#why should an appetizer with barely anything on it be 16?

[adjectiveadjectiveadjective]

sorry for the late night posts guys im having a great time

[jaeminscoffee]

NCT prompt list 🍒

Send in a number and a member,

Also specify the genre.

What i write - Fluff, Angst, Crack, Smut [with an open ending]

What i don’t write - Abuse, Pleasure in pain unless that’s a kink, we’re all hoes, face it.

Whom i write for- NCT, all 21 members, if this prompt succeeds, i might start writing for other groups too :D

All dialogues can be applied to any genre that you request!

Numbers can repeat, it doesn’t matter :)

While requesting for smut, please make sure to specify what type of smut you want it to be, if there’s any kink that needs to be involved and if you have a plot in mind to go with the smut, don’t hesitate to send that in either!

Here are the prompts!

1. “Get some sleep, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

2. “Oh i’m so going to get you back”

3.” Jesus can you quit it?”

4.”I kind of, sort of, maybe feel like i might ___”

5.”Wait is that my ___?”

6.”Want to go get some fries?”

7. “___ has accepted your follow request!”

8. “Can you shut the fuck up, it’s 3 am”

9. “Should i be concerned?

10.”Does it ever stop hurting?”

11.” Hey, it’s rude to laugh at someone!”

12.” I will fist fight you if i have to”

13.” I will...uh make sure to enjoy the meal..? it looks um..appetizing”

14.” Can you please come get me?”

15.”You don’t have to be alone, you never were.”

16.”Of all places, you chose chuck-e-cheese to confess?”

17.”Crying doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human”

18.”Isn’t this, like illegal?” “Probably, who cares?”

19.”And you’re running away..once again”

20.” Friends is so far off from what you really are to me, Y/n”

21.”Criticism doesn’t always equal to jealousy, babe”

22.”Maybe it’s just a hug that i need right now”

23.”You might be cute, i’m cuter”

24.”Shit mom’s calling”

25.”Bro your dragon looks dope” “that’s my cat”

26.”You think i’m dumb enough to fall for the same move twice?”

27.” They can’t do anything to me. I have nothing left”

28.”Wanna cuddle? like, platonically. Hands down, no funny business”

29.”Just stop”

30.”That’s not the nicest thing to say to the guy who basically just saved your life”

31.”and so like that..-did you just steal candy from a child??”

32.”I almost died the last time.” “But you’re alive now come on”

33.”Alright first my hoodie, then my sweats, take my boxer next”

34.”How long have you been standing there for??”

35.”Don’t bother loving me until you love yourself”

36.”let’s just try getting along for once alright?”

37.”Kissing burns around 6.4 calories per minute, wanna try it out?” “did you just call me fat”

38.”OH MY GOD COCKROAC-” “That’s your hair dumbass”

39.”So do i wash the vegetables with washing detergent or plain water?”

40.”Urgh i feel ugly” “bitch what”

41.”I love you” “Did my mom pay you to say that”

42.”Hey Hey! watch where your legs are”

43.”I believe in you.”

44.”I can’t believe i just agreed on wearing your clothes”

45.”Never ever, think that i’ll leave you”

46.”You fought with them even after i warned you not to. What do you have to say for yourself?” “Oops?”

47.”Just stay like this a little longer”

48.”I wasn’t the bad guy the entire time. You framed me to calm yourself down and i don’t blame you”

49.”Hey! just cause i love you doesn’t give you the rights to steal my food!”

50.” The amount of love and adoration i have for you is terrifying and i’m now concerned”

51.”How in tartarus did you pass your driving test.”

52.”Cuddles?” “Cuddles.”

53. “It’s fine, it really is” “It isn’t”

54.”Stop being so nice all the time, it won’t make people love you more”

55.”Oh dude he/she’s flirting”

56.”I hate you.” “I hate me too”

57.”Maybe if you’d let me, i could be your safe space in this harsh world”

58.”Do you trust me?”

59.”I will deny you death until you beg me for it”

60. “Don’t ever try to get inside my head. It’s too dark for you”

61.”I wasn’t always the one being hunted, I used to be a hunter”

62.”I’m trying, all the time trust me. But it’s just too hard.”

63.”Are you flirting or starting a fight?”

64.”I wish i’d never met you.”

65.”Don’t scream. Don’t move.”

66.”you’re the closest thing i have to a girl/boy as a friend so”

67.”I don’t have a choice - I never had.”

68.”You drive me crazy.”

69.”Stop resisting babe, you asked for it.”

70.”Count, bitch”

71.”You gotta work for it babe”

72.”And you say you deserve a reward huh?”

73.”So that’s why”

74.”Keep moving princess”

75.”We aren’t done until i say so.”

76.”Do you have a valid reason for doing so?”

77.”Are you insane??” “That’s my middle name baby”

78.”Is this really what you want”

79.”You know the drill princess, one word, and i’ll stop.”

80.”You are such a fucking brat..”

81.”I see..But does he make you feel as good as i can?”

82.”That is, by far, the cutest shit i’ve seen my entire life”

83.”Try to stay quiet, understand?”

84.”Behave”

85.”What did you just say?”

86.”Oh darling, you are so in trouble.”

87. “Don’t leave any marks.”

88.”Tell me what you want.”

89.”I want you. Right here. Right now.”

90.”Get on your knees. Now”

91.”I don’t like repeating myself, baby.”

92.”Do i make you nervous?”

93.”Don’t make me take you home and punish you”

94.”This isn’t just a one night stand, You aren’t meant for a one night stand. You know that, right?”

95.”You’re so fucking addicting.”

96.”Don’t test my patience, princess.”

97.”Tsk, sensitive. Pathetic.”

98.”You make me feel things by doing the bare minimum and i’ll show you that.”

99.”This is what you wanted all the time, isn’t it?”

100.”I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when i get you home.”

More to be added soon! ♡

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 3: Worry

A month into Marinette’s first semester at university, Adrien works a shift at the bakery before meeting Marinette for a date at their favorite restaurant.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3.  My ko-fi.

“...And that’s the best technique for kneading the bread, son! Any questions?”

Adrien felt Tom’s gaze on him as he worked the dough, his tongue sticking out a little as he concentrated. The past few shifts at the bakery had been very enlightening. Mostly for figuring out how Tom became so big and strong - the giant sacks of flour and the constant kneading of dough had already starting wearing Adrien down. And he’d had years of superheroics to toughen him up!

“No, I think I’ve got it this time.” Adrien glanced at the lumpy, slightly burnt excuse of a loaf of bread that he’d made earlier that day. “...Right?”

A giant hand patted him on the back. “I’m sure, son. You’re doing much better this time around.” After they’d set it aside to let it rise, Tom dusted off his hands. “It’s good of you to want to learn to cook. It’s a skill that everyone should have.”

They each picked up a platter of freshly baked croissants and walked out to the front of the bakery. The midday rush had just run its course and most of the shelves had been picked clean. It was the ideal time for them to restock with the lack of customers.

Sabine patted him on the shoulder as he passed. “Thank you for helping, sweetheart. It’s always wonderful having you around the bakery.”

“Aw, really?” Even after all these years, it was difficult to fully grasp sometimes - adults that actually enjoyed his company!

“Of course, son!” Tom laughed. “Heck, we were worried we’d be seeing you a lot less now that our little cupcake has moved out.”

Adrien smiled as he restocked the macaroons. “You won’t be getting rid of me that easily!”

“That’s great to hear.” Tom moved swiftly between display cases, much faster than Adrien was plodding along. “We’ll be needing all the help we can get around here.”

“Why’s that?”

“The bakery has been doing wonderfully,” Sabine said. “In fact…” She looked at Tom meaningfully.

The large baker’s eyes lit up. “In fact, we were even considering opening a second location.” They both glanced at Adrien. “It won’t be anytime soon, of course, but…”

“...But it’s certainly something to consider,” Sabine finished. “And we can’t be in multiple places at once, so we’d need extra help.”

Adrien wasn’t dense. Well, he wasn’t as dense as he used to be. He understood what they were getting at, but he still wasn’t sure about anything. Any thoughts about careers or education or businesses… that was all still in the air. Would he continue modeling? Would he pursue one of the many hobbies he’d be forced to collect during his lycee years? Who knows?

So, for now, he dodged the question by changing it to everyone’s favorite topic.

“Have you guys spoken with Marinette much recently?”

If they noticed his blatant evasion, they didn’t mention it.

“She tries to come over for dinner during the weekends,” Sabine said. “But other than that, no.”

“We aren’t that surprised, though.” Tom tucked the empty platter under his arm and leaned against the counter. “She always was the sort to throw herself into something with all her heart. Whenever we do get a chance to talk, she goes on about all the projects she’s working on.”

“And the organizations she’s joined?,” Adrien prodded.

“Not to mention how she’s become the head of some of them.” Sabine smiled proudly. “Our little girl was always a natural born leader. Even if she sometimes had a crisis of confidence, she always managed to find a way.”

Adrien smiled slyly as he finished stacking fresh baked goods. They were proud of her for being a leader, but they didn’t even know the half of it. Marinette lead more than classes and student bodies - she inspired the city and lead superheroes into battle. Adrien knew that he, at least, would follow her wherever she led.

And today, that meant letting her choose the venue of their date for today. He pulled out his phone. Still two hours to go, but…

“Do you mind if I clock out now? I’m meeting Marinette for dinner.”

“Of course, son. You’ve done more than enough for today..” As Adrien set one foot outside the store, Tom yelled after him, “I’ll let you know how your bread turns out, too. Say hello to her from us!”

