Hannibal Lector Is Secretly A Lemon Shark Who Got Jealous Because Their Favorite Diver (will Graham)

Hannibal lector is secretly a lemon shark who got jealous because their favorite diver (will graham) is paying attention to another lemon shark

sunlight & sawdust

chapter three: roses & rasps

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summary: For two years, Joel Miller has done nothing but scowl at you from across the room, barely tolerating your warmth, your kindness, and your ever-present sunshine. And for two years, you’ve told yourself his gruffness doesn’t bother you—that his clipped words and cold stares don’t matter. But then, out of nowhere, he offers to fix the damaged floor in your flower shop. For free. Suddenly, the man who could barely stand to look at you is showing up every day, fixing things that don’t need fixing, sharing quiet lunches, and—most shocking of all—getting along with Ellie, your daughter, who has never warmed up to anyone as quickly as she has to him.

pairing: joel miller x fem!single mom reader - no outbreak/au

content warnings: slight reader description, no y/n used, grumpy joel, grumpy x sunshine trope, ellie is reader's daughter, reader is a single mom, tommy being a meddler, reader is friends with tommy, au setting in Austin, joel is a carpenter, reader owns a flower shop, fluff, angst and eventual smut, joel is bad at feelings, sarah mentioned

a/n: divider by @saradika-graphics.

Joel took a slow, steady breath as he stood outside the flower shop.

The place was… charming.

The sign above the door swayed slightly in the warm afternoon breeze. It was painted in delicate cursive and inviting. Flowers spilled from pots and hanging baskets outside the windows, their soft colors and sweet scent wrapping around him, making the whole place feel like something out of a different world—one that didn’t belong to him.

He paused just before reaching for the door handle, his eyes catching on the scene inside.

Through the window, he saw you sitting behind the counter, your hands carefully weaving a braid into a little girl's hair perched in front of you.

She was small—maybe six, maybe seven. Joel had never been good at guessing kids’ ages.

She sat cross-legged in her chair, a book open in her lap. Her tiny fingers idly played with the edge of the pages as you worked. You looked completely at ease, your fingers moving through her hair with practiced familiarity, your expression soft and content.

Joel hesitated.

Something about it—about you, about her—made something twist deep in his chest.

Before he could think too much about it, he exhaled sharply and pulled the door open, the soft chime of the bell above sealing his fate.

"Joel!" The warmth in your voice caught him off guard.

You greeted him like he was a friend, like he belonged here, in this sunlit little shop filled with fresh blooms and soft laughter.

"I can’t thank you enough for doing this," you said, beaming as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Joel forced himself to stay steady despite his confidence immediately wavering under your gaze. He nodded, offering a faint, almost reluctant smile.

"Like I said, not a problem." His voice came out softer than he intended.

His eyes flickered downward, landing on the little girl sitting before you.

She had your eyes. Your nose, too. She had the same shape, the same scrunch of concentration as she glanced up from her book, curious but quiet.

"Oh, right." You rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, smiling. "This is Ellie."

Joel swallowed.

"Say hello, Ellie. You remember Tommy, right? Well, this is his older brother, Joel."

Ellie blinked up at him, wide-eyed and silent.

"He’s gonna fix the floor for us."

Joel crouched slightly, lowering himself closer to her level, offering the best non-intimidating smile he could manage.

"Hey there," he said, his voice quieter now, softer, trying.

Ellie just stared.

Not scared, not exactly shy—just watching, assessing.

You let out a small chuckle, rubbing her back gently. "She’s shy around new people."

Joel nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He’d seen plenty of kids shy around strangers before—hell, he understood it.

Still, something about Ellie’s silence, the way her big, watchful eyes lingered on him, stirred something in his chest.

He pushed the thought aside, straightening up.

"So, where’s this floor that needs fixin’?" he asked, hands settling on his hips.

"Right." You gently squeezed Ellie’s shoulder, whispering a quick, "Don’t move, sweetie," before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Joel wasn’t sure why that made something tighten deep in his chest.

You stepped around the counter, moving past him, and he followed—or tried to because, for a second, his eyes betrayed him.

Your dress swayed, and your steps were light—effortless and natural like you belonged in a place filled with warmth and color.

Joel caught himself, blinking hard, his jaw clenching as he yanked his gaze away.

Focus, Miller.

This was a job. Nothing else.

Shaking his head, he followed you across the shop, willing himself to think about anything other than the soft floral scent still lingering in the air between you.

