been a bit surprised when Ruby told her she wouldn’t be inviting Graham back to the hotel. “I can’t promise the same thing tomorrow, after I spend the whole day with him,” she’d warned. “He’s such a hottie and if I don’t get a piece of that before we go back home, I’ll never forgive myself!”

“I’ll consider myself warned,” Emma deadpanned.

After they received the notification that Ubers would be arriving in less than a minute, Killian used his finger to tip Emma’s chin up, then bent to press his lips to hers. She couldn’t remember being kissed so softly and sweetly. In fact, she couldn’t remember being kissed by anyone else, because Killian Jones was driving every thought of any other guy she had ever known from her mind. He was intoxicating, and she didn’t mind being under his spell at all.

When they finally broke the kiss, they realized both cars were sitting at the curb waiting. Killian nudged the other couple, who reluctantly separated with promises of seeing one another in a few hours.

Emma and Killian murmured the same words to each other and shared one more lingering kiss. “Thank you for a great night,” she breathed against his lips.

“Trust me when I say it was my pleasure,” he returned. “Goodnight, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

They kept their fingers linked until the last possible moment before getting into their respective Ubers, all of them giving small waves before sliding into the back seats.

“We’re not gonna get a lot of sleep tonight,” Emma yawned.

“No, but it was damn worth it. I think I may be in love,” Ruby sighed theatrically.

“I’ve heard you say that before, you know.”

“Yeah, but I think I may actually be telling the truth this time!”

“After knowing him for just a few hours?”

Ruby threw her head back against the seat. “He’s just so sweet, and handsome, and sexy and…and perfect!”

“He does seem like a nice guy,” Emma agreed. “And so is Killian.”

“And you thought he was gonna be a serial killer!” Ruby laughed.

“Well, I was wrong.”

Ruby put a hand to her ear. “What’s that, you say? I couldn’t quite hear you!”

“Shut up,” Emma growled, with no heat in her voice and the corners of her lips curving up. Flopping back against the seat, she sighed happily. When they finally got back to the hotel, cleaned up and in bed, she knew she would have sweet dreams of Killian Jones.

********* 

Graham’s karaoke song is “Little Red Riding Hood” by aeseaes. 

Thank you so much for reading! Your feedback is sincerely appreciated!

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[ingravinoveritas]

!!! Amyyy, I was in the audience for the show with my sister, I'm still reeling thinking about it and so happy that it's out. Have you seen the episode? I've actually yet to watch the telly cut but the show was SO good & I hope that they didn't cut too much (I was in the live audience once before and we were there for about 90 minutes, yet the final cut wasn't even an hour long, sadly). Anyway, maybe that's just the rush of the live experience speaking but I thought that David was especially, especially lovely, he was SO. sweet. God. Plus, and that's one thing that stood out for us, Robbie was really touchy with him on the sofa. Quite fidgety, putting his hand on his back, shoulder, leg, knee, especially when the filming was done, hugging and talking, he seemed super enamoured haha. Which made me think of missing David & Michael doing promo together, I just want them enjoying being in each others space again and us being able to scream about it!! ❤️

(Grouping the Graham Norton anons together, since they’re related.) Anon #1, that is so cool that you were at the taping for the show! I sometimes don’t even realize that I have people following my blog from all over, so I absolutely love that you got to be in the audience and have shared all of this with me.

So yes, I did indeed see the full episode of David on Graham Norton this past week. For me, this episode was a double whammy because my love Eric Idle was also on the show, so I could hardly wrap my brain around both of them existing in the same space (as was the case when Michael Palin suddenly turned up in the first episode of season 2 of Staged). Absolutely delightful.

But focusing on David, I did feel this was such a toned down/more serious appearance as compared to the many others he’s made on GN in the past. I think this is due to the present state of the world more than anything else, rather than anything happening with David personally, and I was glad that GN gave him and Jamie Lee the space to talk about climate change and the things that matter (or should matter) to us all on a global scale.

It was touching to see David so vulnerable, though, especially when talking about his dad. I get the sense that--especially with his recent turn in Inside Man and now the play he’s about to star in--that David has been thinking about his father and “goodness” a lot, and feeling in some way like he will never be as good as his father was (which speaks to what you were saying, Anon #2). Part of that is just the result of that Scottish Presbyterian upbringing, but I think it’s a piece of David that will always be there, that still shows itself in his career and in his life and how he blossoms and preens whenever he receives the slightest bit of attention.

...Which then brings me to the other part of David’s appearance that caught my attention, which--as you mentioned, Anon #1--was all the touchy-feely action going on with Robbie Williams. A few gifs:

The first one got me because of course David doesn’t even flinch when getting groped by another man, and you love to see it. I do wonder how much of this had to do with Robbie being sleep-deprived and just grabbing on to David to keep from falling over with exhaustion, but it still was quite a sight to behold.

With the second one, I couldn’t help but think of Michael giving Chris Hemsworth a death glare when he tried to put his arm around David on GN three years ago. I do wonder what his reaction would have been like had he been there when this happened, or if David engineered a little bit of that jealous response (because he likes it) by texting Michael after the taping and telling him to watch the show on TV. 

And I’m with you, Anon #1...I, too, miss David and Michael being in each other’s spaces and touching the way they do. I always make a distinction, though, because while David clearly enjoys being groped and manhandled by lots of people, he does not react to any of them in quite the same way he reacts to Michael. I gave an example of it in this post from a while back, and I see the same thing here with Robbie: That David goes with it, but he doesn’t soften and melt into his touch the way he does with Michael’s.

Robbie is touching all over David and David is enjoying it, but there’s no “intimacy,” so to speak. It’s fun and friendly and a lovely moment to watch, but it’s something that exists mainly on the surface. But intimacy speaks to a close connection between two people, which is what is so evident and so powerful when we see Michael and David together.

It’s Michael who reminds David of how lovely he is. It’s Michael who brings something in David to life and lets him know he is safe, that he can enjoy the attention, and that he is and always will be good enough. Michael couldn’t stop gushing about David during the last GO press tour, and I truly can’t wait to see it all happen again when they start doing promo for the second season.

Thanks for writing in, Anons (and especially Anon #1, since you were at the taping!). I hope we’ll have more to scream about soon... xx

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

Will graham stared up at the projector screen, the name in black sent a sadness through him, your name was not one he ever through the would be teaching about. Clearing his throat he clicked to the first slide. Your photo appearing.

“This case is a case that is impossible to understand because this particular serial killer, committed none of the murders herself, yes she, a women, a rarity, in most modern studies of psychopathy, and serial killings. Most would see a white man, mid to late thirties maybe older, straight or straight assuming, normal looking, but when you look at her, you may see, the girl in your high school English who doesn’t speak, maybe you see her in hallways and never notice beyond, ‘I like her shirt’ or ‘she seems sad’ but not much else. Which is what she would want”

clicking to the next slide he looked up at the crime scene, the bloody teenagers laying in various states of being skinned alive, the blood pooling on the floor. Smearing up walls, children who tried to crawl away or move in their unwavering need to carve themselves to nothing.

“This is, the final scene that caused us to catch her in the act. Something she wanted.” Clicking through a few more slides will paused

“Her name, is Y/N L/N, she is the worlds only manipulative, by proxy, serial killer, what does that mean. If you spent, five minutes with her, simply talking, she could convince you, in that time, to kill your entire family, in some of the most gruesome ways imaginable. And the entire time, you would think, and believe it was you who has always had these ideas. That she was simply a women you met on the street. She is brilliant, cunning, beyond what you would assume to be a violent person.” Clicking to the final slide, was you smiling with a group of dogs happily around you

“She is also, my wife. Though, I never knew for a second what she had done or would come to do. She never once showed signs of any text book trait, anything, she was for all purposes normal. Until we entered the crime scene and sat in the middle was the women I had chosen to spend my life with. It’s true when they say, you may never truly know the person you love until they show you. She is currently detained in the Baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane. She is in a silent cell, meaning, she is in 24 hour isolation. The only way to speak to her is through writing, or yes and no, she is muzzled if she is being transferred, complete with straight jacket for the other persons protection. She is. One of, if not the most. Dangerous serial killer we have ever seen.”

