#Hannibal gave him a piece of paper

[mistikfir]

1x01 "Apéritif"

[6lostgirl6]

Can you do a request for me with Hannibal x Fem Reader where she starts seeing him as a patient and you reveal to him that you have kinda gray morals when it comes to murder and stuff like that and over the course of about 6 months or so you two start falling for each other but he tries to keep it professional until he can’t anymore and fires you as a patient which upsets you until he tells you why he did it (which was so he could date you)

Unexpected Romance

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

TW: slight meltdown, hints of murderous thoughts, dependence, slight angst, arguing, fighting, happy ending

You sighed, walking out of the building that once held your third psychiatrist of the month, clutching onto the white paper labeled 'referral.' It felt like a slap in the face, sitting in a comfortable office chair and spilling your deepest secrets to someone you barely knew, only for them to refer you to someone else.

'I don't know how else to help you.'

They would question you, offering you a false sense of security, yet when their prescribed medications and deeply-rooted questions did nothing, they simply lost hope in rekindling your sense of morality.

You were...beyond saving...

You slammed your car door shut, flinging the piece of paper onto your passenger seat where it lay abandoned, seemingly mocking you that it would add to your collection of your previous referrals, prescriptions, and office information. You sniffled, staring at the leather of your steering wheel. The next second, you were screaming, crying, and slamming your fist against the steering wheel as if it insulted you.

"Fuck!" You yelled, clutching your sore knuckles, staring at the bruises that were already starting to form from the force of your rage. "Fuck..."

You sniffled, staring into your rearview mirror, hastily wiping away the tears that were streaming down your face, eyes bloodshot and nose threatening to plug up from your excessive crying. You tried calming down, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Your first psychiatrist taught you about breathing exercises.

Yet, those techniques didn't stop you from the plague that invades your subconscious. The images of your family murdered, blood staining every crevice...

You shook your head before glancing over at the piece of paper, sighing to yourself as you reached over, picking it up. The name of your new therapist stared back at you, promising you of more false promises and hurt.

Dr. Lecter.

A few weeks later, you were sitting in the waiting room waiting for your first session. Well, first session with your new therapist. You were picking your nails as you watched the clock, dreading the unavoidable. The minutes were ticking by, seemingly mocking you of your adversity.

You were anxious all morning, pacing in your room, dressed and prepared only a few hours ahead of schedule. The drive was hellish, thoughts of canceling the appointment, suffering a fee and turning back haunted you. Now, you were in the waiting room with a racing heart, the pattering of the raindrops outside distracting you.

'I am beyond help...'

"Miss (L/N)?" A deep-toned voice asked.

Your head snapped, mind clearing as you faced the person that had called your name. Standing by the door, keeping it open with a charming yet polite smile upon his face, was your new and fourth psychiatrist.

Dr. Lecter

"Sorry, yeah, that's me." You said, standing from your seat but keeping your distance, you simply didn't want to barge into his office. You gave him a small smile, still feeling uncomfortable with the beginning of your session. "It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter."

"Likewise." He replied, stepping to the side with the door still opened for you. "Shall we begin with our session for today?"

"Of course." You walked past him, nodding in thanks before stepping into his office, maintaining from letting out a gasp of surprise over the vastness of his office. If you hadn't known this was his office, you would have guessed it was. The room screamed elegance and filled with decor one would see in an art museum.

"You have a lovely office." You complimented, looking around the room as Dr. Lecter closed the door and walked over to his desk, picking up some papers.

"Thank you, I quite enjoy displaying decorum through interior decorating." He replied, almost in a teasing way. "I apologize that you've been waiting a few weeks before we could start. Your psychiatrist had to send your information over from previous sessions."

"I wish it were longer, actually." You stated halfheartedly, finally taking a seat when he gestured silently towards one of his many available chairs nearby, nodding in thanks.

"Not very fond of sessions are you, miss (L/N)?" He asked, glancing your way as he shuffled through some of your paperwork, most likely your old medications and lack of diagnoses.

"I'm not particularly fond of wasting my time talking about my issues until the person trying to help me figures out I'm just incurable." You refused to return his gaze, fiddling with your nails. "They can't figure out what's wrong with me."

"There is no such thing as being incurable, there's only being overlooked."

"How do you figure?" You asked in confusion, looking up to watch him place down the papers and take a seat across from you. You didn't like the way he refused to look away from you, it made you...fuzzy.

"I believe your experience with your previous psychiatrists are, in better terms, unfit to handle someone like you." He paused for a moment, "You need someone that is able to understand you, discover your innermost self and I'm simply a better fit."

You felt your cheeks warm slightly, glancing away and unable to understand that fuzzy feeling you were feeling in your chest. "You make it seem so undemanding." You only glanced back when he called your name.

"You, my dear, are not incurable."

You were speechless, you didn't know what else to say. Something that would make him deter him away, but nothing could cross your mind before he continued.

"You are not beyond saving."

You stared at him for a while, the words sinking into your mind and chasing away some of the doubt that has haunted you for a majority of your life. You decided, against your judgement and the aching of your heart at the risk of more pain, you would give him a chance.

You nodded, which prompted him to give you a polite smile.

Time to restart the process.

At first, it was morbid curiosity.

When Hannibal was notified that he was being referred to a fellow colleague's previous patient, he was curious, very curious. He wanted to know the reason a respected psychiatrist, with an incredible track record, couldn't help a patient for once.

Therefore, he decided he would see the person behind his fellow colleague practically being close to ripping their hair out in stress. However, he was genuinely surprised when he opened his office door and saw you sitting in the waiting room. Your timid form playing with your nails with your gaze laser-focused on the clock that you didn't even react when he stood in your presence. Yet, you were oddly polite and if Hannibal didn't read your paperwork, he would have assumed you were an ordinary girl with her own issues.

However, you were...different.

He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but you weren't like anyone else he had seen step into his office. Your profile made it seem like you were a delinquent waiting to happen. However, you were polite, respectful, and had a deep passion for the arts similar to himself. He's never met an individual who shared a multitude of common interests with him. Perhaps, he underestimated you. He certainly wasn't prepared by how pretty you were and how close you two would become and he wouldn't forget your first session. When he had the opportunity to dig deep within your center and rip out your deepest secrets about yourself, in his own space.

Your gaze was focused on the window, watching the water droplets from the rain slide down the glass, the sleeves of your sweater hiding your delicate fingers. Those slim fingers that he couldn't stop staring at. You seemed so helpless, desperate for validation for the things you were going through, and he wanted to know the root of the problem.

Perhaps then, his curiosity would dissipate and he would have an easier time letting someone like you go.

"You must tell me what you're feeling if I am to help you, Miss (L/N)." He spoke softly, crossing his fingers and catching your gaze as you turned away from the window to return your attention with him.

“I feel…” You muttered with a pause, before turning your attention to the man across from you, “like I’m a danger to myself and others because of the things I think about.”

“And what do you feel?”  He asked, voice subconsciously matching your own.

“I think about hurting people, people that I used to care about. Seeing their faces twist in pain as their life drains from their eyes.”

“How does it make you feel? Those thoughts that haunt you, you mentioned that they plague you. Is it because you’re ashamed of them?” He mentally cursed himself, allowing his growing curiosity and obsession to take hold in order to discover you.

“They do haunt me but…it’s not because I’m ashamed of them.” You avoided the intensity of his stare, staring at the loose fabric of your sweater. “I’m ashamed of them because I like the thoughts.”

He swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

It has been six months since you've become his patient and Hannibal was plagued with conflicted feelings. Over the course of six months, Hannibal began to notice the ever growing affection he held for you. The soft moments between you during the break between sessions where you both would discuss your various common interests of art, music, and food.

He never thought he would find an individual so interesting, articulate, and extremely beautiful. He could still remember your lovely smile when he presented you with one of your favorite books he happened to have in his many collections of literature. He knew that he had fallen in love with you. Something he never quite expected to happen in his entire lifetime.

However, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not when he was still continuing to be your psychiatrist.

A few days after your last session, he turned in his referral for your new psychiatrist and he prayed that you would allow him to reason with you when you find out what he has done in order to be with you properly. From your previous sessions, he knew of the abandonment you’ve feared, however, he didn’t want you feeling like he gave up on you.  

He was sitting at his desk, checking his watch as he waited for your arrival. His mind was repeatedly going through the possibilities of your reaction. Your consistent timing insisted that you would arrive any minute. He decided with a heavy sigh, that he would check the waiting room and hoped that you would accept his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, sitting in your usual spot in the corner of the waiting room. You arrived a few minutes early, yet it allowed you to have some time for yourself before you continued your session with Dr. Lecter. 

Despite the happiness you felt, you still felt a little nervous. For the past few weeks, you have realized something about yourself that you didn’t think would possibly ever happen. The fuzzy feeling that continued to tickle your mind all those months was the blossoming feeling of love. 

It left you scared, scared of the possibility of what it could do to affect the professional relationship between doctor and patient. The possibility of Dr. Lecter discovering your feelings and refusing to continue helping you. All due to the disgust of having someone like you fall for someone like him. It left you feeling defeated already, yet you will allow yourself to continue to be around him. To be around him and never letting your feelings show. 

The sound of the door opening made you stand, giving Dr. Lecter a smile which he gladly returned with a soft greeting. However, something in his face made you hesitate in replying. He seemed to have something bothering him and your heart skipped a beat. 

This couldn’t be what you think it is…

Pushing the thought from your mind, you quickly returned the greeting. 

“Afternoon, Dr. Lecter.” You said, stepping forward when he moved to the side to allow you to walk past him and into his office. “Something troubling you?”

The suit-clad man quietly closed the door, walking past you to stand near his desk, he leaned against the wood, hands perched on the surface. “We have something to discuss.” He finally said, gesturing to the recliner. 

“I think I can manage just fine standing.” You retorted, voice full of ice as your eyes hardened slightly. Your body tensed as you continued standing your ground, crossing your arms. “What’s the issue?” you asked, desperately trying to keep the hurt from your voice. 

“Please, allow me to explain myself, I do not wish for you to assume-”

“I think I’m assuming correctly, right? Just go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sighed, glancing away, presumably gathering his thoughts. 

“I believe it is best if I am no longer your psychiatrist-” 

Crash.

Hannibal ducked when something was sent flying towards his head, resulting in a loud crash as the object practically combusted against the wall. In instinct, he was quick to cover his face with his forearm, protecting himself from getting hit directly. He was shocked for a moment, processing what occurred before hearing you rush towards him.

“How could you?!” You yelled, trying to hit him with raised fists, becoming more annoyed when your old physiatrist kept blocking your feasible attacks. “You said you wouldn’t give up on me! You fucking liar!” 

“I’ve never lied to you! Let me explain!” You couldn’t bother to see his reaction, his face expressing a mix of emotions of shock and desire. He never witnessed you become so angry before, especially at him. He found his fascination for you grew even more. “You’re only making things worse.”

“I don’t care, asshole!” You screamed, pushing him which didn’t even move him an inch as he stared down at you, gripping your forearms as you started crying. “Why are you getting rid of me!”

“You stupid girl!” Suddenly, you were pinned against the wall, gasping in shock at the warmth of Hannibal’s chest pressed against your own, your wrists pinned on each side of your head. “I only did it to be closer to you!”

“What…?” You were breathless, staring into his eyes that were full of darkness and something else you couldn’t recognize. His warm breath hitting the side of your face from his close proximity. “Then, why would you?”

Instead of answering, Hannibal simply leaned down and kissed you, warm lips pressed against your own, which quickly turned passionate. Eagerly, you returned the kiss, pressing closer to him as Hannibal let go of one of your wrists to grip the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair. 

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, he slowly pulled away, gazing down at you while you tried catching your breath. 

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He stated, fingers pulling away from your hair to instead delicately graze the soft skin of your cheek. “I cannot court you properly if I remain your psychiatrist.”

“Dr. Lecter, I-” Your eyes watered, ashamed of your previous behavior. 

“Hannibal, darling.” He muttered softly, stroking your cheek as he pressed his forehead against your own. “I accept you as you are and I want you to be mine, always. Will you consider that?” 

You smiled softly, sniffling as you nodded, resulting in Hannibal pulling you into a tight embrace which you gladly returned. “You already have me.” You replied. 

Spam Liking = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

The Taste of Revenge (13)

Warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, mentions of non-consensual drugging, descriptions of character death, mentions and descriptions of jail, car crashes, descriptions of drowning, lying, manipulation, guns, yandere themes, cursing, mafia AU, mafia Rafael Barba (trust me, he needs the warning), spoilers for Hannibal, references to Leverage, past Frederick Chilton/Rafael Barba, NSFW moments and angst.

Spanish translation:

Cariño - Sweetheart.

Chapter 13

“Welcome back to NCIS.”  Gibbs greeted you, “We have a mandatory sexual harassment meeting.” 

You groaned and Tim patted you on the shoulder consolingly with one hand while the other held a piece of paper and a pen.

Realising the strategy that Tim was planning to use to pass the time in the meeting, you grinned at him.

“You’re going to need a partner for that.”

“Yeah, I was thinking Tony.”  He teased.

“You were thinking Tony for what?”  The agent asked.

“How I could pass the time during the mandatory meeting today.”

“That’s today?”  Tony exclaimed, “Boss, I’ve got the flu and I need to go home.”

“Suck it up DiNozzo.  McGee, (Surname), keep that paper out of the presenter’s sight.”

Your team filed into the room where the meeting was being held and after introducing herself, the presenter asked for the lights to be turned off.  Her assistant turned them off and the presentation began.

Tim twisted his arm behind his back and handed you the piece of paper.  Unfolding it, you saw the grid that he had drawn and the circle he had placed in the middle.  You drew a cross in the top left corner of the grid, folded up the paper and placed it in his open, waiting hand.

While Tim was pondering his next move, your phone vibrated against your thigh.  You pulled it out from your pocket and hid it underneath the desk.  When you were sure it was out of sight, you unlocked your phone to read the text message.

Rafael 9:04am: He kicked me out of the bedroom and locked the door.

You 9:04am: Why?

You then noticed that your name, Rafael’s name, and Frederick’s name were all on the top of the screen on the messages app.

“That’s what Frederick wanted my number and phone for this morning.”

Three dots appeared on your phone but Tim shook his hand impatiently, distracting you from your phone.  You put your phone on your leg and after checking it was still hidden from sight, you grabbed the paper from Tim, put a cross on the bottom left corner of the grid, and gave the folded bit of paper back to Tim.

Frederick 9:05am: He was being uncooperative.  I need help wording a paragraph and all he said was to use the thesaurus on the computer.

Rafael 9:05am: How is that a bad suggestion?

Frederick 9:06am: I need to invoke emotion and the thesaurus is too clinical.

Rafael 9:06am: That’s what you get for using a thesaurus that caters to a specific audience.

You 9:07am: Are you aiming for positive or negative emotion?

Frederick 9:07am: Positive.  I want to talk about the connections between endorphins and illegal drugs in my first college lecture.

You 9:08am: Endorphins are incredibly similar to illegal substances in the sense that they can both induce extreme highs.  Both substances can affect the memory but only endorphins have the capacity to manage your pain and stress in a healthy manner while contributing to a positive sense of wellbeing.   They are most commonly released through exercise, eating chocolate, and having sex.

You hit send and lifted your gaze to see that Tim was still deciding his next move.  Your gaze returned to your phone and as you reread what you had typed, your mind flashed back to the conversation that you had with Emily, JJ, and Penelope.

Frederick 9:10am: Did that knowledge come from your time at the BAU or with NCIS?

Rafael 9:10am: Don’t be a brat, Frederick.

Frederick 9:11am: I am not being a brat!

Rafael 9:11am: You are.  You chose not to thank (Name) for sharing her knowledge and helping you to write the paragraph.  Even if you don’t end up using what she typed, you should at least express gratitude for her assistance.  I’m sure she has other things to focus on.

Frederick 9:11am:  Focusing on me is just as important as what she is working on at NCIS.

You 9:12am: Nope.  I’m stuck in a pointless mandatory sexual harassment meeting.

Frederick 9:12am: That does sound pointless.

“Lights please.”  The presenter called out and the lights were switched on almost immediately.  You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.  Your presenter began droning on about different touches in the workplace and once again, you wondered about the purpose of these meetings.

You 9:14am: Now our presenter is talking about different touches in the workplace that could be classified as unwanted.  She’s just moved onto the fact that these guidelines will also affect how we interact with suspects and criminals.  This is bordering on ridiculous.  It’s not as if a suspect is very likely to stay still and say “Yes, you have my permission to put me in handcuffs.”

Frederick 9:15am: If they do, they’re either extremely guilty and have a conscience or they are interested in being restrained in a sexual situation.

You 9:16am: Trust me, I’ve had a few people hinting that they would like to be handcuffed in the bedroom as an NCIS agent.  You would think it would have happened in my BAU days but no.  They weren’t even people of interest.

You 9:16am: Rafael’s been quiet for a while.  Is everything all right on your end?

Rafael 9:17am: Worried that I would burn down the house, cariño?

You 9:17am: The thought did cross my mind.

Frederick 9:17am: He’s cooking.  I can smell it from here.

Rafael 9:20am: That had better be a compliment Frederick.  These empanadas are vegetarian.

When no more messages popped up on your screen, you realised that the conversation was finished and as you slid your phone back into your pocket, you grinned with amusement at the turn that the texts between you, Frederick and Rafael had taken.  Thankfully, the meeting ended quite soon after that and there was a rush to exit the room.

“Having to sit through that meeting would be the perfect retribution for Sterling’s Interpol team for everything they did to us,”  Torres stated.

“Hang on.  Is Sterling still the leader of that team?  What happened in his trial with the Naval Court?”  Bishop inquired.

All of your team turned to face you and you shrugged, “I didn’t exactly ask what happened to Sterling in his trial.  The Naval Court isn’t the most welcoming of places.  However, I did see Sterling the day after we had our trial and he gave me a replacement carton of eggs.”