You stopped before the window, gesturing toward the A/C unit sticking out of it.

"This is where the water leaked from the old unit—all over the wood floor." You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "I’m not sure how bad it is. I can see the damage here… and there… but it could be worse once you start working."

Joel nodded, already crouching down to get a better look.

The floor beneath the A/C told its own story. The wood was warped in places, darkened by water exposure, and some boards slightly buckled. But the real problem would be underneath—what had seeped down past the surface.

He ran his fingers along the grain, feeling the soft give beneath his touch.

Not good.

"Looks like the damage is pretty severe," he said bluntly, standing up and dusting his hands off on his jeans.

You shifted slightly, chewing your bottom lip. "Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of."

Joel’s eyes flickered back to you for a moment, catching how your fingers curled into the hem of your dress like you were trying not to let the stress show.

"You tried dryin’ it up. I’m guessin’?"

"Yeah." You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head. "Used some towels and… what’s it called… a shock vac?"

Joel huffed, amused despite himself. "Shop vac."

Your nose scrunched slightly. "Right. That."

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders as he looked back at the floor. Yeah, you tried—but it wasn’t enough.

"I’ll have to pull up a few boards to see how deep the damage goes," he explained, voice even. "If it’s just the surface, I can replace what’s warped. If it’s worse, it might need more work."

"Joel." Your voice was firm, unwavering, cutting through the quiet hum of the shop. "You can’t possibly still want to do this for free. That’s a lot of work."

Joel exhaled sharply, already shaking his head before you could even finish. He raised a hand, stopping you in your tracks. "I told you, I don’t want your money." His voice was steady and deep, his southern drawl holding just enough of an edge to warn you not to push.

But you did anyway.

"You’re too kind, Joel. I mean… this is gonna cost you supplies, your time—"

Joel took a step closer.

You weren’t backing down, searching his face, looking for something, a crack in his resolve. But there wasn’t one.

"It won’t cost me a thing," he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. His eyes locked with yours. "I’m doing this for you because I want to."

Something flickered in your gaze—hesitation, maybe even disbelief—before it softened into something gentler.

And then, you smiled.

Not just any smile. Not the polite one, not the one you gave customers when they walked through the door. This was something real—something just for him.

It hit him harder than he expected.

Joel’s heart did something stupid in his chest: tightening and skipping.

His whole body tensed against the feeling, but it was too late—his resolve, his usual hard-edged demeanor, all of it cracked, just a little.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to shift his weight, trying to shake whatever the hell that was.

"It’s not a problem." His voice was rougher now, like he needed to remind himself of that fact.

You tilted your head, still smiling, still too damn warm.

"Well," you mused, tapping a finger against your chin, "take whatever flowers you want. Or—" You paused, eyes brightening slightly. "Maybe I’ll cook you something. I have to repay you somehow."

Joel huffed, shaking his head. You were stubborn, alright.

"No, you don’t have to do anything in return," he said firmly, shaking his head again for emphasis. The thought of a home-cooked meal—made by you—lingered for a second longer than he liked. It was an appealing idea, more than he wanted to admit.

But he pushed it away.

He didn’t want you feeling like you owed him anything. That wasn’t why he was doing this.

You waved him off with that damn warm smile, the one that made his chest feel a little too tight. "I’ll surprise you then."

Joel’s body tensed.

That thing happened again—the strange, unfamiliar flutter in his chest, the way his skin tingled like something inside him liked the idea of you surprising him.

He grunted, clearing his throat, trying to sound indifferent. "Fine." His voice was flat, nonchalant—at least, he hoped it was. But the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

You didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe you did and were just kind enough not to call him on it.

"You don’t have to start now—" you began, but Joel waved a hand dismissively.

"I’ll just start rippin’ up some of the floorboards. See how bad the water damage is underneath."

You nodded, flashing him one last smile before turning and making your way back to the counter.

Ellie was still curled up in her seat, nose buried deep in her book, her tiny fingers tapping absentmindedly against the pages.

"Hey, sweetie," you murmured as you walked up, smoothing a hand over her head.

Joel watched, unable to help himself.

You leaned down, gently tucking a loose strand of Ellie’s hair behind her ear. The way Ellie hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t look up, too lost in whatever world she was reading about. The way you just smiled, pure and unbothered, like this was the best part of your day.

Something heavy settled in Joel’s chest.

He should look away. Should focus on the work in front of him. But for one stupid moment, he let himself watch and admire.

Then, with a soft exhale, he tore his gaze away, forcing himself back to the task at hand.