Adrien flashed them a smile. “Don’t worry, I will!”

-------------

A shower, a change of clothes, and a kwami feeding later and Adrien was out the door of his apartment and heading for a nice little Italian restaurant that they both loved.

He’d been looking forward to this for days now. Finding the time for a date had proven to be very tricky ever since Marinette had started university. Not that he blamed her. He wasn’t sure about all of what university entailed, especially for a design student, but he knew that she wouldn’t leave him hanging intentionally. And he was patient. He was more than willing to wait for a date, just like when he’d tried to get that first date with her all those years ago.

His pleasant memories were disrupted by a jarring sight. Marinette was waiting for him, but there was a certain… dimmed quality to her, if that made sense. She was less vibrant. Paler. She’d done amazing work covering it up with make up, but he’d spent his entire life around the finest makeup artists in the business. Even if he hadn't see through it, there was an exhaustion in her eyes that no amount of concealer can hide.

Adrien pulled out the seat opposite her, his hand immediately reaching for hers. Her forced smile flickered and faded when she saw the worried expression on his face. She sighed.

“Yeah, I know. The semester has been a bitch.”

“But… you’re only a month in, bugaboo!” His eyebrows scrunched together in concern. “Are things really that tough over there?” He looked into her eyes. “Is there any way I can help?”

A smile - real, this time - lit up her face. “That’s very sweet of you to offer, but no. I don’t think there is.” She sighed. “Unless you want to spend a few hours holding fabrics for me, but even then-”

“Tonight? Sure, I can do that.”

“Kitty, I know you want to help, but this’ll be pretty boring.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But at least I’ll be with you, right? That’ll at least make things go a little faster.”

“I…” She bit her lower lip, a little bit of the light returning to her eyes. “Thanks. I’d actually really love the company.”

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Me too. Now,” he raised an eyebrow, “would I be right in assuming you’ve gotten so caught up in work that you haven’t been eating?”

Marinette rolled her eyes and took back her hand. “Now you’re sounding like Tikki. I promise I’m eating, Adrien. It might not be three course meals, but it keeps me going.” She distracted herself by looking at the menu again. As if she would be ordering anything but her favorite.

Adrien took the opportunity to look her over again. He was reminded of the times during summer photo shoots when his normally strict diet became even more restrictive. The way he thinned out might have looked good on the camera as he modeled swimsuits, but he remembered how awful he felt during that time. It wasn’t healthy when he did it back then, and it wasn’t any better for his girlfriend now.

Maybe it was just a transitionary period. Maybe once she had a grip on her new workload, her eating habits would return to normal. But for now, something needed to be done.

While he was plotting, the waiter arrived for their orders. While Marinette asked for her usual of arrabbiata pasta, Adrien ordered two plates of his meal, plus extra appetizers. It earned him a strange look from Marinette, but he had a plan.

They chatted over their dinner. Mostly it was Adrien letting Marinette talk - about commissions, about classes, about the other students, whatever was weighing on her mind. He asked questions when he could to keep her going, offered advice whenever he could. It was gradual, but he could see the weight slowly lifting from her shoulders as she unloaded on him. It warmed his heart to see her start to come alive again.

But eventually, their meals were eaten. Marinette shot another curious look at his second plate, which had gone completely untouched. The mystery was solved when Adrien asked for it to be boxed up.

As they walked out of the restaurant, she asked in a teasing tone, “Don’t trust me to feed you while you’re over?”

Adrien chuckled. “This,” he tapped the box, “is for you, lovebug. I want to be sure you’ll at least have one good meal after I leave.” He winked at her. “Besides, we both know I’ll be the one cooking breakfast tomorrow.”

“It’s not my fault you get up at sunrise like some sort of monster,” she grumbled, but he could see her fighting down a smile. Adrien couldn’t cook much, but breakfast was something he had down pat.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”

-----------------

They got to her apartment and Adrien was surprised to notice that it wasn’t much different than when he had helped her unpack. It was as if she gave up on decorating partway through and her projects had taken over. And given that they moved her in not long before the school year started, that might very well have been the case.

They were barely in the door when Marinette let her hair down.

“Make yourself at home, sunshine. I’m going to slip out of this dress and into some pajamas.”

Adrien opened her refrigerator to stash the leftovers away and waited for the door to Marinette’s room to close. Once he heard the click, he opened up her purse and revealed a tiny red kwami.

Tikki blinked up at him in bemusement, a macaroon halfway to her mouth. “Um… hello, Adrien. How can I help you?”

“I can promise you Dupain-Cheng cookies if you give me the information I need.”

The kwami’s eyes widened as a calculating look passed over her face. Plagg may have been the more gluttonous of the two, but Tikki had her weaknesses. And there really wasn’t any better baked goods anywhere else.

Tikki floated out of the purse and glanced back at Marinette’s room. “You better ask quick, then.”

“Has she been eating?”

“Barely,” Tikki rolled her eyes. “If you can get her to eat more, please do. She skips meals all the time to get work done.”

“Is she taking on too much?”

Tikki shrugged. “You know how she gets. It’s a lot, but she is used to dealing with a lot.”

He’ll count that as a definite ‘maybe’ then. “How about-” Marinette’s bedroom door creaked open and Tikki flew away. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Not something reassuring, but at least now he had a sense of what he was dealing with. He walked around the couch and sifted through Marinette’s DVDs.

“Want to watch a movie while we work, bugaboo?”

Marinette sighed, a content smile on her face as she relaxed in her baggy sweater and yoga pants. “I would love to, kitty.”

-----------------

Saturday morning and Alya was already frustrated with Marinette’s apartment as she trudged up three flights of stairs. Granted, it wasn’t nearly as taxing as half the things she did as Rena Rouge, but it was the principle of the matter.

It was as she was angrily trudging up the stairs that she nearly collided with someone going the opposite direction. She managed to keep her grasp on her phone. Years of hanging out around Marinette had made sure that reflex was deeply instilled. After a quick second to confirm that she hadn’t dropped anything, she looked up at the person she’d nearly been bowled over by.

“Well, if it isn’t centerfold himself!” A wide grin crossed her face. “How’re you doing? Did you make a nocturnal visit, hm?” She waggled her eyebrows.

As hoped, Adrien blushed. “No- Well, I mean, yes, I did come over last night, but that’s not- we didn’t-”

She chuckled and put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax, sunshine. I’m teasing. Care to give me the news on what’s up with our favorite girl?”

Alya listened to Adrien as a frown slowly deepened on her face. It sounded a lot like half a dozen times Marinette had started to get too caught up in something before. Her work for Kitty Section. The many events she’d pulled off as class president for years. The weeks following Hawkmoth’s reveal. Compared to those times, this wasn’t that bad… yet. But knowing Marinette, they’d need to nip this in the bud before it blossomed into a big problem.

“...You see why I’m worried, right? It might not be serious now, but if this is how she keeps going for her entire college education…” He trailed off, nervously stepping from one foot to the other as he watched Alya.

“I get what you mean. I’ll see if I can talk some sense into her, but you know how she can be…”

Adrien seemed crestfallen. “Yeah, I know.”

“Still, thanks for the update. Don’t worry, I’m sure this is just her getting used to these big changes. See ya, later, hot shot.” Alya squeezed his arm reassuringly as they passed, already forming a game plan. She knocked on her best friend’s door.

Marinette answered. “Alya!” She smiled and wrapped her up in a hug. “I didn’t realize you’d be here so early.”

Alya smirked as she followed Marinette into her apartment. “Is that why I passed your lover in the halls? Should I give you a little warning so you can sneak him out earlier?”

Much like her boyfriend before her, Marinette blushed in embarrassment. “Alya…” she whined.

“You two are too easy,” Alya said with a snicker. She took the opportunity to put her nosy journalist skills to good work as Marinette returned to the piece she was working on.

The breakfast on the table - mostly untouched - definitely had Adrien’s hallmarks on it. The boy only knew how to make like three dishes well. All three were breakfast foods and she suspected some hairbrained advice from her boyfriend was to blame for that. She frowned when she saw that only a few bites had been taken out of it.

“Your breakfast is gonna get cold, M.”

Marinette groaned. “Now you’re sounding like Adrien. It’ll still be there when I’m done with this, I promise. I just need to-”

“Just need to have breakfast before your best friend force feeds it to you? Couldn’t agree more, M.” Alya put on a sickly sweet smile and Marinette dragged herself over to the counter. Alya joined her and sipped at the coffee she’d picked up on her way. “Now, what’s going on in Marinette land?”

While Marinette told her about a few tickets Jagged Stone had sent her for the Parisian concert, Alya dutifully listened. She had started mentally juggling her schedule to let her spend more time with Marinette. Alya was not one to let her friends suffer alone.

[elfnerdherder]

The Unquiet Grave: Chapter 16

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A special thanks to my patrons: @evertonem @starlit-catastrophe @kenobi-is-king @frostylicker @sylarana Mendacious Bean, Superlurk, Duhaunt6, and Cecily!

Chapter 16:

           Beverly is walking away from his doorstep when Hannibal pulls into the driveway. The dogs are going nuts inside, and Will uses that as the perfect distraction to avoid her bemused expression at seeing him get out of his therapist’s car.

           The dogs rush about, and Buster frantically sniffs at him, begging treats. Will crouches to rub his belly, and he stares at the toe of Beverly’s shoe just at the corner of his eye. Beverly has always been a surefire read, a genuine one. She has something to say, and she’s radiating with an energy of something bordering antagonistic.

