#Hannibal is my life and it's so great to see it's not only mine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tnystrk-exe · 4 years ago

Text

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

#hannibal lecter #Hannibal Lecter x reader #reader insert #smut #hannibal #Hannibal nbc #Hannibal x reader

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lady-o-ren · 3 years ago

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My Dearest Disaster

//Jamie Fraser finally meets the girl of his dreams . . . too bad anytime he gets near her disaster strikes and he ends up in the hospital.//

Chapter One //

Chapter Two

Chapter Two ao3 link ( HERE )

Outside Kiko's Cafe, where the air is warm and sweetened with baked delights, Ian Murray sits beside his lovely wife. She's small as a dove yet fierce as a jackal with a heart so big she feels the need to hide it in a snarl.

He's loved her nearly all his life.

"Ye’re just gonna piss him off, Jen," warns Ian, watching his wife text her brother for the fifth time, and takes a sip of his coffee. A pecan roast that makes him want to smack his lips.

“Good. Because if it weren't for that brother of mine being late I wouldn'a have eaten all this,” she scowls, and gestures at the plates stacked atop their table, having gone a bit mad sampling every gooey rich delight that caught her eye. There's even a dab of raspberry curd on the corner of her lips.

Ian smiles and thumbs it away, enjoying the embarrassment coloring Jenny's face.

“Ye ate twice that much when ye woke, mo ghràdh. Enough to put a hog to shame."

Jenny cuts him a murderous look that could bleed the devil but it only makes Ian's smile widen. He wraps an arm around her slight shoulders and leans in close (mindful of her sharp gleaming teeth taking aim for his throat) to brush his mouth against the smooth white shell of her ear and whispers for only her to hear.

“And I need not remind ye what I had either. Ye were wanting seconds if I recall, screamed it loud enough for the whole damn building to hear.”

Before Jenny can sink her teeth to her husband's smug mouth, Jamie comes and plops down in the chair across from them. His eyes are tired and puffy as cotton balls but it's his nose that draws the two Murray's attention, bandaged and anchored by a most unflattering face guard.

"Broke it." The grump says before they can ask. "Guess how.”

Neither of them care. They're both bubbling over with laughter.

"What the hell is on yer face?!"

"Ye look like Hannibal! Fecking Hannibal!"

Jamie rips the guard off, flushed dark as the raspberry curd.

But it's too late. His sister has already taken a picture and is texting away.

“Ye didn't, Jenny?"

“Aye, I did,” she wickedly grins, angling her hand out of her brother's reach. “Sent it to mam too.”

And Ding Ding her phone goes off.

“Christ! What does she have to say?”

“It's Murtagh,” she replies, staring gleefully at the text on the screen.

Jamie drops his head, hands raking through his curls.

“Shite! Now I'll never hear the end of it,” he groans miserably. “Why did ye have to send it to him?”

“I didn't ye big baby, just mam. They've been spending time together over at Lallybroch so he's probably sitting there beside her just now.”

Jamie lifts his head looking puzzled.

“Why’s he wi’ mam?” He asks with the innocence of a child.

Ian shakes his head.

“Don't tell him, Jen.”

“What?” Jamie's eyes dash back and forth between them. “Is mam sick?”

Jenny sighs and Ian chuckles into her velvety hair.

“No.” She shakes her head, looking fondly at her brother. “ She's just as clueless as you. So what happened to ye? That girl again?”

Jamie huffs. Thoughts of his godfather spending time with his mother forgotten.

“She's more than that. I haven’t figured out what but I ken she's cursed. Because this -” He points to his nose. “Isn’t normal. I dinna ken how much more I can take. What more can be done to me short of death.”

Though she thinks her brother is being a bit dramatic, Jenny crooks her finger, calling Jamie to her like a mistreated pup and carefully takes his chin in her hand.

“Was it just the nose, bràthair?” She asks, sounding a great deal more sympathetic.

“Aye, phiuthar,” he answers back, and she lets him go with a sweet caress of his cheek followed by a wee playful smack that makes him smile crookedly.

“And a lucky thing too. See, it was the middle of the night and I heard this pounding. . .”

After Jamie finishes telling his tale of woe, he slumps down into his chair, exhausted from having to live through it all again.

“Ye do have the worst luck wi’ women, Jamie. I always wondered why. ” Jenny leans forward with her chin in hand, frowning at him.

“At least she's nothing like Laoghaire Mackenzie.” Ian points out.

Jamie shivers, feeling an eerie chill crawl up his spine.

Laoghaire Mackenzie was a girl he spoke to once in passing in the schoolyard as a lad and she had latched onto him like a leech up until . . .

“Is she still in Wentworth Asylum?”

“Of course she is,” says Jenny. “She danced naked at auld Craigh na Dun begging the devil to have ye fall in love wi’ her. Even sacrificed a fecking squirrel on an altar to seal the deal.”

“I heard it was a toad," says Jamie. "Puir wee shite.”

Jenny continues. “Remember when mam caught her sprinkling horse shite at our front door? I still haven't figured out why.”

“Are ye sure it was horse shite?” Ian grins, and Jenny rolls her eyes.

“It was horse shite," Jamie mutters. "I would know. I stepped in it.”

He then points a finger at his sister, glaring at her.

” And ye laughed at me, Jenny. Even when I told ye she'd been stalking me ye cackled yer wee arse off and said to either sleep wi’ our grandda’s dirk under my pillow or change my name and head to France.”

Jenny slaps her brother's finger making him yelp.

“Weel, how was I to ken the wee loony would be summoning the devil a week later.”

“The wee toad sure didn't.”

Both brother and sister groan at Ian's joke but it's enough to dispel the tension.

“So what did ye two want to talk to me about anyway? Going off again?”

The Murray's had been traveling to every port they could manage since the moment they married almost a year ago and had only been back in Scotland a few months since.

Jenny takes a deep breath and locks lovesick eyes with Ian, grabbing his hand. Wedding bands shining.

“No, not for a good while, no.”

Jamie brightens. Though his sister could be a thorn in his arse he'd missed her and Ian terribly.

“See the thing is -”

“Ye’re the first person we wanted to tell -”

Both Murray's exchange an excited glance with each other before Jenny knocks her brother's heart from his chest in one gesture of her hand that flutters to her belly.

Jamie's throat bobs.

“Ye’re going to be a mam, Jenny?”

She nods excitedly, grinning madly with joy. “Aye, and we wanted to name the wee one after ye, dear bhràthair. No matter if it's a girl or boy, if ye dinna mind.”

Jamie's eyes gloss over feeling his chest swell. He has to blink to keep them from stinging.

“Christ! I'd be honored! But why me?”

Jenny reaches across the table and takes her brother's big hand in both her own.

“Believe it or not, Jamie, I love ye something awful. We both do."

Then, because she's an older sister, Jenny can't help but add -

"And ye'll be needing a namesake if that lass of yers kills ye before ye can sire one yerself and -"

She squeals when Jamie squeezes her hands and leans over the table, expecting the absolute worst. But he only kisses her softly on her forehead, careful with his injured nose.

"I love ye something awful too, Jenny.”

A/N: The chapters for this fic are written and finished. I tried writing it like chapter one, real quick and fast and short and dumb, so hopefully it all works and nothing reads too ooc.

*Kiko's Cafe is named after my cat and also a little nod to Kiki's Delivery Service.

