#Hannigram x F! Reader

[mcfriggingonagall]

Can someone plz write either a Hannibal x Will or x reader post where he kidnaps their pet/pets not to hurt them but just to get them used to him and eventually gives them back? Or maybe he doesn't kidnap them, he just brings treats over and gives them new toys etc. I just want him to try to bond with the pet so the other person likes him more. How would be behave with dogs, or cats or even snakes ? I know he'd want you dependent on him. He wants no one else in your life except him but also I love my cat and I'd fight to the death for him 🐈‍⬛️💜

[s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y]

Be our guest~

Hannigram/ Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Teen!reader

Summary: Hannibal and Will host a small dinner party between themselves, a work friend and her family. But with Will and Hannibal, there’s no such thing as a happy ending.

TW! Drugging, Delulu Hannibal, mention of blood, mention of vomit(not detailed)

~~~~~~

“Do we have to eat with them?” Your father groaned to your mother as he parked the car next to the house.

“Yes. They’re my friends and it’s not everyday we get to eat out.” Your mother snapped back. She opened her car door and stepped out slowly, brushing down the creases in her dress.

With a heavy sigh, you opened your car door and followed your mother to the small, metal gate at the front of the garden. The silky darkness of night preventing any greenery to show over the bars, causing the grey stone path ahead to be hard to navigate.

You held onto your mother’s arm as she stumbled forward in her heels. “It would be great to have my husband walk me to the front door. Not my child.” She scoffed bluntly.

“Walk yourself. You’d nag at me the whole way anyways.” Your father retorted, trailing behind. He passed your mum a bottle of wine, practically shoving it into her arms.

Your mother fixed her hair before pressing the doorbell. A pleasant ring echoed behind the tall door and soon after the door creaked open.

“Y/M/N, Hannibal and I are so happy you could make it.” The man smiled as he stepped aside to allow your family to enter, taking the bottle of wine from your mum with a small thank you. He shook your fathers hand before guiding you all to the lounge. They’re house was big. Bigger than yours or any house you had been in before. It had room after room all the way down the hall, with a big staircase at the end. Each wall had something on it, either art or a clock. No family photos or honeymoon pictures. Just rich art or an old clock.

The man sat down beside your dad, although while speaking to your parents his eyes were tracked on you. Eventually he looked away to address all of you, “Hannibal’s in the kitchen at the moment, hopefully he’ll be through in a second to greet you.”

And, as if it were rehearsed, who you assumed was Hannibal waltzed through the doorway. He dried his hands off with a towel before throwing it over his shoulder. “Y/M/N, I’m so glad you could come. Good to see you as well, Y/F/N, have you been doing better since our last appointment?”

Your father rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on a leather sofa before answering, “Yeah yeah, I’ve been doing great.”

You looked towards your mother, noticing how her gaze lingered on Hannibal, her eyes taking in every inch of him. She never looked at your dad like that.

Yikes.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes and stared at your father for a moment too long, as if he was analysing him, before reverting his gaze to you. “You must be Y/N. Your father speaks of you often.”

“All bad, I assume.” You joked, offering the man a small smile.

He hummed at your joke, returning the smile. “Well, I’m sorry to cut this short but I have to get back to work. Y/F/N, would you care to help me?” His gaze darted back to your dad.

Begrudgingly, your father stood up and sauntered over to Hannibal, presumably to follow him into the kitchen.

“So, Y/N,” the other man began, “your mother tells me you’re heading down the same path as her. Studying to be a criminal psychologist too?”

You gently nodded, “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

A somber silence fell between the three of you until your mother spoke up and sparked a conversation which you had no interest in. Something about Abel Gideon’s attack or whatever.

After half an hour of boring conversation and staring at the ceiling, Dr Lecter called all of you through to the dining room. That’s how you found out the other man’s name, Will.