           Will imagines his walls, where they rise high. He can’t handle channeling her anger right now. He has his own, something a potent bled of antagonistic and afraid all in one.

           “Was wondering where you were.”

           “I didn’t know you knew where I lived.”

           “Do you know where I work?”

           They both smile, and she accepts Buster’s affection and excitement, reaching down to scratch behind his ears.

           “I’m getting insight into the rogue empath that Jack asked me to look into. He pulled me away for something else, but I’ll be back to hunting Dolarhyde soon, promise.”

           It was a shitty promise, but he wasn’t feeling too awful about it.

           “Bull shit, you’re coming out with me,” she replies easily, and she picks Buster up, much to his delight. “We haven’t gone out for a beer in awhile.”

           “Now isn’t exactly…”

           “Will and I were going to go out to dinner, actually. Would you care to join us, then go to drinks after?” Hannibal cuts in smoothly. His smile is as warm as his tone, and Will barely manages to repress a look of utmost disdain. He really doesn’t have time for this shit.

           “Where were you thinking of going?”

           “I haven’t had taken either of you to an excellent Greek restaurant just a on the edge of Baltimore. Are there any allergies I should be aware of?”

           There are no allergies to fear, and the plan is set. The dogs make their rounds, and Will apologetically ushers them back into the house, giving them an extra treat each on the way out. They take Hannibal’s car, and maybe it’s a calculative move on Hannibal’s part as much as a political one because now someone is less likely to kill him if they think he has company over for the evening.

           Beverly is quiet only through the appetizer. She seems to be observing as much as she is enjoying the ambiance of an artificial waterfall in the corner, as well as the tangy scent of olive oil and vinaigrette. That buzzing energy sits with a cloud around her, and Will imagines her leaning in with aggression, hearing something she’s not entirely pleased about.

He blinks away the thought, the Dream. If he looks too closely, he’ll fall in, and sometimes falling in is scary when you’re not quite sure where you’ll land. These days, it’s unsettling enough that he can’t account for how he’ll react once he’s inside, either.

Just Mr. Jackson, now.

Will picks at his cloth napkin idly, and Hannibal informs them of the best of the menu, along with some of the recipes he’s attempted to replicate. The air hums with socialites’ laughter and the clatter of fine china. Live music plays, Beverly hums along. It’s the setting to a perfect scene of three friends from wildly varying lifestyles coming together, and if he was in more control of himself and his surroundings, Will would have laughed out loud at it.

           “Sometimes, Will, I think it’s a shame that you can’t eat meat. Some of the flavors Greek cuisine bring out linger in a way that is difficult to mimic in other dishes.”

           “They have a roast lamb that I’m going to have to devour,” Beverly says by way of agreement. Her eyes lighten at something, and she taps the menu pointedly. “This was a good suggestion, Dr. Lecter.”

           “I’m happy you could come along.”

           “Well this guy usually makes a point to clam up and avoid social situations, so this is one of the few times I get to have a conversation with the illustrious Will Graham outside of work,” Beverly says with a laugh.

           It’s light, not unkind. Will manages a smile and accepts the wine from the waiter as he returns. The waiter’s eyes linger, focus on his gloves still on inside the restaurant. Will tucks his hands under the table and waits for him to leave. While empaths aren’t hated within society, they aren’t entirely enjoyed, either. He can sense the immediate assumption and judging.

           Far different from the taxi driver that supposed him to be cold but far too polite to voice it.

           “Have you been waiting for a moment to question him extensively on something?” Hannibal asks.

           “What’s on your mind?” Will asks distractedly, looking back to them.

Sometimes, he thinks about how Hannibal had looked, standing so close to him in the house of mirrors. Perhaps he Dreamed it, something his mind created because it wanted to be, and yet; there was something in the way he spoke words that would be treason should Jack Crawford hear them, and here he was ensuring that Will was in a position to be protected. His question now is much the same, and Will swears he can see that same hint of hunger as he studies Beverly with a keen attention to her squared shoulders despite the casual setting.

           I’m fond of you.

           “I was wondering what your thoughts were on the empath Jack’s having you track on the side.”

           Can you see?

           “What do you mean?” Will frowns.

           “I just want to hear what you have to say,” she says, but that’s not quite how it sounds.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he retorts, and it grants him a laugh.

           “You’re going to probably think I’m an ass hole after this,” she warns. “But I like taking things head on.”

           “I’ll live,” Will promises, taking a sip of white wine. It is light, buttery on the palate as the server said when he first suggested it. He notes Beverly tracking it, and he forces a smile.

           “When you first put your hands in the victim’s chest cavity, afterwards you described this as being some sort of homage to you. You said that the person asked you if you could see.”

           He thinks of Slowinski, how his life hangs in the balance of whether or not Dolarhyde can find him. He tastes the bitter burn of monkshood, and it takes another long sip of wine before he can sound perfectly normal.

           “It was a disorienting experience, but I recall” he says. Barriers. Compartmentalize. “What about it?”

           She takes a sip of her wine –to steady herself, Will notes –and she accepts a plate and an offering of hummus from Hannibal. “The second time, you tell Jack he’s an empath, but you make no mention of this person saying anything specifically. Just that they were weaponizing their gift.”

           Will could see where this was going. He busies his hands with his food, and he savors the warmth of the naan in his palms.

           “Did he say anything that time? Or did it go from him reaching out to you to nothing at all?”

           One thing Will both loves yet loathes is Beverly Katz’s tenacity for diving right to the point. Maybe, if Will hadn’t yet felt such a distinctive…need to protect this person in the moment, odd as it was, he’d tell her the words ringing in his head, nudging, pushing? And yet it would be a disservice, somehow, to tell her how protective, almost endearing it was that in the midst of all of this someone is attempting to save him from himself. From the institution that holds him.

           He can’t quite say it like that to Jack, though. That’s a surefire way to fail his psyche-evaluation. To retirement.

           To turning out like Dolarhyde.

           “He likely lost interest when I didn’t respond. I think Jack was right to pull me. No action led to boredom, so he’s escalating,” Will says, swiping the bread through the hummus. He won’t look at her eyes.

           He’d hissed to Lecter that the rogue empath was taunting him. It seemed Hannibal had kept his secret, left it there among the distorted glass and tilting halls.

           “Do psychopaths do that? Or rogue empaths, for that matter?” Beverly asks, confused.

           “I suppose it’s possible,” Hannibal admits, cutting in smoothly. “It depends on the ultimate intentions of the empath. Are they attempting to draw Agent Graham out specifically, or are they comfortable so long as they have someone’s attention?”

           “I guess that’s what I’m wondering if you gleaned something the second time. I’m confused that it’s so…contrasting from the first time they struck.”

           Will polishes off the rest of the wine and tears into the hummus with a single-minded vengeance. “That, and you had to ensure that if I drank tonight, it wasn’t alone.”

           She snickers rather than blusters, and maybe that’s why he likes her, for a neurotypical.

           “If he strikes again, get me there asap, and you’ll get the reaction in real time so you trust the source,” he suggests. “I’m thinking back now, and what I said in the moment would have been the most honest. In the moment, we say what we see, we say what we feel. If that’s what I said, that’s what I said.”

           “Thanks for the permission,” she replies after a beat, saluting him with her glass. “Now, I’ll make up for the interrogation with a round of drinks after dinner. You’re always a good sport, Graham.”

           It’s not alcoholism if he drinks with others. Will allows himself to relax.

           It’ll look good right before the evaluation.

-

           He’s drunk by the time Hannibal safely returns them to his humble abode. Everything is slippery, falling away, and he thinks of the first time he watched a fish die. How his father hit it, and he’d barfed later, unable to peel the death from his eyes.

           “Are you comfortable walking by yourself, Will?” Hannibal asks, and everything’s damp to the touch. Will isn’t sure if he sounds angry or if he’s amused, and gloved hands tuck themselves into pockets. Beverly had gone home in an Uber, promising to pick up her car in the morning. If she felt liquor as much as Will currently did, she was going to regret her life choices in the morning. He would, too, but right now he feels nice. Things feel nice. Damp, but nice. Why damp? He inhales, and the air is wet. He wonders if he’s thinking too much about that fucking fish. How it gaped, staring, dying.

           “Yes, thanks, Dr. Lecter.”

           “Please, call me Hannibal.”

           Will likes the feel of that, how it compresses in his chest and makes his heart constrict. He thinks of how close they’d pressed together in the wardrobe, his cheek to the woolen coat, and Hannibal had held him so tightly.

           He’s drunk, and it sounds like a god damn dream. He needs to hold it together but he can’t, and this was the sort of drunk he’d once told Hannibal about, the kind of drunk where being an empath wasn’t so bad. The dangerous kind. The kind where reality can be a dream, the dream being a life where one could touch someone whenever they wanted.

           He doesn’t often think about touching people, but dreams are like that. You want something you don’t allow yourself to normally think of. You long for it. You hope for it.

           “Dreams,” he manages to say –out of all of that –and he follows Hannibal into the house, taking his jacket off and allowing it to hang in the hallway. “How did you follow me into my headspace? I thought to ask at the time, but I…”

           He inhales the taste of Hannibal Lecter’s home, and he trails off, studying the warm tone and how it continues to constrict his heart, panging tight and hungry. He wonders what Alana would say, if she could see him now. Obsessed, indeed.

           “You grabbed my hand. I’ve heard it sometimes possible with E-2’s, so I supposed it plausible with an E-3. It’s never happened to me before, but it’s an experience I’ll never forget. I thought to thank you for it after, but it seemed a tasteless thing to thank you for.”