#I'm scared to death over people reading this for some reason. Does it suck? Is it shit?)#jamie x claire #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #outlander fic #outlander #gobbledygook writing

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ghostdrinkssoup · 3 years ago

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hi! i’m kinda new to hannibal despite it being on my watchlist for six years sdfjsjhd. i still have three eps left till the end of the series and even though i already know what happens, i wanted to ask you - what did you feel when you watched the finale for the first time? were you surprised??

ps. i think your blog is really neat :)

hello and thank you !! dw I’m still pretty new to hannibal too, I first watched it in january I believe? but I’d been meaning to for AGES I’m such a fan of gothic horror + my film lecturer at uni liked a short I made in class (had to film a stalking scene using horror elements) and he was like “you should watch more horror stuff, it might help” and boom, here I am :D

anyway to answer your question: I really love twotl and how s3 was written in general !! the build up felt super solid and natural to me because will and hannibal’s arcs were super consistent throughout, especially will’s tbh. I talked to a friend of mine irl about it and she wasn’t a fan of his corruption, but personally I was so glad they went there with his character. his morality was the focal point of the whole show, and has been since the beginning, and as much as the external plot goal of catching the minnesota shrike, and then eventually the copycat killer/the chesapeake ripper, is what drives the story, the internal plot question (and interwoven character arc) is really an exploration of the nature of will’s empathy and ability to connect with psychopaths, and how that affects his identity and sense of self. so even though he eventually catches hannibal, s3b works because the question the story raised in s1 still hasn’t been answered. at first I was worried imprisoning hannibal was going to be a bad move story-wise because it resolves the plot goal before wrapping up the character arc, but was pleasantly surprised with how well it all worked. I think it has to do with the choice to have hannibal turn himself in rather than have will capture him directly, because that way they’re still in some sort of power struggle (“hannibal has agency in the world” and all that)

I think it’s why twotl hits so hard, because after all this time, and after all the ways these two have tried to hurt each other and free themselves of the other’s influence, whether it be because of hatred, or worse, because of love, they’re unable to end the conflict. and the audience knows that because we see them try over and over, and it just doesn’t work. in the end, a mutual surrendering to whatever they’re becoming seems to be the only solution. and it’s not even advantageous for either of them, like will tells bedelia that breaking hannibal out of prison isn’t some attempt to manipulate the situation to his advantage, it’s just “degrees of disadvantage” which makes sense because if he sets hannibal free he loses his family, his life, any shred of morality he has left, etc (“he who holds the devil, hold him well. he will not be caught a second time” / “I don’t intend for hannibal to be caught a second time”). and it’s great because it’s not a win for hannibal, either. “my compassion for you is inconvenient” evidences this well enough. it would be easier for him to kill will, and he could do it if he wanted to, but he just can’t. and it’s all just so satisfying because it makes sense. neither of these characters were set-up for moral redemption, so it feels right for their story to be tragic, and yet everything about it is so twisted and complicated and human, you know? they’re both so different by the end, and finally equal within their power play

and I was very fond of the ambiguity of the ending !! you could interpret the fall as purely metaphorical (fall from grace and into corruption) or it could be literal, or both. if you think they died at the end and bedelia cut off her own leg, only for them not to show up, that’s a valid (and wonderfully ironic) interpretation. if you think they survived and are now hunting together (with bedelia being their first victim) then that’s also equally valid. I think for a show that had to end due to cancellation, the creators made the right choice to leave the finale up to the audience to decide. it’s why I’m still unsure if I want a s4 because the story feels so complete? but I’m definitely not against it either if it ever gets picked up again :)

omg I ranted and wrote a whole essay response for you NDBSJHD this was fun though !! and I hope you enjoy watching the final episodes yourself :DD feel free to share your thoughts after if you want, I’m always interested to hear different interpretations !!

#I was actually thinking about the finale today so this gave me an excuse to write a post about it LMAO #twotl my BELOVED #killing eve wanted to do the tragic operatic ending soooo bad but didn’t build up to it at all #like the arcs don’t even support that type of ending #but that’s a rant for another post <3 which is currently sitting in my drafts #thanks for the ask!#ask response #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannigram #will graham #hannibal meta #ghost speaks

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aschlindartroom · 2 years ago

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Hey, how are you doing? How was your day? <3

Just came here for asking about your inspiration for Second Serpent and some sci-fi book recs if you have any. I'm in dire need for those, so I figured if I'd like to read something like your story the best thing is coming to you for some recommendation hehe.

Well, hello there! My day yesterday was fab and my day today is also fab (and so, so lazy).

Honestly, I'mma have to disappoint you. I'm not a huge sci-fi reader. Science fantasy/cosmic horror is more in my wheelhouse, and even then, a lot of my favorite inspirations are movies and television shows. I do not read nearly as much as I should these days (unless you include Hannibal fanfic and webtoons, god help me).

Here are some science-fiction/science-fantasy works that I can credit for giving me Second Serpent inspiration. Typically, they'll include soft "magic" systems that are somehow that are explored through science and experimentation, and probably some horror elements too.

Evangelion (anime): One of the first animes I ever watched (6th/7th grade), and instantly a favorite of mine that I still revisit today. It felt like Hideaki Anno had reached into my brain and pulled out all the stuff I liked at the time, then spread it all out for me to see. Post-apocalyptic world, kaiju, occult references, existential dread, aliens, haunting visuals, etc. Honestly, I should not have been watching Eva at such a young age, but it was EXACTLY the kind of media I craved.

Arcane (animated): I was told by a friend that Arcane might be a comp title for Second Serpent WHICH IS THE HIGHEST HONOR, FRANKLY. This show's got a plot almost entirely driven by its fantastic characters. It's got tiered cities, political gameplaying, developing technology, etc. Seriously its one of the best things I've ever watched so if you haven't seen it, check it out.

The Dark Tower Series (novels): ...I have a beef with how Stephen King writes women. That being said, I started reading this series in 6th grade (again, way too young), and it absolutely floored me. Basically, a "gunslinger" (read knight, read warrior, read academic) is on a mission to find the Dark Tower, the source of life and stability in all universes. Something is very wrong with it-- like, "decaying universes like the Nothing from Neverending Story" wrong. It's destroyed Roland's home world, and he intends to either reverse what has happened or stop it from happening further. I LOVE how this series portrays time-space anomalies. We've got doorways into other worlds, a cool take on fate and destiny, and really engaging characters (for the most part). Eddie Dean is my love.

The first three are great and they go downhill from there, sadly (except Wolves of Calla... that book is dope).

Even Horizon (movie): I only mention this one because it's been on the brain lately. It's not an excellent movie, but it's Hellraiser in space, and tells a story about what happens when we fuck with tech we don't understand. I honestly think about this movie a little too much.

Gosh I could list so many others. Another place you might look for inspiration or good stories are indie horror games, which usually have cool sci-fi elements. I'm thinking Iron Lung, Human, Discover My Body... I dunno. I could go on forever.

I'M ENDING THIS POST NOW.

#my recs #lol this answer is way longer than I intended it to be #whatever #take it

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phantomato · 3 years ago

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Five Tom Riddle Crossover Fics to Read

Tom Riddle is a difficult character to ship. For those of us who want to see pairings beyond the Big Two (Tomarry and Tomione), canonical options peter out relatively quickly. Sure, we can invent our own pairings by fleshing out side characters, but sometimes, the itch is best scratched by borrowing from another canon.