You took your seat between Will and Dr Lecter, letting your parents sit together. The adults began chatting about work and life and God knows what else. All of it was boring.

While you were poking and prodding at the fish on your plate you heard your name be muttered by Dr Lecter. Your head shot up in his direction.

“What do you think?”

A soft blush burned your cheeks as you bashfully stated, “I’m really sorry but I haven’t been paying attention.”

He chuckled softly before asking what you thought of the food. To which you only gave compliments, not wanting to upset him. Dr Lecter smiled softly, thanking you, before turning back to speaking with your parents.

Throughout the numerous courses Dr Lecter brought out, you slowly began to feel more and more sick and tired, to the point where you felt your eyes rolls back in your head and your stomach churn and ache.

You gently placed your fork on your plate and leaned back in your chair, immediately gaining attention from Will who nudged you.

“You okay, kid?” His face strewn with worry.

Sweat dripped down your brow as you nodded sharply, “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“Well, we have a guest bedroom upstairs that we would be more than happy to let you borrow.” Dr Lecter chimed in.

“No it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“We insist.”

After that you had no say in wether you went or not. Will slowly guided you up the stairs and down the hall, at points he was pausing to make sure you were fine.

You always said you were fine despite your migraine making your vision blurry and your feet feeling numb. Once you reached the top of the stairs, you fell into Will and luckily he caught you, picking you up before you could try to stand again. You would have been so embarrassed if you hadn’t been feeling this bad.

The walk to the spare bedroom was tedious. Time felt as if it had slowed down to taunt you- to make sure you felt every second of pain.

Finally, Will reached the room. The door creaked open and the light flickered on. Through your blurry vision you almost thought it was your room at home. Same bed frame, wardrobe, vanity, dresser- all of it was identical. Maybe you were just being crazy. Maybe this was your brain trying to comfort you and make you see a place that makes you feel safe.

He gently placed you down on the bed, making you sit up to the best of your ability while he took off your shoes so the sheets didn’t get muddy. He then pulled back the duvet and let you fall onto the pillow, immediately falling asleep. He smiled, softly brushing hair out of your face before stepping out of the room and turning off the lights.

~

A loud crash abruptly woke you up, jolting you upright. A sense of dread washed over you as you peeled back the covers and slowly navigated your way to the thin line of light emerging from the frame of the door.

A shiver racked down your spine as the cold, hard wooden floors touched your feet.

Each step on the floor creaked under the weight of you. The loudness made you worried that the wrong person could hear and come to get you.

They were probably just watching a movie, you reasoned with yourself, trying to think of any logical explanation while feeling like something was watching you.

The abyss like darkness which awaited you at the bottom of the steps was the worst. That feeling of dread set in faster and harder as you stepped into the nothingness that called out for you.

Trying to find a way around this house felt impossible. You felt like a rat trapped in a maze trying to find its reward, and your rat race reward could only be freedom.

You crept into the kitchen, then the dining room, then the lounge, flicking on the lights as you did. Each one you were wary about entering, that dread in your stomach building up more and more.

And when a hand clasped your shoulder, you felt like crying out. You spun around, pushing the hand away and stumbling to the plush, carpeted floor. Looking up, you saw the slim and shadowed figure of one of your hosts for the evening,

Will.

Your eyes widened as you heard him call out for Hannibal. Quickly, you scrambled to your feet and made a mad dash for the closest exit, accidentally bumping into something.

Something whose chest rose and fell with each heavy heaving breath, something which grabbed you and pulled you close, something that glistened with sweat and blood in the bright white moonlight from out the old windows.

“It’s alright, Mischa..” Hannibal sighed, holding you against him, “You’re safe now.”

~~~~~~~

02:03 Saturday, 10th of August 2024

10/8/24

AN- this is low-key shit, but I kinda like the idea. I just don’t think I could write it well.