*snips of a random brain goo thoughts I had for a thing. Idk. Basically you know Eurus Holmes from BBCs Sherlock? Yeah take that but make it serial killer in the Hannibal world.*

[lesbiandonnanoble]

✸ lesbiandonnanoble fic masterpost ✸

here's this finally. i wanted all my DW fics in one place on this blog so here they are! below the cut, separated by source (new, classic, big finish, etc) for your reading pleasure 👍 the fics are listed in order of publication so oldest at the top, newest at the bottom. i'll try to keep this updated as best i can, and to anyone who may read any of my stuff, thank you!

new who

a parisian sunset - Even after a month of working with him, Mickey still felt nervous around Jake. He couldn’t quite read him; he could never say with surety where he stood. And, god, he had big shoes to fill. mickey/jake, T, 1.5k words.

take a breath & count to five - The Doctor can't actually process what happened on Midnight without seizing up. Donna tries to talk him through it. 10 & donna, T, 1.5k words.

suspended in gaffa - The day after he loses Amy and Rory, the Doctor wakes up on an unfamiliar planet. His ship is nowhere to be found, the world he's on seems to be the inside of an enormous computer, and he's the only living thing on it. He's struggling to survive the grief of living without Amy just as hard as he's struggling to figure out where he is and escape, and the computer interface - the only thing he can talk to - has elected to take the form of Jamie McCrimmon, which isn't making anything easier. Plus, there's something hiding in the planet's tunnels... 11, T, 18.4k words.

ooh, you make me live - Stuck on Earth during the slow invasion of the cubes, the Doctor tells Amy something he's never really told anyone before. 11 & amy, G, 2k words.

XOXO - The Doctor doesn't know when it changed from just work texts into this, but she finds herself texting O all day and all night. Graham calls her out on it, which prompts an unpleasant realization- could she have a crush? 13/"O", G, 1.3k words.

lethologica - Noun. The feeling of having a word or phrase you can't remember right on the tip of your tongue. Or, Jenny comes to check on Donna post-Journey's End. donna & jenny, T, 2.4k words.

second(or third) first kiss - Rose comes up with an excuse (Cassandra's possession) and the Doctor comes up with an excuse (that was his old body, this is his new one) and they share a 'first' kiss (and a few after that). 10/rose, T, 1.5k words.

a lives-long love letter - After crashing on Darillium and looking forward to their twenty-four year night - a veritable life together - the Doctor can't get over what River said on the ship. That however briefly, she'd really believed that he didn't love her back. He knows it's time to do everything it takes to change her mind. 12/river, T, 2.7k words.

self-destruction 101 - The Doctor thinks through his options while preparing to erase Donna's memories. He does it half to save her life, and half to ruin his. It's what they both deserve. 10 & donna, T, 1.1k words.

our thing - The Doctor takes Rose back to her London for New Year's. He's stuck on the families he's lost. She reminds him of the one he's got. 9/rose, G, 0.9k words.

toast & tea - The Doctor comes down with something; so used to him looking after her, Rose is grateful to return the favour, and to talk with shields down. 9/rose, G, 0.8k words.

five times Donna wrote the Doctor an email she didn't send - ...plus one time she couldn't remember enough to write one. Six emails from Donna to the Doctor, detailing her thoughts on their adventures together from the Runaway Bride through after Journey's End, and six short scenes accompanying those emails. 10 & donna, G, 10k words.

home, after the end of the world - Karvanista has just lost everyone and everything. By every thread of logic in the universe, he should be alone. He isn't. dan & karvanista, G, 0.9k words.

wind was blowing, time stood still - In the autumn of 1983, London bartender Rose Tyler meets John Smith. He's a dock worker, a union organizer, and an all around good man. But Rose starts hearing a strange voice in her head, and John's eyes, his heartbeat, his temperature, start to change. Reality begins to blur, and Rose can't hold onto herself, the life she loves, and John all at once; something has to slip. An 80s AU and a chameleon arch AU rolled into one. 9/rose, mickey/jake, T, WIP.

classic who

playing to weaknesses - The Doctor finds himself captured as a result of his investigating the Autons. As usual, he talks his way out of trouble. 3/the master, T, 1.8k words.

girls' day - A human!Susan AU sequel to this wonderful fic. After Susan moves in with them, Ian and Barbara struggle to come up with things that will help her open up to them. Barbara comes up with something that might help. susan & barbara, G, 1.7k words.

a much-needed talk - On one of their adventures, Ian and Barbara barely make an escape. It leaves them with some things to talk about. ian/barbara, G, 1.2k words.

t-minus 30 minutes - Jamie, Zoe, and the Doctor have finally gotten themselves into trouble they can't figure a way out of. With a computer predicting their every move, they have no way to escape. Basically, they have half an hour to say goodbye. 2 & jamie & zoe, T, 3.5k words.

a piece of eternity - Steven was alone in that room, a prisoner on Mechanus, for two years. Or, more precisely, seven hundred and forty-eight days. He knows, because he counted every single one of them. Basically, a 'what happened to Steven during his two years alone' fic. steven, T, 5.4k words.

to the waters and the wild - During an adventure, Jamie and the Doctor finally have the “I know you’re not human. What are you??” talk while waiting for Zoe to break them out of jail. 2 & jamie, G, 1.5k words.

weighing the probability of luck versus fate - Once they're safe and settled after escaping the land of fiction, the Doctor tries to explain why he didn't recognize Jamie's face. 2/jamie, G, 1.7k words.

five steps to living - Once she leaves the Wheel, Zoe faces the challenge of unlearning her programming. Slowly, she becomes acquainted with her emotions and with how to express them, and with the help of Jamie and the Doctor, she tries to accept that she is loved instead of just useful. 2 & jamie & zoe, G, 4.5k words.

to time wasting - Necessity, as some chap had surely called it, was not the mother of invention, at least not for the Doctor, and not with this. A case could be made, however, for love. [Or, how Jamie got his wristwatch.] 2/jamie, G, 1.9k words.

in the common tongue - Jamie and the Doctor have a talk about language. Featuring the TARDIS translation circuit, the importance of one's native language, and shooting stars. 2/jamie, G, 2.1k words.

making the wrong choice (and other things that are worse in a cyclical existence) - After his trial, the Doctor is sentenced to exile and a forced regeneration. Before that sentence can be carried out, he's given a choice: go through with it, be killed and be exiled, or just go out and do one simple task for the Time Lords, and go free. It seems like an easy choice, doesn't it? And that cloying sense of familiarity, that sense that he's made this choice before, done this all before, that's nothing. Isn't it? 2, T, 4.1k words.

beginning to hope - A wlw Ben/Polly AU. 30 years after the Doctor, after their break up, after everything, Polly calls Ben about a nightmare and Ben suggests they meet up somewhere and talk it over. ben/polly, G, 3.1k words.

like a bell to a southerly wind - When Ben and Polly go missing at the resort planet the Doctor dropped them off on, he and Jamie pretend to be regular resort guests - and married - so they can look for them without getting too many questions. They pretend too well. 2/jamie, T, 12.3k words.

making right - After Telos, Jamie and the Doctor get into an argument, which, as it turns out, is a proxy for another, heavier argument. One thing leads to another and suddenly they're talking about the one thing they've pointedly not talked about since they left Earth for Skaro: what happened at Maxtible's mansion. 2 & jamie, G, 2.5k words.

under desert stars - Stranded on an alien world waiting for the Doctor to come back, Jamie and Zoe butt heads yet again, this time over a young alien child Jamie insists on looking after. Zoe thinks about parenting. zoe & jamie, G, 2.2k words.

ghost stories - Even in a different world, a world with a magic ship and a thousand different planets and the Doctor, Jamie can't fully shake what happened on Culloden. The Doctor talks him through a flashback. 2/jamie, G, 2.3k words.

bridging gaps - Jamie is back with the Doctor, but all he can notice is how much their years apart post-War Games have changed him. A 6b story about weathering cultural genocide. 2/jamie, T, 2.5k words.

and make a wish - In living memory, Zoe has never once celebrated her birthday. There is nothing special about just another day. When she turns seventeen, she tries to distract herself with the usual numbers and equations, but Jamie is set on giving her a proper birthday. zoe & jamie, G, 2.1k words.

in recovery - Zoe gets put out of commission during an attack on a base. When she wakes up, she starts to realize just how at home she feels with Jamie and the Doctor. 2 & jamie & zoe, G, 1k words.

expanded universe stuff

a reason to stay - An AU where the Master helps Alison make the choice of whether to stay and travel with them or go back home. scream of the shalka, alison & the master, G, 1.5k words.

paradoxical recollection - Once they're back safe in the TARDIS after Caerdroia, C'rizz starts remembering the cycle from the Last. charley & c'rizz, T, 2k words.

birds singing in the sycamore tree - After a mishap with a planet's native flora, Charley and the Doctor have four shared dreams, and confess their love for each other in four different ways. 8/charley, T, 8.9k words.

i know where i'm going, but i don't want to leave - Shellshocked by the loss of her brother, Charley visits C'rizz's room before she makes the Doctor drop her off. charley & c'rizz, T, 1.7k words.

opera gloves - Leela and Romana attend an upscale Earth restaurant for a meeting with Arkadian. Leela, after the loss of Andred, weighs the possibility of having Romana leave her behind on Earth. gallifrey, leela/romana, G, 3k words.

you're my saving grace - cowritten with sciencebutch. After the events of Scherzo, the Doctor and Charley have a little hearts to heart. 8/charley, G, 4.8k words.

beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth - Throughout Romana's rebellion against Pandora, Leela and Narvin grow closer somewhat by necessity. But also, necessity is a bit of an excuse. Or, 5 times Leela initiates contact with Narvin + 1 time Narvin reaches out to her first. gallifrey, leela/narvin, T, 3.9k words.

quicksilver and steel - Meeting a future Romana makes Leela think about how far she'd go for her present Romana. gallifrey, leela/romana, G, 1.9k words.

hotel talk - Charley knows that the Doctor and C'rizz have very vague relationships with the concept of binary gender. She also knows that she doesn't quite fit those molds either, only she's never told anyone before. 8 & charley & c'rizz, G, 1.9k words.

pictures at an exhibition - Brax's favourite pieces in the entire renowned Braxiatel Collection aren't ones of value or cultural importance. They're the three that depict Leela, Romana, and Narvin. gallifrey, brax/leela, brax/romana, brax/narvin, T, 1.7k words.

how to start the time war - A bit of an emotional elaboration on that 'holy shit, Narvin started the time war' scene. gallifrey, narvin & leela & romana, T, 1.6k words.