You half expected someone on your team to make a comment about ‘better late than never’ in reference to the eggs you received but it didn’t come. 

“Test the eggs before you use them,”  Tony ordered while pointing his pen at you.

“I still can’t believe how lenient the Naval Court was when it came to Barba and Chilton,” Tim complained.  “You would think they would have a little bit more sympathy for the conditions and situations that one of their own found themselves in.”

“It comes down to politics McGee.  That in itself is a complicated subject.”

“When was the last time that you met with the Naval Court Tony?”

“Mother, I’m sure that you remember the team that I work with.”  Ducky’s voice stopped the two men from continuing their bickering.

“Yes, I do.  I am not senile Donald.  These two are new.”  She declared, pointing at Torres and Bishop.

Ducky introduced them and you nodded in greeting to Ducky’s mother.  The last time that she visited, you had found out the hard way that she didn’t like it when people waved to her.

“I heard someone talking about the Naval Court.”

“That was us, ma’am.”  Tim indicated the three of you.

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to point?  It’s quite rude, you know.”

Deciding to assist your partner, you jumped into the conversation, “You were saying how we were talking about the Naval Court?”

“Oh, yes.  My godson is an Admiral who presides over the Naval Court.  Why were you there?  Are you a felon?”

“MOTHER!”

“No ma’am.  If I was a felon, the Naval Court wouldn’t let me work here anymore.”

“Special Agent (Name) is one of the best, mother.  The Naval Court knows that and like she said, if the Naval Court had found her even the tiniest bit guilty, she would not have been allowed to return to her job.”

Ducky escorted his mother away from the bullpen and into the lift.  You all waited for the lift doors to close before any of you chose to speak.

“Well, she’s something.”  Bishop eventually stated.

“If you think what just happened was bad then you should be grateful that you missed the time when she asked Abby if she and Ducky were together.”

Torres who had just taken a sip of water, spat it out on reflex.  “She what?”  He coughed.

“It gets better!” Ziva guffawed, “She advised Abby to ‘get a move on because she wants grandchildren and Ducky’s not getting any younger.’  I think it’s safe to say that that was awkward for Abby and Ducky.”

“I’d forgotten about that!”

“I didn’t,”  Abby glared at you with her bag on her shoulder.

“What are you all still doing here?” Gibbs called from the top of the stairs that led to the MTAC room, “Go home!”

“Don’t have to tell us twice boss!” Bishop assured him.

The bullpen was quite noisy as chairs were moved and bags were hoisted onto shoulders.  Your team chatted amongst yourselves as you filed into the lift and although it was a bit cramped, none of you complained as Ziva pressed the down button.

You walked into your house and were greeted by multiple smells that made your mouth water instantly.  Frederick and Rafael were sitting at the dining room table and both of them turned around to face you.

“You’re home earlier than we thought you would be.”  Frederick greeted you.  You heard the worry and the question in his statement.

“Boss let us out early.  He was probably being nice because of the meeting we had to endure.”  You explained.

“As you know, Rafael cooked and there are some empanadas left.”

“I haven’t had an empanada before,” you revealed, shrugging your bag off of your shoulder.

“Would you like to try one?”  Rafael asked quietly with his eyes intently focused on you.

“Yes, I would.” 

[slashyrogue]

AU-gust 2023 Day 12: Book Store

“Are you gonna visit your boyfriend today?” 

Will blushed as he finished stocking the shelves properly, frowning as he made sure the figurines all were forward facing. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Bev.” 

Bev laughed. “Will…” 

He glared at her. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

She shook her head. “Well, I think he’ll be pretty sad if you don’t go visit. I mean…all those other girls that come there every single day asking stupid questions about books just to hear his accent are annoying as fuck and you with your cute little curls and band t-shirts make him smile. I heard from Margot he sometimes waits in the front looking for you.” 

Will blushed and didn’t say anything as he moved to another table away from her. 

How had it gotten this far? 

He’d only worked at the Cooler Than You store for less than a month now, having picked up a second job just to help offset the bills once he quit teaching. It didn’t pay much, minimum wage really, but with this and his tattoo hours he was doing ok. Though he still got a little nervous when he did the tattoos, Jack was nice enough to coach him through it and he had a few clients that asked for him now after a year. 

But while the Cooler Than You store was an ok job and he liked his coworkers the biggest thing that happened working in the mall was the bookstore just three stores down. 

The Bookery.

It was almost like walking into a dream when you stepped inside, even with the open concept, and the pretentious expensive feel made it hard to even touch anything. But strangely enough it had everything most bookstores had: romance novels, spy thrillers, horror, and even things like comics and manga. 

But it also had its owner. 

Hannibal Lecter. 

Hannibal who wore a three piece suit every single day, and looked like a million dollars. He did not fit in the mall atmosphere at all and despite everything Will found himself developing a huge crush on him because he was so nice. 

Like too nice. 

He’d even given Will a free copy of Dante’s Inferno when he said he’d never read it, and kept pressing him on if he’d started it yet every time he even walked by but that soon turned into just talking. Hannibal was so easy to talk to, and Will’s face hurt sometimes when he left because he smiled so much. 

This job was both the worst and best thing to ever happen to him because while Hannibal was super nice, Will knew he was just that - nice - and so out of Will’s league it was laughable. That didn’t stop Will from going over there, nor did it stop him from being irrationally jealous when the teenagers went there to swoon over Hannibal like he was Harry fucking Styles. He was over thirty for fuck’s sake, and while Will was too he still felt so nervous to be around him. 

Why did he have to get a crush on him at all? 

“Will…I’m sorry.” 

Will looked up and sighed. “It’s fine, Bev.” 

“No, I…I know we’re both adults and…I know you’re not exactly super chill when it comes to like dating and stuff. I shouldn’t have teased you.” 

He blushed as he frowned folding the Hello Kitty socks. 

“I date.” 

“When? You’ve worked here for a while, and I’ve never heard you even mention dating anyone.” 

He sighed. “I…I just…I don’t have second dates.” 

“That’s called one night stands.” 

Will laughed as he looked up at her. “You got me.” 

Bev smiled. “But…I know you’re gonna get mad when I say this…I just want you to know that Hannibal like really likes you. Really, really likes you. He’s literally come here on your days off and the sad look on his face when I tell him you’re not here it’s adorable.” 

“He’s almost forty years old,” Will mumbled, blushing harder, “He doesn’t get sad when I’m not here.” 

“Yes, he does,” Brian said from behind them, patting Will’s shoulder, “I gave the guy your schedule the other day, not like on paper I just kinda said it and you’d think I gave him a million dollars.” 

Will groaned. “You didn’t.”

“He kept coming here being sad! What was I supposed to do?” 

He put his hands over his face and tried not to humiliate himself. His coworkers were nice to him, and they thought this was helping despite him being the oldest worker here. They didn’t mean any harm by it. 

“I…is there something wrong? Will?” 

Will jumped, eyes wide, and saw Hannibal standing a short distance away looking at him in confusion. 

“I…no, no,” he said, forcing himself to smile, “We were just…they were teasing me. Can I help you find anything?” 

Hannibal frowned. “They shouldn’t tease you.” 

Bev sighed. “God you’re so…” 

Will led Hannibal away from her, blushing hard, and toward the horror section which was really the only one he liked. 

“Ignore her.” 

“You’re well? You’re certain?” 

He smiled. “I’m fine. Did you need something?” 

Hannibal blinked. “I…yes…” he looked at the figures on the shelf and picked up an axe murderer, “Do you have more of this one? I wanted to make a display for the holiday.” 

Will laughed. “Which holiday?” 

He blushed. “I….which would fit it best do you think?” 

“Halloween? Sweetest Day maybe? I mean he does have a heart in his hands.” 

Hannibal smiled. “Yes, that one. I have some horror romance that will be in by then.” 

“It’s June.” 

He frowned. “I’m planning ahead.” 

Will nodded. “I think we have some more in the back, just let me…” 

“Got them!” Bev said, running up to them with four in her hands that she pushed at Will, “Here you go!” 

He glared at her and walked over to the register. “Nevermind.” 

Will rang him up on the figures and paused halfway when he realized they were almost seventeen dollars each. “You sure you want six?” 

Hannibal nodded. “Yes, please.” 

“Ok.” 

He continued and Hannibal’s sigh made him look up for a minute. 

“Have you started Dante’s Inferno yet?” 

Will blushed. “Um, no,” he said, “I’ve been busy.” 

“I gave it to you several weeks ago.” 

“I work two jobs, you know?” 

Hannibal blinked. “You do?” 

Will sighed. “That’ll be…shit a hundred and ten dollars.” 

Hannibal gave him his card and he swiped it, handing him the receipt to sign. 

“I thought you knew I had a second job.” 

“Brian told me you had an erratic schedule, but no I did not. Where do you work most of your time?” 

“This is My Design,” he said, taking the receipt when he signed it, “I…I tattoo people.” 

“Oh,” Hannibal said, eyeing Will’s sleeve, “I should have known by your…many tattoos.” 

Will smiled and handed him his bag. “A lot of people have tattoos.” 

Hannibal eyed him up and down, and Will blushed. “Not like yours. Perhaps I…will visit sometime. I’ve always wanted a specific design on my body, but never quite trusted the process. Would you tattoo me, Will?” 

Continued in: AU-gust Writing Challenge 2023 - Chapter 12: Book Store

[mlobsters]

supernatural s4e19 jump the shark (w. andrew dabb, daniel loflin)

episode should be titled 10 more reasons to hate john winchester

seinfeld s5e22 the opposite - dedee pfeiffer as victoria

another tiny role on seinfeld that i know well because i saw them all enough and at a time when my brain was better at recording things.

okay but also? i think i know her from cybill?? which i probably haven't thought of since the 90s. and sometimes i wonder how i originally knew actors like say, alicia witt and christine baranaski and something like this drags it up from the depths

cybill (1995-1998) dedee pfeiffer as rachel blanders

okay but back to dean getting shat on. dear old dad wanted to give one of his kids a normal life and take him to baseball games and go camping that didn't involve killing monsters. aw, that's nice. except for all the gross child neglect of his kids he was supposed to be fulltime sole caregiver of. granted he didn't get involved in this kid's life until sam was away at college so it's not like the nice things happened simultaneously to the neglect. still hate you, man. and the recap made sure to remind us of how john treated sam's going to college.

that look sam gave adam after dean loses paper scissors rock was cute. was feeling the sibling vibes.

also got me considering the logistics of man sized ventilation inside this random house.

sam giving this kid the dad and dean no friends no life routine is something. remember this little exchange at the gas pump:

s1e6 skin:

SAM: So, what am I supposed to do, just cut everybody out of my life? (DEAN shrugs.) You’re serious?

DEAN: Look, it sucks, but in a job like this, you can’t get close to people, period.

SAM: You’re kind of anti-social, you know that?

but also harkens back to when dean was just trying to keep everyone alive while the other two were hellbent on self destructive revenge. which dean has been selling sam is just like dad and that's why they don't get along since then, but i'm not quite sure i buy that.

from s1e22 devil's trap:

Sam: We want to kill this demon. You used to want that, too. Hell, I mean, you’re the one who came and got me at school! (Dean scoffs) You’re the one who dragged me back into this, Dean. I’m just trying to finish it!

Dean: Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can’t wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I’m gonna be the one to bury you. You’re selfish, you know that? You don’t care about anything but revenge.

that line about being the one to bury you lives rent free in my head.

i mean, i get what he's putting down in regards to his revenge quests, but i don't think there's a lot of similarities outside that. maybe because i like sam and john was a child neglecting piece of garbage. that is definitely a big blinder for me 🥴

i'm sure people enjoyed all that uh, excessive wound fingering and such with sam.

but my issue is those very significant cuts through his forearms and he's all fine and dandy in the next scene. he'd have some wicked number of stitches. and i guess nothing major was cut. just fleshy bits that dean can sew back up? i know, medical accuracy is way way WAY down on the list. but when they focus on the volume of blood he's losing so rapidly, i can't help but start to think of the logistics! anyway, made me think about hannibal's big ass scars in a similar place from matthew brown.

okay but also the kid has a point, of the ghouls were only eating dead people, was it really that important to be killing them?

that turned out a lot more therapeutic than i expected. and somehow i didn't know that fate of adam so i was actually surprised. i always am glad for dean to be working through some of his dad issues. sam is full of questionable choices these days. i'll give it to him, the writers, whatever. he really does sell that he's earnestly truly trying to do the right thing. but everything is a flaming pile of shit anyway.

DEAN I mean, I worshipped the guy, you know? I dressed like him, I acted like him, I listen to the same music. But you were more like him than I will ever be. And I see that now.

SAM I'll take that as a compliment.

DEAN You take it any way you want.

i mean.

anyway. okay i liked this episode even though i'm nervously looking at the time with how close the end of the season is and here we are off killing some monsters like it's any other week. this felt like an earlier to mid season episode. quality dean and sam time, daddy issues on blast.

and forever grateful shoutout to supernaturalwiki.com, the documentation is immaculate, found the episode with the bury you line in it in under 5 minutes.

[tnystrk-exe]

Estocolmo

Hannibal x Reader

Masterpost

Warnings: Smut 18+ thigh riding, fingering, oral, daddy kink, plot to make up for my first attempt at writing smut.

Word count: 6.8k

Chapter One

“Fucking hell.” You sighed as you looked at the still tall stack of essays that needed grading. “I’m never getting through this.”

Your stomach grumbled, signaling it was time for a break. Stretching, the quiet was interrupted by the sound of your bone’s protest from sitting in one position for hours. It was nights like these you had regretted your choices. Sure you had known Professor Jacob loved to torture his students with too much work, but when you took the job as his assistant you assumed that he’d shoulder some of the weight. A ridiculous thought now that you’ve experienced working with him. Why should he even think of grading an assignment when he had a perfect little lackey doing it for him? That was a non question. He had been strict about the work not leaving his office, which meant you had accidentally fallen asleep in his office more than often than you would have liked. The pile of work never seemed to diminish. 

Walking out the office, you thought briefly of the joy you would feel when you’d never have to see it again. These long corridors would be a thing of the past in just a few, short months. Then you’d probably go to the city and struggle for a while but at least you would be free from here. As much as you prided yourself for getting through the first round of college, the walls of the building gave you more of an annoyed feeling than anything. 

Pushing open the door to the teachers lounge, you made a beeline for the fridge. The leftover pizza already seemed like a feast until you noticed it was nowhere to be seen. “Hannibal,” you whined to the empty room as you closed the fridge. 

“Yes, darling?” 

You startled, immediately turning around to face him, a mischievous smile was plastered on his lips. Usually your missing dinner meant to head over to his office. It wasn’t typical, but the two of you had managed a comfortable friendship between the shared late nights. Though, you suspected he’d stay longer than necessary to accompany you in the empty building. “Would you mind telling me where my dinner went, handsome?” You asked, raising a brow at him.

“Old pizza can hardly be considered dinner. Come,” he motioned to sit next to him at the table, “I’ve got a better meal prepared for you nonetheless.”

“Or maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the simple things,” you quipped as you took your seat.

“And you, the finer.”

You gave him an obvious look over, “I’d say I appreciate you plenty enough.” 

Being so forward wasn’t usually in your cards. However Hannibal had always been a gentleman and it had been fun to tease at him a bit. He never complained, often just acknowledging what you said with a raised brow or chuckle. Still there was always some truth in jokes and you’d be lying to say that he was anything less than tempting. Especially in the dark grey suit and dried blood red shirt of his. ‘No’ wouldn’t come to mind if he ever offered.

“Naughty, Miss LN,” he chided you, “What shall we do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Eat your dinner,” he said, humor in his voice as he shook his head.

You choked back a comment about him just wanting to see your mouth stuffed, deciding it was too much of a push. Instead you just opened the lunchbox he placed in front of you. Hannibal watched you expectantly as you took a bite of the meat.

Closing your eyes, you savored the bite. It had been a while since you had something home cooked. “Han... I’m going to miss you most. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. Delicious, as always.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.” He went back to work on his own stack of papers as you ate. “Though, I’m not sure I’m ready to allow you to live off street food once we part.”

“Guess we’re gonna have to find me another man that insists on throwing away my perfectly good food to serve me home cooked meals.”

Hannibal left some remarks on a paper before pushing it to the side. “You could always come learn a few things. Maybe I’ll rest better knowing you know how to make yourself a couple of decent meals. Any guesses for the meat?”

It was a strange guessing game, but you indulged him, he was just eccentric. “Oh, definitely human,” you teased, making sure to pick up some spinach and artichoke in the next bite, “Probably had a boring name like David.”

“Close. It was Richard,” he corrected. 

“Beef, it was the Rolex of all farm animals hand picked by you and I’m very grateful you shared some with me,” you smiled at him, “So how are things going with Baltimore?”

“I’ve found a beautiful home. The office, however, seems to be harder to find.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect one.” Your phone started ringing. Grabbing it from your pocket, you looked at the screen. Mom. “They’re making this unnecessarily difficult,” you sighed to yourself. 

Hannibal looked at you with peaked interest as you shut off your phone and pushed it away. “Is something troubling you?”

“My parents aren’t taking too kindly to the no contact rule. It’s the tenth call today.”

“You’ve cut them off?”

“I thought about what you had said,” you shrugged, “I’m tired of always having to get them out of troubles and be their ATM when I don’t have enough for myself. It’s just too much on me right now. Between school assignments, Jacob’s work pile, and my other part time, it’s all just suffocating. They keep trying to use my grandfather’s death as a leverage to make me feel bad about not talking to them now, but they just want some money. I don’t want to feel guilty about this but I can’t help it.”