Also, three hours ago it was my birthday 🥳🥳🦅

Love you all :3

[tac-the-unseen]

hiiii how r u? ❤️

can you do alphabet SFW for hannigramx reader? 💕

Hannigram x Reader SFW alphabet 

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Hannibal is an acts of service kind of guy. He cooks, he cleans, he helps with work, But that's just surface level stuff he does for everyone he's around. When it comes to relationships Hannibal is more of words of affirmation and physical touch. 

Will has one setting, Quality time. Sitting down to watch a show, Fishing, Long walks, Puzzles and games. All stuff he enjoys and likes sharing with his partners!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Hannibal and Will are tough nuts to crack. To have to prove yourself as trustful and reliable before they start a relationship with you. (Hannibal may or may not have had his sights set on you before he even spoke to you.)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Hannibal enjoys occasional cuddles and hugs. He definitely needs them from time to time, but can go for a long while before he's desperate for affection.

Will simply doesn't like being touched. Tough

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Both men want a quite simple lives…. eventually…but they still have a little bit more murder in them 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Hannibal might kill you and eat you OR let you go on with your life (he will always be there, you just won't know it)

Will is a respectful gentleman and understands not all relationships work out. He'll have a long chat with you before parting ways.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

They Both want to get married. Simple as that! (Hannibal is totally a groomzilla)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Yes and No. 

They do have Gentle moments with each other, but they do get covered in blood quite often. But surprisingly the Gore can be very soft and gentle from time to time. Even down right romantic if you catch them on the right occasion. 

But you're dating two cannibals, so you already knew that.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Sometimes, they like to keep the PDA to a minimum. 

Also hugs isn't always their kind of affection, They will absolutely give hugs if you ask, but they like words of affirmation a bit more.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

YEARS. These men use verbal word play to convey affection. If they outright say ‘I Love you’, you can expect them or you to be dying.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Absolutely. They do undoubtedly have confidence in you and the relationship, but they just can't help a guy testing their smooth moves on you. 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kisses are pretty rare When it comes to Hannibal and Will. Kisses are saved for special occasions and bedroom activities. BUT, if it is to occur, they're pretty soft and sensual.

Hannibal Targets the lips, knuckles, shoulders, and chest.

Will Targets the lips, neck, face, and stomach.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

……Oh…..good?......RIP Abby….

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Hannibal is up bright and early at 4:00 am. He has a whole morning routine that takes him an hour to complete. At 5:00 he makes breakfast and goes through all the appointments he has that day. At 6:00 he's out the door and off to work.

Will wakes up, lays in bed for a few minutes, uses the bathroom, and goes downstairs to eat breakfast. He heads out for work around 6:30 ish.

If they have both managed to score a day off at the same time, breakfast is pushed back and hour. Not because Hannibal spends more time in bed, but because he gets to spend more time in his grooming routine. Hannibal spends an additional hour in the bathroom cleaning himself up. 

Will on the other hand does stay in bed. He waits until Hannibal is done, uses the bathroom, and goes back to bed until breakfast is ready. He's a very simple guy. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Hannibal has a Bedtime routine that also takes quite some time. (Yes, he will occasionally skip all of that to just hop into bed, but that's not often.) If you're all close enough (and there's room) He'll let you and Will get in the shower with him. At the end he slides into the far right side of the bed and lets you and will cuddle with him.

Will takes a shower, brushes his teeth, and get into the far left side of the bed. On occasion Hannibal will force him into his own routine (which involves a lot of oils and creams) that Will is not all that pleased to be doing. 

If you're a very cuddly person, cling to Hannibal. He loves feeling needed and in control. 

If you're not a cuddly person, turn and face Will. Will isn't the biggest fan of physical touch so you'll be (relatively) left alone.

O = Open  (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say  everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

HA. 

Hannibal HAS to be in your head first before he even considers opening up in the slightest. 

Will is closed off until Hannibal reassures him that you're trustworthy. 

This could takes years.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Do they get angry easily, yes. But they are in it for the long con. 

They have taken years playing with their prey before they kill them. Their patients is through the roof. 