EU/new/classic crossover stuff

let's try again - After the Time War, the Doctor can't get over how utterly alone he is. He's the only one of his people left. Then it really hits him- he's the only one left. There's no one to tell him what to do, or stop him. He goes back and finds Jamie again, but there's a problem- Jamie can't remember him. 9/jamie, T, 11.9k words.

the ballad of robert frost - In seeking a moment's respite from the Time War, the Doctor finds themself going back to Jamie's much simpler, more linear war, and to Jamie, in hopes they might remember what it is they're fighting for. 8/jamie, T, 3.3k words.

we're building a house of the future together - Donna remembers everything. If anyone's strong enough to carry those memories, that knowledge, it's her. They thought she couldn't handle it, but they were wrong. And as much as she wants her best friend back, she can't ignore that he took those memories away from her. So, a lesson in trust. Donna builds herself a spacetime machine and sends herself on a tour of the Doctor's timeline, visiting each of his regenerations so she can see that he's worth trusting and worth finding again. the doctor [all] & donna, T, WIP.

[jaeminlore]

Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

-

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

-

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

-

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

-

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

-

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

-

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

-

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

-

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

-

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

-

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

-

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[harveywritings92]

You get drunk and lost.

You go out with some friends drinking, get plastered and somehow you've broke away from your group. after walking around the city you have moment of clarity you text you boyfriend, "Halph! me loss...!!" before he can respond you accidently put it on silent, and he freaks and nearly tears the streets upside down looking for you, only to get a call at the ass crack of dawn by random person saying they've found you...

Warnings : alcohol use, Smoking, theft and mature situations.

------------------

Dabi: He thought it was joke at first, sure his girl likes to let loose from time to time, But she never irresponsible about it! So, when he got that text he thought you were screwing with him, He texted you [Aww what'd ya lose Doll?] you didn't text him back... He thought she just put her phone away, as time passed by soon Dabi got worried, he checked his phone; the time you'd said you be home had long passed.

He called you and kept getting the busy signal. "Tch" without missing a beat he got his hoodie, face-cover and sunglasses on and went out to the bar that you said you'd be at just in time to see your friends drunkenly stagger out of the bar giggling like a bunch of hens. "Hey." He called out to them one them... Ayaka? If that's what her name was? Dabi wasn't really paying attention when you showed him her picture.

he was to busy fantasizing you in that tight little dress bent over couch while he rails you from behind…

Anyway, back to the present. 

Aya was dazed but seemed to recognize him. "ohz! Y/n's s-shy man! how ya doing bro?" the cremator stayed close to the alley shushed the drunk woman gesturing for her to come closer. "I'm fine, where's Y/n? She still inside?" he said in low voice nodded towards the bar, Aya gave him this blank look and Dabi didn't like how loud this silence was.... "Y/n? s-she said- said she was gonna go for a walk..." Dabi eyes narrowed resisting the urge to turn this drunk putz into a pile of ashes. "Aya focus, where did Y/n say she was going?" He said slowly trying to get the drunk woman to remember, this seemed to help as her eyes widened in realization, but that hope was soon dashed as she chortled out. "Your mamma's butt! hehe..." and broke down laughing. 

Dabi growled annoyed before shoving her back over to the group drunk girls waiting for their taxi, for the rest of the night Dabi spent his time looking through every alley, back road and crappy neighborhood, he could think of, But there was no sign of you anywhere! at around 5 am He sat on bench dejected and took his phone out; looked through his contact before stopping at 'Chicken-wings' he glared at the named with a lot of confliction, But before he could press call...

His nickname for You suddenly lights up his screen Dabi answered without hesitation. "Y/n?... where the hell are you?" He hissed feeling both relieved and pissed off at the same time, however the voice that answered him wasn't girlfriend but that of a man. "Who the hell is this... where's Y/n? if you touched her I'll-" Dabi snarled flames bursting from his chin, but the person on the other end told him to calm down and explained, he lived a few blocks away from where Dabi was. 

The cremator wasted no time getting there, he knocked on the door and was greeted by an old man who looked like a breeze would knock him over, The old man confirmed Dabi was the on he called, then apologized for scaring the young man, explained he found you passed out on his patio and didn't want leave you alone outside. "I have no bloody clue how these new-fangled phones work, had to wake my 8 year old grandson to help me." he explained as he led an awkward Dabi to his living room.

"I should be one who's sorry, for the trouble my girls caused you." the raven haired man sighed seeing his girlfriend passed out on the old man's couch, The old man just waved him off. "It's fine boy, we were all young once!" Dabi thanked him again carefully collected his girlfriend and carried her back to one of his safe houses that was nearby, Needless to say aside from nursing a gnarly hangover, You also had to deal with an very Angry, horny and tired Dabi who wasn't you out his sight anytime soon.

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Hawks: [you lost? lost what? darts?] You don't answer him. [Angel wings? you there???] he didn't wait and see if you'd reply as Endeavor was giving him this look that screamed 'put that phone away, or else I'll launch it so far up you ass you're kids will born screaming your ringtone!' the avian man smiled coyly and put his phone away and waited for the meeting to be over, the meeting and late night patrol finally wrapped up at 3:30 am and Hawks walked outside recalling the conversation he had with you and checked his phone, Keigo felt his heart sink you hadn't answered him, He flew over to the bar while at the same time calling you phone, but all he got was voicemail...

When he got there he saw all your girl friends had gone home and only one of your guy friends was there, Akito if the blond remembered correctly. "Yo Akito-san." He called as he lowered down the ground, the drunk man looked around startled be for noticing Hawks above. "Sky-guy my dude! how ya doing?" he slurred at the number two hero, who stared at him crossed armed as he observed the inebriated man, very unimpressed.

"Nothing much, was Y/n okay?"  

"w-who wha?"

"Y/n, Akito did she get home alright?"

"Oh she went to the subway."

Hawks brows scrunched up in confusion, it was passed midnight the trains weren't running right now! So, where the fuck was his girlfriend?! "Akito, I want you to listen where did Y/n go?" Again the drunk said the Subway, making it very clear he wasn't gonna be any help, Hawks flew up into the sky and sent some of his feathers out to search for his missing girlfriend and focused to see if that one he snuck in to her purse was near by.... "Come Y/n, where are ya baby?" he muttered as he eyes scanned the from above, when he felt a tug from one his feathers and almost on cue his phone light up with your ringtone.

"Y/n? where are you? are you safe?!" He asked frantically and waited but the voice coming from other end wasn't his girlfriend's but older woman's voice. "Is this Kei-Chan?" the winged hero eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who are you?" the woman voice cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I'm Anko, I found this girl in front of the shop is her your friend?" Hawks confirmed this expecting this stranger to be a villain holding you hostage and told her to stay where she was. 

Instead when he got to his girlfriend's location; A Subway sandwich shop. *Ah...The subway, Hardee har-har...* He mentally deadpanned before looking down at the front and saw his girlfriend passed out on a bench with a tattered old blanket draped over her, while a little old lady in worn out clothes was standing next to a shopping cart. It didn't take a genius to see the old woman was homeless this seemed to strike a cord with the number 2 hero. 

Hawk silently landed "Excuse me." he called caused the old woman he assumed was Anko to jump by the sudden voice and saw Hawks walking towards. "Yes?" the woman answered warily. Hawks introduced himself as Kei-chan the man she spoke to, he asked how she stumbled on to his girlfriend? Anko adjusted her her old jacket said she saw her going into the with a group of girls, they left in a taxi without her! 

The winged hero looked furious upon hearing this, you had mentioned your friends were a little peeved that the two of you were dating... But to abandon you in a seedy part of town while intoxicated? that was over the line, had Anko not found you first then.... Hawk's jaw tightened not wanting to think about it as the old woman tale continued. You stubbled out a few moments, and passed out on the bench out front.