“Don’t,” he placed his hand over yours, “You deserve to feel taken care of and appreciated. They aren’t providing you with that now. Especially now when they use the death of the person who raised you as leverage,” he shook his head, making a disgusted sound, “It’s for your own well-being that you take some time to breathe and be young. They provide too much stress…” Hannibal fell silent. “I’ve suggested this before but i-“

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. “I’m not taking your money. We’re friends. Money complicates things. Muddies the waters.”

“Friends help each other,” he reminded you, “I’ve already told you I wouldn’t want any payment.”

“But I’d still feel like I owe you.” You shook your head, “It wouldn’t feel right to me. I’m fine. I promise. Though, if you’re so willing to help me with something, I wouldn’t say no to those cooking lessons. They could be fun.”

He spared you a smile, “It would be my pleasure to teach you what I know.”

“And I’d never deny your pleasure,” your mouth spoke before you could think about it, “Sorry.”

“I don’t deny myself pleasure either,” he said, amused. “You’re fine. Now, how about we meet on Sunday? I’ll have time to figure out a full meal and gather all of the ingredients.”

“Great!” You ignored the heat that still lingered on your face, “I- um, do you need me to bring anything?”

“Nothing at all, I’ll make sure to take care of everything. All you need to do, sweet girl, is bring yourself and an appetite.”

You stifled a pleased smile at the term of affection. “I’ll make sure to do that,” sparing a glance to the clock, you frowned, “I should probably get back to work on those essays.”

“Why don’t we work on them together?” He suggested. “My colleague is notorious for drowning you in his work. I can help you sort through it all and you can have a restful Saturday without Micheal’s added stress.”

“I really can’t ask that of you. You already have enough work as it is.”

“We’ll work together. First your work, then mine. What happened to never denying my pleasure?” 

Your eyes widened, but you laughed all the same. Maybe a while more in his company wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. Hold me to my words, but it’s only going to cause you a headache. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. These new kids are… something else.”

“They’re nothing,” he stood, grabbing his papers in one hand, “Meet me in my office. We can be more comfortable there and I may have stowed away a bottle of wine.”

“What would I do without you Doctor Lecter?”

-

“You have arrived at your destination,” the robotic voice informed you as you parked.

You took in the mansion of a home. It was too big for someone that lived alone. The thought made you shiver. Homes should be filled with life, not empty space. Then again, he was a fan of dinner parties, extravagant ones at that, so you supposed there was life in those walls on occasion. The home itself reminded you of the houses in old movies. Ones where the lightning would strike at just the right moment as a warning to stay away. But this was real life and there was no lightning, just a sun setting on a near perfect day. 

Without a warning telling you to keep away, you grabbed the gift bag and stepped out of your car. He had said to bring nothing, but you couldn’t resist a simple gift. The ties in the bag had taken out a decent chunk from your pocket, but he deserved them. Between agreeing to give you cooking lessons and helping you out with grading every so often, the simple pieces of fabric meant nothing. Besides, it was a two way gift, he’d get more of the patterned ties he was fond of and you’d get to see him in the darker colors you liked on him, knowing he’d feel compelled to wear them to show you his gratitude.

Knocking on the door, you waited a couple of minutes before he emerged. “YN, just in time. Please, come in,” he stepped to the side, “I’ve looked forward to this all day.”

You smiled and stepped past him. “I have too. Entertained myself a bit today by finding you a gift.” 

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.”

Nervousness bit at you slightly, a bit self conscious they’d be too cheap for his taste. Too late to back out of it, you handed over the bag. “You’ve always been so kind and I really appreciate everything. Let me do something for you.”

He set the bag on the nearby table, laying out the ties to get a better look at them.  “They’re all lovely,” he ran a finger across the fabric of a maroon one, “Fond of me in darker colors, YN?”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, “We catch ourselves spending a lot of time together. Why not make you a decent piece of eye candy?”

“Inappropriate,” he chided you, before signaling you to follow after him.

“You just wear them so well, Doctor Lecter.”

Shrugging off his navy suit coat, he draped it over a chair, making quick work of rolling up his sleeves. “Ready to get your hands dirty, my little sous-chef?”

“What are we making?” You asked, looking at his kitchen wide eyed. It was definitely bigger than your measly studio apartment. 

“Frisee aux lardons, duck with a pomegranate-citrus glaze. I took the liberty of preparing a blood orange sorbet for dessert.”

“I have a proposal.”

“Yes?”

“We don’t do any of that and just have dessert for dinner.”

“No,” he gave you an amused glance, “There’s more pleasure in waiting for things. Why don’t you start washing up the vegetables and I’ll start preparing the duck?”

You stuck your tongue out at his back but set to your work. “This is what I get for befriending a charming old guy.”

“Keep going the way you are and our next meal together will be langue d’Agneau en papillote.”

“That can’t be a threat if I don’t know what that means,” you quipped, setting aside an endive. 

“It means, darling,” he pointed his knife at you, “The fondness I feel for you is an inconvenience. Nonetheless, it’s welcomed.”

You smiled at him brightly, as you brought the washed vegetables over to him. “I’m fond of you too, but you gotta stop flirting and teach me how we’re gonna cook Daffy here.”

He motioned for you to grab a cutting board and a knife of your own. The two of you worked in quiet harmony, occasionally he’d tell you exactly why he was doing something a certain way or just give you simple instructions and let you have a hands on feel of exactly how to prepare something. It was nice to see him in his element. Hannibal seemed much more content in his kitchen than any where you had seen him at the college. Eventually he set his work to the side and washed his hands. 

“You’re cutting them too thick. Thinner is better for this dish.” He stepped behind you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead.” You attempted to move to the side, but Hannibal had already caged you in between himself and the counter. His cologne was different from the one you were accustomed to him wearing, but the subtle spice of it gave a more homey feeling to him. 

Hannibal grabbed your hand that had yet to  let go of the knife. He made sure to show you how to cut them the right thickness. “See? A little thing can unbalance everything.”

“Hm,” you hummed, catching yourself relaxed against the man, his frame strong against yours, “I don’t see much of a difference. Pretty sure this is just your variation of a putter.”

“You assume I have hidden motives,” He acknowledged, looking down at you, “And if there were any?”

Taking the bait, you pressed a kiss to the side of his jaw. “I wouldn’t be too upset.”

His head dipped into your shoulder, taking in a breath. “What happened to not wanting to bring on complications in our friendship?”

“We only have weeks left with each other,” you shrugged, “There wouldn’t be any complications. Not really.”

“We really should get back to making our dinner, darling,” he sighed, almost seeming reluctant to pull away, “What else did you did you do today?””

It took you a second to respond, still shaking off the embarrassment. You weren’t sure what had compelled you to do that. When you looked up at him you grimaced. Grabbing a napkin, you carefully wiped away the lingering lipstick. “The ties were the more interesting part of the day, I didn’t plan anything eventful. Honestly most of my day was taken with trying to recall the shop you mentioned that carried the ones you liked.”

He hummed in appreciation, “You also managed to pick out two I have had my eye on. I’ve got new suits coming in soon that will pair perfectly.”

You beamed at that, happy he did actually like what you had chosen. “Lucky guess. It was difficult remembering the ones I had seen you wear.”

Hannibal made to grab some ingredients and set them on the counter near the stove. “Have your parents tried calling you this weekend?”

You sighed, sure you didn’t have to tell him the truth but you wanted to, he had a compelling thing to him that made it easy to just speak. “I sent them money for rent. Which was honestly the dumbest thing I’ve done in a while.”

“It wasn’t idiotic,” he stated, setting to work on making the pomegranate sauce as you watched, “They’re you’re parents. It’s only natural you worry about them. Though, I do worry they’ll think of you as a person that doesn’t stick to her word.”

“I know, I really meant to, but the thought of them out on the street. It’s not my responsibility, but I’m just so used to being their adult.”

“It’s difficult to detransition. You worry for them as they should worry for you.”  He checked over a pan he had been heating, “That’s perfect. If you could please..” Grabbing the plate with the duck you set them on the pan. “With duck it’s important to render off the fat. A low heat is necessary.”

You nodded, “Low and slow, got it... You know, I’m not sure they worry about me at all. I mean- I know they don’t. It should hurt, but it’s just a fact of life.”

“They didn’t give you an opportunity to be a child. When you were supposed to be in the most carefree moments of your life, they burdened you with the responsibilities of an adult.” He held out a spoon with some of the pomegranate sauce for you to taste. “Any pain the notion inflicted on you has been killed with time.”

“There are still moments though. Suppose that’s common enough, isn’t it Doc?” You leaned in, allowing him to feed you, “That tastes amazing. I really should have paid attention.”

“It’s simple, I’ll write it out for you later.” Casting the sauce aside, he set a pot of water to boil. “Very common. We aren’t too dissimilar when it comes to how quickly we had to grow up. Very different reasons, but the fall out isn’t much different. Our paths left us in places where we’re very much alone.”

“What happened?” You asked, realizing that he had known a great deal of your family and you had known nothing more past how his day had gone or his preference of coffee. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t.” Hannibal went to fill two glasses with wine. “I was very young when my parents died. My father had implemented in me that, if anything were to happen, I was to take care of my mother and sister. Which meant I had grown fiercely protective of Mischa when the time came. Soon I was acting more as her father than a brother.”

“Where’s Mischa now?” You asked, knowing at the very least she had to be in her late twenties.

His lips set into a frown, he took a quick drink. “Lost her sometime after. There was a lapse of judgement on my part and she suffered because of it. My days have often been shrouded by the thought that I could have done better by her. The ways I failed burdens me significantly.”

You rubbed his arm sympathetically. “I couldn’t even begin to imagine that pain.”

“It’s something I never wish to experience again. Losing someone you love so dearly, it changes a person.”

“I’m sure you tried your best. You’re a good man. I’m sorry you had to go through all of that when you were so young.”

“You think too highly of me,” he patted your hand on his arm, “Far better than I deserve. Still if my childhood had taught me anything, it’s to value those I hold dear. Such as yourself.” 

“I’m glad we found each other. Even if it is for a short while.” You watched as he stepped back into the rhythm of cooking. Maybe you weren’t any help to him but watching him work was comforting. 

He raised a brow, “Just because the amount of time we physically see each other will diminish, doesn’t mean we need to completely break apart. I’d like to have you at my dinner table later in life.”

“I’d like it if we kept in touch,” you replied, looking at a small box on the counter. The small black beads glimmered in the light, calling at you to take a peek. A neat row of recipe cards in his impeccable penmanship, numbered as high as 120 but there could have been more. “That’s sweet,” you mused, looking at the back of a card, noticing a couple had business cards on them, “You keep track of your friends’ favorites like this?”

“Friends, acquaintances, business partners. It’s difficult remembering everyone’s preferences. When I have dinner parties I like to make sure there’s a bit of something for everyone.”

“Hm, well I’m sorry I don’t have a card for you to have.”

When everything was said and done, you helped Hannibal set up the plates to have dinner. The conversation became light as you laughed along to the better memories of Mischa. From his smile it was easy to see he adored the usually shy girl. You never pressed on to find out how she died, simply choosing to bask in his soft smiles and laughter instead of entertaining curiosity. It was easy to see he rarely talked about her and you were grateful that he found that much comfort in you.

Some time later he was sitting at his harpsichord, playing a self composed melody as you browsed his shelves. There was an almost familiar calm in the air, like this was a usual happening and it would simply just happen again. A naturally reoccurring moment. You found comfort in his presence too. 

You looked up from the shelves when you heard his sigh. “I can’t seem to master this melody,” he stated, “The ending never sounds right.” The annoyed demeanor contradicted his lax look. At least lax for him. His vest and suit jacket had been discarded a while ago leaving him with a popped button, loosened tie, and rolled up sleeves. “I may just leave this one in the air.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” you said, walking over to him, “Though we can be our own worst critics. I know I’m mine.”

“It sounds… forced. Almost as if it’s reluctant to work with me.”

“Forced things just need time.” You placed your hand on his shoulders, digging in your thumbs to relieve the tension you felt. A soft groan as he let his head lull back to rest against your stomach. “Time is all you need sometimes. I thought you would have learned that already, old man.”

He opened his eyes, raising a brow at you. “Always with that mouth.”

You smiled down on him fondly, something- probably the wine in your system -thought about pressing a kiss to his forehead right then. “What can I say? It has a mind of its own.”

“I do prefer when it’s otherwise occupied,” he stated, closing his eyes again.

Your fingers dug a little deeper at that, caught off guard. “And yet.”

Hannibal played a couple soft notes, seemingly testing the waters for his next attempt at getting it to sound right. “And yet.” The first melody seemed almost innocent, but was followed by a second seemingly stalking after it. “Would you mind putting on a record? It seemed I’ve grown bored with music of my own.”

“Sure thing, Han.” Giving his shoulders one final squeeze you pulled away from him. At the record table you browsed through his selection. Hannibal was still composing as you decided to go with a record that looked more worn than the others, figuring something well loved would help him out of his frustrated state. Setting it on the platter, you gave it a brief once over with the anti static brush, knowing he’d probably be attentive to that type of thing, and dropped the needle. The music filled the air as you took in the melody. “Very you.”

He let out a soft chuckle, abandoning the harpsichord, in favor walking over to you. “Very me, indeed.” Hannibal took the record sleeve out of your hand, setting it down on the table. The music’s build up reached. “Would you give me the honor?” His hand was stretched out toward you.

You gave him a sheepish smile, “Afraid I’m going to have to disappoint. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“I’ve been told I’m a wonderful teacher,” he pressed, a charming smile on his lips, “We all start somewhere. Let me be yours.”

A soft laugh bubbled from you as you took in his look of boyish excitement. “You’re not allowed to complain when I step on your toes.” You placed your hand in his. 

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you’re too terrible, I’ll show you the way I taught Mischa. You can stand on my toes as I try to help you commit the movements into muscle memory.”

“Handsome and a comedian.”

“I try my best.” Hannibal gave you a gentle spin as he pulled you closer. A kiss was pressed to your hand before he placed it on his shoulder. “Now, just follow after me,” he instructed, placing his hand on your hip.

The moment could have made you fall for the man as you danced with him throughout the room. Toothy smiles and teasing winks were sent your way the couple of times you stepped on his toe. Soon enough, you figured out the pace and learned how to follow through with his unspoken plans. Still, ever the novice, you managed to place your foot in a way that sent you both stumbling to the floor.

Hannibal held you close to his chest, ensuring you didn’t get hurt in the fall. “Oh my sweet girl,” he laughed, “we are going to need more practice.”

You hid your face against his neck, ignoring the fact that he could feel how hot your face was getting. “You want more of that?”

“You were doing perfect, YN,” he stroked your hair sympathetically, “One misstep isn’t something to be embarrassed about.”

Taking a deep breath, you shifted off of the older man, opting to sit beside him on the floor. Hannibal followed suit, leaning back on his elbows. “I really am going to miss seeing you regularly,” you admitted, reaching out your hand to push back the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. 

“We spend much of our time together,” he acknowledged as he looked at you curiously. “In the kitchen-“

Your eyes widened slightly, “We don’t need to talk about that i-it’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Romantically or physically?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you see me as a romantic or physical conquest?”

“I, um,” you opted to look at your fumbling hands, “I’m honestly not sure about romance… especially considering… everything and my experience when it comes to romance. Never really thought past- I’m talking too much.”

Hannibal’s hand tilted your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Oh? What happened to the confident girl in the kitchen? Don’t go shy on me now.”

“I was high on your cologne, you can hardly blame me,” you rambled, “It pairs with mine nicely I think.”

His thumb stroked absentmindedly at your jaw. “Such a sweet little thing you are… Now, tell me, YN, what couldn’t you think past?”

“You,” you offered lamely, “Mostly nights when I needed to relax. You’d cross my mind. I’d wonder how you felt. How’d you do things. Maybe you’d like to leave bruises only you’d ever know about…”

“There’s something special in knowing what others don’t,” Hannibal acknowledged, “I do enjoy my lovers wearing my marks, hidden from others view and only acknowledged by myself. As it should be, I’m certain you agree.”

You swallowed thickly at the implication of being marked as his solely. The idea of having normal conversations with him at the college with evidence of him knowing you well burned against your skin. Maybe you’d see if you could convince him into one particular fantasy Friday night had conjured. 

He rested his thumb against your bottom lip, bringing you back to him. “I’ve had thoughts of my own… I wonder… Have you ever wrapped a hand around your own neck?” Hannibal smirked at the way your lips parted in surprise as he felt the heat rise to your face, caught in a way you hadn’t expected. “Sweet girl, were you desperate for me?”

You went to lick your bottom lip out of habit, instead finding the pad of his thumb. “Yes, sir.”

“Darling,” he sighed out softly, almost disappointed, “we could have sorted you out this entire time, if you’d only ask politely. There would have been no need for you to imagine, creative as you might have been. You always put everyone’s needs before yours, but where does that leave you?” Hannibal his thumb pressed against your lips lightly, humming in satisfaction when you let him in, already so compliant. “All you have to do is ask. What would you have me do tonight?” A soft pop sounded in the room as he pulled his thumb back, smearing your spit onto your lips and chin. 

“Just tonight?” The words rolled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. 

A soft laugh. “Maybe more, if you behave.”

Hannibal threaded his hand into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. Leaning closer he took a deep breath, taking you in, before leaving a simple kiss against your neck. His warm breath fanned across your face as he kept you in anticipation. Finally he graced you with a feather light kiss, so quick you weren’t sure you even noticed. You didn’t have time to feel ashamed of the whine that had escaped when he started to move away. Following after him, you caught him in an urgent kiss, threading your own hands in his hair to make sure he’d stay close. Hannibal bit at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding in the second you gasped. You ignored the sting and slight coppery taste. 