And it makes sense for Tom more than nearly anyone else in HP. Tom was born into an era that is the subject of so much literature, so it’s easy to find another person kicking around postwar Europe if that’s your goal. He’s an archetypal character, the villain seeking immortality, and can be matched against other villains with the same aims. Hell, even his quest to recover lost artifacts turns into the basis for two of these works—Tom Riddle has the perfect combination of a recognizable context and character model, plus the ambiguity of his canon timeline, to slot him alongside so many other fictional figures.

I want to pause on some of these themes for a second. Immortality or relationship to age, for one, is something that comes up in three of these pairings: the Darkling and Koschei the Deathless are both immortal characters in their own canons, and Edmund Pevensie is not immortal but has aged and de-aged repeatedly in his travels to and from Narnia. The HP series doesn’t give us nearly this wealth of different perspectives on age and immortality, which is fair—HP makes it clear that immortality is unnatural and undesirable, and Flamel is notably a ‘good person’ because of his willingness to accept his own death—but for a character as obsessed with the idea as Tom, some emotions can only be explored when you match him with another character who has a complicated relationship to aging. Even someone like Indiana Jones, not immortal and not trying to be, has an interesting perspective to bring to a story because he has seen so many other quests for power gone terribly awry.

Of course, the other thing we get from crossover pairings is the ability to match Tom with a villainous character. And whether you’re a fan of conflict at the start of a relationship or not, I think there’s something to be found in putting two villains together: moral arguments, when they exist, are rarely about whether death is necessary but about what kinds of death are best used when; the entire concept of either a redemption arc or a breaking bad arc can be thrown out a window. It’s a space wherein our two villains are allowed to be themselves, and the reveal of the extent of each character’s villainy becomes a strange form of celebration. This is challenging to achieve if one sticks to HP canon alone, whereas crossovers are a fruitful space.

My selection methodology was to read every crossover fic with a clear focus on Tom Riddle or Voldemort on AO3. I found crossover pairings by visiting the meta pages for the Tom Riddle, Voldemort, and Tom Riddle | Voldemort tags—I may have missed some pairings for Tom Riddle, as the character has over 300 child relationship tags and AO3 cuts off at 300 displayed. If you know of any ships I missed and should check out, do tell! I’ll also make a note here that one of these fics is my own—if self-recs bother you, skip Bluebird.

The following five fics are ordered by wordcount. Let me know what you think!

Neurotic Virtuosi, by skazka

Crossover: Hannibal Rising (movie version). The wizarding world exists, and Tom and Hannibal encounter each other in non-magical Eastern Europe.

Summary: Tom and Hannibal ride the same train when Tom is hunting down the diadem. Tom shares an apple and thinks about keeping Hannibal.

Mature, <1k, Graphic Torture Fantasies

Why?: This is one of those pairings that I wouldn’t have thought to do when the characters were both young, but it’s so much better for that choice! The length of this fic means we only get a taste of their interactions, but what a taste it is. Tom’s internal fantasies are horrifying and described in a very erotic way, which fits both characters.

This also serves as an interesting vision of what Tom might have experienced during his world tour to find the diadem, a period we rarely get to see. I particularly like that the author chose to write it as frustrating and mostly fruitless; a Tom who is stymied and unsuccessful is a particular weakness of mine.

Two Sides of the Same Coin, by Anonymous

Crossover: Chronicles of Narnia. Both Hogwarts and Narnia are real, and the characters meet in Britain. The magic isn’t the same, but there’s mutual recognition.

Summary: Tom tries to use sex to seduce secrets out of Edmund. Edmund sees something reminiscent of his younger self, the version of him who could join the White Witch, in Tom Riddle.

Explicit, 2k

Why?: Edmund and Tom are a pairing made in crossover heaven, both boys of a similar age born into war in the same country and whose discoveries of magical worlds help them escape it. Both lust for power and make poor choices; Edmund canonically recovers and finds redemption from his actions, and Tom does not.

This fic wears the hat of something pure smut, starting in the middle of a sex scene and tagged with top/bottom roles, etc., and it is that and does that well. But give it a shot for Edmund’s reflection at the end, his hopeful musings that he can apply the lessons learned from Aslan to help Tom before Tom’s utterly lost. It’s a crossover ship with unbelievable potential for both characters, and this fic makes me want so much more.

Shedding Skin, by electric_typewriter

Crossover: Deathless by Catherynne M. Valente. Both the wizarding world and the magic of Deathless exist.

Summary: Tom meets Koschei before splitting his soul. They keep meeting, and Tom keeps attempting to match Koschei’s immortality.

Not Rated, 2k

Why?: Immortality via relocation or storage of souls is an idea that easily predates Harry Potter as a series, and seeing two different versions of the some core idea interacting with one another is precisely what crossovers exist to enable. Koschei as an immortal being that found his immortality in a way he considers superior is a fascinating concept, because it creates a power imbalance between them that leaves Tom always running to catch up. And Tom, poor Tom, feels like a desperate man, finding sensation only when he’s around Koschei and feeling nothing at any other time.

This reads a bit like you’re dissociating. The author uses descriptive language to keep the reader a little distant from the grounded reality of the events happening, which has the effect of keeping you focused on the metaphysical question of what it means to have part of a soul.

Bluebird, by Phantomato

Crossover: Shadow and Bone. S&B summoning powers instead of HP magic, set in the real world, with characters’ histories preserved.

Summary: Tom is the second sun summoner to exist, born long after the first gave up her powers and lived out her natural life. He tracks down the Darkling, the shadow summoner who never really died.

Explicit, 17k

Why?: Tom is an immortal being for at least part of his life, and his character arc is about pursuit of immortality, but he is fundamentally a young immortal, and is killed before he can graduate to old immortality. Aleksander, the Darkling, is canonically an old immortal, and his character arc is about the burden of living with the knowledge that you will likely always be alone. That loneliness sets the scene for the relationship between Tom and Aleksander, driving Aleksander’s behavior—he fundamentally believes he will always be alone, even an immortal like Tom passes through his life.

There is a high proportion of smut in this, serving in place of the emotional honesty that neither character can muster, and I recommend it for that. But the story also relies on investment in quiet everyday moments shared between the characters. It’s a fic told through behavior because both men are so cautious around one another, where they nevertheless manage to find sympathy for the other.

Riddles of the Dead, by Maeglin_Yedi

Crossover: Indiana Jones. Blends together the wizarding world and the mysticism present in Indiana Jones films.

Summary: Tom Riddle hires an expert archaeologist and gentleman adventurer, Dr. Indiana Jones, to help him pursue an artifact that might grant him immortality. There’s fucking, fighting, magic, snakes, and some difficult choices in store for our leading men.

Explicit, 18k, Angst

Why?: Maeglin Yedi has been a mainstay of the Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort ficspace for nearly two decades, but an old crossover like this can unfortunately slip through the cracks. It shouldn’t! With an original publishing date in early 2005, this predates the concept of horcruxes, the knowledge of Tom’s early years at Wool’s orphanage, and, well, so much of what we would eventually learn about Tom Riddle as a person. It’s a testament to the author that the story manages to capture Tom’s character in such a way that he’s still fully recognizable to a current-day reader, despite working with so much less canon.