Hannibal is the more patient one of course, but Will is also slow moving evil in a vest. 

Q = Quizzes  (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little  detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Hannibal remembers everything you tell him. He soaks up that information like a sponge. 

Will might forget a few things but over all remembers most of what you tell him.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Hannibal: 

Hannibal texts you later in the day to tell you he'll be home late. He feels bad and tries to get through the night as quickly as possible. 

When he eventually comes home he could smell a savory scent coming from the kitchen. He creeps up softly to the kitchen and peaks inside. 

There you are, doing your damn best to make dinner. He found it really sweet and let you work it out alone. 

Was it the best meal he ever had? No. Was it the one He loved the most? Yes!

Will: 

During one of the lowest points of his life He genuinely couldn't be alone. He felt like he could rely on anyone but desperately needed help, so he ended up calling you. 

You were there within an hour with an overnight bag. 

You stayed with him all night and the next day. You made sure he slept, ate, and showered. He's never forgotten that, and thinks of that act of kindness daily.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Both of them have killed for you, and will do it again.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Hannibal will put in maximum effort in all dates. He puts in the works, food, wine, place, timing, all of it 

Will will do his best, plan something nice, Wear something presentable. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

…. Despite the obvious…Hannibal can't stop staring into your soul. His gaze can pass through anyone. It's bone chilling at the best of times.

Will…. Will has one of the most infamous killers of all time in the palm of his hand. He absolutely uses that to his advantage.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Hannibal 90% sometimes He couldn't be bothered, most the time he is. 

Will 50%, He's been out and about missing some clothing. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Hannibal loves hard. Obsessively. He stalks, he creeps, he prowls, he peeps. There are no secrets, he already knows. He loves knowing, That's how he shows it.

Will needs support, well he could survive a while without you, after a few hours you will be bombarded with texts and calls. He'll be all pretty over the phone telling you he just needs to hear your voice. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Headcannons here 😘

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

•Undependable 

•bad punctuality 

•tied down 

•uneducated 

•non-adaptable 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Hannibal doesn't need any fancy stuff to sleep, But he loves to pretend he does. Face masks, thick pillows, soft heavy blankets, lotions, candles, sound machines, etc. It makes me feel high and mighty 

Will will fall asleep in his work clothes, Jeans and all.

They will of course cuddle you if you ask. 

Thanks for reading <3

[billdipisjustanothership]

Don't comment unless you've read everything!!

Hey, uh, Antis, do you understand that shipping is not always about sex?

Do you understand that proship isn't the same as underage x adult and/or incest? It's just letting other people ship whatever they want (which includes self insert x canon, toxic/abusive, dark as in villain x villain or villain x hero, etcetera, all without insulting, harassing and bullying them.

Those same ships mentioned before? They can be portrayed in a wholesome way, not necessarily with abuse or sex, or anything dark.

Antis, do you understand what shipping means? Do you understand what anti harassment is? Do you understand what it bullying? Do you understand how Internet works? Do you understand that real people doing bad things (especially to real kids) doesn't have anything to do with what they ship or write or read online, in fiction? That both Antis and Proshipers could be statically a pedophile regardless of what they consume online, regardless of what they say about themselves, about being proshipers or Antis? Like, real people lie. Real people manipulate.

Real people can say they are against something like pedophilia and actually be pedophiles. Just like some of both Antis and Proshipers said.

There's absolutely no way for you or anyone to know the truth in their real life.

Internet is not a place to harass others over fictional ships.

I've met so many Antis who like gore. Antis who are both kids themselves and also grown ups. Antis who send death threats. And also proshipers who do the same, both experiencing the worse form both sides, all because people want to hurt others behind anonymity.

I've met proshipers who like sweet and fluffy, who practically are shipping the most wholesome and platonic ship ever.

There are Antis who enjoy BillFord and Hannigram (two of the most known dark and abusive with power imbalance dynamics) and sure, they are grown ups. But, like, haven't you realised that many shippers age up characters? That aging up characters isn't the same as pedophilia because pedophilia is being sexually attracted to real kids? Do you understand how pedophilia works?