Sure you had had your fair share of ventures. It was only natural to crave the attention for the night or a couple hours. However, Hannibal didn’t feel like any of your past partners. His kiss was unrelenting and passionate. Quickly he learned exactly how to kiss you to ensure you’d moan into his mouth. You weren’t sure how long had been spent like this. Lips on lips. Someone’s wandering hand trailing down the other’s body. The growing need. Every movement slowly became bolder. Hannibal took the time to pull you onto his thigh, closing the distance between you even more. He kissed along your neck until he found a spot that made you buck against him. 

“Please,” you sighed out, not really knowing exactly what you wanted, but having faith that he’d give you just what you needed. 

Hannibal leaned his forehead against yours, “Are you sure about this, darling?” 

It wasn’t time for contemplation though, everything was already set into motion. He had just asked out of politeness. His hands moved to your hips, he dragged you against himself in a way that clouded your mind. “You’re very convincing,” you said with a shuddered breath. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you matched his rhythm. At the moment everything in the world was him and you couldn’t find it in you to mind. 

“You came to me,” he pointed out. His hand tugged at your shirt and you allowed him to pull it off. Fingers raised goose bumps along your skin as he followed the fabric of your bra to unclasp the material.  

“Could you blame me?” You kissed the side of his jaw for the second time this night. The lipstick mark left behind wasn’t as embarrassing when you were half undressed on his lap. A blush blossomed in your chest as you watched his darken eyes take you in.

Hannibal kissed along your chest. His hand made its way into your pants, drawing slow circles on your clit. Your soft moan and jut of your hips urged him for more. Before you could ask, he thrusted two fingers inside of you, the pace changing every so often as he took in your reactions. You leaned your head against his shoulder as you grinded against his hand. Soft whimpers were muffled by the fabric of his shirt. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he used his free hand to pull you off of his shoulder by the hair, “you shouldn’t be hiding. Look at me when I’m touching you. Don’t you want to be my good toy?”

You nodded meekly, unable to make a smart comment when you saw a smirk settle on his lips as a too loud moan took its place. 

“That’s it, no one can hear you,” he teased as he worked at the spot harder, his thumb rubbed at your clit. “You seem very close, what if I…”

As he went to move his hand, you grabbed his wrist to stop him. “No, no, no. Please, I’ll be good for you.”

He chuckled, but didn’t say a word as he brought his pace back up. Instead he chose to revel in your soft sounds and the way you had to focus to keep your eyes on him. Finally, he decided keeping you on the edge was enough and allowed you to cum on his fingers. 

“Clean up your mess,” he said as he thrusted his cum coated fingers into your mouth, “There you go, good girl.”

You watched him as you sucked his fingers clean. Bringing a hand down you palmed cock through his pants, fully intending on returning the favor. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I’m afraid that status isn’t going to change anytime soon.” Hannibal kissed your pouted lip. “Don’t worry, I fully intend on taking care of you. Come, let’s make you more comfortable.”

As he stood, Hannibal offered you his hand to help you up. You followed him through the home to his bedroom, a place you didn’t think you’d end up but were more than pleased to see. Still you weren’t exactly taking in the sights when you were pulled into a rougher kiss as he led you toward his bed. A not too gentle push to your chest landed you on top of it. Leaning back on your elbows, you watched as Hannibal took his time undressing you fully. 

“You don’t play fair,” you complained, shifting yourself higher on the bed, away from him, “I like a pretty view too you know.”

He smiled, looking down at you fondly, “Very well, but only as a reward for earlier. I know you struggled.”

You smiled at that, shaking your head, “Come here won’t you?”

There wasn’t any time wasted when he settled on top of you, you didn’t have his patience. Your hands worked on his tie and buttons as his lips and teeth trailed across your chest. A subtle grind against your pussy had your thighs squeeze his waist. Pushing his shirt off, you felt down his chest, still surprised by how muscular he seemed to be underneath it all. You wondered if he’d stop you as you reached for his belt.

“That’s enough. I don’t think you’ve earned it just yet.”

An annoyed huff was all you could manage. 

“All in its time, darling.” A surprisingly gentle kiss was dropped on your cheek. “Can you manage waiting a while longer for me?”

You resisted the urge to nuzzle against him, unused to such soft displays from past partners. “Yes, sir...”

“Always such a sweet, polite thing.” 

Hannibal kissed and bit his way down your body, ensuring there would be evidence of him the next time you saw yourself in the mirror. He allowed you to thread your fingers in his hair, giving him a soft push down when he took too long marking you in one spot. It wasn’t much longer until Hannibal was level with your thighs, he pushed them further apart. A moment passed without anything before you remembered his rule. Willing yourself up you looked down at him, catching a wink before you were rewarded with a broad lick. Hannibal sucked your clit, pressing your hips down when you grinded against him. 

A helpless noise was the most you could do.

He bit your thigh, his fingers immediately making their way back inside of you, targeting the spot he had quickly learned turned you to putty. 

“You really are beautiful like this,” Hannibal acknowledged, “Completely at my mercy. Desperate for anything I’m willing to give you.”

There wasn’t any time to think up something to say as Hannibal’s mouth replaced his fingers, silencing any words that weren’t his breathy attempts of his name and pleas. Teeth grazed against your clit and a soft moan of his own was enough to pull you closer. 

“Please, daddy,” you begged, too far gone to be embarrassed by your slip, “I’m close…”

Hannibal was merciful, helping you finish as quickly as you had asked. Maybe at another time he would have teased and made you hold on longer but there was only so much patience he had. Especially when there was such an eager lover begging him. You watched him, dazed, as he came back up, his hand gripping at your jaw.

“Open.”

Doing as he wanted, you opened your mouth, instantly receiving a mix of the still lingering wine he had drank at dinner and you. He watched as you swallowed.

He let out an almost dreamy sigh. “So pliant.” 

Hannibal kissed you, finally allowing you to get your way as you pushed off the last clothes. You pumped him in your hand, working up the courage as you shook off the daze he had left you in. He was definitely the most talented partner you had had.

“We don’t have to go any further,” Hannibal reassured you, kissing the side of your mouth, “I’m perfectly sedated watching you.”

You shook your head immediately, not wanting him to think you were hesitant. “I want to, college guys aren’t so giving, just needed some time to clear my head.” As if to prove your point you gave him a squeeze, that made him thrust into your hand on instinct. “I just feel bad you’re doing all the work.”

“I prefer it,” he groaned quietly, as you thumbed at the slit. Hannibal rolled so that you could be on top of him, “But if you insist…”

A soft laugh. “That was hardly the fight I was expecting,” you muttered teasingly, kissing his jaw. 

“My patience is running thin.”

At that you straddled him, your hand lining him up with you. His hands held you steady as you sunk onto him. The both of you moaned softly when he was fully inside. Hannibal slowly grinded you against himself as you adjusted to his size. Hands against his chest, you started riding him in earnest. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praised you, his fingernails digging harder into your hips. 

“Yours,” you whimpered, too enthralled in the feel of him to pay any attention to the weight of what you were saying. His groans underneath you encouraged you more than anything. “All yours.”

Hannibal sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you firm against him. His soft kiss was a contrast to how roughly he was working himself into you. You couldn’t find it in you to care that he had taken control again. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him do as he pleased, just enjoying the way his hands and lips would travel across your body. Teasing, pinching, biting everywhere he could reach.  Your chest alone would be covered in marks left behind by Hannibal. That would be a problem for the future you to deal with at the moment you were too preoccupied with begging him for more. He’d slow his thrust whenever he felt you close to the end, chuckling lowly at the whining sounds you had made.

“Give daddy one more sweet girl. I know you can.”

You moaned loudly, giving Hannibal exactly what he wanted. When he wanted. Drained, you fell limp against his shoulder. Every small sound you made broadcast directly to him as he used you for all your worth. His arms tightened around you when you tried to pull away from the over stimulation. 

“Daddy’s close,” he promised, his accent thicker than usual, “I’ve taken such good care of my girl. Be good for me.”

Nodding, you dug your nails into his shoulders. You could be good. He had been so good to you after all. Still your vision blurred and it had taken a while longer for him to finally go still inside of you. 

Hannibal kissed the side of your head, before pulling you to lay down against him. His thumb wiped away the stray tear that had managed to fall. “You did so well for me. Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You sighed sleepily, curling into his side more comfortably, “I’m alright. Just want you.”

“We’ll take care of you later,” he promised, seeing how tired you were, “You should rest, darling. I’ll be right here.” His hand rested on your hip, thumbing at forming bruise gently. Between the soft touch and his quiet humming, it didn’t take long for you to find sleep. 

NextChapter

[shegatsby]

Hi, I don't know if you are still taking request, but I have an idea and I would love to read, were Hannibal just found out he have the first symptoms of parkinson's disease, like his hand are beginning to shake and freak out and try everything he could the hide it from his SO. But somehow she find out and comfort him. @lzzygeekk​

Warnings; Mention of illness.

Pairings; Hannibal Lecter x Reader

OneShot/Drabble

A/n; Hi guys, yes im taking request all the time. Sorry for any typos. Enjoy. 

(gif isn’t mine)

Hannibal Lecter was writing a check for his beloved when he first noticed it, his hand writing was something he was proud of, it was unique like everyone else however you always complimented his hand writing and it looked aesthetically pleasing but now he realized there was a slight change, at that moment you were impatiently waiting for him to sign the check and give it to you because you ordered bunch of flowers and you had to the send the check to the company.

After a month of this incident Hannibal was at home cooking for you a nice dinner,  classical music was playing through the stereo inside the kitchen, he had a white wine, he always had a glass of wine when he cooked something. You walked in, ‘’Hi.’’ You smiled brightly, a con in this relationship was that you never worried about food, the first time you stayed at his place he told you that he was the chef in the house and you gladly accepted it. ‘’What are we having my love?’’ you asked as you hugged him from behind, ‘’Boillabassie, a traditional French fish soup is infused with saffron, orange, thyme and chilli.’’ He shortly explained, ‘’And for dessert?’’ you kissed the exposed part of his neck, he had a grey sweater and gray pants. He looked yummy, ‘’I was thinking…’’ he pretended like he was in deep thoughts, ‘’you.’’ You giggled, he picked up the pan to put it on the stove and he felt his hands shake slightly, this never happened before and the pan wasn’t that heavy, he didn’t say anything, he just kept cooking but in his mind palace he made a mental note that he should search his symptoms, -deep down he already knew his illness, it was genetic.-

The age gap between you and Hannibal was something you didn’t care about, your friends sometimes teased you about it but it was for fun, he even stated that if this was uncomfortable to you in any way you could leave him, it was early stages in your relationship and you said you didn’t care, and Hannibal never brought it up again. You remembered that time when you noticed the way his hands were shaking few moment ago, you pretended like you had no idea because you had to let Hannibal come to you, he never liked asking for help. You were reading a book when you saw Hannibal coming downstairs with his laptop, ‘’We need to talk.’’ He said with a serious tone, his maroon eyes watched you put the book aside and focus on him. ‘’Here is the passwords for all of my bank accounts and social media account,’’ he gave you a piece of paper. ‘’and this is the cabin’s address, yes I bought a cabin for us, and here is the phone number of my lawyer. We should get married so that you can have whatever I have when.. something happens to me.’’ His voice was calm but you could see that he was freaking out inside, those eyes never lied to you, to others yes, but to you.. no.

‘’Hannibal, please sit.’’

He sat on the comfortable couch, you put the laptop on the dark brown coffee table and you hugged him, he embraced you in his big arms. ‘’I know what you’re going through,’’ you gently whispered not mentioning the illness, ‘’and I’m here for you. I’m not with you so that I can be Mrs. Lecter and watch the doors open for me all the time, I’m with you because I love you.  We can fight this together.’’ Hannibal exhaled a deep breath he was holding, e though you might want to leave him and he couldn’t accept that. ‘’Thank you Y/N,’’ he whispered back with his low voice, ‘’I’m the luckiest man on this planet.’’

Thank you for reading. :)

[yandereaffections]

Hannibal might've been the one who gave you the diary to express your feelings in the first place, he's a therapist there's no doubt he's aware of the benefits to communicating out your thoughts and emotions even if it is on a piece of paper

The only situation Hannibal would ever betray your built up trust towards him would be if you did the same first by running away, hed use your well written entries as a way to identify any behaviors he didn't notice when you were still by his side and predict what your overall plan was if he didn't already figure it out.

Other than that he respects you and the secrecy of what you may write, it's probably nothing he doesn't already know and he doesn't feel inclined to check. Hannibal sees the act of not crossing the line as a way for you to see he won't just treat you as some object, you need other ways to express yourself other than talking to him and he respects that

[detectivehannibal]

Two Timed

__

Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst.

Requested by: @vampirevatican​

A/N (edit): I hear you guys’ plea for a part 2. I have another request to write, but it is on my radar!

Word Count: 2,598

“Don’t give him the satisfaction of a second chance.”

__

You had been suspicious for awhile. It was surely hard to ignore the tug in your chest that was telling you something was off. In the seven years you had been married to Hannibal Lecter, you had learned how to be a keen observer. You had learned to be a careful listener and a focused watcher. In a general sense, he had taught you to be extremely in touch with all of your senses. This was turning out to be your worst nightmare. 

For starters, he was later coming home from work. You initially shrugged this off as perhaps he was off doing his unspeakable errands. However, the situation became very clear when he came home with just the slightest bit of lipstick on his shirt collar. Something that a non-observant person would blatantly miss. After that, all the signs were like a stop sign in your face. The unfamiliar scent of perfume that lingered around him when he walked past you. The simple yet vague answers he would give when you asked him about his day. It all came together quickly and life as you knew it was crashing down.

You didn’t want to believe that he was cheating on you. Hannibal Lecter, the most refined and morally just man you had ever known, being unfaithful to his wife. It was shocking and quite ironic. You didn’t want to have to go snooping for answers. You had always respected Hannibal’s space and personal belongings and never touched anything without asking first. However, you were too upset one fateful evening to care at this point. You searched every part of his study searching for even the smallest hint as of to who this mystery woman was. 

That’s when you found the letter. 

It wasn’t easy to spot. It wasn’t exactly sitting in plain view. You had to rummage through stacks of papers and folders before you saw it. The letter had been written on archival paper, something a little more formal and had some weight to it as it rested in your hands. The seamless piece of paper was addressed to “My dearest Alana” in Hannibal’s unmistakable handwriting. 

Oh. 

Your heart sank into your shoes when you read the header. This had to be a mistake. Surely this wasn’t the Dr. Alana Bloom who had been over for dinner on multiple occasions. The woman who had been mentored by your husband when she was in school to be a psychiatrist. It made your stomach curl in the worst way. The very woman who was acting as your husband’s mistress had been under your nose the entire time. You had almost wished she had been a stranger to you. 

The fact that you were finding out due to a letter was a double smack in the face. When you were dating Hannibal, he often would write you letters of the same magnitude. They expressed his deepest care and feelings for you. It was his way of pouring his soul and heart out to you. Now it seemed that had meant absolutely nothing.

Hot tears wasted no time filling your eyes and streaming your cheeks. This was the most betrayal you had ever felt. You were overwhelmed with anger, sadness, disappointment, and hurt all at the same time. How could he do this to you? You never in a million years would you have seen this coming. He was so adamant about people who were disrespectful and had no regard for others. This was very out of character. 

You shoved the letter back where you found it and raced to your car. There was no way you could stay here. You needed to get away to think. You needed to find someone who would care enough to listen before you did something stupid. Will Graham was your first immediate thought. You had been friends with him before ever knowing Hannibal. As a matter of fact, you met Hannibal through Will. You knew Will would listen. He was always there for you no matter what...whether he cared to be or not. His home was about an hour away from you and Hannibal’s shared home. It was a bit of a drive, but you were desperate. You pondered how to handle the situation while you were in commute. 

Your immediate solution was to turn Hannibal in to the police. You knew he was the killer they had been looking for. It would be the ultimate revenge and the most badass way to leave your lasting mark. You could have Hannibal Lecter at your mercy. You had the power to end his reign of cannibalistic terror. Unfortunately this plan had its leaks and you realized something infuriating. Hannibal would always be one step ahead. More than likely, he’d find out that you knew of the affair just as you were reporting him to Jack Crawford. He would obviously know that giving him up would be your first response and he’d have ample amount of time to get away without a trace.

And then you’d end up dead at his hands.

Damn him. At the time being, you were unsure of what to do. You could never attempt to live life as it was before while also knowing of his secret affair. That would be too cruel to yourself. You were worth way more than that. You deserved better. 

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled into Will’s yard. You hoped he wouldn’t mind an unexpected visit. It wasn’t too terribly late into the night, only about 9:15 or so. You knocked on his front door gently, this was followed by a sound from the inside of multiple sets of fuzzy paws rushing towards the door, alerting their human that he had a visitor. You peeked through the window to see a group of wagging tails and bright canine eyes. Oh, to be one of Will’s stray pups. You would always be well fed, treated with care, and have a cozy place to live. What a life. 

Will approached the door finally, his brows slightly dipping upon seeing your reddened eyes and flushed skin. You managed to hold it together long enough to muster a shaky greeting once he opened the door;

“Hi, Will.” 

He was holding the doorknob with one hand, his other resting on the door frame; 

“Hello,” He said suspiciously; “Have you been crying?”

Your lip quivered at his questions and a fresh round of tears welled up;

“Can I come in?” You asked choking down a sob. 

A brief flash of panic crossed the unofficial FBI agent’s face. He didn’t do well with a crying woman. He stepped aside to allow you to enter his home. You were happily welcomed by his dogs, Winston even sitting by your feet to request an ear rub. You squatted in front of him and stroked his soft, honey colored fur. He licked your salty tears from your cheeks, a sad laugh coming from your chest. 

Will closed the door behind him and frantically tried to see if he could figure out what was wrong without having to ask and further upset you. He noted that you weren’t wearing your wedding ring. You never left the house without it, so he knew it had something to do with Hannibal. Once you rose back from the floor and turned to him, he spoke;

“Did Hannibal do something?” He asked as gently as possible. 