This fic is fun. It’s an adventure, featuring hazards and traps and assassination attempts that you would expect from an Indiana Jones film, but the magic and mystery never overwhelms the relationship at the core of this story. It’s set up beautifully, with a mirrored structure between the front and back halves of the fic that foreshadows the inevitable end of the story. Watching older, confident Indy seduce young, hungry Tom is a delight. One (possible) mark of a great Tom-centric fic, imo, is to be able to portray Tom enjoying the exchange of power, giving it to someone as well as taking it from them, and this Tom is able to revel in giving up some perceived power as he practices being vulnerable with Indy. The romance is quite sweet, especially considering that ‘angst’ tag at the top of the fic!

#tom riddle #tomato fic rec

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fatalism-and-villainy · 1 year ago

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@menciemeer your tags are exquisite as always!

i like this a lot i had to ping it around in my brain a little bit i think you could also add on another couple of resonances: will's hallucination of budish saying i can bring it out of you and hannibal's offer in mizumoto wade into the quiet of the stream both of which are offers that will rejects and this being S4 there's also the angle of that quiet rejecting him back when the fall from the cliff presumably failed to kill either of them anyway that is to say i think you could dig in the direction of will giving other people a peace he can't or won't take for himself (or--if you wanted to go places that start at toxic codependency and end at downright dark--that hannibal is preventing him from taking)

Man, these examples are great because they're both forms of annihilation that Will perceives as purifying. He lets Hannibal cut him because he thinks it will cut out Hannibal's influence; Buddish targeted criminals and sanctified them by making them into angels. Will sees sacrifice as the only way of quelling his dark impulses (as he says, he doesn't believe he can save himself). The cliff is similar - I don't believe he was wracked with guilt and had a sudden change of heart after the carnage, but more so that it seemed to him the natural and fitting culmination of what they'd just done, and the way to find balance between the two halves of himself. It was a peace he could slip into, after the ecstasy of what they'd done.

Living, on the other hand, means having to continue to face that same internal struggle he's been contending with for the entirety of the show. To continue to formulate some kind of ethics, and calibrate and recalibrate based on the situation. Contend with how to condemn monsters while being one, and loving one.

He opted not to walk away from profiling in Coquilles, and then later opted to come back again after walking away for real. He actively rejects the peace of a normal life, and he can't achieve peace in death. He's like a knife constantly standing on end. The kind of internal conflict that produces is absolutely something I see him wanting to assuage in others. (Buddish is actually an even better comparison than mine, in that regard.)

the other thing this made me think of (too indirect? idk we're pinging) is the idea of hannibal and will habitually taking in 'houseguests' hannibal getting the materials and feeding on his sense of power over them and then ceding the actual act of murder to will i feel like there's some version of both of them that would find that a mutually satisfactory symbiosis

oooh okay so I've actually been rotating something like that in my mind too - the concept of post-canon Will as judge, jury, and executioner, and in some respects being (or seeming to others) more dangerous than Hannibal in that regard. And I like the idea of him sometimes deciding to let people live or setting them free, whether due to being genuinely swayed towards mercy, deploying it as part of the game with Hannibal, or purely for the thrill of power it gives (having the power to kill isn't as heady if you exercise it ALL the time). Just... Will being capricious and fey <33 I think this fits in with the idea of him being gentle and compassionate towards others but in a deeply fucked up, blue-and-orange manner.

(This was inspired in part by a discussion I saw regarding Bedelia post-canon, and the fact that Bryan's comments indicate he intended her to survive - and if so, she wouldn't be able to physically overpower both of them, so the only way she could escape is by persuading them to let her go. Some people might disagree, but it's not actually hard for me to imagine Will deciding to do so. I can actually see Will relishing the fact that she's in his debt and only alive because of him more than he would relish actually killing her. Not to mention getting her to eat her words about how he should just crush the wounded bird next time.)

One overlap between Will and Hannibal is in the way they both have an affect that combines tenderness and violence, even if those traits manifest in different ways for each of them - it’s another way in which they’re identically different.

Hannibal’s murders, as we see them, are fairly swift and brutal, with the exceptions of people he wants to “savor,” like Bedelia and Gideon. But his violations are gentle - everything to do with Miriam Lass; the way he handles Will so delicately while putting him through the horrors in season 1; stroking Abigail’s cheek while he goes mask-off about being a murderer; the way he washes Bedelia’s hair for her during their dark fairytale living situation in Florence; etc. His softness is wrapped up less with the act of murder itself and more with manipulation, influence, intimidation, etc - he’s at his most gentle when he’s at his most menacing.

Will’s manipulations, on the other hand, are accompanied by him projecting confidence and bravado. His gentle side he doesn’t show as easily to people, because it’s more vulnerable. But it’s also wrapped up in his violence, albeit in a different way - his impulses towards brutality stem from righteous anger on behalf of outcasts and victims. Where he gets mixed up is a) his impulses towards heroism clashing with the sheer pleasure of killing, and b) his empathy and care towards victims clashing with his empathic identification with killers (something killing more can only intensify).

All of that is to say - I’m gonna expand on something I touched on in this reply to @bloodaria regarding how Will might kill post-canon. Sometimes speculations on how Will might be changed post-fall, or how much more unhinged he would be from canon, have his viciousness being dialed way up (sometimes in contrast to Hannibal’s more refined approach). But, while I can see that, I think another interesting take that gives Will some more surface-level Hannibalesque traits post-fall while also leaning into his preexisting internal contradictions would be Will’s gentleness being folded into his murders.

Like… I think of Katherine Pimm’s mercy killing, and the way she claimed to “quiet people’s minds” - and whose mind is louder than Will’s? And I think of Garrett Jacob Hobbs promising Abigail that he could “make it all go away” right before attempting to kill her - something Will of course recreates in his dream in Oeuf. The view of killing as soothing and calming people, removing their burdens, doing them a kindness - I can see an unhinged version of Will buying into that. Especially if he himself gets in an emotionally volatile, self-loathing state - given his self-destructive tendencies, if he’s projecting hard onto the people he’s hunting, it’s plausible he could cling to that belief. And it would fit in with the show’s exploration of the darker sides of empathy, and empathy and cruelty being two sides of the same coin.

#and/or it could be a way to get back at hannibal for something #if it was indeed symbolically important to hannibal for will to kill bedelia #(i'll see if i can find/reblog the posts later)#menciemeer #replies #headcanoning #hannibal #hannibal talk #my season 4 mind palace #will graham

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years ago

Text

The Great Red Dragon

3x08

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, dead bodies, blood, surgery, canniblism

Author’s Note: I LOVE will graham and you can tell in this chapter i kinda went ham with my absolute adoration for him. Usually i try and hold back but im to sad to tonight so here is this love letter to will graham

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

Official Episode Summary: As events jump forward three years, Jack seeks help as he pursues Francis Dolarhyde, AKA `The Tooth Fairy Killer'.

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

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

(not my gif) (can you tell i love will graham. i feel like its excessive now but he is so handsome in this episode and every epsiode but this episode too)

Alana Bloom sat on an uncomfortable chair. The divider between her and Hannibal Lecter was a thick, clear plastic. To Hannibal they were sitting together at his desk. To her, to the reality of her, he sat in his jail cell. The two of them seemed comfortable with each other once again, now that there was no way Hannibal could lay his fingers on her again.

It was the only reason Alana agreed to stay.

“Congratulations, Hannibal. You’re officially insane.”