"I think those girl stole her jacket and shoes, I didn't want the poor dear getting cold, so I put my blanket on her and called you." She handed Keigo your purse a used his feathers to hold it while he gathered you in his arms he thanked Anko for guarding you. He promised to return the her kindness but the old woman said it was fine, but Hawks was already coming up with a few idea as he flew back to his apartment.

The next morning you were alone and confused how you got to Keigo's apartment wondered in your friend had called him, and went check your phone to check your messages, and were very bewildered over why your "Friends" were all apologizing, begging Hawks to call off his fanclub! You were flabbergasted about the situation, until Akito left you a screenshot of their original plan; they were going to make you and Akito drunkenly hook up and ruin your relationship with Keigo! 

Of course they didn't know that Akito was in fact gay, so when they figured that out they just left you alone in front of sub-shop at 3am with no way of getting back home, you were pissed off that's for sure! and blocked them save for Akito as he had nothing to do with their plan.

Then you checked the newsfeeds and saw Hawks was trending curious you checked to see why, and saw Keigo delivering a box containing a new jacket, shoes, blankets and food to a stunned homeless woman with a note saying to "my girlfriend's hero! forever grateful Hawks!" Okay... Now Keigo really needs to tell you what happened last night!

----------------------------------------------------

Fatgum: [Aw it's all right Teddy Graham, ya can't win them all!] Fatgum chuckled assuming you lost at darts or pool while having fun with your friends, however as the night wore on and patrol came to an end, Taishiro was getting concerned, You hadn't texted him back nor had you called him to tell him she got home alright, just that "Halph...me loss!" text! The BMI hero was loosing his appetite with worry as he wandered down the street looking for the bar you were supposed be at, only to find out from your very drunk friends who was shuffling into in a taxi van.

He stopped one of them asking where you were, did you home with one of the girls? but to his dread they said you went for walk somewhere, Taishiro tried to coax them into remembering where you said were you going? But at this point your friend was too far gone to answer coherently, and with that the blond man took off down the street, hoping to find a trace of his lil'Teddy Graham! 

He searched for hours even showing civilians a photo of you asking if they've seen ya? the answers were always no... it was almost 3 am he was considering calling the cops to help look for ya... as he leaned against a wall to take break, when he heard your ringtone on his phone, Taishiro's hand was shaking as he answered the phone as this nasally voice greeted him

"H-hello, Sir? assuming you're a sir! uh... we found this lady passed out in one of our aisles, could you come and get her, before my manager calls the cops?"

"Wh-where is she?"

"The 7/11 at (random block)."

"Yeah, I'll be right there!"

The chubby hero ran down the street so fast he hadn't noticed his fat was burning off so when he finally arrived at the 7/11 his clothes were baggy and hanging of his body. "Hey, I'm Taishiro, you called me about my girlfriend?" The now skinny hero wheezed catching his breath as the snotty manager turned around to mouth off at Taishiro only to blanch when they realized how much taller and muscular the blond was compared to him and his demeanor quickly changed.

"Y-yes, sir right this way" the balding man stammered leading the 8ft tall man to the back room where a female staff member was watching you, Taishiro let out a sigh of relief and picked you up like a toddler; with your arms around his neck and your head rested on his shoulder, as he was leaving his yellow eyes noticed a backpack stuffed with snacks and other stuff hidden under the manager's desk, he hummed not thinking anything of it and went to thank clerk for watching you as the manager had gone out for a smoke break, Since he was there anyway Taishiro asked for a couple meatbuns for the road.

"Thanks, for lookin after m'girl."  

"It was no problem sir.'

"By the way I saw a backpack, back there, wha's that about?"

(the clerk went white, made sure her manager was still outside, assuming that she'd be too afraid to tell the tall man about his scheme.)

"That lazy bully of a manager has been stealing snacks and other crap from the store, He was going to try and say your girlfriend did it, and scare you into paying him not to call the cops."

Taishiro's hold tightened on your thigh. "I'm guessing he chickened out, because... Well you look like you could crack his head open like an egg!" the blond snorted as he payed for his food "And you'd be right about that!" Taishiro huffed, he then thanked the clerk for her honesty and shot the manager a venomous glare as passed him outside, later that night Taishiro reported what clerk had told him to store's head office, and vowed to return as Fatgum just to make sure the balding thief was gone! 

The next morning you were very confused as to how you’d gotten to your boyfriend’s apartment? you sat up only to get pulled back down an exhausted Taishiro who muttered for you to go back to sleep, he'll tell you everything later. 

[shegatsby]

Allergy

If it's okay could I please request Will/hannibal/reader where will n Hannibal are yandere and reader is the nicest, sweetest person ever so when they take her and cook her food for the first time, she doesn't tell them that she's allergic to eggs because she doesn't have the heart to tell them cause she's afraid she's being rude. And then like twenty minutes later, she gets a fever and breaks out in hives. And then asks them if they have an epi-pen or any medicine and they find out whats going on? Idk this is long af you can ignore this if you want @theichabbieclub​

Hannibal x Will x Female Reader

Warnings; None. 

A/N: Thank you for this request. Sorry for any typos. :)

Y/N was excited when she woke up because she found a letter on her doorstep, it was an invitation letter from Doctor Hannibal Lecter, on the yellow paper it said that she was invited for dinner, she traced his signature, it made her giggle because Hannibal was a traditional man and instead of texting or calling he went big and sent a letter to her. It was a lazy day for her, she was working in the FBI but she was new so Jack and others called her rookie, she didn’t mind. In the invitation it said that Will Graham will be there too, she was getting along with Hannibal and Will, she somewhat felt that they were looking after her, protecting her, maybe it was because she was much younger than them or she was new in the FBI academy but she didn’t complain. She knew Hannibal and she was invited to his house several times before so she found a formal yet elegant dress in her wardrobe, it was a flower dress and showed her personality, she was a very sweet person and people were surprised when she decided to go to the FBI academy.

(this is the dress)

When the time came she called for a taxi and gave the address, the yellow lights in his house were on, she paid the driver and quickly walked the stone ground, she knocked on the door hoping she wasn’t late because Hannibal had rules and he never liked rude people. Will opened the door, he had a casual outfit, his curly hair looked well made and his blue eyes shined when he saw her, ‘’Come in Y/N, Hannibal is at the kitchen right now.’’ She walked in, Will took her coat and purse, together they walked to the dining room and they had a casual conversation about their recent case, a brutal murder. Y/N was fascinated by the details on the dining table, the handkerchiefs, shiny plates etc. Hannibal came with a tray of food, they were having breakfast for dinner, ‘’Hello Y/N, thank you for being here.’’ His maroon eyes seemed pleased to see her in that dress, he was planting new ideas in her head and last week he told her that she would look good in a flower dress, he was satisfied to see that his sweet manipulation was working. There was orange juice, coffee, eggs and bacon, bread. The problem was that she was allergic to eggs and she didn’t want to be rude so she decided to take a bite. ‘’I didn’t see you at the station yesterday.’’ Hannibal stated as he poured orange juice into her glass, ‘’I was with a friend.’’ She didn’t realize but Will and Hannibal exchanged a look. ‘’Do we know this friend?’’ Will asked fixing his glasses, ‘’No, he is a childhood friend, came to see me.’’ She first started with bacon and a little bread, Hannibal cleared his throat, ‘’Childhood friends know us the best, we share deep connection with them. I hope he is a nice person.’’

They talked about the new case, and how their lives were changing because of their jobs, now she had to eat the eggs, she took few bites and thought it was enough. After 20 minutes they were in the living room drinking and talking, Will was sitting next to her, Hannibal put more logs to the fireplace, it was a cozy environment and she felt her face and chest getting itchy. ‘’Y/N are you okay? You look all read.’’ Will asked, ‘’I.. I need epi-pen because I’m allergic to eggs. I’m sorry Hannibal, I didn’t want to be rude and ate the eggs.’’ Hannibal Lecter was astonished by her character, instead of telling that before she decided to go with it and, ‘’I will be back, don’t worry.’’ He had a smile on his lips, he came back with the medicine, it was a small pill, and a glass of water ‘’Here you go. Next time let me know please, I would hate to see you hurt.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

[batgurl1989]

A Campsite To Remember

Summary: You and Henry go camping

Word Count: 2522

Warnings: None that I can think of. Fluff

A/N: This is a continuation of ideas from @henrynerdfan​ and @stephartrave​. A camping date. This follows after A Hike to Remember, A Picnic to Remember, and A Beach to Remember, and is currently the last of this series, unless another idea comes in that runs in this same vein. It has not been beta-ed, so all mistakes are my own. If you want to be added to my taglist let me know.

Taglist: @rmtndew​ @henrynerdfan​ @cynic-spirit​ @princesssterek​ @summersong69​

The sun was warm when we arrived at the campground. Setting my backpack down, glad to be free of its weight, I looked around the site. There was a wood platform for setting up the tent so it would stay dry on one side of the clearing. Across from it was a picnic table and a firepit with a grill over it, perfect for cooking. Back down the path was a pair of outhouses. Not going to lie, that was one of the reasons for picking this campsite to rent when I looked it up online. Not having to balance while squatting over a hole seemed like something I would not want to do in the middle of the night if the need arose.