He hated seeing you upset. He didn’t want to make it worse. You nodded in response, the flood of emotions washing over you again. The reality of the situation was really beginning to set in. 

“Yeah. He...He’s cheating on me,” You said with a cracking voice. You went on at the sight of Will’s face going white; “I found a love letter in his study.”

His eyes widened as he took a moment to process what you were saying. Who would ever want to be unfaithful to you? You were perfect in every way. 

“Are you sure it wasn’t for you? Perhaps he hadn’t addressed it yet?” He offered a simple solution. 

If only that simplicity was the truth. You fell onto his sofa and shook your head;

“It was addressed to Alana.” You stated.

Now that made his blood turn cold. This couldn’t be happening.

“Alana Bloom? What makes you so sure it’s her?” He asked in disbelief, sitting next to you

“Because she’s the only Alana that Hannibal and I both know, Will. She’s the only logical person. They go way back.” You said feeling defeated. 

Will stressfully ran a hand through his hair. As a third party this was a lot to take in. He could only imagine how you were feeling. Just like you, he never would’ve expected this from either of them. 

“[Y/N], I’m sorry.” He apologized.

He couldn’t help but feel a little responsible. He was the one who had introduced you two after all. He felt that this could’ve been avoided.

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault,” You said honestly; “I’m sorry for coming over here and making this your problem too. I didn’t know where else to go.” 

“Your problems can always be mine. I guarantee that. You can always come here.” He comforted.

You gave the best smile you could. Will had really always been there for you. If he was being honest, he wanted to kiss you in that moment. He just wanted you to understand how much he cared about you. He never wanted you to doubt it. But he didn’t kiss you. He would never take advantage of your emotions like that. After all, you were still a married woman. He didn’t want to force you to stoop to Hannibal’s level. Instead, he just put a hand over yours and rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. 

On the subject of Hannibal, your phone had buzzed in your bag several times over the last several minutes. You knew it was Hannibal wondering where you were. You also knew he would quickly figure out that you were at Will’s home considering that he’s the only person you’d ever go see this late at night. It wouldn’t be long before Hannibal would be at his front door looking for you.

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t live with him knowing he’s got someone on the side.” You admitted.

“You especially shouldn’t live with him now. You can’t stay married.” He advised.

You knew this. You had a strict rule that always applied to your previous relationships. There was no excuse for cheating. That would be a dealbreaker every time. Divorce was common, but you never thought you’d end up a divorced woman. 

“I know. I mean what do I say to him?” You asked.

Will tucked his head to the side. It was a loaded question for sure. He wasn’t the relationship expert. He hadn’t had many serious relationships in his life. 

“Tell him how you feel. Make sure he understands how much he’s hurt you. Don’t hold back just because you love him,” He replied; “Don’t give him the satisfaction of a second chance.”

You were listening against your better judgement. You wanted so badly for this to just be a horrible dream. You wanted to wake up and this not be real. Silence fell over the both of you. You were out of things to say. You started sobbing again, collapsing into Will’s arms. He held you as you cries filled his home and caused his dogs to whine in sympathy. Your pity party was interrupted by a knock on the door a few minutes later. 

The man of the hour had arrived. 

Part of you wanted to run away and never see him again, but then you’d never get to tell him how you felt. And also he’d find you in record time. Will shot you a look before getting up to answer the door. Hannibal was standing there, still in his work suit and his demeanor was as cool as ever. 

“Hello, Will. Is [Y/N] here? She doesn’t seem to be at home,” He stated. 

“Yeah,” Will responded flatly; “She’s here. You’ve got some nerve showing up here, Dr. Lecter.”

Will was upset. His trusted psychiatrist had hurt his best friend by using his other friend. He had a right to be angry. Hannibal looked over Will’s shoulder to find you on the couch. He pushed past Will and into the room;

“Darling, I really wish you had informed me that you were going to be here.” He said disregarding Will’s previous sentence. 

You stood from the couch. You were furious, yet calm. You stood in front of your husband, looking into his dark eyes with a numb expression. This was your chance. 

“I know, Hannibal. I know about you and Alana.” You confessed.

While his face didn’t show any signs of shock, his heart skipped a beat. He obviously had never planned on you finding out, so this wasn’t what he expected. Will was watching, arms crossed as he observed. 

“How did you find out?” Hannibal asked nonchalantly.

If he had to guess, he would’ve suspected that maybe Alana came clean to Will who conveyed the truth. That was the first time Hannibal would’ve been wrong about anything. 

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know about it. And I want you to know how much you’ve hurt me because of it.” You said. 

You weren’t crying anymore. You were past that point. 

“When I said ‘I do’ on our wedding day, I meant it. Every word of my vows was the truth. I was ecstatic to spend my life with you. I was beyond thrilled to have forever to spend with someone I loved. I just wish I had known it didn’t go both ways,” You spoke softly; “If our marriage wasn’t what you signed up for, then I suppose I owe you an apology. But if it was everything you expected and it still wasn’t enough...then I don’t know what to tell you. I gave you...I gave us everything I had. My whole heart and soul. I wanted to be sure we were each other’s forever. But I see I didn’t do as well as I could have.”

Hannibal was speechless. There wasn’t anything he could say. He was ashamed. Ashamed of getting caught and ashamed for hurting an innocent person. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your wedding ring. You silently took his hand and placed it in his palm. It was cliche, but it was powerful. You were done. 

“I’ll be moved out by tomorrow. Don’t try calling me. Don’t come looking for me. I’m leaving. I hope you can live with what you’ve done,” You said brushing past him. 

You looked at Will as you went to exit his home. He knew you’d call him in a few days after you had time to yourself. You would never leave him behind. You stopped at the door, leaving Hannibal with one final sentence;

“Goodbye, Hannibal.” 

You walked down the front porch steps and into your car. You didn’t know where you were going to go, but you had to get away somewhere. You drove away in silence, letting the road take you wherever it wanted. You couldn’t help but reflect on the good times you had with Hannibal. It would be inhuman not to. At the end of the day, even if it didn’t work out, Hannibal was your love story. You would never be able to change that.

No matter how hard you tried.

[darling-i-read-it]

And the Woman Clothed With the Sun...

3x09

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham 

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, nightmares, talk of children and having them 

Author’s Note: I really really liked this episode. I love playing with dynamics SO MUCH. I hope you guys like this? 

I used some direct quotes from the script so some things may seem familiar 

Official Episode Summary: As the search for Francis Dolarhyde (Richard Armitage) continues, Will starts imagining himself in Dolarhyde's tormented psyche -- and asks Hannibal for help with the serial killer's profile; a new woman (Rutina Wesley) enters Dolarhyde's life.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

Tag List (is always open!) : @llperfectsymmetryll​ @ericacactus​ @vlightning95​ @sweetgoodangel​

(not my gif)

“That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court,” Hannibal said. He turned around slowly, acting as though he were not surprised to see you and Will together. The thin line of glass between the two of you Hannibal seemed so thick.

The truth was, you had never truly gotten over Hannibal. You had pretended to, for the sake of Will, but you had never really stopped thinking about what he could be doing. There was a link that the three of you had with each other that was unexplainable. You had started a new life. But your old one still called your name. 

“Hello, Dr. Lecter,” Will said simply. He was contained. You fed off of his energy to keep yourself in check as well. 

“Hello, Will. Y/N.” He stepped closer to the two of you. “I believe congratulations are in order. I apologize I couldn’t make it to the wedding. Alana gave me some pictures, to taunt me presumably.” You smiled. You thought about Hannibal holding the pictures of you and Will laughing, beaming at each other. “Did you get my note?” You nodded. 

“We got it. Thank you,” you said simply. You and Will stood close together. He had his coat draped over his arm and you held the papers from the cases. 

“Did you read it before you destroyed it? Or did you simply toss it into the nearest fire?” Hannibal asked. You scoffed a bit.

“We read it. Then he burned it,” you promised. He nodded. 

“And you came anyway.” Hannibal eyed you. “I’m surprised you let that happen.” 

“We all falter in some ways,” you said simply. 

“I want you to help me, Dr. Lecter,” Will said to break the conversation. He still didn't trust Hannibal with you. Reminiscent of the days you used to work with Hannibal.

“Yes I thought so. Are we no longer on a first-name basis?” Hannibal asked. 

“I’m more comfortable the less personal we are,” Will said. Hannibal looked over at you, eyeing your entire body. He made note of the scent. The scent off of both of you. 

“Your hands are rough Will. I smell dogs and pine and oil beneath that shaving lotion.” He looked at you. “Did you steal that perfume from my home?” he questioned. You stiffened. You had gotten some perfume from his home as they cleaned it out. You ended up liking and buying another bottle over the years.

“I’m here about Chicago and Buffalo. You’ve read about it, I’m sure,” Will said. 

“I’ve read the papers. I can’t clip them. They won’t let me have scissors, of course. You want to know how he’s choosing them,” Hannibal commented. You held up the case file. 

“Thought you might have some ideas.” 

“You just came here to look at me. Came to get the old scent again. Why don't you just smell yourself Will? Or your wife?” Will let out a sigh. 

“I expected more of you, doctor. That routine is old hat.” Hannibal nodded stiffly.

“Whereas you are new people,” Hannibal said. “Let me have the file. An hour, and we can discuss it like old times.” You nodded happily at that, pleased he would help. You shoved the file through the document tray and into the cell. Hannibal came close to collect it. 

“Thank you,” Will muttered.

“Family values may have declined over the last century, but we still help our families when we can.” He took the papers. “You’re both family.” 

Will grabbed you around the waist, eager to leave. Your eyes lingered on Hannibal’s for a moment longer before you and Will left the room, swallowing his true words. 

-

You looked around Alana’s office. You hadn’t seen it since she had moved in. It looked better than when Chilton had run it. Perhaps that was just because you liked Alana more. The problems you once had with each other had mostly scabbed over. She was maid of honor at your wedding. Interesting, considering the fact you had once fought feverishly over Hannibal.

“It’s good to see you looking well. But I can’t help wishing you weren’t here,” Alana said. She sat on her couch. Her suit was pristine, her hair perfect. You admired her. 

“You aren’t the only one,” you commented. 

“I was surprised Jack came back in one piece,” she said. You nodded, running a hand over your pants before sitting down on the couch beside her. Will stood up, looking out the window. 

“You weren’t the only one,” Will said, turning to both of you. 

“How did it feel to see him again?” she questioned. You looked at the ground. Will sat down beside you, in between you and Alana. 

“Like Hannibal was looking through to the back of my skull. Felt like a fly flitting around in there. I had the absurd feeling that he walked out with me. Had to stop outside the doors and look around, make sure it was just Y/N,” Will commented. 

“I know that feeling. At least Jack Crawford’s pleased.” You pursed your lips but stayed quiet. 

“He showed me pictures of the families. I looked at Y/N and couldn’t say no,” he argued.

“Damn my presence,” you joked softly. Will slung his arm around the couch behind you, his fingered brushing your shoulder. 

“And Jack was counting on it.” 

“Are you still with Margot?” you asked, eager to change the subject. She took a deep breath and nodded, thinking fondly of her wife. 

“Yes. We have a baby. A Verger baby. A son,” she said. You smiled. You and Will had talked about kids. You wanted one. You were working for one when Jack spiked both yours and Will’s stress levels. 

“Good for Margot,” Will said.

“Good for me. I carried him. He’s my son. He’s the Verger heir.” You smiled. 

“Then what are you doing here? You’re set for life,” you pointed out. 

“There are only five doors between Hannibal and the outside. And I have the keys to every one of them,” she said. A daily ‘gotcha’ to Hannibal. Will admired that. “Hannibal has never been great with boundaries. ‘He who sups with the Devil needs a long spoon’.” 

“I am not letting him in, Alana. Don’t worry about me,” Will said. She looked at you sympathetically. 

“Last time, it didn't’ end with you Will.” 

-

“I want you to stay here,” Will said, standing outside Hannibal’s cell door. He hadn’t stepped inside yet. Hannibal could not see him. You scoffed.

“We’ve been over this. I follow you, even if you say no.”

“This time, I mean it. I think I’ll get more out of him if he isn't’ distracted with you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You sure you aren’t jealous?” He gave you a look. “Fine, fine. Please be quick.” 

Will stepped into the room, leaving you outside to wait. Hannibal looked up at him from his desk.

“This is a very shy boy, Will. I’d love to meet him,” Hannibal said. He looked around. “Just us?” 

Will nodded.

“Just us.” 

“Have you considered the possibility that he’s disfigured? Or that he may believe he’s disfigured?” Hannibal asked. 

“That’s interesting.”

“That’s not interesting. You thought of that before.” Will nodded. 

“He smashed all the mirrors in the houses, not just enough to get the pieces he wanted. The shards are set so he can see himself. In their eyes. Mrs. Jacobi and Mrs. Leeds. And their families,” Will said. Hannibal pulled out the picture of a dead Mrs. Jacobi. 

“Could you see yourself in their eyes, Will? Killing them all?” 

Will instantly regretted leaving you outside. 

The two boys imagined themselves in the crime scenes, looking across the dead bodies of the families. 

“The first small bond to the killer itches and stings like a leech,” Hanibal said. “Like you, Will, he needs a family to escape what’s inside him.” Wills head shot up but he did not look at Hannibal. “You know a fair amount about how these families died. How they lived is how he chooses them.”

“How is he choosing them?” Will asked.

“I was surprised to hear you actually married Y/N. Not because I thought you weren’t a match made in heaven but it made more sense for you to start a family from scratch. No one that had even an inkling of me in their eyes. Find a mom with a stepson or daughter, not having to breed. You know better than to pass the terrible traits that you fear the most,” Hannibal said. Will did not look at him. Hannibal continued. “But Y/N wants children with you. How will you stand to look at a child you may have ruined before they were even born?” 

Will desperately wished he hadn’t left you outside. 

“Why are there no descriptions of the grounds? I see floor plans, diagrams of the rooms where the deaths occured, no mention of the grounds. What were the yards like?” Hannibal continued, satisfied with how he had shaken Will’s personal life. 

“Big, fenced, with trees. Why?” 

“If this pilgrim feels a special relationship with the moon, he might like to go outside and look at it before he tidies himself up. If one were nude, say, it would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing. One must show some consideration for the neighbors, hmmm? Have you ever seen blood in the moonlight, Will?” 

Will suddenly saw himself in place of the killer, naked, drenched in pitch black blood. 

Will snapped back and nodded quickly.

“Thank you Dr. Lecter,” he said before stumbling out of the door. You sat on the outside in one of the waiting chairs. Will looked over at you and seemed to relax but not completely. 

“Will?” 

He grabbed you and you stood up quickly, hugging him tightly. He buried his head in your neck and you let him, rubbing your back.

“This is why you don’t go without me places,” you muttered. He scoffed but his breathing was already evening again. “What did he say?” He moved back and shook his head softly.

“We’ll talk about it later. I want to see the backyards.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, I suppose.” 

He walked out of the asylum, holding your hand tightly. Freddie snapped a couple pictures from the bushes.

-

“Have you come to wag your finger?” Hannibal asked as Alana entered the room behind him. 

“I love a good finger-wagging.”

“Yes, you do. How is Margot?” Alana ignored the remake as she gleaned down at the picture of her as Botticelli’s Fortitude.

“Your cogs are turning, Hannibal. I can hear them clicking.”

“Click, click, click, boom,” he whispered. 

“I don’t know what you’re planning with the Grahams. But you’re planning something. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ve already cracked the lid, can’t resist peeling it back.” 

Hannibal pursed at the name. Alana noticed this. 

“You can’t comment on her last name anymore you know. They’re married. She is, in the eyes of the law, a Graham now.” Hannibal stiffened.

“They came to me,” Hannibal said, ignoring her words.

“Yes, they did.” 

“I advised them against it.”

“I’m sure.” 

“Are you suggesting I don’t have Y/N and Will’s best interests in mind?” he asked. Alana scoffed.

“I’m stating it as a fact.”

-

You stepped into the room with Hannibal’s cage. He looked up, quite surprised to see you. You held your purse in both hands, stepping closer to the cage. 

“Hello love,” he said quietly. You let his words fall off of you like rain. They stayed for a moment, dripping down your arm before hitting the ground. “I don’t imagine you’re here to talk about the murder cases.” You shook your head softly. He walked up to the glass quietly. You stepped close to it, so you were really only a couple of inches apart. 

“I came to yell at you,” you said. He raised an eyebrow.

“Whatever for?” You smiled gently and shrugged.

“Lots of things. Firstly, you didn’t kill Jack when you got the chance. I’ll never forgive you for not feeding him to me in soup.” His eyes went wide.

“Careful Y/N. Alana watches these tapes.” 

“She would probably agree with me.” You took a deep breath. “Secondly, not coming to my wedding. I know you were otherwise indisposed but I thought it was rather rude.” 

“I thought it was rude of you to get married.” You shook your head playfully. The same banter. Joking with a cannibal serial killer. Just another Tuesday.

“Third, I told you to leave.” The air seemed to calm. 

“Does Will know you’re here?” 

“No. I didn’t tell him.” 

“Did he tell you he’s scared of his own children?” You raised a finger, shaking it gently. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Will is no longer my boyfriend I dated a couple of months. He’s my husband. You can’t wedge yourself between us no matter how hard you try.” You wanted to put your hand against the glass but you didn’t. “But I miss you.”

“Where do you work nowadays?” You shrugged.

“I had to get another secretary job but I’ve mostly worked up enough to take this amount of leave. My last employer wasn’t exactly the best reference.” He laughed. 

“I suppose you’re right.” He paused. “Eating well?” 

“Better. No people in the diet these days.” 

“Pity.” 

-

“Will!” You broke Will out of his thoughts. You were standing in the back of the Jacobi house. Will had just found a small sign on one of the trees. He was about to get into it but you had broken him out of his mind. “It’s Freddie.” 