In front of Hannibal were different and various papers. A newspaper sat there, detailing a family slaughtered in Buffalo.

“There’s no consensus in the psychiatric community what I should be termed,” he said.

“You’ve long been regarded by your peers in psychiatry as something entirely Other. For convenience, they term you a monster.” Hannibal’s eyes flickered up, away from his papers and on to her. She had cleaned herself up since they were last close. The suit she wore made her look distinguished. Her hair up in curls. Sophisticated.

“What do you term me?” he questioned.

“I don’t. You defy categorization.”

“Do you still prefer beer to wine?” he questioned. She pursed her lips, remembering bad memories.

“Stopped drinking beer when I found out what you were putting in mine.”

“Who,” he corrected. She gave the slightest of nods.

“Who.” She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “This means you’ll be spared the federal death sentence. They had enough to convict you dozen times over.”

“A baker’s dozen. Lest we forget Mason Verger. You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome Hannibal. The needle was guaranteed. But you beat it all on an insanity plea.”

“I’m not insane.” Alana nodded. She understood that.

“You know that and I know that. A dozen or a baker’s dozen, enough people have died.”

“You haven’t,” he pointed out simply.

“A promise in waiting, isn’t it? A promise you intend to keep.”

“I always keep my promises.” His lips flew into a small smile. Alana simply adjusted her spot in the seat.

“Get out of my chair, Frederick.”

Chilton stood up from Alana’s chair. Since she had become the director of the asylum things had been changed. For the better. Chilton was crooked, despite his frequent placing in her chair. She walked over and sat down at her desk and reorganized the documents that Chilton had been messing with.

“Shall we join hands in prayer of gratitude? ‘Thank you, Father, for allowing us to remove this monster, monster of monsters, from your flock. Thank you on behalf of the souls We will spare of pain.’” Chilton stood at the other side of her desk now.

“Thank you on behalf of the monster.” She leaned back in her chair. “Was that the magisterial We?”

“It’s our cabal, yours and mine. Hannibal Lecter will spend the rest of his life in a state institution, watching the diaper cart go by.”

“We lied. You wrote a book of lies,” she pointed out.

“Not difficult to see lies flying above my head, but it is almost impossible to shoot them down,” he pointed out.

“You should be lucky that Y/N is a respectable woman. She should have sued you for what you insinuated between her and Hannibal,” she pointed out.

“You say that only because you couldn’t sue me for speaking the truth about you and Hannibal.” He dragged a finger along the desk. “I wasn’t invited to the wedding though.”

“You held the groom at this asylum when you ran it,” she pointed out.

“Still. I put the actual murderer in jail.”

“I’m pretty sure they did that.” She picked up her pen. “Either way, Hannibal will shoot down your lies. He’s written a brilliant piece for The American Journal of Psychiatry.”

“Everything he writes is always about problems he doesn’t have,” Chilton said.

“What he’s written is going to be your problem. It’s not so much an article as it is a rebuttal.” She smiled to herself. “He has an acid pen.”

Will stood out by the shed. The dogs were balancing around him, running around and barking happily. Will was bundled against the cold although you had been the person who threw all of the layers at him. The dogs kicked up the snow. He was repairing the fence out there, something to keep busy.

He looked up the gravel driveway and a black SVU came down the track.

He let out a sigh, caught by the cold.

Jack Crawford came out of the car.

“Don’t want to talk inside?” Jack asked as Will handed him a mug of hot cider. Several stray dogs lay and mill at their feet as Will leaned against the porch railing. “Don’t want to let me inside. Come too far to let the cold stop me, Will.”

Will pursed his lips.

“Bold of you to show up.”

“Where’s Y/N?” he questioned.

“Making dinner. She didn’t hear you coming up and was, lucky for you, unaware I was making two cups of cider.” Will was relaxed but his tone was uneven.

“You don't want to talk about it here,” Jack said.

“I don't want to talk about it anywhere. You’ve got to talk about it, so let’s have it. Just don’t get out any pictures. There’s no point in doing that.”

“How much do you know?” Jack questioned.

“Two families killed, in their homes, a month apart. Similar circumstances,” Will said. You and him and passed the newspaper to each other at breakfast. Looked into it.

“Not ‘similar’. The same. You ever think about giving me a call?”

“If I ever thought about it Y/N would divorce me on the spot. But I didn’t think about it,” he admitted.

“You know what it is,” Jack said.

“I didn’t think about calling you because I didn’t want to. I don’t think I’d be all that useful to you, Jack. I never think about it anymore. I don’t believe I could do it now.” Will looked down at the lakeshore and Jack pulled out two pictures from his jacket pocket. He flipped them out on the table. Will looked down at them.

“All dead. This freak seems to be in phase with the moon.” Jack tapped the photos. “Killed the Jacobis in Chicago almost four weeks ago. Full moon. Killed the Leeds family in Buffalo night before last. One day short of a lunar month. If we’re lucky we have a little over three weeks before he does it again.”

“Will!” Your voice carried in from the home. Both men looked over.

“Looks like your luck has run out Jack.” You opened the door to alert Will that dinner was done. Upon seeing Jack you stopped. For a moment you were wordless. You looked down at the two pictures on the table, at Will, and then back at Jack. You recognized those people from the newspapers. You took in a deep breath and held your composure.

“If you want to by any chance keep your head I would recommend picking up those pictures, putting them back in your pocket, getting off my goddamn porch and driving your car back to where you came from,” you said evenly. “And give me that cup of cider.” Jack handed it to you and you snatched it, allowing it to spill on your hand without a reaction. “We need Will’s help. More of these families are going to die,” Jack said.

“I’m not going to let this happen again. I let it happen once.”

“You would sacrifice families lives for the miniscule chance one person gets a little hurt?” You stepped forward to him but Will lifted his hand. You stopped but you were still pretty close.

“If that one person is Will then yes. He’s saved enough lives.”

“He isn’t going anywhere,” Will said. You looked up at him and stepped back.

“Dinner is done,” you said and turned back into the house. Jack and Will shared a look.

“So,” Will started, pushing himself off of the balcony railing. “Joining us for dinner?”

You sat beside Will who was at the head of the table. Jack observed the house. It looked simplistic, comforting. On the small shelf by the table were picture frames. Each one of both of you. One when you were fishing, a small fish in front of your face as you laughed. One of Will by the fireplace in the Baltimore house. A couple from the wedding of the two of you looking happier than Jack had ever seen.

Jack had been at the wedding. Will invited him discreetly and because you were so distracted by your own happiness you couldn’t fight. You looked amazing. It had been a long time coming that day and when it did come everyone celebrated. There were even pictures of you, Margot and Alana on that day, cheering to a new beginning.

“People dump small dogs here all the time. I can give away the cute ones, rest, stay around and get to be big ones,” you muttered, petting the dog at your feet.

“You’ve always been a sucker for strays,” Will said.

“You’re not fooling anyone Will.” You stabbed at the plate and took a bite. Will placed a hand on your thigh and kept it there. You put your hand on top of his destreetly.

“Got a nice life here,” Jack said.

“I’m lucky here. I know that,” Will said.

“Surprised there aren’t any kids yet. Bella and I wanted them but with my job we could never fit it in.” The mention of Bella would make you sympathize with him and he knew that. Despite having calmed down a bit you still held up a good face.