Do you?

Do you realise how much damage you are causing to real people compared to proshipers? Again, statistically speaking.

How fiction doesn't actually effect real life.

- The slenderman girls didn't kill because of fiction, but because they were mentally ill and would have used anything to kill or hurt someone.

- That the Shark movies (like jaws) was never meant to make people fear sharks enough to increase the killing of those animals, all because of misrepresentation (it was a horror movie, I don't know what people even expected... And they could have searched online to know the truth rather than believe a movie of all things. That's just ridiculous)

And so on.

In the end, the problem isn't fiction, but the people who don't seem to be capable of controlling themselves, separating reality and fiction, nor searching and using common sense, or have really weak morals. All those horror movies don't make everyone kill, same with the crime tvs, or books. We'd be doomed if that was the case. Same with with dark or immoral or whatever they are called now ships.

Another thing that many Antis don't seem to be aware of is the fact that... In writing, the point of view tends to, as they put it, "glorify" abuse and pedophilia when it's written really well (regardless if its from the protagonists pov or the antagonists pov).

Writing a character who enjoys killing doesn't make the creator someone who enjoys killing people, but rather someone who knows how to write really well to the point they make a character believable and easy to understand their behaviour and how they think and why they do what they do. If the character likes something the reader or the writer doesn't, it's actually really good writing! You aren't suppose to like it in real life after all! But in fiction? It's curious, it's entertaining, it's simply having fun with whatever show you are watching, or written story, or drawn comic.

Same with art. That's why it exists. To explore. To create. To improve our own abilities to write, draw, etcetera. Otherwise we'd be boring always doing the same, incapable of knowing, of understanding or even being aware about other ways people think.

None of that means the creators are okay with what they portrayed in their creation, things like in real life pedophilia, incest, murder, cannibalism, abuse, etcetera. It doesn't mean they like it or approve of it. It only means they know how to create and are good at what they are doing. Period.

What Antis are doing is censorship. It's harassment. It's bullying. It's hurting real people, some of them kids themselves, over things that are not real. Stop it. Block what you don't like. Don't go to search it in the tags, nor use those tags to maim those proshipers (some of which aren't even shipping any dark ship, they are simply against harassment)

(I've met wayyyyy too many Antis who are just saying to proshipers to kill themselves, or that they hope they die. Both from adults and from kids as young as 12, according to them. Death threats that are sent towards both adults and kids too. Like, seriously, stop it.)

[socksracoon10]

𝗕𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝗧𝘄𝗼 𝗙𝗶𝗿𝗲𝘀

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙭-𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙚𝙩 𝙪𝙥...

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘮 𝘹 𝘍!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of violence and stint of Hannigram.

(A/N: I don’t know what I’ve been doing, but this does coincide with  𝗧𝘄𝗼 𝗦𝗶𝗱𝗲𝘀  and it is in the same timeline, so it’s not like a prequel or sequel but it’s in the same storyline that I’ve created for the next few Will Graham fics! I know I have a lot of other stories to plan/write but I’m in such a mood to write Will Graham lmao, he’s my baby boi and I love him a lot-)

Word Count: 1724

“It’s been quite a long time, Will...” Her voice thundered through the small room. He had straightened his posture, almost daring to look at her. If his eyes caught hold of her figure, he would have to drop his purpose in life and he wasn’t ready to be wrapped around her finger. His hand engulfed the small glass of wine into his palm; (Y/N) nearly waited for it to explode, sending the shards flying onto the floor. He stayed there, breathing deeply to calm his nerves down.