Will walked out from the trees and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Now are you just keeping America clean or is that evidence?” Freddie asked. 

“You’re trespassing, Freddie,” Will said sternly.

“I was trespassing before the blood dried.  When did they call you? Interesting to see The Bloody Valentines back at action. Beautiful ceremony by the way.”

“We aren’t talking to you,” Will said, grabbing your arm. You followed him.

“We’re co conspirators, Will. I did for you and your cause.”

“You didn’t die enough. You came into my hospital room while I was asleep. You flipped back the sheets and shot a picture of my temporary colostomy bag,” Will said, turning to her. 

  “Covered your junk with a black box. A big black box. You’re welcome,” she said.

“Justly so,” you argued carefully. 

“You culled us the ‘murder threesome’. Little crude, don't you think?” 

“You did run off to Europe together. Doesn’t help that the two of you ended up getting married. How does the Tooth Fairy compare to Hannibal Lecter? Haven’t seen anything like this since the Massacre at Muskrat Farm. Funny thing about that massacre. Not only did Dr. Bloom survived, she got rich. Lecter’s living in the lap under her care. What kind of arrangement you suppose they have?” Freddie asked. 

“A complicated one,” you said sternly. 

“Couldn’t be more complicated than your relationship with Hannibal. Both of you. You paid him a visit? Before you lie, know that I know that you did,” she said quickly.

“Good-bye Freddie.”

-

“I read your note before my office forwarded it to the Grahams,” Jack said, standing in front of Will. Hannibal swallowed, understanding. 

“To whet their appetite or yours? You’ve placed him back in the pot and you’re letting him cook.”

“We’re all in this stew together.” 

“Arguable considering how close Y/N is to drowning you.” 

-

You stepped into the hotel room where Will was already sitting on the bed. You ran a hand through your hair and let the chilly cold wash over you as you entered the warm room. 

“How are the dogs?” he asked.

“Good. The dog sitters said they were missing us but other than that, they’re okay,” you promised. You looked down at the dog that was laying on the ground beside the bed. “She’ll be right at home with them.” 

You sat on the bed and Will sat up, putting his arms around you from behind. You smiled about him, happy to see he was feeling better.

“I’m worried about the kids,” he whispered.

“The kids who don’t exist?” He laughed gently.

“Yeah. I don’t want them to end up like me.” You nodded slowly.

“So that’s what Hannibal said that got you worked up.” You took in the information. “If the kid isn’t like you I don’t think I’d be able to love them as much as I love you.” 

It was his turn to take in the information. 

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. I’m serious. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I’ve had the pleasure of loving you Mr. Graham.” He kissed your neck gently and smiled to himself. 

“I love you too Mrs. Graham.”

You let out a small sigh of relief. 

 -

Will screamed as he sat up quickly, sweating aggressively, blankets flying. You got up just as quickly, turning to him but he had already gotten up, rushing into the bathroom. You followed him, sleep that had just taken you over long gone. 

You practically ran up to him. He was looking at himself in the mirror, fear in his eyes at his reflection. You grabbed him quickly and he turned to you, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t speak. You didn’t ask questions. You just held him as close as you could get him.

Nightmares had come back. Neither of you had had those in a while. You rubbed his back and let him breath. 

3x10

[traitorousheroes]

and she greeted the End as an old friend

(Hannibal/The Magnus Archives Crossover. I've had this sitting in my drafts for over a year, and its technically finished, although originally it was going to be part of a series.)

Case #0170723

Statement of Abigail Hobbs, regarding her fathers and her subsequent deaths at their hands. Statement given directly by subject on July 23rd, 2017 to Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins...

The London streets were cold in the early morning, very different from the warmth of Italy. In a way they reminded her of Lithuania, of the dungeons beneath the old Lecter estate. The moth that Will had left was still beautiful, even as the skin sloughed off and spiders spun their webs in the empty eye sockets. There had been echoes of death that clung to the very stones of that place, but nothing that was unique, except for the fact of who it had affected. Those that it was continuing to affect.

Abigail pulled at the braid that covered her missing ear as she walked up to the Magnus Institute. Pressing her hand against the door, the feeling of being Known overcame her. The Eye focused on her as she stepped through and into the foyer, and she could feel that it wanted what she had come here to give. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Unlike her own patron, the Eye was unused to waiting.

“Excuse me,” she said, walking up to the main desk.

The woman who sat behind it looked up at her in surprise. Her name tag read Rosie, which seemed to fit the woman.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I was hoping to make an appointment to speak with Elias Bouchard?”

“I’m not sure that Mr. Bouchard has any openings in his schedule for the next week,” Rosie said, flipping through a planner. “If you’d like, there looks to be an appointment open in a fortnight-”

The phone on her desk rang. Rosie gave her a small smile and held up a finger as she picked up the receiver. Abigail could hear the sound of a male voice on the other end, though what he was saying was indistinct. Rosie looked back up at her, confusion on her face as she listened to whatever the man on the line was saying.

“Of course, Mr. Bouchard,” she said. “I’ll let her know.” Rosie put the phone receiver to her shoulder and turned her smile back to Abigail. “Mr. Bouchard says that he has an appointment open at around noon. In return, he asks if you would be willing to give a statement to the Archives.”

“Of course.”

Rosie relayed her acceptance to him, giving a perfunctory goodbye and hanging up the phone. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you down to the Archives.”

Abigail nodded. Rosie turned and walked further into the building, her heels clicking against the stone floor; Abigail’s own shoes, a pair of comfortable flats, made no sound in comparison. They walked past a set of large wooden doors, above which sat a plaque that read Artifact Storage, before coming to a set of stairs that led down. At the basement landing there was only one door, which sat innocuously against the left hand wall. The plaque above it was similar to the one upstairs, but read Archives instead. It also appeared to be damaged with what appeared to be some sort of fire suppressant caked on the upper right hand corner.

Rosie opened the door, revealing a surprisingly large room with two chairs on the wall next to the door. Four desks sat in the middle of the room, each one stacked with paper and knick knacks. On the far left hand side of the room there were offices, one of which had a plaque next to it stating Archivist. A piece of paper was taped over the name holder below it, with the name Jonathon Sims printed on it. There were another two offices beside it, though neither of them had any designations. The door to the furthest one was cracked open slightly, letting her see what appeared to be a cot wedged against the wall. A small kitchenette sat against the back wall, the sink filled with what looked like used mugs.

“You can wait here if you’d like,” Rosie said, gesturing to a chair. “Would you like a coffee? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” Abigail replied, taking the seat. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you need anything before they arrive, I’ll be at the front desk.”

Abigail nodded, letting her smile drop as the woman left. She let out a deep breath, all the air leaving her body in a deathly rattle. The air in the room was silent as the grave, not even the spider spinning its web in the corner making a sound to disturb it. She could feel the cold as it overtook her limbs like an old friend embracing her, her sight disappearing behind clouds of milky white. The echoes of death that lingered in the Archives were tantalizing in their amount. There was the faint tang of Corruption to them, a hive mind bound to flesh screaming out in unison as their lives were snuffed out.

“I think she’s dead.”

“Christ, not again.”

Abigail drew herself back from the deaths of the Flesh Hive, a curl of satisfaction settling itself in her chest. A faint whirring caught her ear as she acclimated back to her body, the sound like the VCR from her childhood. She blinked, clearing away the clouds that had settled over her corneas. One of the men who had been talking yelped, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the floor as he stumbled away. Abigail rolled her neck and stretched her fingers, chasing the torpor away.

As she focused on the two men in front of her she smiled. The one who yelped was braced against a desk, his eyes locked on her. The other had drawn a knife, the edge pointed at her chest. It was obvious that he had never used one before, not only for the slight tremor that transferred from his hand to the blade. Abigail took a deep breath, feeling her lungs reinflate with a wheeze.

“If you wanted to kill someone, you need to point the blade a bit lower,” she told the one with the knife. She raised her hand slowly and wrapped it around his own. He flinched at her touch, but didn’t resist as she pulled him closer and set the knife right below her sternum. “Press in and pull down to disembowel them. If you want them to suffer,” she said, dragging his knife down lower to her abdomen, “you can cut across and perforate their intestines and let them bleed out.”

“Let go,” he said, trying in vain to pull his hand from her grip.

Abigail didn’t, pulling it up so that the edge of the knife rested against the scarf that wrapped around her neck. “Of course, you can also cut the throat. It’s a bit harder than they make it look in the movies, but your victim is aware the entire time they choke on their own blood. Though the blood loss makes the pain feel almost non-existent. It’s almost peaceful.”

“Please,” the larger, terrified man said, “let him go.”

“Of course,” Abigail agreed, releasing the hand that held the knife. The man stepped away, the knife clattering to the floor between them. He rubbed at the skin she had touched, as if doing so would erase the feeling of it.

“Are you okay Tim?”

“Fine,” Tim spat. “Just dandy in fact. There’s only something else that wants to kill us here, Martin. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I’m not here to kill you,” Abigail said.

They both looked at her sceptically. She sighed, bending over and picking up the knife from the floor. Both men flinched as she did so, but neither made any movement to get closer to her. It was a passable knife, though the edge was a bit dull when she tested it against the tip of her finger. Folding it back, she stood and held it out to Tim, whose gaze had turned wary. She waved it, and he reached out and took it like a snake striking at prey.

“What are you doing here then?” Martin asked. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Rosie let me in. I’m here to make a statement for the Archivist.”

“You’re here to make a statement,” Tim said, his tone disbelieving.

“I need to give it to the Archivist,” Abigail said. “It’s very important that I do it now.”

“Well, Jon isn’t here right now,” Martin told her. “We could set you up with some pen and paper if you’d like-”

Whatever he was offering was cut off as a man stormed into the Archives, almost running into Tim. He looked between the three of them, his eyes cataloging the two men before looking at her. Abigail felt a tingle of power spread over her skin as the Archivist focused on her with the full weight of the Eye.

“What are you?” the Archivist asked, a thread of power snapping out at her.

“Someone who came to give a statement,” she said, neatly sidestepping what he intended her to answer with another truth.

The Archivist grimaced, accepting what she said while still knowing that what she said wasn’t what he wanted. His shoulders slumped as he let go of what little power he had mustered against her. He rubbed at his eyes with a scarred hand before letting out an annoyed breath. He stalked over to the office marked as his, leaving the door open behind him. Abigail looked at the other two, who seemed unsure of what they should do. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her remaining ear, she went to the Archivist’s door.

“May I come in?”

“If you want to give a statement, yes,” he said shortly. “If you’ve changed your mind, I’m sure you can find the way out.”

“I’m sure,” Abigail said, passing through the threshold and shutting the door behind her. There was a click-whirr as the tape recorder on the Archivist’s desk turned on. She raised an eyebrow which he returned drolly. “I hope you don’t mind me ambushing you here, Archivist.”

“As long as you aren’t here to kill me, I’m sure we will get along fine. And it’s Jon, please. And you are?”

“Abigail Hobbs. It’s nice to meet you, Jon.”

“At least one of us is happy about this. You said you’re here to give a statement?”

“Yes.”

“What about?” Jon asked. For all that his tone implied disinterest, there was a hunger behind his eyes.

“My deaths,” she said simply. “Should I just start, or...”

Jon nodded, his posture straightening as he looked her directly in the eyes. Abigail met them directly, letting the Eye in. She took a deep breath, letting the memories flow out.

“I knew from a young age that my dad was different. He wasn’t too different, not in any way that would make anyone suspicious. He worked a blue collar job, but a lot of people in my town did. It paid well enough, and we were happy. Or, at least, I was.

“My dad never really let me out of his sight. I just thought he was overprotective, especially when I hit my teenage years. It wasn’t until I caught him sitting outside my junior prom that I thought it was weird. He played it off, saying that he was worried about someone spiking the punch. Which, I mean, someone did, but that’s part of the high school experience. But it was soon after that when he got super weird.

“I wasn’t a fan of hunting, but my dad was really into it. He always bagged his allotment during deer season, which meant that we had enough venison for the winter. I think throughout my childhood I ate more deer meat than hamburgers. But that year he took me with him during deer season. He said it was important that I learned how to hunt. He had this weird look in his eye when he said it. Like he was sizing me up like one of his bucks. So I went with him and bagged one. I didn't like it, and I don’t think he liked the idea that I didn’t like it. I thought it was just the fact that he wanted to share it with me.

“After that, he never took me back to his hunting cabin. I can’t say I wasn’t happy about it, because it honestly creeped me out. Mom had put her foot down on the amount of antlers and hunting trophies in the house, but the cabin was absolutely stuffed with them. The upstairs was full of antlers and hooves. I thought he would have sold some of them to collectors or hobbyists, but I don’t think he ever did. I don’t think he thought that would be honoring them.

“That was a big thing with him. He used every part of a deer. You would think there would be some kind of waste, but he was very careful to limit that. It's probably what stopped him from being caught for as long as it did.

“I guess you don’t really pay attention to a lot of American news over here. Which is fair, since I never really paid attention to what happened over here. Plus, there are a lot of serial killers in the States. And I’ve met more than most people. Including my father.

“Like I said, my father was really overprotective. The therapists I talked to, afterwards, said that it wasn’t my fault what happened. That he was just sick in the head and that it manifested in him hunting girls who looked like me and eating them. And they were mostly right. Only they didn’t know that he used me to pick them out. He was a good hunter, you see. And a good hunter knows how to stalk his prey, how to use bait to get them where he wants them. I was his bait. And I knew it.

“I wasn’t scared of him. I don’t think any of the therapists understood that. Even after everything, I never was afraid of him. It wasn’t even fear of what he did when he was hunting. Because the only thing I wanted to do was survive. I wanted to live past whatever happened. If that meant helping him choose his prey, I would do it. In his own way, I think he thought I was close to him, close to the Hunt that drove him. He didn't realize that I was already marked for something else.

“From what I’ve learned about the Hunt, my father wasn’t fully under its influence. Certainly not enough to become something... more. I think that’s why one of the Web’s agents decided to press. I think he was curious to see what happened. He called our house, and when I picked up the phone he asked to speak to my dad.

“He told me afterwards what he said to my dad. That the F.B.I. was onto him, that they were coming for him. But my dad just hung up the phone and continued cooking breakfast. My mom didn’t notice anything different, which I guess is a small kindness. When we heard the car pull up outside he grabbed her and put the knife to her neck. He walked her to the front door, slit her throat, and tossed her onto the front porch. She bled out not knowing why it was happening.

“I should have run the moment I saw him grab my mom. But I couldn’t. I was so afraid, but it wasn’t because of him. Even when he came back, the knife in his hand wet with my mother’s blood, I wasn’t afraid of him. He whispered how sorry he was in my ear, that he loved me, and I still wasn’t afraid of him. It wasn’t until the man from the F.B.I. rushed into the kitchen and my dad slit my throat that I realized what I was afraid of.

“It was the same reason why I had picked out the girls for him to kill. I didn’t want to die. The man from the F.B.I. killed my dad, and still the only thing I could think of as I choked on my own blood was that I didn't want to die like this.

“I did though. For less than a minute on the operating table, my heart stopped. It was enough for the thing that had marked me to deepen it's hold, but not enough for it to claim me completely. That came later. Instead I was dragged into the Web’s games.

“His name was Hannibal Lecter, and he became my father. If it’s a manipulation of the Web for me to think so, I don’t really care. He did do that, of course. It’s in the nature of those who weave. But he cared for me, cocooned me in safety, for a given value of the word. Of course, I was simply a pawn in a game to get him what he really wanted.

“The F.B.I. agent who killed my dad was like me, marked. But the one who held claim on him had more of an influence. I think he would have happily gone through the rest of his life being a conduit and repository of fear if Hannibal hadn’t caught him in his machinations. The Web is always interested in what the Eye does, after all.

“Will didn’t know what Hannibal was. Anything of what he was, really. Remember how I said I’d met more serial killers than most? Hannibal was one as well, and fairly prolific. The Web’s influence helped, letting him make horrific displays that fed it and let him express himself. That same influence let him blind Will to the fact. Not that he needed to do much, other than let Will’s brain cook itself. I’m not sure when he decided to let him live, but I played a part in what came next.

“Hannibal took my ear with my permission. Or, at least, as much permission as the Web needs. We faked my death and framed Will for it. Then he left me to my own devices in a house by the sea. He told me that when the time was right, I would come back and meet him and Will. That we would leave and go somewhere far away to be a family.

“It was a lie, of course. A pretty lie, but a lie nonetheless. Or maybe it wasn’t. I’ll have to ask Hannibal when I see him again.

“It always comes down to choices. And Will chose to stand against Hannibal. He saw the manipulations, the cocoon that Hannibal had put him in, and chose not to become what he wanted. It made him angry. You probably think that monsters can’t get angry, but they were human once. And under everything, they still are. It just depends on how much they want to acknowledge it.

“I asked Hannibal how he would kill me once. He said he would slit my throat like my father had. And he did. He severed me from his web; the same hands that had saved my life, ending it. And I felt the same fear. I didn't want to die. I wanted to live.

“Will tried to save me, but Hannibal had gutted him. The last thing I saw was myself reflected in his eyes. And my life Ended.

“I don’t remember making my choice. Of giving myself over to the power that had claimed me. I know that I made the choice. And so I woke up in a body bag, my own blood caked across my face and clothes, breath rattling in lungs that did not need it.

“I’m still not sure how I got out of the morgue without someone screaming about a dead girl returning to life. There wasn’t ever any news coverage about someone stealing my body from the morgue. I do know that the grave that bears my name is empty; they held a closed casket funeral to hide the fact that they don’t know what happened to my body. I wouldn’t be surprised if they think Hannibal took it. I hope no one ever asks him about it. I want to surprise him.

“That’s part of the reason I came here. He’s up to his games again, from what I’ve seen, and he’s dragged Will back into it as well. So I wanted to leave them a message. I’ll be on the Silver Coast, waiting for them. For as long as it may be until we see each other again.”