Henry scooped up my pack and moved it over to the wooden platform. He had been carrying the tent and the food. I had lugged our clothes and miscellaneous essentials we thought we might need, along with anything Kal might need. The Akita bounded around the clearing, barking at squirrels, letting them know he was moving in for the weekend.

“We made good time.” Henry smiled at me as he passed by on his way to set up the tent. I grinned, throwing a stick for Kal. I had offered to help build the tent, but Henry insisted he could handle it alone. Probably for the best, anyway, as tents and I didn’t seem to get along well.

Kal and I decided to explore the nearby forest, enjoying the fall weather. The leaves had changed once again, and the sun warmed the scenery, turning the whole area into a fiery display of colours. Kal pranced beside me, proudly carrying a stick in his mouth as though he had conquered it. I scratched his head as we walked, excitement blooming in me about this weekend. In honour of us being whatever we were for a year, Henry had flown back to Washington for a camping weekend.

Since our picnic date, we had kept in touch as best we could. His filming schedule kept him busy, and my job was becoming ever more demanding. We made sure to text as often as we could, call each other when the times aligned across time zones. Thankfully, we lived in a time where video calls were a thing. He had even flown me out to set one week for a beach getaway when filming went on a short break. We weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend, no labels, but we somehow knew that this was exclusive without ever blatantly saying it.

By the time Kal and I returned to the campsite the tent was up, and the sleeping bags were unrolled inside. Henry had gotten a fire roaring already. Even though the sun was still shining, it would soon set, and the bite of Autumn would follow quickly behind it. Even now the breeze that soughed between the trees brought with it a chill. The fire was a welcome balm to that chill.

When I stepped up beside Henry as he watched the flames lick higher, I slid my hand into his large warm one. He entwined our fingers, giving my hand a comforting squeeze. I leaned into his muscled arm, trying to absorb as much of his heat as I could.

“Cold?” Henry chuckled, dropping my hand to wrap his arm around my shoulders. He tugged me into the side of his body, tucking me close under his arm. He pressed a kiss to the side of my head, lingering there, resting his head on mine. “I missed you. I missed this.”

“I missed you too.” I whispered, wrapping my arm around his back as I snuggled closer. I sighed; it felt so right to be here, in nature, like this. Nature was sort of our thing, so it was kind of perfect we were celebrating with a camping trip. Kal bumped my free hand with his big head, causing laughter to burst from both of us. “Of course, I missed you too.”

Henry and I moved about the campsite in perfect harmony, getting things ready for dinner. I had prepared a few things ahead of the trip so we would need to bring less things with us, and still be able to have nutritious meals. That didn’t mean I didn’t also bring the ingredients for smores. Every camping trip need smores.

The tinfoil packets filled with chopped veggies grilled nicely on the open fire, and the steaks were done to perfection. I don’t know if I could have pulled it off if I didn’t have Henry with me. I know it’s a stereotype that men are good at grilling, but it must be for a reason. Kal munched happily on the dog food I had made for him while we ate, his tail wagging the whole time.

“Watch out! It’s going to burn!” Henry laughed later as he watched my marshmallow catch on fire. He reached over to pull it out of the flames, blowing the fire out while still laughing. I hit his shoulder lightly for making fun of me, but I was laughing too. “You can’t put it in the flames. You have to put it down by the smoldering coals. Have you never done this before?”

“I did it lots as a kid, but it’s been a while.” I admitted, tossing my burnt marshmallow into the fire, before stabbing fresh one on. Henry shifted closer to me, guiding my skewer down to the edge of the fire where there were a few coals glowing with a warm orange heat.

“The trick is to keep rotating it like it’s on a rotisserie, not letting any side get more heat than the others.” Henry slowly spun my skewer in my hand, showing me his technique. I was distracted by his closeness, so it was a good thing he had a hold of the stick, otherwise this marshmallow was going to end up covered in ash. Risking it anyway, I kissed his cheek. A smile broke out on his face, but he kept his attention on the fire. “If you keep doing that, you definitely will burn your marshmallow.”

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” I admitted, pretending to take his smore making seriously. I had to suck my lips into my mouth to stop myself from laughing. He kept spinning the skewer, concentrating on it as the gooey confection on the end turned gold.

“Graham cracker and chocolate.” Henry instructed, getting ready to pull it from the heat. I held out the pieces I had prepared for the doomed marshmallow. He placed the warmed pillow of sugar on the piece of chocolate, and when I pressed the second graham cracker on top, he slid the skewer out. “And that is how you make the perfect smore.”

“Yum! Thank you.” I stared at the perfect little dessert sandwich, watching the marshmallow ooze out the sides. When I looked up to thank him again, Henry surprised me by pressing his lips to mine softly. It wasn’t as demanding as some of our kisses could be, or as chaste. It walked the line between the two, flirting with both sides equally.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” Henry grinned when he pulled away, tossing my words back at me. I slowly opened my eyes. I would never complain about surprise kisses from this man. “You had better eat that before it gets cold. Cold smores are not as enjoyable.”

I mentally snapped out of the daze his kiss had put me and concentrated on eating my smore before the thing melted anymore. As it was chocolate was running down my thumb, threatening to drip off my hand and on to my jeans. I licked it up before that could happen, catching Henry watching me as I did. A blush crept up my neck, heating my cheeks when I realized what my action must have seemed like. Henry quickly looked away when he saw that I caught him, a blush painting his cheeks as well.

Night fell fast out here, and between the fresh air and the hike to get out to the camp, I was exhausted early on. My full stomach probably didn’t help as I fought off a food coma. Henry noticed me trying to stifle my yawns, covering them up behind my hand as I looked away from him. Chuckling, he patted my leg. We had already cleaned up the food and hid it in the cache to keep bears and other critters away from it. We had just been enjoying the fire and the clear night.

“Time for bed, love.” Henry encouraged as he stood up. He offered me his hand, which I gladly took. My body felt limp and sated after sitting by the fire with good food warming me from the inside, and the guy I was camping with warming me from the outside. He wrapped his arm around my body, his hand resting on my opposite hip as he guided me to the tent using a flashlight to see with. “Go in and get changed. I will wait.”

Kal had already put himself to bed in the tent, but he raised his head in greeting when I entered. He had taken over Henry’s sleeping bag, claiming it as his own. I laughed as I shone my flashlight at my pack so I could find my pjs. I pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt for Henry so he wouldn’t have to go digging through the pack as well. I quickly changed in a pair of flannel pajama pants, tugging on warm wool socks. My heart sang as I pulled on one of his old shirts that he had left last time he visited, just for me. It didn’t smell like him anymore, but he promised he had brought some more to swap out this one with.

“Your turn.” I smiled, unzipping the tent flap to step out. Henry ducked inside, and faster than I had been, changed.

Kal was unmoveable, even though Henry tried to pull his sleeping bag out from under the Akita. The dog just grunted and seemed to make himself weigh more. I chuckled, flipping open my sleeping bag in invitation. I certainly wasn’t going to complain about sleeping beside Henry. If nothing else, he radiated heat and could be my personal furnace.

“Are you sure?” Henry double checked before climbing in to join me. Up until now, we had never slept together. Even during our beach getaway, we had two beds in the room. It had been really hard to resist the temptation to crawl into his bed that night, but I didn’t want to cross a boundary he might not be ready for. I found out later, he had been thinking the same thing.

“I’m sure.” I promised, letting as much of the promise show in my eyes as it did in my words. Henry carefully slid into the cramped space of my sleeping bag. I found it adorable that he seemed to try to make his massive body smaller, to take up as little room as possible.

“Maybe if you…” Henry trailed off as we tried to figure out how we were both going to fit in the sleeping bag. Our legs were tangled together already, and his arm was under my head. I nuzzled into his chest, breathing in his scent deeply, trying to cover it up by pretending I was just searching for a comfortable position.

Suddenly I was being rolled up, so I was laying basically on top of Henry. He smiled as he flattened himself underneath me, his shoulders spanning the width of the sleeping bag. Both his arms were around me, shifting me so I was more on top of him. I wanted to fight him, but there wasn’t a lot of wiggle room.

“Just give in.” Henry whispered in my ear before I pulled my head away to search his face. The smile gracing his face reached his eyes, letting me know he was fully onboard with this position. “Unless its too uncomfortable for you.”

“No… No, it’s not that.” I tried to relax. This was the closest we had gotten other than when we were hugging in the ocean. His hand smoothed down my back, sending tingles up my spine. Being this close to him was shorting out my brain and I couldn’t think straight. His finger under my chin had me looking back at him, his eyes searching mine for what might be wrong. “I just… don’t want to squish you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” Henry laughed. I had to laugh at my reason too. This man was the strongest he had ever been and could easily bench me plus some. He cupped my cheek after tucking my hair away from my face. “How about this? If during the night either of us gets uncomfortable, I will sleep with Kal. Just say the word, and I’ll move.”