The floor.

He needed to focus on that and not you.

Joel worked in determined silence, his movements precise and steady. He enjoyed this more than he’d ever admit out loud.

There was something about working with his hands—about its rhythm, the way his mind could go quiet when he focused on a task. It was almost therapeutic. The sharp creak of wood giving under his tools, the scent of sawdust mixing with the faint floral aroma lingering in the air—it was grounding in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Every so often, despite himself, his focus wavered.

He caught himself stealing glances in your direction as you moved about the shop, tidying up, rearranging small bouquets, and wiping down counters.

You had a kind of effortless grace, even when doing the most mundane things. He hated how easy it was for his eyes to linger—to take in the way you tucked stray hair behind your ear, your lips pursed slightly when you concentrated, and you hummed under your breath when you thought no one was paying attention.

He was paying attention.

Too much.

After nearly two hours, his knees ached, and his back was sore, but most of the damaged boards were pulled up, and the worst of the job lay bare in front of him.

He exhaled, rubbing his hands over his thighs when the soft tap tap of your footsteps caught his ear.

You stopped beside him, peering at his work before meeting his gaze.

"I’m gonna close up shop. Ellie’s hungry, so we’re heading out."

Joel wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, realizing only now how late it had gotten. He glanced toward the window—sure enough, the sky had dimmed, and golden streaks of evening light stretched across the street.

Something inside him tightened at the thought of you leaving.

It was stupid. He shoved it down.

"Right," he said, clearing his throat. "Should be goin’ too."

But then, you hesitated.

"I could give you a key… so you can stay later if you want," you said, your voice softer now. Though you shouldn’t overwork yourself."

Joel froze for half a second longer than he meant to—a key. The idea of you trusting him enough for that made his stomach twist into something complicated.

He cleared his throat again, shifting his weight. "No, it’s alright."

You nodded, flashing him a kind smile. "Alright. Thank you again so much. I guess I’ll see you here tomorrow."

Joel gave a short nod. "Yeah, I got time tomorrow morning."

"Okay."

You thanked him again before turning to gather your things, your movements unhurried and effortless—like you weren’t even aware of how Joel was forcing himself to stay composed, rubbing the back of his neck, willing himself not to watch you leave.

But the world had a funny way of kicking him when he was already down.

Just as he stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, he heard the soft patter of little footsteps approaching.

He turned, brow furrowing slightly in surprise as Ellie stopped just a few feet away.

Joel hadn’t expected that.

After their brief interaction earlier, he figured the kid wasn’t too fond of him. She hadn’t spoken to him all afternoon; she just kept to her book, quiet and observant. He’d assumed she’d keep her distance.

Now, here she was.

He knelt slightly, just enough to get closer to her level, offering the smallest, gentlest smile he could muster. "What’s up, kiddo?" His voice was softer now, careful.

Ellie didn’t reply, just blinked up at him, big brown eyes steady and thoughtful.

Then, Joel noticed that both of her small hands were tucked behind her back.

Before he could ask, she shifted slightly, then slowly held something out in front of her.

A single pink tulip.

The same kind you’d worn in your hair yesterday. The same kind Joel had pocketed.

Joel’s breath hitched.

His gaze flickered from the flower to Ellie, his chest tightening in a way he really didn’t know how to deal with.

She still didn’t say anything; she just waited. Her expression was calm and patient. Then, after a beat, she offered him a tiny, almost shy smile.

Joel swallowed thickly, carefully taking the tulip from her small hands, his fingers brushing against hers for just a moment. His voice came out quieter than he meant, slightly hoarse. "Is this for me?"

His stupid heart did that thing again, and he couldn’t push it away for the life of him.

Ellie nodded, her big brown eyes scanning Joel’s face like she was studying him, trying to figure him out.

She was a sharp kid—Joel could give her that. Observant. Thoughtful. And apparently, just as warm as you.

He stared down at the tulip in his hand, handling it carefully like it might break under his touch. He wasn’t used to delicate things. He wasn’t used to people giving him things, especially not something so small and thoughtful.

"Why’d you give this to me?" His voice came out quieter than usual, gentle in a way that surprised even him.

Ellie’s face broke into the sweetest little smile, and for a second, it knocked the air out of Joel’s lungs.

Because damn.

She looked just like you.

"It’s Mommy’s favorite," she said shyly, rocking on the balls of her feet.

Joel felt something stir in his chest, warm and aching.