“We have a lot of dogs although I can’t say we haven't been trying,” Will said. His face flushed a bit but you were so mad still you couldn’t even be flustered. Will knew there were some things you needed to say to Jack that you couldn't’ say in front of him. “I’m going to take the dogs out to pee.” He tapped your thigh once more before letting his hand leave as he stood up from the dinner table. You nodded numbly as he left, watching him go.

Your gaze went back to Jack.

“When you came into his classroom that day I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt but you failed me Jack. Countless times, you failed me.”

“You left me there to die In Florence.” You smiled.

“A fond memory.” You placed your fork down carefully. “You’re going to take him no matter how much I want to kill you for it.”

“I have to. I’ll make it as easy on him as I can. He’s changed. It’s great you got married.” You nodded.

“He’s better and better. He doesn’t have nightmares anymore.” You paused and collected yourself. “He was really obsessed with the dogs for a while. Now he just takes care of them. He doesn’t talk about them all the time. Doesn’t worry about them.”

“I know what it is I’m asking Y/N. And I wished to God I didn’t have to.”

You smiled slightly at what you were about to say.

“If he decides to go, and that’s a big if, he will not be going alone.” Jack nodded slowly. He figured this would happen. There was nowhere he went you would not follow.

“I know.”

“And you’re willing to deal with me for as long as it takes to get rid of this killer?”

“If I have to.”

You sat on your bed. The world was quiet out here. You loved it. Will loved it. It was why you got it together, your first joint home purchase. Will was taking off his shoes and you put your arms around him from behind.

He cuddled his head against yours. He could feel your breath against his skin when you spoke.

“I don’t want you to go, you know that.”

“I don’t imagine you’ll let me go alone,” he whispered. “But you know if I go, I’ll be different when I get back.” You nodded.

“I loved you at your worst and I’ll love you for the rest of the time you’ll let me,” you promised. You kissed him tenderly and his hands rested on your cheek, moving your body with his other hand so that he didn’t have to crane his neck.

Darkness moved around the bedroom peacefully. You slept beside Will but he was awake. He looked over at you and then slid out of bed. He pulled open a drawer quietly and took out a letter. The envelope is addressed to Will and Y/N, through the FBI. He hadn’t shown you this yet. He wasn’t sure if he should.

But you had felt him get up. Years of feeling when he was having a nightmare trained you for that kind of moment. You sat up and slid out of bed. Will looked over to you.

“What’s that?”

“I wasn’t going to show it to you.”

You walked over to him and put your arms around him from behind. You looked at the letter and the second you saw the handwriting you froze.

“Is it directed to you?”

“Both of us.”

You took it from his hands and stood up straight.

‘Dear Will and Y/N, we have all found a new life, but our old lives hover in the shadows, like incipient madness. Soon enough, I fear Jack Crawford will come knocking. I encourage Will, as a friend, not to step back through the door he holds open. I don’t doubt Y/N will protest against this ever happening but in case her will is not strong enough I must promise that there is darkness on the other side of the door and madness is waiting.’

You handed him the paper.

“I’m calling the girls from down the street. Their teenagers will watch the dogs.”

Will and you looked through the Leeds house. The two of you looked at the bloody remnants of what had happened there. You weren’t there to observe though. You were there for moral support.

His eyes were shut for a while. You watched him stand there. You were silent.

Until he opened his eyes and a deep breath left his lips. You quickly approached him and hugged him tightly. He hugged you back, catching his breath in your arms.

“Jimmy you’re the light of my life,” Jack said.

“I know. The print’s smudged. Came off Mrs. Leeds eye. Never did that before. Never would’ve seen it, but it stood out against an eight-ball hemorrhage,” Jimmy explained. You, Will, Jack, Jimmy and Brian all stood in the morgue together. He kept stealing glances at you and Will whose thoughts were elsewhere. “I just...I can’t believe you’re back. I’m surprised you're back.”

“I’m surprised Y/N didn’t drag Jack's dead body in here,” Brian said. He hit Will’s back. “Welcome back.”

Jack looked up from his desk to see Will and you standing before him. You were both looking at the information sheet.

“You were asking about the dog. Last night, a vet called the police. Leeds and his oldest boy brought it into the bet the afternoon before they were killed,” Jack explained.

“What’s going to happen to it?” Will asked.

“Please don't worry about the dog.” Will smiled a bit.

“What do you expect me to do?” he whispered. You smiled at him. Ever the sweetie.

“Best you can, that’s all. Busyworks been a narcotic for me sometimes, especially after I quit the booze. For you too, I think,” Jack said.

“There’s something else we can do,” you started. You paused for a moment. You and Will had talked this over just briefly but you understood it was what you needed. “We can wait until Will is driven to it by desperation in the last days before the full moon. Or we could do it now, while it might be of some use,” you finished.

“Is there an opinion you want?” Will nodded slowly.

“We have to see Hannibal.”

3x09

#hannibal lecter x reader #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal imagines #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham

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beyond-the-mirror · 3 years ago

Text

Music of the Night (V x Reader)

Chapter 7 is finally here! As I have mentioned a couple posts ago I am going to focus solely on this story for the time being. I will try my best to update at least once per week so stay tuned.

Warnings: A little angst in a few parts.

Tagging: @thedyingmoon @minteyeddemon @vampiregirl1797

If you wish to be tagged in this story let me know in the comments.

………………….

Chapter 7: Nightingale in the Cage

“So Bishop, would you mind explaining to us the reason you decided to become a patron for the Opera house?”

“Oh not at all.” Sanctus took a deep breath before speaking again. “As you may have heard in the local news, an estranged brother of mine passed away some time ago, may his soul rest in peace. Days later I received a visit from his lawyer, apparently he had accumulated quite the fortune and his testament determined that I would be the sole heir of all his possessions and shares.” The Bishop made a brief pause, the death of his brother still weighing down his heart. “I actually have no need for such a large sum of money, which is why I only kept a modest enough amount for me and decided to donate the rest in favor of the conservation of the arts.”

“A rather noble cause indeed Bishop, our sincerest apologies for your loss.” Monsieur Andre added.

“Thank you for your condolences. All my life I’ve considered myself to be an admirer of the fine arts. There’s nothing I wouldn’t love more than to finance Fortuna’s famous Opera House and support the careers of its many skilled artists.”

“And we shall be forever grateful for your patronage bishop.” Monsieur Firmin mentioned before lifting his champagne glass. “Let’s have a toast for the future of Fortuna’s Opera House.”

“For the future of this new society.” Raoul finished before the men raised their glasses together in glee. The vicomte, however, seemed to have a sense of sadness in his eyes that he hid all too well from everybody. How he wished to spend more time with you, but didn’t find you at the party.

Maybe you were too exhausted to attend and went home instead? Whatever it was, he wished you were okay.

………………….

‘The newest play from Fortuna’s Theatre Company, Hannibal, has been critically acclaimed by specialized press, scoring an impressive average of 4.6 out of 5 stars’

‘The exquisite acting and choreography are to be praised. However, its most prominent figure is the miraculous voice of the main singer, who has replaced iconic soprano Carlotta Guidicelli as the protagonist.’

‘Step down Carlotta! A new queen has arrived and the spotlight is all hers!’

‘In a shocking turn of events, Signora Carlotta Guidicelli, believed to be the company's successor to legendary soprano Kyrie Eleison, has been overshadowed by a new rising talent. A humble fortunian songstress by the name of (Y/N) (Y/L/N).’