“Okay.” I said quietly, scared he would move now. I really was enjoying being this close to him. Though I am positive sleeping beside Kal wouldn’t be a new thing for him, I would feel bad kicking him out of the warm sleeping bag. Henry’s eyes searched mine again, making sure I was 100% okay with this.

“Oh. And to warn you, Kal snores.” Henry chuckled, wrapping his arms around me again, pulling my weight fully onto him. I hadn’t even noticed I was trying to hold myself off him until he did that.

“I remember.” I laughed, reaching over to give the Akita a pat good night, before tucking myself into Henry’s body. I was about to tuck my face into his neck, probably about to shock him with my cold nose, but I wanted one more thing.

I lifted my head back up, looking down into Henry’s blue eyes, getting momentarily lost. He looked up at me, his eyebrows raised in question. I smiled, and slowly lowered my face to his, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. I savoured the way our lips moved against each other, the way his tongue gently explored my mouth, getting reacquainted. The kiss wasn’t rushed, but it still made my toes curl and my skin tingle with goosebumps. The passion was slow burning, drawn out in long languid reverence.

As far as good night kisses went, this one was my favourite. Probably because it was our first true good night kiss. It wasn’t the chaste one we had offered each other at the beach hotel. This one was a kiss people more familiar with each other shared. I couldn’t help the grin on my face when we pulled away from each other. It was still on my face when I tucked my face into his neck, biting my slightly swollen lip, going over what just happened in my mind.

“Good night, sweetheart.” Henry whispered, smoothing my hair down before kissing the top of my head. I pressed a kiss to his neck, whispering the words back to him, silently praying Kal would hog his sleeping bag tomorrow night and we would have to do this again.

[darling-i-read-it]

Yakimono

2x07

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.2k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, mental health problems, jail, insinuations to smut

Author’s Note: I am having so much goshdarn fun with this and seeing yalls reactions makes me soooo happy. I love doing this and I really hope y’all enjoy this episode! Also more gifs than usual but I couldn’t pick lmao 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary : When Miriam Lass is found alive, evidence at her rescue site exonerates Will; Dr. Chilton (Raúl Esparza) tries to confide in Jack but is rebuffed.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​

(not my gif)

Will looked at Jack Crawford beside him in the car. He had just left the hospital and was ready to go back home, see his dogs, see you. But first he had to see where Miriam Lass had been found. 

“Am I gonna get crap for this?” Jack asked. Will glanced over at him.

“In what regard?” 

“From Y/N.” Will laughed and shrugged, nodding a bit but holding back a bit of the laugh. The thought of you beating Jack to a pulp had crossed both men's minds, followed with the realization you would likely not do that. But who knows.

“Hopefully her happiness of me coming home will override the anger,” Will muttered. Jack glanced at him and he couldn’t help but think about when he saw you at Hannibal's the other morning. He wanted to tell Will but figured you must have already told him. Still, he brought it up. 

“She’s pretty close to Hannibal for her to believe your accusations,” Jack said. 

“So I’ve heard.” Will didn’t like the fact that Jack knew this though. He wondered what he had seen. 

“But she loves you,” Jack mumbled. It was true and they both knew it. “She has been harassing me the whole time.” Will laughed and pushed the thought of Hannibal Lecter out of his mind.

“She’s strong willed.”

“She has to be to keep up with you.” 

-

You were buzzing. You haven't been this excited in a long time. You couldn't’ remember the last time you had been this excited. You wanted to jump and down with excitement. You had a couple of texts from Hannibal about Miriam Lass but you literally couldn’t even answer them.

You were happy Miriam was alive. Really. You were happy Hannibal didn’t kill her. 

But you were more happy because Chilton had called you this morning saying Jack and Alana had come to get Will. You were mildly annoyed that no one had told you to come but you thought it would be best. You wanted to see Will at home. 

You figured Jack had taken him to see where Miram had been held. You figured Will would ask him to. You cleaned the whole house which you usually wouldn’t have even attempted. You were tempted to wash all of the dogs but figured you didn’t have time.

You heard the car pull up outside and held your breath. You had imagined this moment since the second that Will had been put in the hospital. You wanted it to be perfect. You saw Wills’ car which had been dormant since he left. You opened the door and the dogs ran outside to greet him. You stopped at the porch and just watched. 

He fell to his knees, petting them, laughing at their happiness to see him. You held back tears as your fingers physically ached to touch Will. Will pet the dogs each a few times and shushed them a few times with a smile. 

Finally he looked up at you. 

And despite the fact you had been otherwise arguing about Hannibal and the fact you had both attempted to actually kill a person there was an almost sob that you wanted to escape your lips. And Will hadn’t kissed you in so long and the second he saw you his heart lurched. 

Love.

You were both in love. 

He stood up and you ran over to him. You threw your hands over his shoulders and kissed him. You touched him desperately and he did the same which he never did. His hands were in your hair and on your sides and when you pulled away he kissed you again. 

You finally had to pull away for good, despite the wish to continue.

“They let you out this time!” you said with a smile and laugh. He wiped the tears brimming in your eyes and nodded. 

“You said they were. I guess you were right.” 

“I’m always right. You know this Will Graham.” 

He laughed and kissed you again. 

“Come inside you idiot,” you whispered laughing. “I got your blanket out. I even set your alarm even though I’m not sure if you have a job or anything.” You grabbed his hand and started to drag him inside. “I thought you lost your glasses, I’m glad that they kept them. I’m also not letting you get a haircut because this length really vibes with me you know.” He shut the door behind him and grabbed the other arm that he wasn’t already holding. “Oh also-”

He cut you off by kissing you. This time you didn't’ move away. 

-

Jack sat across from Chilton. Chilton was shaking. 

“Yes, I have an agenda. Living. I should be assigned an FBI escort. Everyone who believed Will Graham about Hannibal Lecter is dead,” Chilton said. Jack pursed his lips.

“Except you. And Y/N.” 

“I don’t think Hannibal would lay a finger on her that she wouldn’t want. Me on the other hand?” He shook his head. “I’d like to remain not dead for the foreseeable future.” 

-

The judge was on the ground, stitched into the bodies of the color pallete. You stared down at him and you knew Hannibal was walking around you, even though you couldn’t see him. Suddenly the judge turned into Will and you stumbled forward onto the ground, trying to rip the stitches out. 

“I don’t want him to die,” you said and you realized suddenly that you were crying.

“He won’t.” 

“How do you know?” 

“He won’t die unless we let him.” 

You woke up with a start. You didn’t scream this time but you were sobbing, gasping for air. You brought your hands to your face and tugged on your hair in sadness. You didn’t even have the mind to cover your bare chest. The tears kept coming in waves. 

Will got up beside you and he almost scared you. You had forgotten he was home. 

“Are you okay? Are you crying?” he asked, voice raspy from sleep. He moved your hands away from your face and replaced them with his hands on your cheeks. You sobbed and tried to hold it back, worried about him seeing you this way all of the sudden. He had seen you cry before. But usually you tried so hard to put up a front for him when he was breaking. 

“What happened?” 

“Nightmare,” you said through a sob. Will looked at your face and felt his heart break. You never had nightmares before. He figured they had started when you killed the judge which meant you had had many nights of being alone, in this very bed, sobbing to yourself. 

Unless.

Unless, in his sleep deprived mind Will wondered, you weren’t alone. 

Should he thank Hannibal Lecter for helping you sleep? Or yell at him for sleeping beside you? 

Either way he reached forward and held you to his bare chest so you could cry some more.

“These are new huh?” he whispered and you nodded. You held each other as you would when he had nightmares. “I wish I could have been here when I wasn’t,” he whispered. 

“Not your fault,” you said and it sounded like you were able to pull back a bit. “Just don’t…” You pulled back and looked him in the face. “Don’t leave me.” He put his hands on your cheeks . 

“I won’t.” And as much as you believed him you couldn’t help but realize the lack of nightmares you had with Hannibal. 

Will didn’t have the superpower. 

-

You got up in the morning and stared at Will’s sleeping face. You had missed that. Peace. 

Dewey mornings of peace. 

When his eyes opened you smiled a bit. 

“Goodmorning Mr. Graham,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear. He rubbed his eyes. 

“Morning Miss. Y/L/N.” 

“You’re the only one who calls me that you know. Everyone else just defaults me to your last name.” Or Hannibals. But you didn’t say that. 

“We’ll get around to legally changing it one day.” You smiled.

“You going somewhere today?” you asked. 

“Going to talk to Miriam Lass. You?”

“Work.” Will scoffed.

“You still work?” You nodded.