           Hannibal leads him straight to the guest bedroom. It makes sense, given how he struggles up the stairs, but it makes Will think of how closely they’d been pressed, how lightly he’d been touched. Fuck, he’s too drunk. He can’t handle the overwhelming sense of his own feelings at the moment. He’s once again grateful he can’t sense anything from Hannibal.

           He’d eaten monkshood within the shabby shelter of Will’s crumbling brain. Hannibal Lecter truly was something else.

           He wants to say as such, but he forgets to, somewhere between shuffling into a spare set of pajamas and having a glass of water forced down. He watches Hannibal’s ease, how his vision wavers in and out but still continues to fixate solely on him.

           Alana thought of it as obsession. Will wonders what Hannibal would think of his breaking into his office.

           “You didn’t tell them what I said about the empath,” he recalls, just before Hannibal leaves the room.

           Hannibal pauses and acknowledges it with a tilt of his head. Will’s vision swims, and he fully accepts he will be vomiting in the morning. “I am in your corner, Will. I wouldn’t have you doubt that.”

           A rogue empath hunting him down to make him Become wouldn’t look good while his mind crumbled as he chased Dolarhyde. Hannibal is protecting him.

           “Do you remember when you asked about my sex life, Dr. Lecter?” Will asks, unprompted.

           Hannibal’s amused, and Will’s too drunk to yet feel shame. “Good night, Will.”

           “No, I’m going somewhere with this. For your study of empathy.”

           There’s something about Hannibal, how he looks at Will. Sometimes Will thinks it’s that he’s intrigued or amused, or he wonders if he is a puzzle that the doctor is trying to put together. Perhaps there is something less professional in how his eyes darken perceptively, but this is the sort of thing that is dangerous for Will. He’s only feeding off of his own emotions, and his own emotions are terrible at best and terrifying at their worst.

           “I spoke of being able to numb myself enough that another person’s emotions and skin didn’t overwhelm me.”

           Hannibal’s smile is lethal. “I recall.”

           “This is how drunk I have to be in order to bear it.”

           Hannibal takes that information with the same expression he had when he first found Will stumbling through the hallways of the house of mirrors –hunger. Something a little wicked, and Will thinks of bare hands passing over poetry, tasting the first sense of the good doctor for who he was behind such a normally modest façade.

           Will falls into a drunken stupor that could be called sleep, if it wasn’t for such wonderful Dreams.

-

           He dreams Hannibal is behind his sturdy walls. They rise high, and the stag paces along the tree line, watching. Somehow, the space feels bigger, a little more room for another row of herbs to grow. The poisoner and the healing hand. The air has a hint of thyme.

           He isn’t sure how they are naked together, only that they are. There is something in the way of his dreams that he blinks, and he is there, as though it always was. Then he blinks again and it is another place that he always was, but one thing that is for certain is that Hannibal is there, his kiss is enough to get drunk off of; Will is certainly drunk off of it, and it is to the early morning he wakes, still drunk, puking into the first toilet he can find.

           He thanks whatever God is listening at the moment that he managed to get to a toilet in time. He’s not quite sure he’d live down the shame of having to clean vomit off of Hannibal Lecter’s woven rug that belonged somewhere in a museum rather than someone’s floor.

           His dreams pass over his eyes, but mornings are the best times to forget dreams. They become hazy, odd, and as he digs through the cupboards and is relieved to find mouthwash, Will is able to convince himself that he didn’t have wildly inappropriate dreams about his therapist, that he didn’t dream that they pressed monkshood to one another’s lips, that they didn’t dare and share a kiss.

           It takes another round of dry-heaving and a good scrubbing of cold water to his face, but Will Graham walks out of the guest bathroom having managed to do what most people are able to do with dreams –forget them entirely. He thinks instead of the row of thyme that’d sprouted since his last trip into the bone arena of his skull.

           “How are you feeling?” Hannibal asks the moment Will walks into the kitchen.

He’s already prepared a breakfast that was surely made with drinking in mind, a healthy helping of grease wrapped in lemon and honey-glazed salmon with eggs on the side. Will accepts it and sits up to the bar where Hannibal is busy with finishing his cup of coffee, newspaper in hand.

“Nothing I haven’t felt before,” Will reassures him.

           “Were you ill?”

           It’s a nice way of asking if he vomited. He shrugs a shoulder and focuses instead on the scents of the breakfast, testing the water. Is it safe to eat? The lingering flavors sit in the back of his throat before he swallows them down and deems them safe.

           “Anything good?” Will asks, nodding to the paper.

           “I woke thinking about your killer,” Hannibal replies, and he sets the paper down, smoothing the creases along the article he’s reading. “He’s made the front page.”

           It’s the house of mirrors where Randall Tier was found. Police tape sections it off despite the fact the body is long gone and the stains are removed. The scene was a symbol, but the location in of itself is irrelevant because it was only a prop, used merely to mock Will as his mind attempts to rend itself in two.

           Will remembers vaguely mentioning the killer, but it’s like attempting to look through a windowpane in a downpour. Everything is streaked, grey somehow, and he absentmindedly takes a bite of food, gloved hand gripping the fork with just a little too much pressure.

           “Why did you wake thinking about him?”

           “You never explained why you thought he was taunting you.”

           Will chews the salmon to a paste before he swallows. “Why didn’t you tell them what I said?”

           “Because I first wanted to understand what you said,” says Hannibal without missing a beat. He tracks Will’s next bite, lips pressed to a flat line. “How can I relay something I myself don’t know?”

           Will manages another two bites before he thinks he can explain himself in a way that doesn’t make him sound just mentally unstable enough for Hannibal to turn him in. Despite the richness of the food, it’s not overwhelming. The tightness in his stomach seems to be hunger rather than nausea.

           “He spoke to me,” he says, spearing a bite of egg.

           “You heard him?”

           He glances up and studies the curiosity on Hannibal Lecter’s face. So perfectly neutral, and Will is tempted to remove his gloves just to reach out his bare hands and maybe see something for once.

           “With noise and clarity.”

           “What did he ask you?”

           “He asked if I could see.”

           Can you see?

           “What is it he wanted you to see?” Hannibal wonders, and he presses his palms to the warm coffee cup. He leans back against the counter and props himself up, a generally rumpled appearance for the good doctor.

           This takes somewhat longer for Will to share, and he forces a few more bites of salmon down, the lemon bitter but welcome on his tongue.

           “Myself.”

           Hannibal’s head tilts just slightly to the side, but the corners of his eyes tighten, and Will can see that hint of hunger, of craving for something.

           I’m fond of you.

           “Did you see yourself in the house of mirrors? Or did you see yourself in Randall Tier?”

           “Both. I…Randall Tier is the house of mirrors. Every time he contorted himself into some shape that wasn’t his, every time he made himself into something else for every person he came across, I’ve done something like that.”

           Hannibal’s laugh was light, not unkind. “You have refused to contort yourself to many of us.”

           “No, but I can’t help but take just enough of everyone along with me that I can’t separate it anymore. He…he knows how Hobbs…”

           He doesn’t want to say it. How he and Hobbs are the same, even now with him six feet under. He needs to see Abigail today, needs to prepare for the evaluation. He needs to see Abigail, but in his most terrifying dreams he is Abigail –but aren’t they? They both died that day, died then returned not completely whole. Maybe there is something to the thought, that he has to see her because it seems to be the only way he can marginally feel whole.

           “What does he gain from making you see? What is he wanting from you?”

           Will finishes the eggs and lets the tines of the fork drag through the honeyed sauce. That is perhaps what is the most terrifying aspect of it, alongside somehow sympathizing with the monster murdering these people. Tools, he reminds himself. He thinks of these people as tools.

           “He wants me to see what they’re trying to make me become,” he admits, and this isn’t like before when fear and adrenaline forced him to be intimate and confined in tight spaces with Hannibal. It’s a quiet, immaculate kitchen, nothing in the world to distract him from honestly apart from his own blunt, stubborn refusal. “I think that…that this person is trying to save me from dying at the hands of the FBI. I think he knows something that we don’t.”

           He chances a look to Hannibal’s face. It’s contemplative, his brow furrowed as he makes quick work of wiping down the counter where his mug left a ring of fog on the granite. Hazy, grey streaks of dreams come, unprompted, and Will wonders if he managed to mention that the night before, or if he’d said something otherwise embarrassing that’s caused the talk this morning.

           He finishes his plate, and there’s something bordering on domestic as Hannibal takes it to rinse it in the sink.

           “Why didn’t you feel comfortable telling me then?”

           Will thinks of the hunger in Hannibal’s eyes that day, that tenseness as though he’d been prepared to hold Will there until he fucking talked. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you.”

           Hannibal’s smile is graceful that time. He offers coffee and makes short work of preparing he grounds, fresh from this morning. “You trust me now, though?”

           “Dr. Lecter –”

           “Hannibal.”

           “Hannibal,” Will corrects, “you literally have every reason in the world to call Jack Crawford right now and have me arrested for at least four felonies. Why haven’t you?”

           Hannibal doesn’t miss a beat, focused on the espresso machine. “I’ve already told you that, Will. I’m fond of you.”

           “Yeah, well,” Will huffs, “I’m fond of you, too.”

           And then it’s said, and it’s too big for the room they’re sitting in. It’s too big for his lungs that quite suddenly deflate, and it’s too big for the way he’s entirely sure Hannibal’s smile is more telling than it should be. He likes that smile, though. There’s something nice about it, and there’s something nice about not quite being able to read him despite the complaints to the contrary. Dr. Lecter is interesting. Dr. Lecter is different.