‘(Y/N) (Y/L/N). The break-through songstress that has captivated the audience’s hearts. Is this the birth of a brand new star?’

Reviews, articles and blog posts about the company’s new soprano spread around the internet like wildfire, every single one focusing on the same subject: The mysterious soprano that took Fortuna by surprise and dethroned 'La Carlota’ herself.

The girl had become the theatre’s own Venus and Aphrodite, a muse that inspired all the souls touched by her melodious voice. A nightingale turned human, an angel descended to Earth.

But as her performances continued and her fame grew, a few observant enough would take notice of certain… details regarding her.

The truth behind this? A sinister shadow was tormenting the theatre’s beloved angel, one that threatened to consume not only her, but everything around.

………………….

“I refuse to accept this!” Carlotta stomped her heel on the marbled floor of her lavish bedroom, taking a sip from the almost full glass of wine in her hand.

Ever since that fiasco when she stormed out of the theatre during the rehearsals for ‘Hannibal’, the soprano’s life seemingly started turning for the worse, all because of that girl that once dared to collide with her during rehearsal. She had insisted the dancer had done so on purpose, envious of her great talent.

And now it turns out that dancer is the same one that took her role as the main protagonist! Carlotta felt offended by such a decision, she was a professional while that girl was just a simple amateur

Still, she had to admit this (Y/N) had a gifted voice. What she could not explain is how she managed to perfect her skill to such a high level if she claimed to be an inexperienced singer? As talented as one could be, it takes years of work and practice to master one’s craft, the only explanation she could come up with was that the girl had to have a special tutor, and an exceptional one at that.

But who?

Realizing her glass was already empty, Carlotta hurried to refill it again. She had believed that with Kyrie gone to Broadway, she now had the stage clear for herself to finally shine above everyone else, after all, the only voice above Signora Carlotta could only be that of Fortuna’s legendary songstress herself.

Such hopes were now broken. She had a new competitor, one that was already stealing the spotlights.

As she turned to the broadcast of the company’s most recent play, she huffed when the camera focused on the new main singer. The audience had fallen right into her trap, and now she had them all wrapped around her lithe finger.

“I don’t know what they see in her, she’s nothing special and she’s not that pretty. Especially with those dark circles under her eyes, does she even sleep? Careful girl, you are already losing your youth.” Carlotta snorted before downing her glass of wine.

………………….

“Vicomte Raoul! Bishop Sanctus! We weren’t quite expecting your visit to our Opera House. What can we do for you, gentlemen?”

Messieurs Andre and Firmin almost tripped over their own feet as they hurried to attend the Opera House’s important benefactors. Raoul managed to hide his laughter at their eagerness, while Sanctus simply offered the two a gentle smile.

“Do not worry for us, messieurs. This fine theatre holds so many precious memories of my youth, so I thought it appropriate to drop by and watch the rehearsals take place if you don’t mind us.”

“Oh, not at all Bishop! This way please.”

As the four men approached the hall, a melodious voice resonated through the walls.

“Ah! You are in luck. Our lead singer seems to be on stage right now practicing one of her numbers.” Firmin noted just as he opened the door to the main hall.

Madame Trish was supervising as usual, you stood at the stage performing an aria while Monsieur Reyer directed your voice through the song’s notes. As he took a seat near the stage next to Sanctus, Raoul was mesmerized by your singing figure, the passion and dedication you imprinted on your work palpable and strong enough to touch the hearts of others.

“An utter beauty, isn’t she?” The elder’s voice snapped him out of his trance. As he turned to face Sanctus, he noticed the soft smile and knowing look in his eyes. He gulped, were his feelings that obvious? Then again, Sanctus has seen and learned a lot during the many years of his long life, wisdom comes with age after all.

“Ah! Young love! Perhaps the purest and most innocent of them all.” The bishop gave a hearty chuckle. “Miss (Y/N) is definitely special. Her voice alone holds so much power, enough to make the entire audience bow to her, and yet she still remains humble and authentic.”

Raoul turned his attention back to the stage where you were now conversing with Trish and Reyer about your routine during the number. The vicomte could see what Sanctus meant, you weren’t arrogant or prideful like Carlotta, but rather attentive and open to the feedback and mentoring offered to you.

A smile grazed his lips. He had just met you and already you were taking over his heart and mind.

Still as he observed you going through the song one more time, there was something off that caught his eye. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The heave of your chest whenever you ended a verse, the slight trembles of your feet whenever they moved along the lines marked on the stage by Trish.

You looked… tired? Exhausted, perhaps? No... more like detached.

But you continued the rehearsal with no trouble. Maybe your sudden growing popularity was already taking its toll on you, as well as all the performances you had to do at the theatre. For anyone without experience, such exhaustion is understandable.

In the seat next to him, Bishop Sanctus was also studying you. However, his expression seemed more preoccupied than that of the vicomte. He too had noticed some kind of dark aura looming around you, and he pondered what this could mean for the Opera House’s future, and for his plans too.

………………….

petite.aerette I can’t believe I finally got to watch #Hannibal. So happy to know the Opera House is on the rise once again. #FortunaOperaHouse #theatre #musical

alya_hyacinth You saw it live? Girl, I’m jealous!

dramaqueen101 Aaah I was there too! I wish you told me you were going, we could have gone together and have our seats next to each other.

petite.aerette Sorry! Mom surprised me with our tickets that same morning. Did you see that new singer everyone is talking about? She is awesome! I already love her voice and acting!

dramaqueen101 I know right?! In fact I caught a glimpse of her after the play when she retired to her dressing room. I wanted to go talk to her but it was too crowded and she seemed to be in a rush. However I noticed she looked a bit tired? As if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep.

………………….

Free time had become a luxury for Nico. There was always something to fix, something to supervise, something to check. Whatever breaks she would get, she welcomed them with open arms and relaxed as much as she could before it was back to work again.

It was in one of these breaks when she ran into you, what better way to enjoy some free time than with a dear friend?

But as she approached your figure, Nico took notice of your appearance. Your skin was now as pale as a ghost, your eyes were heavy with sleepiness and dark circles framing them. You looked as if you were about to collapse at any given moment.

“Hey, you alright sugarcube?” Nico’s hands went to your arms by instinct, just in case you were feeling sick and you needed to be rushed to the infirmary. But with a small smile, you tried to ease her worries.

“Couldn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all.”

“Uh huh…” Nico was many things, highly perceptive was one of those. Many have found out the hard way that she was not an easy one to fool. Of course, it was no surprise that she could see right through your words. “Come. Let’s get you some warm tea.”

Stern and maybe a bit harsh, but caring when the situation called for it. That was Nicoletta Goldstein for you. One of the most surprising things about her is that she made the best tea in the world according to the people working at the theatre.

“This should ease you a bit, honey. Careful, it’s still hot.” As she handed you the small cup, she looked at you with worry in her eyes but didn’t say anything. Instead she waited for you to open up and tell her what was wrong.

You could already picture the almost dead look you must have had. With slightly shaky hands you held onto the porcelain cup, raising it to your lips and gently blowing the steam to cool it down a bit. As a warm earthy flavor filled your taste buds, your body could finally ease up and relax even if just for a little while, granting you a moment of much needed peace.

Still, you didn’t find it in yourself to tell her.