“Someone has to pay the bills.” Will didn’t like the idea of you working for Hannibal anymore. He liked it to an extent. The extent that you knew stuff about Hannibal. He could pick your brain. But he didn’t like the idea of you in danger.

“I wish you wouldn’t be so close to him,” he whispered. You didn’t know how to explain to the man that you loved what Hannibal meant to you. But he understood. Will and you understood one another. You looked away from him and moved up to sit against the headboard covering your chest with the sheet, despite the fact that Will had seen everything. 

“I know you couldn’t help that you were in jail,” you started but he noticed your voice sounded far away, “and that Hannibal was mostly to blame. But he made me feel less alone.” You paused and he waited. “When I felt like I would never hold you again.” You looked back down at him and he looked up at you with those gorgeous blue eyes. 

He didn’t say anything. Instead he just sat up beside you and put his arms around you. You let him hold you. 

“I love you Will Graham,” you whispered and you weren’t lying. 

“I love you too.” He paused for a moment and thought about his words. “Y/N.” You smiled at his avoidance of your last name and buried your head in his neck.

-

You walked into work and Hannibal was waiting for you by your desk. You raised your eyebrow and walked up to him.

“How’s Miriam?” you questioned. 

“She didn’t identify me as the Ripper.” You pursed your lips.

“I didn’t think she would.” Hannibal didn’t read too much into that, instead he moved forward with the conversation. You knew he had probably messed with Mirams head in a similar way that he messed with Wills. 

“How is Will?” Hannibal asked.

“I thought you had separated from him,” you observed.

“I was inquiring into your life. You’re my friend.” 

“What a funny word. Friend.” You didn’t push it and neither did he. You leaned into your desk. “How did you sleep?” He shrugged.

“The nightmares seem to be fading.” He paused and looked at you. “How did you sleep?” You shrugged. 

“Fine.” 

He smiled in the knowledge that you were very clearly lying to him.

-

That night you were at home. Hannibal walked into his home and Will was waiting for him. 

“That same unfortunate aftershave. Too long in the bottle,” Hannibal said as he turned around. 

“Out last kitchen conversation was interrupted by Jack Crawford. I’d like to pick up where we left off. If memory serves, you were asking me if it’d feel good to kill you.” Will held a gun up to Hannibal.

“You’ve given that some thought.” 

“You wanted me to embrace my nature, doctor. Just following the urges I kept down for so long, cultivating them as the inspirations they are,” Will said, voice steady. 

“You never answered my question. How would killing me make you feel?” 

“Righteous.” 

They stared at each other. 

“Did she sleep well last night?” Hannibal asked. “Or did she wake up crying?” The barrel of the gun shook but Hannibal looked past it into Will’s eyes. 

“You hung up the judge like a puppet,” Will said simply, ignoring his words. 

“If I’m not the Ripper, you murder an innocent man. You better than anyone know what it is to be wrongly accused. You were innocent, Will, and no one saw it.”

“She saw it. She saw the innocence that is no longer there. You saw to that.”

“If I am the Ripper and you kill me, who will answer your questions? Don’t you want to know how it ends?”

Will thought about this. And he stepped away.

-

“I still can’t cook. I mean you went to jail and I didn’t learn how to cook,” you told Will as you thought about what to make for dinner.

“We can try,” he said. He had been craving some actual food and anything you made would likely make him happy. “I’m gonna take the dogs out.”

“I’m coming.”

You slipped on Will’s shoes and stepped outside. You opened the door and the dogs ran past you as you looked up at the stairs. You locked eyes with Frederick Chilton who was drenched in blood and holding a bag. 

“Can I use your shower?” 

You crossed your arms.

“I don’t know maybe you should wait until next week,” you said simply. Will opened the door and stood behind you, slowing at the sight of Chilton.

“Please,” Chilton muttered. Will grabbed your arm and you shared a quick look.

“Alright, fine,” you muttered. Chilton rushed past you and into the house. Will pointed out where the shower was and he walked over there. You and Will stood together on the porch.

“Why’d you do that?” you whispered.

“He believes me,” Will whispered. 

“You just got out of jail Will!” 

“And Chilton is about to go in.” 

“Are you calling Jack?” you whispered. He gave you a look and you nodded. He was calling Jack. 

-

Chilton stood in one of the doorways to the house. Will sat on a chair while you leaned against the wall just beside him. You had your arms crossed.

“I have the same profile as Hannibal Lecter. Same medical and psychology background. We are both doctors of note in our fields. Of course it would be me. Hannibal was never going to kill me. I’m his patsy. I have to leave the country. I’m leaving the country.” 

“If you run you look guilty,” Will said. 

“You didn’t run and you looked plenty guilty. Abel Gideon was half-eaten in my guest room. I have corpses on my property, you just threw up an ear,” Chilton explained as he messed with his getaway bag.

“There’s an APB on you right now. They’ve canceled your credit cards, they’re tracing your phone,” you explained dumbly. 

“I have cash and I tossed my phone. Jack Crawford thnks I killed two agents, three agents. You know what tends to happen to people who do that? Shoot on sight.” 

“I’m going to prove that Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will said.

“I know you will.  When you do I will read about it from a secure location and reintroduce myself to society at that time. Great plan by the way, getting your girlfriend to sleep with him. Jack told me.” Will glanced at you but you didn’t even flinch. Jack's car pulled up and Chilton saw it through the mirror. “What did you do?” 

“You’re an asshole Frederick,” you whispered. 

Chilton brought a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at you. Will stood up calmly and Chilton shook. Neither of you showed any signs of distress as Will walked in front of you.

“No. Stay there,” Chilton said. Will almost laughed.

“You’re not a killer, Frederick,” Will said and the both of you walked out the front door. You stood on the porch but Will walked forward to Jack. “Why did you come alone, Jack?”

“Where is he?” 

“Why did you come alone?” Will repeated.

“Is he in the house?” 

“I told you everything isn’t what it seems. The Chesapeake Ripper is still playing with us. All of us.” 

“I’m not playing,” Jack said sternly.

“The Chesapeake Ripper isn't’ playing all of us, Will. He’s playing you.” Jack pointed at you who was standing behind him. “And you.”

“Jack. Wait. Let me bring him out, he’s got a gun,” Will said. 

“Good,” Jack muttered. 

Jack pushed past both of you into the house and you were then alone on the porch. Will didn’t look at you.

“Did you sleep with Hannibal?” Will asked. 

“I did not have sex with Hannibal,” you said. “Jack saw me at his house in the morning. I stayed because of the nightmares,” you admitted. And Will knew that was the truth. Because you didn’t lie to each other.

He nodded.

“I’m sorry you had to do that.” You shook your head.

“I didn’t eat anything,” you promised. He half smiled in the knowledge that you had him and his ideas in mind, even when you were with Hannibal.

-

You sat at your desk when Will walked into the waiting room. You looked up at him, leaning back from your seat. He looked handsome, hair slicked back, wearing a nice shirt.

“Something wrong?” he asked. 

“Is Hannibal in a session?” 

“No.” He nodded.

“I want to return to my regular therapy session.” You raised an eyebrow, very clearly surprised. 

“Why would you…” you trailed off and nodded. Will was going to do something he knew he could. And you were going to let him. “Okay.” You stood up and walked around the desk past Will. You put a hand on his shirt and smiled a bit. “I like this shirt.”

You turned around and opened the door to the office. Hannibal looked up at you. “Your appointment is here.” 

Hannibal stood up from his desk and walked over to you.

“I don’t have…” he trailed off when he saw Will. “Hello, Will.” 

“May I come in? Y/N said you don’t have an appointment. Left my standing appointment open.” You, Will and Hannibal hadn’t been in the same room together in a long time. You stood still as Will walked into the office. 

“Do you intend to point a gun at me?” Hannibal asked. You raised an eyebrow.

“What was that?” you asked. Will shook his head, dismissing you.

“Not tonight.” 

You looked at both of them. They looked at you. They looked at each other. No one's motives were clear but everyone's motives were clear. 

“I’ll see you after the session,” you said. 

“Alright.”

“Okay.” 

They spoke at the same time. 

The door shut between you and them but it didn’t feel like you had been shut out. In fact, you knew you would hear the details of this session from two perspectives. 

You were a part of Will and Hannibal indeed.

2x08

[detectivehannibal]

Two Timed (pt.2)

__

Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of cannibalism

Part 1: Here

A/N: Here it is, friends! Thank you for your patience!

Word Count: 2,113

“I’m done giving second chances. I don’t even know if I can give anyone even a first chance ever again.”

__

God, it was cold. Like freezing cold. No, it wasn’t the snow that was sticking to your windshield or the fact that everybody was bundled up in layers that gave it away. It was the usual sting and the ache as the coldness rushed through your body. The way your movements were ever slightly slowed each time you went to do something. The shivers and shakes as your body’s natural response to retain as much heat as possible. You didn’t care though. You were fueled by anger and hurt. That was enough energy to keep you going for days. 