“You do realize that you aren’t supposed to be here, right?” He turned to face her, watching intently as she simply raised an eyebrow. She scrunched up her face in thought, almost mocking Will. There was this deep silence that flooded the room, spare the sound of her heels as she walked closer to him. He stiffened, expecting her to lash out on him; but, instead she reached out for her own glass of wine, purposely bumping into him on her way. He inhaled her scent, enchanted by the fact that she still smelled like comfort. The same scent that he used to wrap himself in during the night, hoping that it would at least get him an hour of some good sleep. She turned slightly to face him, her face inches away from his. It hurt her that Will didn’t view her the same way anymore; she could see it right in his eyes. More silence. She chewed her lip, eyes falling down to his lips and almost instantly, he stepped back. She held back a frown and instead pouted, trying to signal that she wasn’t really affected by this. However, he saw right through her; past her little façade.

“Why are you even here?” Will asked, watching her eyes wander around the room. She was doing it to irritate him and as much as he hated it, it was actually starting annoy him. There was this surge of anger that came rising from his gut and quickly he grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. She smirked, though it made her face look a little weirder since it was squished so tightly.

“You’re a very kinky man, Will...” She commented, a little muffled. His grip tightened forcing her to cry out in pain; she clawed at his hands, desperately trying to get him off her. He merely shoved her back onto a couch, nearly toppling it along with her. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” He said in a low tone, earning a deadly look from her as she tried to straighten herself. She debated whether or not to saunter her way up to him again, but the memories of what happened a mere second ago allowed her to stay seated firmly. She swallowed, thickly, letting the silence sit in again; presumably to annoy Will.

“Why did you leave?” She asked, quietly. Her voice was so quiet, Will nearly thought he was deaf for a moment. There was this longing that loomed in her eyes, as if she was crying out to him. Pleading for him to take her back, as much as she hated what succeeded after the events of Hannibal’s appointment. It was still etched in her mind, the way Hannibal had taken her to a room that was bare. It suffocated her, though the place was spacious. She knew the psychiatrist was well aware of her mind, and yet it bothered her that he didn’t even think to be considerate to hang at least a pretty picture. There was no comfort to her, spare Will popping in once or twice a day to check in; however, he soon seemed to stop that habit after a month had gone by.

“Answer me,” She hissed, her mind jumping back to reality. Will gazed upon her, blankly, not hesitating to take a sip of his drink. He smacked his lips at the taste of it; no expression being shown on his face. (Y/N) couldn’t help but squirm uneasily in her chair, her eyes drifting down to her heels. It was the uneasy breathing of Will that got her attention; eyes snapping up to meet him.

Will continued staying silent, both of them admiring each other’s eyes. That was what deemed such importance. Eyes. The eyes that had traveled around her when she paced the lonely room. The eyes that were glued to her when she went to visit Alana, only to get hurt by Will. The eyes that were in glass bottles when she made a daring escape from Hannibal’s habitat. The eyes that used to gaze upon her in love as she writhed underneath Will. And lastly, the eyes that now were empty, soulless and unforgiving.

“I left you... because I... I didn’t want you near me,” He finally replied, sounding more harsh than he had intended to. She swallowed her tears, the urge to strangle him so strong; she just wanted to see him die right then and there. He took her happiness, abandoned her in a horrid room, didn’t even try to track her down after she escaped and all the love she had for him were put to waste. She didn’t know whether he meant to say that he wanted to protect her or if he simply didn’t want to be near her at all. Either way, it stung her and she couldn’t control herself anymore. She shot up from her chair, eyes wide as Will did nothing but merely snort to himself.

“You find this entertaining?” She spat, grabbing his collar and yanking him closer to her. His aroma flooded her nose, and she struggled to focus on the task at hand. Oh, how she hated him. She despised him; yet her heart couldn’t stop aching. How she longed to lay beside him in bed, admiring him for hours. She blamed it on Hannibal, he was the reason Will had changed. Not for good, but for the worse. He wasn’t the same anymore and she was distraught by it. 