           Dr. Lecter is staring at him.

           He offers Will the cup of espresso, his lips curved ever-so-slightly. “Will you drink this without your gloves on?”

           For a wild moment, Will thinks of dragging his hands over Lecter’s office, craving every inch and marveling at the vast sensations. How close he felt, yet far enough away to only catch imprints. And now he’s suddenly being given permission? He wants to rip his gloves off, touch his palms to the surface of the kitchen where Hannibal so clearly loves to work; wants to press his palms to cheeks with hollowed, cruel edges that seem sharp enough to cut.

           If Alana could see him now…

           He removes his gloves slowly so that the good doctor can see and understand the motion. Then, he reaches out and accepts the piping hot cup, small enough that his palms encase it.

           There is a hunger there, something that drags across his ribs as a bow along cello strings. He blows on the cup, both resigned and wickedly excited for the way it’s going to burn all the way down. When his lips press to the edge of the cup, there’s a wild feeling that he’s somehow sharing a kiss, and without anymore preamble, he tilts his head back and sucks the piping hot drink down.

           When he looks back at Hannibal, there’s an intimate expression on the planes of his face that suggests Will had done everything Hannibal could have hoped for. Will’s palms are still tingling, stinging from the heat, but it compares nothing to the fire in his throat that claws down to his stomach. He has the briefest moment of indulging in a bad habit, and it’s difficult to say if he picked that up from the cup, or if it’s something much his own.

           Either way, he’s drowning in it, that feeling. Something that is pronounced enough it lingers long after the heat does, after his throat stops complaining from the onslaught.

           “To Abigail?” Will suggests hoarsely, when Hannibal makes no comment.

           “To Abigail,” Hannibal agrees.

[zeltricstudio]

'LUNCH TIME SPECIAL'

HAPPYVILE

MARCH 2014

Happyvile High has been without a chef for an awfully long time but finally managed to hire someone. Abraham Cook, despite his family’s reputation he was a competent cook and could actually make some decent meals for the students. It was around this time that students started to go missing. At first it was 1 student a month, then a couple before eventually the school looked into it. Of course, the teachers and police did nothing to investigate the matter, instead just saying “they ran away” or “ditched school”. Sarah, however was not happy with how poorly this was being dealt with. Many students would simply shrug their shoulders, but not her. “The special for today is lasagna” Sarah scoffs. “How can they just go on and not give a damn that students are disappearing almost on a weekly basis?” Sarah asked, feeling angry.

“I’m sure the police are doing everything they can” Sarah’s best friend, Jessica, replied, not paying much attention except for the food in front of her.

“You should eat, all this pointless wondering is going to make you hungry” Jessica moved her food towards Sarah

“Hell no. For all I know, they probably put their disgusting, unwashed hand in that food before they served it” Sarah replied, pushing the food back to Jessica.

“As long as it tastes good, I don’t mind”

“Your standards are very low”

“Eh” Jessica said and continued digging into her food.

“Fuck it. If the teachers and police are not going to do anything, then I will” Sarah said with extreme confidence

“What are you going to do?” Jessica asked, not seriously

“I… I don’t know” Sarah replied, slinking back into her seat.

“Again, just let it go. I’m sure they will all turn up eventually, probably” Jessica replied with a mouthful.

That night, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about the missing people. Sarah had read all papers and news reports about the disappearances, but they were all the same, ‘this student was staying late and never returned home. Parents didn’t find out till the next morning and no one saw a thing’. Personally, Sarah didn’t much care for the students as all of them were the absolute worst but the latest victim Kate was a close classmate she really liked and was baffled at how little her own teachers cared about a Grade-A kid. Sarah began documenting all the missing kids, but she couldn’t find a pattern due to how little the police cared. Some kids were not even reported missing until weeks later. Feeling defeated for the night, Sarah went to bed.

The next morning, during their lunch break, Sarah decided to buy a drink. It wasn’t until now that Sarah got an up-close look at Abraham. Like most of the males, he was very tall and noticeably huge. Not fat, but very built. He had an untrimmed beard that had little strands sticking upright, his eyes had bags underneath bags underneath bags and his skin was covered in bruises and scars all around. Despite his bodily appearance, he was surprisingly clean. His apron, clothes and even body odor were insanely neat and smelt like he dumped a load of perfume onto himself. After Sarah bought her drink, she went and sat down next to Jessica.

“I’ve noticed something” Sarah immediately said as he sat down.

“Aaaaaaand her comes the conspiracy theories” Jessica said, not even phased.

“Abraham is insanely clean”

“Well yeah. I know Happyvile isn’t the cleanest place, but we gotta have SOME standards”

“No, I mean like he is overly clean. Like not even a dirt or smudge anywhere, his clothes are pure white”

“Maybe he is a clean freak? Oddly, the dirtiest people are the cleanest”

“Perhaps. I just have an off feeling about him”

“You have an off feeling about everyone”

“That’s not true” Sarah points to Jessica

“Fair point. How’s your investigation coming along?” Jessica pondered, not really caring

“I got nowhere. This town’s not-giving-a-shit makes it almost impossible to even find out when they went missing”

“Uh-huh”

“What are you eating?”

“Spaghetti. It’s the new Lunch special” Jessica said, with added fake enthusiasm

“I still don’t know how you can eat that. It doesn’t even look like spaghetti”

“Maybe it’s a family recipe. Do I care? Nope” Jessica said and continued eating.

As the two continued chatting, they were approached by a classmate of theirs

“Have any of you two seen Adrian?” Sally asked

“Uh no, he was absent from first and second period” Sarah replied

“I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. If you do see him, please let me know” Sally said and walked off to a nearby table and asking them.

“Here we go” Jessica said, knowing what was about to come

“Another person to the list” Sarah replied, sounding smug.

Later that night, Sarah did a lot more studying and came across a status post a student had made. “It has been 2 months and my friend Alice is still missing! The police aren’t doing shit! Please if anyone knows anything, message me!”. Sarah finally had something to go on. Even though Sarah wasn’t close with most people, she at least knew of Alice who was one of the very first people to go missing. Sarah was able to begin a timeline. As Sarah began writing names, she had a curious thought.

The next day, early in the morning Sarah caught up to Principal Hayford.

“Principal Hayford” Sarah said, to get his attention

“Oh, hello Sarah” Hayford replied, looking slightly annoyed

“May I ask you a question?”

“That depends, is it about the missing kids?” Hayford said with a slight irritation in his voice

“No. I was wondering when you hired Abraham, the new cook?”

“Oh, about a couple months back” Hayford’s tone immediately changed

“Do you know the exact date?”

“Not right now, but I can look it up and e-mail you it. Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious. So far he is already the best cook we’ve gotten for this school”

“I agree. And he was cheap too. I feel like I got a good deal” Hayford chuckled

“Well thanks, I got to go now” and Sarah ran off before Hayford could trap her in a conversation.

“The day Abraham was hired, Alice went missing the same week!” Sarah said as she said down next to Jessica

“Good morning to you too” Jessica replied, preparing herself for another one of Sarah’s rants.

“Think about it. We’ve had cooks come and go with no problems and then when we got Abraham BOOM 16 students and counting have gone missing”

“That is pretty damning evidence, but you ever consider it could be the Happyvile Slasher behind this?”

“No, The Happyvile Slasher has been gone for a year now. And if it was him, we would definitely know”

“Yeah, I guess”

“How can you just sit there, eating and not give a single fuck?” “What can I do? I’m not the police. I don’t have any skills to do anything. I mean it sucks, but what can you do?”

“I guess” Sarah replied, feeling tired she wasn’t getting anywhere. “What is the lunch special for today?”

“Homemade pizza, with cheese, pepperoni and shredded meat” Jessica said as she took a huge bite

“Looks appetizing” Sarah said, with extreme sarcasm.

Throughout the day, her suspicions of Abraham continued to pursue her, and Sarah knew if she wanted to do something, she was going to have to act. She pretended to stay back at the library, studying and as everyone began leaving except the librarian, Sarah put her plan into motion. Because the school was empty, Sarah could easily slip into the cafeteria and hop the counter. Much like Abraham’s appearance, the kitchen too was spotless. Everything was neatly put away, no dishes in the rack and the floor was clean. Sarah continued looking but aside from basic kitchen items, nothing stood out, until she saw a cardboard box in underneath a table. Inside the box were a few random items and trinkets. Keyrings, badges, pins, hair ties, just a random assortment of items and then Sarah saw it, Kate’s bracelet. She knew it was Kate’s because it had pink nail polish striped onto it, which Sarah had done as a joke. Sarah then heard some heavy footsteps and she immediately put the box back and hopped the counter, pretending to look around. Abraham entered the café and noticed Sarah.

“What are you doing here, child?” Abraham asked, extremely suspiciously.

His voice was a lot deeper when he was angry.

“Oh, I uh dropped something and came back to look for it, but I… uh” Sarah tried to make excuses, but she was bad at it.

“Hold on, I got a box around here”

“A box?”

“Whenever I find stuff students have left, I collect them and hand it to the office’s lost-and-found”

Abraham entered the kitchen area and immediately noticed dirt prints on the floor. He kept this discovery to himself and got the box, all the while eyeing Sarah suspiciously.

“Are any of these yours?”

“Oh there it is, the bracelet. Where did you find this?”

“Over by the back table”

Sarah knew he was lying, Kate would never take off her bracelet unless she had to.

“Thank you” Sarah said and walked off, with fear consuming her.