Jon blinked, his eyes losing the manic need that had filled them during her statement. Abigail watched as he seemed to sink into himself, a pall of weariness weighing down his limbs. Despite it there was a brightness to his complexion, as if he had just spent the day lazing in the sun.

“Statement ends,” he said. The tape recorder clicked off, leaving their breathing as the only sound in the room.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re of the End, then?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not what I would have expected,” Jon said.

Abigail shrugged. “We can’t all be grim reapers and shambling corpses. Do you need anything else for the statement?”

“No, I think you’ve given us enough details. Not that it would be easy to follow up on, considering.”

“Kind of hard to explain talking to a dead girl?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve talked with the dead. You seem more at peace than some of the others.”

“I’ve had time to get used to it.”

“Yes, I imagine so. Do you need help finding your way out?”

“I actually need to go speak with Mr. Bouchard. Could you direct me to his office?”

“Um, yes,” Jon said. He looked perturbed at her question, but she imagined he wanted her out of his domain as soon as possible. “Up the stairs, past Artifact Storage, then take the stairs to your left and it will be on the second landing. You can’t miss it.”

“I’ll leave you be, then.”

Abigail stood up from her chair and opened the door. Four sets of eyes looked up as she left the office, with Martin getting up from his desk as she walked past. She heard him say something to Jon as she exited the Archives. Unlike when she had entered, the doors to Artifact Storage were open, with what looked like a few people examining pieces on long tables. Following the instructions Jon had given her, she went up two flights of stairs. As she began to walk across to the door marked Head of the Magnus Institute, it opened.

“Ms. Hobbs,” Mr. Bouchard said. “Please, come in. I do believe we have matters to discuss.”

[fandom-imagines-stories]

2 In the Hen House

Fox Mulder x Reader

Words: 1663

Part 2 of 3

Part One

Summary: When a serial killer that Mulder helped put away escapes the institution, he decides to pay a visit to his favorite FBI behavioral analyst. You educate yourself on all the disturbing facts of the case. When the killer begins to take an interest in Mulder’s pretty little partner, you become more entangled than you could have imagined. 

Notes: I’m really excited for the darkness of this series, but writing sad Mulder is honestly also really fun. Sorry. Same warnings as the first part. Also, don’t panic if you don’t see X-Files on my masterlist along with a few other imagines. I’m putting together a 80s/90s masterlist and that’s where they are all going. Let me know what you think as always!

-

Mulder got to your apartment before the police did. You were sitting on the ground around the corner, knees pulled up to your chest. 

“Y/N!” He shouted, sprinting up the stairs two at a time. When he found you, your eyes were red and your lip trembled as you spoke. 

“I-It’s on m-my door.” You stammered. He peeked around the corner at the butchered animal. 

“Sange.” He muttered angrily before taking you up in his arms. “He’s just trying to scare you to get to me.” He kept his hand on the back of your head, running his fingers soothingly through your hair. 

“How does he even know where to find me?” You asked, breaking away to look at him, trying to compose yourself. You were trained to deal with this kind of thing. 

“He does his homework.” Mulder sighed. You could hear the sounds of the police storming up the stairs. Mulder locked his fingers through yours and you felt yourself leaning against him, supporting your weight when your legs still wanted to buckle. 

This psychopath knew who you were. He knew where you lived. And he was coming after Mulder. 

“Now what?” You asked, finding your balance again and stepping back to look at your door. Mulder put a hand on your cheek, taking your eyes away from the bloody animal. 

“I think you should step away from the case.” He knew that you would object so he kept going before you could interrupt. “And obviously you can’t stay at your apartment. I don’t think mine would be much safer. Maybe you could stay with Scully.” 

“No, Mulder, I want to be with you.” You tugged on his shirt. “I don’t think you should be alone either. It’s you he’s really after.” He opened his mouth to argue, but you stopped him like he had you. “And don’t say you can handle this, because you can’t. Not alone.” 

The police finally arrived and asked you questions you could barely hear. You just kept staring at the fox. You told him as many details as you could, but this was still an FBI investigation and was therefore out of the officer’s hands. Mulder was talking to Scully who had just finished up doing the autopsies of both guards.

“How is she?” She looked over at your calm expression as you spoke with the police officer, but she could see the fear in your eyes. 

“She’s undeterred.” Mulder sighed. “I told her to take a step back from the case, but we both know that’s not going to happen.” 

“I could say the same thing about you.” Scully pointed out. “He did tie a mutilated fox to her door.” 

“He made it pretty clear that I’m already a target. Now she’s one too.” He looked over to you with worried eyes and Scully put a hand on his arm. 

“This isn’t your fault, Mulder.” Her tone was almost disbelieving. Mulder was always so sure of his actions. It was rare to see him scared. He turned back to her grave gaze and shrugged her hand away. 

“I better get some of her things.” 

-

Neither of you said much on the ride over to his apartment. You could tell how much this was eating at him, but you were afraid your voice would give away your fear. When he parked, his hand still on the gear shift, his eyes shifted nervously to the building. You put your hand on top of his. 

“Mulder…” You took a deep breath. “I may not know exactly what’s going on in that head of yours, but I know that you’re blaming yourself for all of this.” You moved your hand to rest on his cheek. “You have to know that it isn’t. This is just the work of a psychopath who managed to escape. Without you, they wouldn’t have caught him to begin with. You saved god knows how many people from becoming future victims.” 

“But now he’s out and he’s added you to the list.” Mulder argued. His green blue eyes determinedly looked anywhere but you, as if staring out at the street would conjure Sange. You turned his face towards you and kissed him. Fox was hesitant at first, wanting to keep his guard up, but he melted everytime you pressed your lips to his. You pulled back, happy to see that his eyes were focused on you alone. 

“Fox, I-” A loud crash from outside the car put both of you on edge again. You both grabbed your weapons and stepped out of the car, nerves on high alert. 

“Y/N, go up to my apartment and lock the door.” Mulder instructed. “Don’t let anyone in unless it's me.” You nodded and quickly went inside, looking back to see him disappear around a corner into an alleyway. 

Mulder kept his gun out in front of him, cautiously walking down the alley to follow the sound of the crash. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, his heart racing with anticipation as the moving form became more visible. He lowered his weapon as a stray cat emerged from the trash can it had knocked over. He shooed it away, irritated with his own paranoia. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until Sange was behind bars or in the ground. 

Walking up the steps to his apartment, his feet felt heavier. As if his body could sense something his brain couldn’t. He started to unlock his door when he saw the piece of paper taped just above the apartment number. It’s writing was unnervingly perfect, every curve and line as if a machine had written in. 

You didn’t think you were the only fox in the hen house, did you?

He threw the door open and sprinted inside. 

“Y/N!” He shouted his eyes scanning his rooms wildly. “Y/N!” It didn’t matter how many times he called out. You were gone. 

-

Your head throbbed as you opened your eyes, dried blood covering your ear from where Sange had hit you. Sange. You used any strength you could muster to stand, though the room you were in was only big enough for you to crouch. It looked like you were inside of a wall. There was a scraping sound and a brick pulled away, revealing a pair of beady black eyes. For a moment, you could have sworn you saw them turn red. 

“Hello little chickadee.” He drawled. You shuttered as his eyes scanned over you, licking his lips. 

“Stay the hell away from me.” You spat, pressing yourself against the back wall. 

“Frightened little thing.” He ran his finger back and forth across the bricks. You took a deep breath and stood taller. 

“I am not scared of you.” You’d been dealing psychos like him your whole career. You’d seen things you could never explain and you had faced conspiracies that threatened the whole of the human race. He clicked his tongue. 

“I appreciate your spirit. It makes things more interesting.” He walked around the room on the other side of the wall and you could hear a shuffle of metallic clicks. You slowly crept closing to the opening, peaking out into the other room. He was cleaning a collection of rifles, all sitting neatly on a table. “I know you’ve been reading your Mulder’s files on me. What conclusions have you drawn?” 

“The same as everyone. You’re a cannibalistic psychopath. A Gentleman's Hannibal.” 

“Why do you think the papers gave me that name?” 

“I didn’t think to look.” You spat. He was toying with you. He looked up at you with a smirk. 

“It’s because I treat my kills like a fox hunt. You know, when men of high society would gather on horseback, unleash the dogs, and track the animal.” He aimed a rifle at you and you stumbled backwards. He chuckled. “You, my dear, are the fox. And so were all the others. I used to have a large property with acres upon acres of forest. It was beautiful.” His voice trailed off.

“I heard it was turned into a strip mall.” You snarked. He banged his hand against the wall, making you jump.

“Thanks to Agent Mulder, we’ll have to make other plans.” He shoved the brick back into place, leaving you in the dark.

-

Mulder was rifling through file after file hoping- praying- that something would give him a clue as to where Sange had taken you. Properties that he still owned, people he was close to, any abandoned buildings in the area. Nothing. 

“Damn it!” He screamed, knocking every paper off of his desk. Scully hesitated to knock, but figured it was better than just leaving him alone. 

“Mulder?” She knocked on the door and waited for a response. 

“Come in.” His voice was small. Defeated. He was kneeling down, gathering the papers back up. He couldn’t bring himself to look up.  “He took her.” 

“I know.” Scully sighed. She held an envelope in her hands. Maybe this wasn’t a good time. She had made sure no one else had seen it, but she didn’t even know if it was from Sange. It was just left at her apartment. No name. No address. Nothing. 

“What is it?” Mulder asked, finally looking at her. His face was stained with tears. He was really scared of this guy. She showed him the envelope. 

“I went home to clear my head and I found this tucked under my door.” She explained. “I don’t know if it’s from-” Mulder tore it from her hands and ripped it open. Inside, was a small note and something else. 

“Release the hounds, Agent Scully.” He read, the words burning into his brain. He threw the note onto his desk. “The hunt has begun.” 

“What else is in the envelope?” She asked, but she immediately wished she hadn’t. She felt sick as Mulder dumped the contents into his hand. A bloody, matted chunk of Y/N’s hair.

[dogboy-willgraham]

"You are the dumbest smart person I know,"

Hannibal needs someone to tell him there are better and easier ways so malewife mansplain manipulate your crush.

-

"Please get off my counter Daniel,"

Daniel shrugged and didn't get off the counter. Hannibal sighed and pushed them over, giving him room to work.

"So, how was the not-date-not-therapy with Will?" Daniel asked, not looking up from their book.

"It was fine," Hannibal said, unpacking the thawed arm from it's paper wrap.

Daniel looked over at the limb. "Who's that? I'd say my prof but he definitely does not shave,"

"is your professor rude?" Hannibal asked.

"No, but that's just me. A good chunk of people are dicks in your head Hanni," Daniel shrugged. "I mean I'm pretty sure he's cheating on his wife with the Russian lit professor, but that's not my business right now,"

Hannibal gave them a look. "And what might be his address?"

Daniel thought for a moment. "I'll tell you if you tell me why you sound weird about your not-date-not-therapy with Will,"

"I don't sound 'weird'," Hannibal said.

"Oh yeah," Daniel smiled. "You need fancy words. Hm, how does "You sound absolutely unwonted my dear," sound?"

Hannibal took a heavy backed knife from the block and gave Daniel a look.

"Calm yourself stag man," Daniel sighed. "Just wanted to know if you were having beau troubles. I have a girlfriend and I read the sparknotes for the Twilight Saga in highschool I know a thing or two about romance,"

Hannibal sighed and stabbed the knife through the arm. "Will has encephalitis,"

Daniel's face dropped. "Oh, uh, fuck. Does...he know what he's going to do about it? Uh, something like that? Is he okay?"

"He doesn't know,"

"What?" Daniel set their book aside. "He doesn't know? What do you mean?"

"I haven't told him," Hannibal said. "He's been unwell mentally as of late, much is still psychological, but what isn't is physical. If he finds out I will no longer be necessary. He will leave, and I will be alone,"

Daniel breathed deeply, rubbing their temples. "Hannibal, I love you, or at least I enjoy staying at yours and eating your food. That is why I must, with the most heart and soul I can muster from the broken pieces, that you are the dumbest smart person I have ever known. And my best friend is a microbiology major who forgot his niece at the 7-11,"

Hannibal growled and pulled the knife from the arm and pointed it at Daniel's neck. "I would suggest you watch your tongue Daniel, I have a dish I've been meaning to prepare that requires cow tongue,"

"Oh hush up," Daniel pushed the knife away. "You wouldn't kill me, who else would partake in your strange literary references?"

Hannibal frowned and set the knife down. "Fine,"

"Look, I won't stop you from doing your house husband-manipulation scheme, whatever your plan is," Daniel said, their hands fluttering. "It's not my place to tell you what reasons you should have for manipulating your boyfriend. But have some sense, Will's going to murder one day or another at this rate, make him only trust you with that. Positive reinforcement works better, proven fact. Train your mongoose to run to you when he massacres the chicken coop. He loves you Hannibal, he won't leave, not forever. The red string of fate is around your necks, don't hang yourself so soon. Be smart, like you are, okay?"

Hannibal sighed. "Fine,"

"Thank you. Now, what are you making?"

[kaciefaithkress]

I haven’t written fan fiction in 5 years, but I tried this out with Hannibal. My instinct was Hannibal owning the flower shop and Will owning the tattoo parlor, so I had to reverse them. It turned out embarrassingly bad but you know what? I’m sharing it anyway because soon I’m going to have to let quite a few people read my novel & critique it, so I need practice in sharing my shit. Here you go!

In the four years he had owned the flower shop, Will Graham had made it a point never to enter the tattoo parlor next door.

But tonight, he couldn’t stand it any longer.

And so he found himself in the abrupt glare of a dim red light, a cramped lobby sprawled around him—cases of jewelry with glass sides reflecting the crimson glare, a fluid gold modern art sculpture devouring one wall, and paint a shade of navy too rich and cultured to suit this kind place. A threshold yawned ahead, half concealed by a tied up velvet curtain.

And behind it—a man.

Or a corner of him, a silhouetted angle that gave the suggestion of a shoulder, an arm lifted with an ink gun in hand. A disembodied, accented voice, saying, “The body is a work of art. A sculpture, created in layers.” The silhouette lifted its subject’s hand—splayed its fingers as if studying the palm. “The vascular system. The polyps of each lung. The ventricles, keeping a steady rhythm. An orchestra, a painting. Veins in shades of lilac, blood that moves like a river. This—what we do...” The ink gun buzzed as if in answer, the silhouette pausing for a breath as if to savor the drama of its own words. “...is honor it.”

The shadow stilled, and Will felt it catch sight of him.

“One moment,” the voice murmured—German, perhaps, or Danish, the tone refined.

The silhouette rose, Will’s heart stuttering with something like fear as it came toward him. The shadow broke and reformed, melting from the darkness as if it was crafted of it, red light gilding one high cheekbone, one set of knuckles, arms crossed and a lithe body leaned back against the doorframe.

“Can I help you?”

A moment passed, and Will dragged a single word up from the hollow of his chest, through the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

An angular face. Beautiful, in the way of an ancient statue. One brow raised, challenging.

“The music,” Will said flatly, feeling stupid. He pointed towards the speaker in the corner of the ceiling, blasting music—classical, for some reason. “Noise ordinances.”

The tattoo artist pushed off the wall and moved towards the check-out counter. Will watched him move, matching the name to the man. Hannibal Lecter. He knew it only from the mail being mixed up a time or two, and he disliked the way it fit in his mouth—too many syllables caught on the tongue, all consonants. All angles.

“Will Graham,” Hannibal said—as if he’d read Will’s thoughts and heard his own name. As if he, too, was testing Will’s name—ans be savored the taste of it.

He produced a thick envelope from behind the counter, holding it out.

Will’s gaze caught first on the piece of mail—his name, his address—and second on the vein twining around Hannibal’s arm, brought into sharp relief by the faint light. Made eerie by the echo of Hannibal’s words. The body is a work of art.

Will reached across the inky sea of space, his fingers closing around the coarse paper.

“So you don’t like the noise,” Hannibal mused, moving again, pianist’s fingers rolling restlessly. He switched off the speakers and looked up suddenly, questioning, “Even though it is beautiful noise?”

He had a thoughtful way of questioning, like a surgeon picking apart sinews. And curious eyes, keen as blades.

Will found himself both drawn to and repulsed by it. By him. Too close, too clever, and yet Hannibal seemed to exist outside of the usual way of things, just as Will did. No small talk, no niceties. Just one soul morbidly curious about another.

When Will didn’t answer, Hannibal tossed out another question. “How did you become a florist?”

This one felt more like an offering, less like an accusation.

“Plants make sense to me,” Will said, turning away from that searing eye contact and perusing the array of tattoo designs on the wall. “You give them what they need and they grow. You tend to them, and they bloom. You cut them—“ With this, he turned back to Hannibal, mirroring that strange syntax—that careful pause. Just to see if Hannibal would notice. “And they wither.”

Hannibal gave a small, satisfied smile. Yes, he’d noticed. And he spoke again, carrying on with the game. “Plants are like people,” he answered. “And you hold their lives in your hands. Do you imagine yourself their god?”

“Plants have no god,” Will answered—a little too quickly, a little too sharply, losing the rhythm of the game.

That small smile played at Hannibal’s lips again, edged in victory. “In that way perhaps they are wiser than people.”

“Perhaps.” Will pushed his glasses back up, raising one finger to trace the line of a particular design—a crown made of bones. He twisted back to face Hannibal, returning the question. “How did you get into this line of work?”

Hannibal’s chuckle skittered across the air, soft and dark as the lighting. “Art school does not yield many lucrative careers.” The ink gun buzzed as he flipped it on, testing it. “Except this one.”

He breezed by Will, returning to the darkness— to his subject and his art, gone without so much as a goodbye.