The flower suddenly felt heavier in his palm, like it carried more weight now—your favorite.

His expression softened as he looked at Ellie. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips—one touched with something sad, something unspoken.

"It’s very pretty," he murmured.

Ellie beamed. "They only grow in the springtime. Mommy loves spring."

Joel’s grip on the tulip tightened slightly. Deep and familiar, a dull pang settled in his chest, spreading through his ribs like an old wound reopening.

Sarah had loved spring, too.

It was perfect weather, and everything came back to life after winter. She used to run through the grass barefoot, plucking flowers and tucking them behind her ear, grinning up at him like she had the whole world figured out.

He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to stay in the present, even as his mind drifted to a past that felt too far away and close.

"Spring is nice," he muttered, his voice barely above a breath.

"Ellie," you called gently. "Don’t bother, Joel." You approached, voice warm but lightly scolding, resting a hand on Ellie’s shoulder before turning your attention to him.

"Are you okay?" you asked, your voice softer now, full of quiet concern. Your fingers barely grazed his shoulder in a light, reassuring touch.

It shouldn’t have affected him, but it did.

A shiver ran down Joel’s spine, and he had to fight the damn urge not to lean into it.

He shook his head quickly, forcing a small, strained smile. "I’m fine. She ain’t botherin’ me." His voice was rougher than he meant it to be.

You studied him briefly like you weren’t entirely convinced, but then you simply sighed, turning back to Ellie.

"She’s just curious, I guess." You ran a soothing hand over her head, fingers threading through her hair like it was second nature.

Joel let out a low chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s fine, honestly."

He wasn’t used to kids staring at him like Ellie did—open, unafraid, full of innocent curiosity. It didn’t make him uncomfortable. If anything, it… grounded him.

He glanced at Ellie again, and the words left his mouth before he could stop himself.

"She’s adorable." His voice was softer than usual. The gruff edges smoothed out by something warm, something fond.

Ellie giggled, cheeks flushing pink. "Thank you," she said sweetly, peeking at him through her lashes.

Joel’s chest ached.

She had the same innocent, boundless kindness Sarah once had and the same wide-eyed look, as if the world were still full of magic and good things.

He exhaled, reaching out on instinct to ruffle her hair. "No problem, kiddo."

Ellie blushed deeper, then let out a tiny squeak before darting behind your legs. She gripped the fabric of your dress like it might make her invisible.

"Ellie," you laughed, shaking your head.

Joel’s lips twitched into a small, reluctant smile.

"Anyway," you said, looking back up at him, "I’m gonna lock up."

Joel nodded, his gaze lingering as Ellie peeked at him from behind your legs. Her small hands were still clinging tightly to your dress.

She was shy but not afraid. And damn it, that did something to him.

He let out a quiet chuckle at her bashful display, warmth creeping into his chest—something foreign, something he wasn’t ready to name.

With a slow exhale, he followed you both outside, stepping into the setting sun's golden hues.

You moved with your usual effortless grace, slipping the key into the lock and securing the shop with a soft click. But Joel could see the small struggle in your movements—juggling two bags, Ellie still attached to your legs like a second shadow.

Before he could think too hard about it, he reached out.

"Here."

He grabbed the tote bag and purse from your hands; their weight was nothing compared to the sudden tightness in his chest.

"Joel, you don’t have to—"

You barely had time to protest before he gave a gruff grunt and carried them toward your car, shutting down whatever argument you were about to make.

"Thank you," you murmured as you followed after him, a weary smile gracing your lips.

Joel froze.

It was the first time he’d seen anything on your face besides warmth, kindness, or the occasional flicker of stress.

This was different.

Subtle exhaustion lingered in your eyes, barely noticeable, like you were trying to keep it buried beneath that ever-present softness of yours.

He knew you had other emotions—of course you did. But Joel had gotten so damn used to seeing you smiling, bright, full of light that it was easy to forget that you weren’t just sunshine and warmth. You had burdens. Worries. Heavy things settled in your chest like they did in his.

That realization made something in him ache.

Because shit. He’d been such an asshole to you.

All that time spent pushing you away, being cold, snapping at you for nothing—and he never stopped to think that you had your own problems to deal with. Not once did he consider that maybe, just maybe, you needed kindness, too.

Regret curled deep in his stomach, sitting heavy.

He clenched his jaw, glancing down at the bags in his hands as if they might hold some answer.

They didn’t, but they gave him something to do, and right now, doing anything felt like the only way to silence the storm brewing in his chest.

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