Abraham watched her walk away and cleaned the kitchen, before closing and heading home. Sarah couldn’t shake the gut feeling she had of Abraham, but she knew he was responsible for this.

“I found Kate’s bracelet in the kitchen! He claims he found it on a table” Sarah exclaimed over the phone to Jessica

“So you broke into a kitchen and found a bracelet in a box”

“I didn’t break in, it was open”

“Sarah, that is a lazy connection and you know it”

“I’m telling you, he is responsible for Kate and maybe the others. I know it!”

“I’m hanging up, call me back when you’ve calmed down”

“Fucking asshole” Sarah muttered and dropped her phone onto her bed. Sarah knew Jessica was right, this evidence was barely anything, and even if it was enough, the cops wouldn’t give enough of a shit to do anything. Sarah knew if she wanted to make a change, she would have to get picture proof.

The next day seemed to drag on as Sarah waited for the end of the day. Knowing Jessica didn’t care, Sarah dropped the conversation and didn’t let Jessica in on her plan. She didn’t need the negativity to pull her down she reasoned. Finally the glorious day came and it was the end of the day. Sarah pretended to be studying and once Abraham was ready to leave, Sarah began tailing him on her bike. The drive lead them out of Happyvile and deep into the country side of things, before eventually into the forest. Abraham stopped his car at an incredibly old looking farmhouse, before getting out and entering a small house near the main house. Sarah noticed she had no signal and planned on a quick in-and-out job. She took pictures of the house and waited. After roughly 20 minutes, Abraham exited the house and drove off, leaving the door unlocked. Sarah took this opportunity and entered.

In a stark contrast to the kitchen, this house was messy. The walls were peeling, the carpet was covered in fur and junk, clothes and items strewn about and an awful stench immediately hit her. As Sarah began probing and poking around, she noticed a downstairs area. Sarah took a quick look outside to make sure he wasn’t back and entered. Any normal person would have immediately left by now, but Sarah was far too invested to give up. The closer she got to the basement, the stronger the smell became. It was very putrid and nearly made her gag. Sarah used her pocket flashlight to illuminate the area and she got a good look at her surroundings. The floors, walls and ceilings were covered in ceramic tiles, with drain holes every 5 feet. Trails of blood were flowing into them. Sarah also noticed there were lots of white, rolled up bags with blood splotches on them. As Sarah continued moving, she heard a light grunt and noticed a person on a table. Sarah rushed over and saw Adrian, except her was naked and had a hook impaled in him.

“Oh fuck” Sarah said, in surprise.

“H-help me” Adrian begged as he raised his hand, which had the index and thumb missing and a giant hole in the palm. Sarah stumbles backwards away from his hand as it drops to the side and hits the tables legs, making a heavy ding sound before passing out. Sarah was too stunned to move, her legs locked in place. After what feels like an eternity, Sarah was able to compose herself and began walking away, planning on calling the cops as soon as she leaves. Before she can reach the stairs, she hears the door lock and footsteps retreating down. Sarah immediately begins running further into the basement as the foot steps get louder. Sarah hides in a side room, surrounded by rolled-up bags. Sarah notices the figure to be Abraham as he makes his way to Adrian. Abraham picks up a hatchet and drives it into Adrian’s face. The impact makes a fleshy noise, as Adrian’s gasps are quickly stifled. Sarah has to bite her hand to stifle her screams, as she watches Abraham continue hacking the body, before putting the hatchet down and wheeling the table to another room. With Abraham gone, Sarah rushes to the stairs, but when she turns the knob, she is terrified to find it is locked.

“I was concerned” Abraham says, his voice echoing around the room. “How was I going to take care of you. Getting the others wasn’t easy, you know. They struggled, they screamed, they put up a fight, but you, you came here”

Sarah immediately ran away from the door, hugging the walls and moving around in the dark as Abraham’s voice came from multiple directions

“I promise you, if you give up I will make it quick” Abraham said, as calm as possible.

“Fuck you!” Sarah screamed in fear. Sarah made her way to the area Adrian was in and picked up the hatchet, arming herself.

“I am warning you” Abraham said, this time more sternly.

Sarah was beyond terrified now. Not only was she locked in a basement with a serial killer, but no one knew where she was.

“You’re not the first person, you know. There were others who came looking, but couldn’t leave well enough alone. I will do whatever it takes to protect my family” Abraham said, this time it sounded much closer.

Sarah jumped backwards and swung, but hit nothing. “Let me go, you fucker!” Sarah screamed, now absolutely petrified and shaking.

“Sorry, but I can’t. You know too much. This is your last warning” Abraham said, now getting angry.

As Sarah began looking around, hatchet ready to swing, she suddenly heard silence. As she began walking, looking for Abraham she felt a sudden pain in her shoulder. Abraham drove a meat hook into her right shoulder, causing her to drop the hatchet. Sarah tried running away, but Abraham drove another hook into her leg, causing her to trip. Sarah fell to the floor, her shoulder and leg in pain, with blood rushing down her back. Sarah continued crawling, before Abraham drove a final hook into the back of her neck, paralyzing her. Sarah wasn’t able to move anymore as Abraham grabbed her foot and dragged her further into the basement, past several rooms until she was in a smaller room. Abraham turned on the light and she noticed it was a make-shift bathroom, with only a tub and several hooks hanging above it.

“I’m sorry it has come to this, but don’t worry, your meat won’t be wasted” Abraham said, trying to calm her.

“Fuck, you!” Sarah screamed, in painful breaths as she couldn’t lift her head. It wasn’t until Abraham began putting on his apron and sharpening his knives, did his words kick in. “What, what are you doing?” Her anger suddenly turned to fear as she looked at Abraham out the corner of her eye.

“My family, my son to be exact, is very particular in he eats. He loves humans, craves it and I love my son, so I get him what he likes. But doesn’t like all parts of them. And I am not a wasteful man” Abraham says, grinding his knives as they make scratching noises.

“Before I begin, any final words?”

“Please, don’t” Sarah begged.

Abraham effortlessly picked up Sarah, before impaling her on a hook. Sarah began screaming, but it was gurgled by the hook. After a grueling 5 seconds, she was finally dead and Abraham got to work.

The next day, Jessica was sitting down, waiting for Sarah to join her like they always do, but she never showed. Jessica texted her and as she waited, she noticed the new Lunch special: this time it was a beef sandwich.

[purplesurveys]

885

What Rhymes With “AKE”?

[a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

1. Does any part of your body ache right now? Not at the moment, but I will say that I’m now sporting several gashes on my arms and fingers thanks to Cooper’s feisty teeth. His grip is a lot firmer now so there’ve been a few times where he was able to grab onto my skin harder than I expected while we played. 2. How do you like your steak? Barely cooked. Blood oozing once I cut into it and all that. 3. Which bone did you last break? I haven’t broken a bone before. 4. How long is your break at work? Back in my internship, we had an hour for lunch and then we were allowed 30 minutes to take a nap. That was awesome to find out, that my boss would give her employees nap time :) The office lights were all turned off and I would even be told off if they caught me working. 5. What did you do over Christmas break? How about spring break? We don’t have spring break. For Christmas I mostly stayed off of social media. Gabie allowed me to open my presents earlier than the 24th because she got me painting stuff and she wanted me to have something to do before Christmas, which is the period where I get most anxious and depressed. Then for Christmas my siblings and I got a Switch from our parents, so most of post-Christmas was spent getting acquainted with it.

6. Do you know anyone named Jake? My fact-checking instructor was a Jake and I absolutely hated his guts. I really don’t like it when a teacher says shit like “I could very much fail you all right now” and says it proudly, and I don’t like how he refused to help and correct us in our articles just because “what [we’re] supposed to do was already covered in a past lecture and [we] should know better.” That’s why we’re enrolled in your class dumbass. We want to learn, but we’re bound to make mistakes too. Anyway, that was four months of pure hell. 7. What’s your favorite thing to bake? I don’t bake a lot but baking cookies has always been nostalgic for me. I love when I get to do it with friends or when my dad allows me to help out in the kitchen. 8. Favorite kind of cake and favorite kind of frosting? Cheesecake. My favorite frosting is either cream cheese or chocolate, especially on my cupcakes.