Truthfully, you weren’t really sure where you were going or how long you had been on the road. Instead of packing your things from Hannibal’s house as you had planned, you immediately got on the road. Hannibal basically pleaded and begged (all while maintaining his composure) for you to stick around as he chased you to your car. He claimed there was a misunderstanding and that had never been unfaithful. But of all things, there was one thing you knew to be true about Hannibal Lecter.

He’s a damn good liar.

You figured as long as you were familiar with the area around you then it was safe to keep going. You knew your way around the state well enough to do so. You wanted to be alone. For now anyways.

Will was frightened out of his wits. Not knowing where you were and being unsure of your mental state terrified him. He had been calling and texting you nonstop. He knew you needed to be alone, but even a simple text from you would ease his nerves. He didn’t like the idea of you being out and about with no real sense of where you were going.

Hannibal was scared too, but it didn’t show. He was much more patient than his dog loving companion. He knew you’d come back eventually. He just had to wait you out...no matter how long it took. He would be the first to admit, he ended up waiting MUCH longer than he expected. So much longer that he was beginning to wonder if something terrible had happened to you. He was relieved, however, when he caught word that you had contacted Will, 2 weeks after that fateful night. You didn’t say much in your text to Will. Just a simple phrase letting him know you were okay. Hannibal knew you’d be there shortly.

You walked up the steps of your and Hannibal’s...well, now Hannibal’s home. You could hear two voices inside arguing. 

“I suggest you take it easy, Will. You’re pacing.” Hannibal’s thick voice rang out.

Will chuckled incredulously. He was unbelievably angry at Hannibal and himself. Hannibal for doing such an awful thing to you. Himself for not being able to save you from a world of hurt.

“Take it easy? Are you serious? This is your fault and you’re telling me to calm down?” He asked his refined therapist; “She’s been gone for 2 weeks without any word. Who knows how she’s feeling right now...I know how I’d feel.” He mumbled in fury.

Hannibal looked at Will the way he always did. A sense of mystery and fascination. He didn’t respond, curious to see if Will would go on. And go on he surely did;

“You know, I was beginning to think I was wrong about you. The way she always talked about you had almost convinced me that my initially feeling of you wasn’t accurate,” He hissed; “I guess I was wrong about being wrong. You’re just as I thought.”

The light snow melted into your clothes and transformed into water droplets on your boots as you entered the warmth of his home, not able to bear hearing anymore of this conversation. He had been sitting in his study with Will, his ears seeming to perk when he heard his front door close. Will’s pacing stopped and he exited the study to the breezeway. To his surprise, you didn’t look any different. He half expected you to look like a hot mess. Instead you just looked...empty.

“Oh...Will,” You breathed out, honestly happy to see him; “I didn’t know you were here.”

Will pulled you into the tightest hug you had ever felt. This was a little out of character for your beloved friend. He usually kept physical touch to a minimum. You had no intention of scaring him the way he had been. He understood you just didn’t want to see anyone for awhile. Still, he couldn’t help but worry. He eventually let you go, looking deep into your eyes to ensure that you were really in front of him. 

It wasn’t long before the man of the hour stepped out from his study. You looked into his eyes the way Will had looked into yours. Hannibal’s eyes were always a mix of blazing fire and a calm sea. He was so complicated. It was a wonder you were ever able to understand him.

“Hannibal,” You greeted flatly; “I’m just here to get my things. It shouldn’t take me very long.”

His hands were in his pockets and his posture was perfectly upright. His eyes shifted to the dining room for just a brief moment before returning to you;

“Would it be inappropriate to ask you to stay for dinner? I’m sure you haven’t had a decent meal in weeks.” He proclaimed.

Damn him and his spot on perception. He was right. You hadn’t had what he would consider a “real” meal the entire time of your absence. You knew what dinner meant for Hannibal Lecter. Even during your marriage, the thought of it never failed to make your stomach flip. You didn’t understand it and you’d be lying if you said you never felt guilty about being the only other person who knew he was the one Jack Crawford had been looking for. You wrestled with it often. That was the power Hannibal had. He could make anybody question their morals.

“I’m fine. I’ll just be getting my things,” You repeated.

You turned towards the staircase and began the trek to the bedroom. You refused to let Hannibal steer you back to him. Throughout your 2 week disappearance, you went back and forth trying to decide if this was the last straw. He had hurt you in the worst way possible and there was no reconciliation for that. Then why did you still have the slightest desire to make things work? At the end of the day, you guessed that a part of you would always still love him. 

A pair of heavy footsteps followed behind you up the staircase. Once you reached the top, you turned around. Expecting to see Hannibal, you clenched your jaw as a response. You were surprised to see Will instead.

“Can we talk?” He asked as he continued to follow you. 

You didn’t respond until you entered the bedroom, retrieving your suitcase from the closet;

“Sure.” You replied.

He watched for a moment as you began rifling through drawers and packing them away. 

“I know what you’re thinking. I know there’s still a part of you that wants to stay.” Will claimed.

“I don’t want to stay.��� You bantered back a little too quickly.

Will chuckled in disbelief. He could smell your lies from across the room;

“Don’t lie to me. I know you,” He said; “I know you don’t just get over things like that.”

A heavy sigh heaved from your chest. So maybe you had two extremely perceptive people in your life. 

“Will, I-”

“No, please listen. I know how you are. You’re going to doubt your decision to leave at some point and think about coming back,” He said standing firmly next to you; “You’ll wonder if it was worth leaving and I’m telling you that there’s no way you can come back here.”

He saw the tips of your eyes begin to narrow and your brows dip as annoyance arose in you;

“You think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t know how stupid I’d be to come back to him? I didn’t want things to turn out this way,” You spat; “Why are you telling me this?”

Without hesitation, Will dropped a huge ball of truth on you;

“Because you care too much. You always give people second chances. I told you not to give him a second chance. Ever. You believe that everybody has a good reason for hurting others and that they are good inside,” He fired off; “I know you’re going to try to come back thinking that he won’t do it again. And I’m telling you that’s not a risk worth taking.”

His words knocked you silent and brought tears to your eyes. You felt like everybody around you seemed to be right. You put a few final items in your suitcase and zipped it shut. You’d be staying with a friend of yours for awhile. Just until you could find somewhere else to live. You had to admit, you hated leaving this house behind. It had so many memories. Good and bad ones. You just wished that your last time in it didn’t have to be the worst of them all.

You knew that right now was probably the last best chance you’d ever have at getting the ultimate revenge on Hannibal. You had his deepest, darkest secret at your disposal. You just had to tell Will that Hannibal was The Chesapeake Ripper. Just five measly words. But then you’d be no better than anybody else. That wouldn’t mend your pain.

“I’m not coming back, Will. I can promise you that,” You quivered; “I’m done giving second chances. I don’t even know if I can give anyone even a first chance ever again.” You said lightly. 

Now he was silent. He figured he’d have to put up more of a fight. His shoulders eased and his head lowered a little. He knew it’d probably be awhile before he saw you again. But he knew, at least, that you’d call him to check in. God, he loved you. He was beginning to think he loved you in a way that he shouldn’t. You were his best friend. It felt so wrong to romantically be in love with his best friend. 

“Thanks for caring about me, Will. I know how you feel about me. I just can’t right now. I’m sorry.” You whispered.

You brushed past him with tears spilling down your cheeks. You couldn’t stand to look at him right now. You knew you had just shattered him. The feeling of hypocrisy crept over you. Now it seemed you were the one breaking hearts.

There was no sign of Hannibal as you re-entered the breezeway. Now, at least you could get out of here peacefully. That relief was short lived when you heard a familiar accented voice just as your hand placed itself on the door handle;

“My infidelity wasn’t committed with the intent of hurting anybody. I never intended to hurt you,” He calmly stated. “It wasn’t meant to be an act of mistrust.”

Your back was to him, afraid if you turned around that you’d go running into his arms. You shook your head;

“It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. It’s over.” You mumbled.

Truthfully, he thought you would stay. It wasn’t until really hearing you say it again that he realized it was truly over. For the first time in his life, he actually felt guilty. He was willing to take accountability for his actions. He knew he had truly hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.

“It doesn’t have to be. My time with Dr. Bloom is over,” He said walking up to you; “This doesn’t have to be the end of us.”

“We can’t go back to being the way we were and you know it. I wouldn’t be able to see you without always wondering why I wasn’t enough.” You growled.

He was looking at the back of your head, accepting that you weren’t going to face him;

“[Y/N], I-” 

“Don’t say anything else. Please,” You begged; “I’m sorry this ended the way it did. Hopefully you’ll find someone who is enough and more.” 

And with that, you finally opened the door to be met with a blast of freezing air. Hannibal didn’t chase after you. He knew better. Even the best hunters knew when it was time to let their prey go. So, he let you go. He watched you disappear into the falling snow. Your only wish was that you could somehow find someone new one day.

Someone who wouldn’t ever need to have a second chance.