[chibi-tofu]

Hearts In Boxes

A Very Hannibal Christmas AU

(Domestic Hannigram. Stealing each others clothes. Awful Christmas Puns. Doggos. Hannibal being a shit. Will being a flirt. An apology. SO MANY BOXES. Mainly fluff and a bit of smut.)

Hannibal stretches out Will's shirt and has to apologize. V cute.

Crop Top Hannibal.

(Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, kinda new to writing.)

-----

December.

Hannibal started noticing his winter wardrobe getting smaller bit by bit. Starting in mid October up until the 15th of December, The day he caught Will red handed! Will was making coffee and preparing the dogs’ food and seemed to be wearing a lavender button up. While it seemed slightly big on him, he looked stunning. The fact that he was wearing a silver chain and that the button up was only buttoned halfway distracted Hannibal from registering it was his shirt. The next day Will was wearing a dark navy sweater that he knew would get noticed. As it was the one Hannibal would store in his car for if it got below 45 degrees outside or if he got blood on his current outfit. He was wearing it paired with some ridiculous boxers with dog paw prints on the back while reading by the kitchen counter. Hannibal was amused and decided to play along as he stood in front of Will and put his hands on the counter on either side of him. “Darling, Is that my sweater? It looks rather familiar.” Will smiled and gestured to his torso “This? Is it? I had no idea.” then ran a hand up the side of his lover “Would you like it back? Now? I do have a busy day. Might have to pencil you in.”

Hannibal loved this game. Really, any game where he could make Will laugh. 

So began the Wardrobe Week War.

Hannibal stealing Will’s beanies, Will stealing Hannibal’s ties. Both stealing and hiding each others shoes, then keys, and even any pair of fuzzy socks. Most nights would end with kisses, a few with “Will, This shirt cost more than your entire wardrobe, I’m not going to rip it off you.” 

Hannibal decided to be a shit on the 21st and wear a shirt that was gifted to Will last Christmas. An ugly Christmas sweater shirt that read “Bah Hum-Pug” with pugs running across the bottom of the shirt. It just barely fit his boyfriend, rising up to show a bit of his stomach when he lifted his arms. So when the blonde stretched this shirt onto his torso he expected Will to laugh and retaliate. Will cocked his head and gave a tame half smile then sighed “You’re a dork. What are we making for dinner?” Not much of a reaction, this was strange but he decided not to bombard him with questions. “I was thinking prosciutto roses on watermelon since the two bottles of Batard-Montrachet were delivered yesterday.” Will pouted a bit “Not the most festive, is it?” Hannibal made a slight twirl with his hand as he boasted “I promise you it will taste incredibly festive, he was dressed as Santa after all.” Will shook his head, kissed Hannibal’s cheek, then stood up “Change and meet me in the kitchen, or you’ll have to fight me for the oven.”  

December 23rd.   

Hannibal was busy trying to find a whisk so he could finish the sugar cookie dough as Will sat at the bar and mixed icing colors. Hannibal asked him if he had seen the whisk twice but his beloved seemed to be stuck in an introspective state. He softly rubbed Wills back as he asked “Feeling okay? There’s something lonesome about you, pet.” Will looked tired, bags under his eyes and his hair slightly mussed. He made a small hum in response and continued mixing the food coloring into the icing. Hannibal dipped his finger into one of the small icing bowls and swiped the tip of Will's nose. Will gasped and did the same with a smirk. Hannibal could still feel how shutdown his lover was and decided he’d talk to him before bed. 

Hannibal leaned against the bathroom door frame and looked at will in the mirror “So...Is the silent treatment your solution, Will?” He questioned while undoing his tie. Will was silent for a few beats before replying. “No, stealing all of your damn ties and hiding them around the house is my solution. I just happen to be brushing my teeth and deep in thought about how to kick your ass.” Will smirked and resumed brushing his teeth as his lover continued undressing. “You know, it was only one shirt. I’m sure you’ll steal one of mine as a replacement.” Hannibal walked up behind him and slowly wrapped his arms around his partners frame. “Hannibal. Dear. Darling. You stretched my shirt into a crop top. It’s rude. If I recall you have a saying about those who are rude.” He smirked and squeezed Will ever so slightly in his arms then lowering his voice stated “Are you planning to eat me, Will?” “Not with utensils.” Will teased. He spit then swished with mouthwash before turning around in Hannibal’s arms. “I’m alright, just tired...and you ruined one of my favorite shirts.” he teased “I just need to sleep it off.” he pulled Hannibal into a hug and felt his boyfriend kiss his neck. A muffled “Come to bed my sweet.” was the last full sentence uttered before they shuffled off to their bed.  

December 24th.

As Hannibal closed the oven after checking on his sugar cookies he heard a sigh. He could barely hide his smile for how his partner in crime was pouting around the apartment. The brunette was stringing the Christmas lights around the tree and huffing every few minutes. He watched as Will disappeared behind the tree and decided to give him some Christmas spirit. He quietly padded to their room while six wagging tails followed him, nearly blowing his cover. After a few minutes of putting together his surprise he collected two items from the bedroom closet then slid into the kitchen. Grabbing two sugar cookies from his first batch, the ones with snowmen on them, he led his troop of fuzzy step children into the family room.

As Will was hanging Hannibal’s ties around the tree he paused when presented with six fuzzy children wearing velvet red collars with little silver bells attached to them. “It seems you have resting Grinch face Will.” The shorter man grimaced and chuckled “Where did you even hear that?” Seeing that his plan is starting to work the blonde stepped a bit closer with his hands behind his back. “The younger detectives use slang around crime scenes. Possibly inappropriate but incredibly entertaining. I’ve also heard the term Velvet Daddy.” Will laughed out of surprise “Please NEVER say that again. Is this you apologizing?” Hannibal sheepishly took another step forward and softly put antlers attached to a headband onto Will’s head. “This is only the first part, the next piece of my apology comes tomorrow. But I thought you might indulge me and our children?” He pulled out his phone  “Take a Christmas card worthy photo with us?” He pulled Will in close and softly kissed his cheeks. “I could put a splatter of blood on our sweaters just for fun.” Will whispered just inches from the blondes lips. “A beautiful idea darling, but where would we get the blood?” Words could no longer be heard over their heartbeats becoming collectively louder. They kissed softly, Hannibal’s face held in Will's hands, while his hands were around the shorter mans back grabbing his shirt with a bit of urgency. 

A few jingles and an adorably loud whiny yawn made them laugh into the kiss. They let go of each other and got ready for the pictures, Hannibal put on a matching set of antlers, and Will got the picture timer set up then grabbed a few dog treats. They ended up laying on their stomachs on the floor with the dogs, the phone took three quick photos. In the first one they were all smiling at the camera while the two men held hands and the second was the same but now the men were looking at each other preparing for chaos. Right before the third was taken Will smiled, counted to three, and said “Go!”. They giggled when they saw the last photo, The children were looking up and even some mid jump as they scrambled to catch the treats the men threw into the air. 

“One more, just you and me?” Will rolled his eyes but held the camera up and was about to snap the picture when his lover shoved a sugar cookie into his mouth. His look of surprise deemed adorable next to Hannibal’s look of pure love and joy in a smile as he held one with a bite already taken out of it up next to him.  

December 25th.

Hannibal was the first to stir as Will unconsciously squeezed his hand. He stared at his person for a bit, just admiring how sweet and relaxed he looked as he slept. He rolled onto his stomach and partly onto Will. He started kissing up Will's side and then his chest, he paused briefly as a hand gently ran through his hair. “Good Morning. Did you sleep well?” Will raised an eyebrow as he remembered just how well the apology wound up going last night “Good Morning, Velvet Daddy.”  he giggled and pulled Hannibal up to kiss him “Yes I slept well, did you?” Hannibal whispered “I slept well, but call me Daddy again and I’ll make sure this night is sleepless.” Will bit Hannibal’s lip “Is that a threat or a promise?” Hannibal got inches from Will’s lips then put his hand around his throat. “Oh darling, It’s the most fun when it’s both.”

About an hour and a half later the two appeared downstairs to make breakfast. Will made coffee as Hannibal grabbed a Labrador sized present “I want you to open this one before we cook.” Will rolled his eyes lovingly “Before food, Hm? Must be good.” He shook it lightly then tore through the shinny red wrapping and opened the box to revel...another box wrapped in the same red wrapping paper. Will tilted his head at his lover but Hannibal just sipped his coffee with a big grin. He picked up the next box and tore the paper again to revel...yet another box. He could since where this was going but repeated the steps again to revel...another. fucking. box. This continued for about fifteen more boxes and will had now been doing this for ten minutes. The boxes were now medium small and he could hold them in both hands. He suspected there were about seven boxes left. He was off by two. 

It had now been fifteen minutes. By this point Will had chugged a cup and a half of coffee, was now sitting on the couch next to Hannibal, and the dogs had begun playing in the mountain of wrapping paper. He had finally reached the last box, wrapped in black matte paper with a metallic silver tag. Will beamed as he read the tag “Beloved.” and the noticed a small black heart at the end that was slightly smudged. He carefully unwrapped and opened the box. Sitting in a deep red velvet pocket was a beautiful pocket knife, the handle made of bone. Engraved on one side of the blade was Will and other side Hannibal . Will teared up a bit and chuckled as he quipped “If you eat me on Christmas, Who will tell the dogs you miss them when you’re at work?” Hannibal put the knife back in the box on the table then took Wills face in his hands “I’m not going to eat you Will, Well not with utensils anyway.” Will snorted as Hannibal smirked. “Our names are on both sides to symbolize we are two sides of the same coin, or knife in this case. We are the same. You are my Beloved.” 

Will kissed him hard and pulled him close. His nails dug into Hannibal’s sides claiming him as hard as the kiss. “Beloved, Huh? “ Hannibal nodded “Is it as good as Velvet Daddy?” Will laughed hard “PLEASE stop saying that.” “Maybe after Christmas?” Will blew out a puff of air “Finnee. Who gave you the box full of boxes idea?” Hannibal shook his head and scoffed “You’d kill them and me.” Will picked up the pocket knife and put the tip gently against Hannibal’s chest. “Would you like to go first?” Hannibal kissed him deeply and grabbed the knife

 “Where would the fun be in that?”

Happy Holidays Fanibals.               

[bisexualcrowley]

Breathe

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x Fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n turns to Frederick in the middle of a severe panic attack, and he guides her through it

Content/warnings: Panic attack, breathing troubles, unsafe driving, hurt/comfort, established relationship, end is hella fluffy

Word count: 1,584

Your eyes widened in horror at the sight before you, frozen in shock behind the window. You had headed up to the observatory on an anonymous tip sent to the FBI, saying that a figure had been seen carrying something suspicious into the building late at night. It was still dark when you arrived, and you used that to your advantage, parking a block away and sneaking in the shadows up to the building. Seeing a dull light through one of the smaller side windows, you stopped, silently loading your weapon and approaching the window. 

Working alongside Will on the ripper case had forced you to prepare for the worst, but nothing could have prepared you for the sight inside the observatory.

Your hand clamped over your mouth to stifle a scream, knees buckling under you as you watched the horror inside. Dr Hannibal Lector, someone you had considered a good friend, had the frozen body of your coworker Beverly Katz laid out on a table in front of him, slowly sawing her into pieces. Shaking, you pulled out your camera and snapped picture after picture of the horrific scene before the panic fully set in.

Your brain shot into overdrive, stumbling backwards in a frantic attempt to get away before he saw you, slipping on the icy ground as you sprinted back towards your car. You threw open the door, falling into the seat and slammed your foot down on the gas pedal, car shooting forward and away from the scene.

You drove frantically, heart racing and praying that Hannibal didn’t see you, car speeding down the highway.

A sob escaped your throat, hands white knuckling the steering wheel as you sped around a corner, finding yourself at your boyfriend Frederick’s house. A voice in the back of your mind was telling you you shouldn’t have come here, the two of you hadn’t been dating long enough and he shouldn’t be dragged into this, but the thought was drowned out, the buzzing of the saw cutting apart your friend replaying over and over in your mind, and you stumbled out of the car, heart pounding as you scrambled up the steps and slammed your fist against the door, over and over and over. You weren’t sure how long you stood there, banging on the wood until your hands were bleeding. Finally you heard footsteps from inside, rapidly approaching the door, and you had the sense to step backwards, seconds later to be met with a sleepy and confused Frederick.

He was dressed in gray pajama pants and a white t-shirt, covered by a loosely tied blue silk robe, something you at any other time would have found comforting in contrast to his usually so put together appearance, but tonight exacerbated your feelings of dread

His eyes widened in shock at the sight on his porch, ushering you into his house and locking the door behind you. 

“Sweetheart what happened? Come on, talk to me, are you ok?” 

Frederick’s voice was quiet, hoarse from sleep, but with an unmistakable note of concern, and that’s when you lost it, collapsing against a cabinet and sliding to the floor, hands pulling at your hair as shuddering sobs wracked your body.

Frederick was at your side immediately, murmuring soft words of comfort and untangling your fingers from your hair, not wanting you to hurt yourself.

“F- fre- fred it- h- hanib- ha- hannibal- h- he- b-bev- beverly-”

Your words came out in panicked gasps, rocking back and forth on the floor, hands pulling at your hair again.

“Shhhhh, shh shh shh, it’s ok sweetheart, don’t talk, you’re ok, everything's ok. Just breathe, you’re ok” Frederick’s voice was soft, even after you cried out and slapped him at his attempt to put an arm around your shoulders, him settling at a close but not smothering distance after.

You sobbed even harder, choking as your throat tightened, gasping for air while trying desperately to get the images of Beverly out of your mind.

Everything was coming in waves now, nausea mixing with the panic, pain, grief, it was overloading your brain, all there was was death, pain, murder, pain. Your chest tightened more, hyperventilating, desperately trying to draw air into your lungs, but the effort proving futile.

Your eyes widened in fear, fingers coming down to yank at your shirt’s collar in another useless attempt to free your airway, and Chilton swore under his breath, flying forward and helping to loosen your constricting clothing.

“Shit shit shit, deep breaths honey, we gotta calm down a bit, ok?” Frederick moved to your side once more, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead, wincing at how you trembled beneath him.

You tried desperately to calm yourself, but each attempt making it worse. Your gasps turned into wheezing, head lolling downwards as your lips began to turn blue

“Fucking shit, oh god, cm’mere sweetheart, i’m gonna get behind you, ok? I’m not gonna hurt you, i gotta help you”

Frederick scrambled to get behind you when you gave a frantic nod of agreement, chest heaving painfully as tears began to fall again, and sucking in a desperate breath as Chilton tucked a hand under your chin and tilted your head back, freeing your airway slightly

“Sweetheart i need you to focus on my breathing, ok? Keep your back to my chest, and try to match me when i take a breath, alright? ”

His left hand came to rest just below your right shoulder, holding you securely against him as he took slow, deliberate breaths, chest rising and falling underneath you.

Your arm flew back behind you, fingers finding their way into your boyfriend’s hair, tangling there as you shook, breathing slowing slightly.

“Good job, oh you’re doing so well darling, come on, you can do it, keep breathing with me, deep breaths, there we go” Frederick praised, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

Slowly but surely, your breathing slowed, body untensing until finally each breath you took was taken with Frederick, who sighed in relief and released his hold on your neck, allowing your head to fall backwards to rest against the crook of his neck, your hand dropping from his hair down to rest on his wrist, thumb stroking his hand.

Finally trusting yourself to talk, you opened your mouth to speak, voice coming out a hoarse whisper.

“Freddy i... i saw the ripper. it’s Hannibal Freddy, he got bev... he killed Beverly, Freddy, and i couldn’t do anything, i took pictures but i couldn’t stop him, i-”

Frederick shushed you, wiping the newly fallen tears from your cheeks and shrugging his robe off, pulling it around to tuck the fabric over your shoulders, arms slinging around you to pull you into a hug.

“It’s ok darling... Nothing that happened is your fault, you did so well, going there, taking the pictures... You’re safe with me, y/n, everything’s gonna be ok” Freddy hummed against your ear, arms tightening around your waist. 

“Come on, lets get you cleaned up, ok?” You nodded, sniffling quietly before shakily getting to your feet, Chilton guiding you with gentle movements.

“You’re alright darling, go take a shower while i call Jack, i’ll send him the photos you took and then we can get your hands cleaned up” 

You had forgotten about the damage you had done while at Freddy's door, looking down sheepishly at your bloodied knuckles, but did as he said, taking a hot shower and emerging to find a pair of your boyfriend’s pajamas waiting on the counter for you to put on, and a steaming mug of your favorite tea in the living room, along with Frederick throwing bits of paper into the fireplace from across the room.

He smiled at the sight of you, and you managed a small smile back, taking the mug and tucking yourself into his arms on the couch he was seated on. Neither of you said anything for a while, as if speaking of what had happened would turn it from a hallucination to reality.

“What did jack say?”

You broke the silence with your question, thankful that the tea had soothed your voice enough that the rough edge it had before was almost gone.

Frederick leaned forward to pull a blanket over your entangled bodies, tucking it up around your shoulders and kissing your cheek when you snuggled further into him.

“He said the photos and crime scene were enough for a warrant for Hannibal's arrest. They took him into custody 20 minutes ago, and he says they never would have suspected Hannibal, he would have kept killing if it wasn’t for you”

You nodded, unable to find the right words for the situation, and settled on brushing your lips against Frederick’s and curling up on his lap again.

He smiled down at you, fingers combing through your hair, to which you let out an appreciative hum. 

“Thank you Freddy” You mumbled against his chest, eyelids growing heavy. “for everything”

“Shhhh. Sleep now, darling, it’s been a long night” he whispered, continuing to stroke your hair, eyes glowing with affection at the sight of the sleepy smile you wore on your face, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you, Freddy” 

Your words were barely audible, exhaustion clouding your voice and words muffled by the blanket, but Frederick heard it, and his heart skipped a beat, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“I love you too, Y/n”