9. Do you know someone who is fake? Most of the popular girls in my high school were fake but idk, they’ve since seemed genuine in the few times I talked to some of them throughout college. 10. Which lake is closest to you, geographically? Taal. 11. How would you like to make a difference in the world? Ending up the complete opposite of my mom. I just want to prove that some kids don’t always end up the same as the shitty environment they were brought up in. 12. When’s the last time you used a rake? Maybe in high school? We’d have special days where we were assigned to help our janitors and other auxiliary staff ~as a way of saying thanks~ and it’s likely I used a rake at least once. 13. What would you like to take a class in? If I could, I’d take all the history courses that exist. But other than that, I’d love to take a class that covered different countries’ cultures. It was too late when I found out my school has a department that offers classes that taught Japanese, Turkish, Russian, etc. cultures, so that’s a bummer. 14. Have you ever been to a wake before? Yes, a handful. I’ve been to the wake of the relative of my dad’s friend, Sophie, my grandfather...Nacho’s was the most recent. 15. Have you ever used the phrase “for Pete’s sake?!” Maybe once or twice. I’ve gone with its more inappropriate sibling, for fuck’s sake far more often. 16. When’s the last time you felt wide awake? Saturday evening. 17. Do you know how to change the brakes on your car? No. I always forget that you can do that, lol. 18. Do you enjoy listening to Drake? Sure, especially his songs that came out while I was in high school so from 2012-2016. Again, nostalgia just hits differently when it comes to his older songs. 19. When’s the last time you’ve seen snowflakes? Never. 20. Have you ever been called a flake before? I don’t think so, no. 21. When’s the last time you felt your body quake? Two days ago. I walked into the kitchen as my dad was kicking away a ball of dust and I thought it was a rat, so my whole body shuddered and shook lol 22. Favorite type of milkshake? Anything unhealthily sweet. 23. Do you ever try to shake something in order to get it to work again? That’s how I was when I still used TV remotes. I don’t shake things as much anymore. 24. Are you afraid of snakes? Only venomous ones, and ones that can swallow humans alive. I’m not scared of all snakes, in fact I’ve held a few and put them around me in the past. 25. Has your life ever been at stake before? Not that I can recall. 26. Have you ever had to do picture retake at school? I don’t know what this means since we don’t use this exact term, but I’ve needed my college ID re-done TWICE because I also ended up losing my replacement ID haha. In the end, my mom ended up finding my actual original ID just hiding in one of my bags. 27. Are remakes of things better, or the originals? Either have the potential to be better, it’s not black-or-white. Like I’ll always prefer the original 1976 Carrie movie, but I know that the most recent adaptation of Little Women got very good reviews too. 28. Do you call them hotcakes or pancakes? Pancakes. 29. Do you prefer cupcakes or muffins? Cupcakes. 30. What’s the last mistake you made? I shared an article about an update on Naya Rivera but I didn’t notice until after sharing it that it came from TMZ, and we all know how shittily they handed Kobe Bryant’s death. Immediately deleted my post after seeing that no other news outlet had confirmed that it was her body that was found.

Still, the team in charge of finding her in the lake confirmed that it was her a few hours after the TMZ report came out. I’m absolutely gutted. 31. What activity would you like to partake in right now? Any activity that would involve going outside. 32. Have you ever had a teacake before? How about a clambake? I’ve had neither. Clambake looks super appetizing though. It reminds me of a seafood paella that’s served at a local Fil-Mex place I love going to :) 33. What is one of your keepsakes? A Ferrari keychain that JM gave me and our other orgmates as a souvenir from his trip to Singapore to watch the Grand Prix last year. 34. Do you like cornflakes? They’re okay. I’d rather eat them as it is though, and not as a cereal. 35. Have you ever made a fruitcake before? Nope. 36. Do you like strawberry shortcake? How about coffeecake? I’ve had a few slices of coffee cake before. 37. Who’s the last person you gave a handshake to? Probably one of the applicants in our org. 38. Favorite flavor of cheesecake? Oreo! And New York-style. 39. Have you ever felt an earthquake before? Yes. Nothing too extreme though, like no books falling off the shelves or anything like that. They were strong enough for it to be just noticeable.

[joshpup]

To Love or Not to Love // Pt. 3

Intro // Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 // Pt. 10 // Pt. 11 // Pt. 12 // Pt. 13 // Pt. 14 // Pt. 15 // Pt. 16 // Pt. 17 Word Count: 2,033 Genre: Svt Mafia Au Member: Mingyu TW: Angst, Violence, mention of blood, there will be fluff eventually i promise. idk about tw if there is one i should add pls let me know im bad at them

Joshua may have been much nicer to you to then you had expected, but that still didn't change the fact you were their prisoner. After Joshua had finished putting everything away, he took you back to the oh so plain room and locked you in once more. You weren’t as bitter and angry when you first were locked away, but that didn’t mean you were happy. You were far from happy, just a little more comfortable. You walked back to the corner of the room and settled yourself against the two walls, and just as you were drifting off to sleep, you hear quite a racket off people, which you could only assume were the others getting back from whatever “business” they had been attending too.

You woke up to a knock on the door, and not long after Joshua walked through with another tray of food. You stood up and met him halfway.

“Good morning.” Joshua said, placing the tray of food on the edge of the bed again.

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘good,’ but anyways… Morning.” You said bitterly as you looked down at the food, just like last time, the food looked pretty appetizing. Minus the fact you were locked in a room, you didn’t feel too much like a prisoner. Joshua chuckled a little and there was a moment of silence.

“Did everyone come back last night?” You questioned.

“Everyone except Hansol and Seungcheol.” Joshua answered. Of course, you had no idea who those names belonged too, so you just nodded slightly, a slightly confused expression on your face.

“Ah, Hansol is our guy that stays up to date with everything, and Seungcheol is the boss.” Joshua explained, noticing your confused look.

“So, does Seungcheol know I’m here yet?”

“Unless Hansol’s told him, I don’t think he does know.” Joshua said, fiddling with the edge of the tray a little. You nodded once more, watching Joshua.

“Mingyu said that he’d come up and see you soon.” Joshua said after a moment of silence.

“Tell him not too. I don’t want to talk to him.” You stated bluntly. Joshua nodded, an understanding expression on his face.

“I have a feeling no matter what I tell Mingyu, it’s not going to stop him, but I’ll let him know.” Joshua said, turning towards the door, “make sure you actually eat something this time.” and with that, the door was closed. You weren’t sure if you heard the door lock this time, but honestly you didn’t have a desire to go out of the room now. It was quiet and no one was there to bother you. You picked at the food for a bit, eating a tiny bit but not much of it. You didn’t have an appetite anymore. The thought of having to face Mingyu was enough to rid you of your appetite.

You stared at the food for a while, then got up and walked around the room aimlessly. To say the least you were bored, and really just wanted to take a shower and freshen up. You were tired of being locked up in the room, if they planned on keeping you there forever they might as well let you out. It felt like years before the door opened again. You quickly stood up from where you sat on the foot of the bed as the doorknob turned and the door was pushed open. You had expected to see Joshua again, but this time it was Mingyu. He poked his head through the small opening he had made opening the door and looked at you. You had never felt so many different emotions flood your body at one time. Your first reaction upon seeing his face was to quickly walk towards the door. He looked taken aback when you rushed towards him, but that only made it easier for you to push him out of the room and slam the door shut, planting yourself firmly in front of it to keep him from opening the door again. He pushed at the door a few times but you were holding it in place as if your life depended on it.

“Oh, come on (y/n)!” You heard Mingyu whine from the other side of the door.

“Leave me alone!” You shouted back. There was a moment of silence and then footsteps sounded getting softer with each step. You hadn’t expected him to leave so easily… You stayed blocking the door just in case he came back, but after a few minutes and no sign of anyone in the halls, let alone trying to get to your room you finally let the door be. You walked back to the bed and stared at it for a while. Why did I just trap myself in this room? You thought to yourself. I should have tried to get out… You shrugged your shoulders, it was too late anyways, no use beating yourself up over it.

When the door opened for the third time that day, you were on high alert. Pleasantly (or as pleasant as it can get being held hostage), this time it was Joshua again.

“Mingyu came down in such a bad mood, what did you do to him?” Joshua questioned as he walked into the room. You shrugged your shoulders. Joshua ran his fingers through his hair and let out a sigh.

“Is there anything you need?” Joshua asked after a moment of silence.

“To get out of this room.” you said after thinking for a while.

“You might see Mingyu. And I can’t guarantee the other members will be nice to you. Most of them don’t want you here.” Joshua stated.

“Yah, a few of them did try to kill me, I think I know I’m not to welcome.” You said, rolling your eyes slightly.

“Alright… Don’t try to leave the house if I let you out, you’ll be killed for sure.” Joshua said, his voice much more stern than you’d ever heard it. You nodded and followed him out of the room. You were honestly so happy to be out of that room and be able to look out a window and see sunlight that you didn’t care you’d see Mingyu, or the guys who almost killed you a few days ago. You followed Joshua down the hall and towards the stairs. As you passed the many doors, you could hear music softly playing behind one of the walls, but you passed too quickly to figure out exactly which room it was coming from. You followed closely behind Joshua as you walked down the stairs and towards the kitchen like the night before. The sunlight filled the house beautifully. Honestly, how such awful people could have such a nice house like this made you puzzled… maybe they weren’t as bad as you thought. You shook your head slightly. Don’t think like that (y/n), they kidnapped you!

The two of you walked through the kitchen and into another connecting room that you hadn’t noticed the night before. The room, which you would call the living room (but it's debatable), had a few couches, and a TV mounted on the wall. In one corner of the room stood a wrack with clothes hanging from it, and beside that was a table piled with various things, from more clothes to an umbrella and even some pots and pans. There were even rolls of papers that at first glance looked like maps too you and knowing these people, it was probably blueprints to some poor person’s store.

There were several people in the room, some on the couch, some laying on the floor or leaning against the wall, doing their own things. Some on their phones, one person reading, another person writing something down, but as soon as you and Joshua walked into the room their heads turned and soon all eyes were on you.

“Josh, why’d you let them out?” someone you had never seen before questioned, standing up to reveal just how short he was compared to the others in the group.

“Don’t worry Jihoon, (y/n) not going to go anywhere. Do you think she could really leave this house?” Joshua asked, waving his hands a little to gesture to the house. Jihoon gave Joshua a look that could kill.

“I won’t take my eyes off them.” Joshua assured.

“Mingyu should be the one watching over them, not you…” Minghao, looking over from where he sat on the couch.

“I’d rather die than have to spend time with Mingyu.” You blurted out.

“We can arrange that.” Jun said, glaring at you. You glared back at him. If the tension in the room wasn’t already high, it was now. Everyone was silent, and no one moved. You didn’t dare move, let alone breath. You felt as if you made one wrong move you’d die right there on the spot. Was this how everyone normally acted, or is everyone stressed for some reason? You didn’t know, but you could hope this wasn’t their normal way of acting.