Luckily for you, Nico knew better than to keep insisting. She figured that whatever was worrying you, you weren’t ready to talk about it yet. Nonetheless, she stayed right by your side in a comfortable silence with a cup of tea of her own.

It was a nice and peaceful moment, at least until she was called to check on one of the moving stage props.

And so she excused herself, but not before reminding you that you could always count on her for anything.

What Nico didn’t know, however, was the reason for your silence.

You didn’t tell her because something was forcing you to.

………………….

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. And soon enough, time itself began to blur.

Ever since that night at his sanctuary, everything felt… off.

You had woken up in your bed, feeling dazed and lightheaded, perhaps the effects of the turmoil from the previous night.

V. The first thing on your mind as soon as you recovered your consciousness was him.

You wanted, no, needed to find him and get some answers. Why did he disappear so many years ago? Why was he hiding his true identity from you?

… What were those black markings scarring his face?

There was just one problem, you didn’t know where exactly was his sanctuary located. The secret passage behind the mirror in your dressing room came to mind, but in order to navigate the underground canals you needed a boat, not to mention that it was easy to get lost in there. Maybe you could ask the authorities for help, but how could you explain your story and make them believe you?

You made your decision on the way to the Opera House. You would start by telling Nico for the moment, you trusted her enough and she often gave the best advice on any matter.

But the moment you spotted her in the distance and tried to approach her, something strange happened.

An unseen force lodged itself in your chest, holding your voice and your heart in a vice grip that burned through your entire body. All the air in your lungs escaped you, and the feeling of daze you felt that morning returned in full force. You tried to scream, call for help, but no sound would come out of your lips. All words died as soon as they left your vocal chords.

You watched Nico leaving after someone required her assistance, and as soon as she disappeared from your line of sight, the pain stopped. As sudden as it had arrived.

You remained frozen in your place, goosebumps raised on your flesh. The moment some sensation came back to your legs, you ran away.

The day continued with relative normalcy, but your mind remained perturbed. And hours later, just as all the scheduled performances had ended for the day, you headed for your dressing room.

Once inside, the mirror opened, and everything went black.

When you opened your eyes, it was already morning the next day. Once again you woke in your bed, feeling as dazed and lightheaded as the day before. But the feeling didn’t go away, and with everyday that passed, it only became worse.

Strangely enough, your performances never faltered once despite the unknown illness weighing you down, almost as if you were doing everything automatically, like a machine following its program. You were thankful for this apparent ability to keep it together, but soon you started feeling detached. It reached a point when you could no longer feel your own body, or the melodic notes leaving your lips. You were no longer living, but rather watching your life unfold itself without any input of your own.

Many times you made an attempt to tell someone, anyone, about this; but you found that every single time you were about to do so, that terrible pain would return until you desisted. Soon, you were conditioned to stay quiet.

One day Nico began noticing your predicament, but by then that obscure force had you under its control already. She was right there, concerned and willing to help. And yet you didn’t dare to speak up.

Panic often filled your mind, hopelessness flooded your soul. You prayed and prayed for this nightmare to stop.

After another successful performance, the last one for the day, you found yourself inside the main dressing room as usual.

And as usual, the mirror opened, letting out the hidden darkness that haunted the Opera House behind everyone’s backs.

………………….

Poor unfortunate Joseph Buquet.

Ever since that incident with the falling curtain, Nico had him double checking pretty much everything. Every rope, pulley and mechanism had to be meticulously examined in order to prevent another incident like that from happening again. Now he understood why it was such an important and critical matter, the least he wanted was for anybody to be harmed due to a malfunction after all, but his own anxiety over making a mistake and causing another accident was already getting him. The poor man would triple- no, cuadruple check every single detail in an almost paranoid way. Not a single nook or cranny would be left unattended by this dedicated worker.

So it was no surprise that today was especially bad for the nervous Mr. Buquet, for his trusty utility belt had been misplaced, making him search the whole building for his precious tools.

Only after finding his utility belt did Buquet allow himself to feel relieved, a heavy burden lifting off his tired shoulders. He was making his way back to the fly floor when the sound of hurried steps nearby reached his ears, as he turned at a corner he caught a glimpse of you closing the door to your dressing room shut. Noticing the way you entered the room in such a haste, he worried something might have happened to you. Maybe you were feeling sick and needed to rest? These days you had been looking paler than usual, and the man had to admit that seeing you in your current lamentable state tugged at his heartstrings.

Walking to your door, Buquet politely knocked at the wooden surface “Miss (Y/N), is everything alright?” But no answer came back.

He knocked again, this time a bit louder. “Miss (Y/N), are you there?” Again, no answer.

Now he was getting genuinely concerned. He even pressed his ear to the door in an attempt to hear whatever was happening inside, but he found only silence.

“Miss (Y/N) I’m opening the door right now!” Buquet immediately took hold of the knob and slowly cracked it open, merely peeking inside just in case you needed some privacy after all.

The sight that greeted him sent chills to his very bones.

A tall shadowy figure towered at the back of the room, its arms wrapped around your unconscious body in a seemingly possessive manner. Like a ghost, it moved towards the mirror and disappeared with you in its arms.

Buquet stood frozen as his mind tried to process what just happened before him.

He had heard the stories, rumors about an entity that haunted the Opera House. Some workers would mention seeing shadows through the corners of their eyes, others would claim that low growling noises could be heard at the hallways when they were empty enough, and a few would tell how they found strange iridescent blue feathers in the most bizarre locations inside the premises.

His mind pictured the heavy curtain that mysteriously fell on Carlotta. Then, the strange Box Four that always remained unoccupied despite the concierge’s claims about hearing a voice coming from inside.

They called it different names. A poltergeist, a monster, a demon… a Phantom…

But this time they hadn’t moved a prop or taken a simple object with them.

This time, they had taken a person.

………………….

Locked inside one of the restrooms designated for the staff, Mr. Buquet did his best to calm himself down. He had just witnessed the kidnapping of a promising young woman by the hands of an… an entity.

His hands flew to his hair in panic. What could he do? Nobody would believe a phantom had spirited away the company’s Prima Donna!

He… he had to have been hallucinating! Yes, that had to be it. For years the staff has accused the Phantom for all the minor inconveniences that often sabotaged rehearsals and productions, but this was an entirely different story, a songstress was just kidnapped for Lord Sparda’s sake! Urban legends or not, the supposed Phantom had never gone to these extremes before.

Splashing some cold water on his tired face one last time, Buquet finally exited the restroom and made his way back home, all the while reassuring himself that what he had witnessed couldn’t have been real.

‘Tomorrow Miss (Y/N) is gonna come to work as always. Nothing bad happened to her. Right now she is at home, resting on her bed.’ He would repeat himself over and over.

And the next day, Buquet got his much needed relief when he saw you rehearsing at the stage as if nothing had transcurred the night before. He almost let out an euphoric laugh when he saw you safe and sound and that he had been anxious for nothing.

Concluding that the constant burnout was the cause of his hallucinations, Mr. Buquet requested for a few days off to recover, a request that Monsieur Andre approved without thinking twice.

Everything was going to be okay… or so thought Joseph Buquet.

Castings for a new production called ‘Il Muto’ were about to start in a few weeks, and everyone was about to witness how a single wrong decision could unleash the most gruesome of horrors.

#devil may cry #phantom of the opera #Vitale Sparda #dmc v #v x fem!reader #v x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writings from the mirror

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