“Why is everyone so quiet?” A voice called from in the kitchen. You turned around to see Mingyu walking towards the living room, which also meant towards you. For some reason, your first instinct was to move behind Joshua, out of Mingyu’s reach. This action not only earned you a glare from Mingyu, but Joshua also got a good bit of Mingyu’s attitude. He brushed passed the two of you and threw himself down on the couch next to Minghao and Jun.

“Why aren’t you watching over (y/n)? You said you would…” Minghao said once again.

“(Y/n) won’t let me get near them.” Mingyu stated.

“Well that’s your issue.” a guy with longish hair spoke up for the first time since you entered the room. “You said you’d take care of them, don’t push your job off on Joshua. He’s got his own things I need him to do.”

“Hey, I only asked him to watch over them last night while we were gone. And Josh’s not some person you can boss around anymore, Jeonghan.”

“I shouldn’t have left my room…” Your whispered, barely audibly to your own ears, let alone anyone else.

“Look Mingyu, I don’t have a problem watching over (y/n), but when the boss comes home it’s all on you. Don’t push this onto me.” Joshua finally spoke up.

“Sounds good, plus if anyone would know how to take care of (y/n) it’s you.” Mingyu said with a shrug of his shoulders. Before you could even blink there was a pillow being smacked in Mingyu’s face and a loud grunt from Jeonghan. Joshua shifted from foot to foot awkwardly while the others expressions changed from frustration to a look you couldn’t quite pinpoint. Joshua cleared his throat.

“Well, once the boss gets back I have to go out for a few days with Jeonghan so you better learn Mingyu.” Joshua said before turning to leave the room, you close behind him.

When the two of you had made it far enough away to go unheard, Joshua laughed a bit.

“That was dramatic.” You nodded. You had expected to be under fire, but not quite like that. You followed Joshua around the for a bit as he showed around the house. At first glance, you didn’t think it would be that big, but it was actually really big. Then again, they are part of the mafia, so it’s not like they wouldn’t have money. They had a huge exercise room, the boss's room (which no one but the boss was allowed in unless summoned), all the rooms upstairs, the kitchen and living room which you’d already seen, a dance room for some reason and then a few rooms Joshua said he couldn’t show you. You guessed they had something to do with their line of work, so you didn’t ask, partly for your own safety, and partly because you didn’t want to know what type of terrible things they are doing.

After Joshua had shown you every part of the house he could, he turned to you.

“Anything else you want to know?” He questioned.

“Yah,” you started, “When can I take a shower?”

Next...

[honeylikewords]

PT.1 But if we're talking post-family Frank... It's a different story. Really, it'd be a miracle if he allowed himself to come to terms with the possibility that he could love anyone after Maria. To be honest, if he did, he might initially be filled with self-loathing. He knows there's no point in holding on to the past, but he feels like he's betraying his first love, whom he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

PT.2 Frank might become very distant, going out at night a lot more and for longer. May even find other places to sleep so he can stay away from you and collect his thoughts. Eventually, he just stops coming back at all.

PT.3But absence CAN make the heart grow fonder, particularly under the right circumstances. (Circumstances being 1) he already feels so much for you, 2) Matt gives him another one of his sermons, 3) Karen has a little diner chat with him, 4) both of them tell him that you've been worried sick about him lately.) He's been through literal Hell and back. Why is going back to your apartment after nearly two months so hard?

PT.4Honestly, once you get past his complex feelings and how to approach you about them -- IF he can approach you about them at all -- it's out of the absolute possibility that the moment he walks through that threshold, you'll go Punisherette on his ass and hang his naked behind upside down for Matt to pick him up. But he knows this is entirely unfair. Everything about him and you is unfair.

It's unfair that you're with him and can't have a normal relationship like everyone else. It's unfair that you can't go out like a regular couple, or even be too entirely safe. It's unfair that his life melds into yours and makes it all so ugly, that his past is effecting your present and future, that he keeps determining how he treats you by how he felt for his wife -- That thought pierces him to the core. It's cold and stinging against his warm insides. Is it fair to tell you he loves you?

PT.6He prays you're not home, that you're out living a normal life. But God has never been a particularly good listener to him. It's as you're releasing a flurry of questions on what was wrong with him that he realizes what he's done: He's why your eyes have dark rings and are puffy and red from crying; why your hair is a mess; why you just look...tired.

PT.8He hated that he's the cause of it. But he also feels a need to fix it. To collect you into his arms and make it up to you. It's the same feeling he had whenever he upset Maria."I think I love you." It was so quiet and quivered out of his mouth. A declaration made out of feathers. It rose above and weaved through your shouting and silenced you almost immediately. The apartment becomes so quiet, you could hear dogs barking in the distance, conversations in the alleyway.

PT.9The subsequent, "What?" you release is made of a material similar to Frank's confession. But he offers you no response. Instead, he stands up straighter and briskly makes his way to the bedroom before closing the door. Not loudly. But just loud enough. You don't follow immediately. Should you? It doesn't matter; you just don't go to him instantly. By the time you gingerly open the door to your room, you see Frank sitting on your bed, shoving his things into a duffle bag.

PT.10You quietly stutter a query: Where is he going. He shakes his head: "I need to go." It's all he says. You ask him what he means, why does he need to go? "I need to go, okay? I just need to go." It sounds desperate. It makes ice form in your tummy. "But...But you just got back--" "I NEED to go." "Frank, what's gotten into y--" "(Y/N)!!!" He's never yelled your name before, let alone like that.

PT.12"I was just gonna end everyone who got in my way, y'know. Be perfectly fine. Finish what Red couldn't. But then you came along. And now... It's not like that anymore." After a shaking inhale, followed by an even more uneven exhale, Frank lowers his hands and looks at you, eyes slightly wetter than usual. "None of this"--he gestured around at your apartment--"was supposed to happen to me. I wasn't supposed to happen to you. Hell, I wasn't supposed to happen to ANYONE. But...but..."

PT.13You don't know what to say. Well, you DO, but not how to say it. All you can bring yourself to, after attempting to compose yourself, is a small, "But in GLAD you happened." It's not as strong as you would like. Cheesy almost. Frank just shakes his head again. "You SAY that. You say that, but you don't know what you're sayin.' I'm a hazard to have around you. You're not supposed to live like this, being cooped up inside, waiting for me to come home when there's a damn good chance I won't."

PT.14"I did that to Maria, with my ass going to Afghanistan and making her wait, only to wind up letting her down. I ain't doin' that again. Not when I have a choice." The finality in his voice breaks you. "Don't I get a choice!?" you demand. "Last I checked, Frank always went for the women who wouldn't put up with his shit. you leaving for two months with no warning, and now leaving for good on some bull about thinking he's not good enough? THAT is the shit I won't put up with!"

PT.15 Of course, he tries to fight back and keep his cool but Frank barely gets a proper word in now that you're in a vortex of anger. The only time he gets a moment to say anything is after you yell, "Did you even once consider that I love you, too, and I'm hella scared about how you'd react!? You're always trying to push away, you won't let anyone help you, and you're so goddamn selfish about it!

PT.16"You keep trying to distance yourself from me because you think it's being considerate when really all you're doing is not considering who I am as a PERSON and not a PROP! I'm not some 'dame' in your little brooding vigilante movie, Frank! I'm a goddamn idiot who loves you, okay!? So treat me like one instead of choosing my role for me!!" ... Well, there was time to speak now, over your rattled huffing, but what could Frank possibly say?

PT.17He thought he had the words until he heard you sniffling, heard a meek whimper slither from your mouth, saw your hands begin rubbing the tears out of your eyes. He didn't have the right words. But what he did have were arms to pull you into, a lap to sit you upon, fingers to wipe away your tears even as you weakly tried batting him away, and lips to deliver kisses of consolation to your forehead.

PT.18The words shrunk from the heavy voice he'd originally intended on using, becoming soft whispers that instead delivered apologies and hushes. They barely rose any higher than your weeping and hiccups. You don't quite compute his words, in all your exhaustion and dwindling rage. You also don't remember when you fell asleep, pressed against his warm chest. You only remember waking up to that sticky feeling one has after a good cry. It is morning, and Frank isn't there.

PT.19Your heart sinks into the burning pit of your stomach. He really did leave...you think, eyes stinging. It is then that you hear the bedroom door open, revealing one tired-looking Frank, bearing a plate of your favorite breakfast foods. He's embarrassed, a little ashamed, judging by the look on his face, but you know it's not because he burned the banana pancakes a little.

PT.20"I... I uh... I brought you food," he mutters, inching closer. You accept the plate but don't begin eating, only staring at Frank. He rubs the back of his neck. "I know it ain't appetizing but you know I don't really do--" "I don't want breakfast." "Huh?" "I don't want this." "Oh... Well, then--" "I just want you to hold me..." At least Frank can't burn a hug.

PT.21It is here that Frank manages to catch the best night of sleep that he's had in two months, made only possible by your bed, your scent, and the feeling of you in his arms. As tired as you are, though, you don't dare close your eyes just yet. You just want to watch him a little longer. It doesn't matter if he's decided to stay, that you'll have him forever: Forever with Frank is never long enough. THE END

HELp 911 I’Ve BEEN MURDERED IN MY O WN HOME

im actuaolly crying you are so very talented and dedicated and i love you and i have no owrds to express how fantasti c this is and how i am overcome with emotion