Behind those closed doors was an awaiting Hannibal, who had merely been there for a couple minutes. (Y/N) (L/N) was back, just like he knew she would. He was smart enough to realize that he needn’t go after her, she would come crying back to Will; a bond so true it made him more hungry. Ms. (L/N) was an interesting figure, even having her locked away for observation only provided such little information. She was a reluctant being, the only thing you could deduce from her was that she loved Will. Even when he forbid Will from seeing her, even when he left her deserted in the middle of nowhere, she still loved him. That love was practically radiating off of her and Hannibal had licked his lips at thought of how sweet she must really be. The rising of their voices were filling up the hallway and Hannibal didn’t want to ruin their conversation. He stood outside, patiently, eager to know what other rude words would fall out of (Y/N)’s lips.

“After everything I’ve done for you-” She yelled,

“You’ve done nothing for me!” Will interrupted, his own voice surprising himself. She huffed in response, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. She would’ve said more but there was this eerie feeling that she was being watched by someone. She turned to face the closed doors, squinting slightly to get a better view of the shadow underneath the small slit. Meanwhile, Will had set down his glass. Hannibal was here, he knew it.

Will had 3 options right now. Option 1 was to not do anything and let Hannibal walk in and take control of the matter. Option 2 was to grab (Y/N), pin her down and possibly knock her out which would earn Hannibal and him either a meal or a way to get some information from her. Option 3 was to simply let her go and let her escape again. A part of him genuinely sided with Option 3 and it shocked him. It truly did. The battle between himself began to arise and he took a deep breath in, watching his ex-wife slowly take little steps towards the door. She was distracted; this was a perfect opportunity. His mind was screaming at him and there was nothing else he could do. There was this sudden change in mood around him and he couldn’t stop himself from quickly grabbing onto her, slamming her down to the ground. She squirmed against him, her face squashed against the hard, wooden floor. 

“Hannibal!” Will cried out, his eyes fixed straight onto the head of his wife. He wanted to do more, he wanted to suffocate her till she would breathe her last. He wanted to see her head combust and it was too much for him. This... This urge he had was nothing short of madness and it shocked them both that he used to call this woman his everything. She was what kept him from going dark, yet here he was, nearly strangling her to death.

She was choking out words that only sounded like babbles and the doors finally creaked open; the heavy footsteps of Hannibal echoing through her ears. She struggled under Will’s grasp as he tied her arms, securing her legs with some rope as well. Her former lover set her against the side of the couch, getting up for a quick word with Dr. Lecter. Hannibal stared at her, his whole demeanor making her heart race; not in the good way. He smirked, looking down at Will who surprisingly seemed to be eager in receiving an order and the former bent down to capture the latter’s lips with his own. 

“What the hell,” (Y/N) exclaimed, watching a man that she hated be with someone she still so strongly desired. She didn’t even know that Will and Hannibal’s relationship had escalated and she squirmed uncomfortable in her spot, watching Hannibal drag out the kiss, purposely. 

“What do we do with her?” Will asked, pulling back briefly to catch his breath. Hannibal tilted his head to face her, looking down in what seemed to be a disapproving glare.

“We need some answers of course, but I do intend of making her the main course next week.” He chortled, eliciting a smirk from Will and cry from (Y/N)...

[intoxicated-chan]

Eres Mía

♡o。.✿ฺ Paring // Alejandro Vargas x F!Reader

♡o。.✿ฺ Summary // Alejandro invites task force 141 to a club with the sole reason of getting you back.

♡o。.✿ฺ (A/n) // This man has me running laps around my room and screaming! This was inspired by “Eres Mía” by Romeo Santos. Also are you guys interested in a Hannigram fan fiction?

♡o。.✿ฺ Word Count // 731

♡o。.✿ฺ Content Warnings // Female reader, obsessive behavior, intimidation, pet names (Cariño), alcohol use, smoking, mentions of cheating…

You were only listening to the story Gaz told about himself falling out of the helicopter. Smiling and drinking, laying your head on Soap’s shoulder whenever you wanted to dance with him. But you were tired, feet sore, and just wanted to drink the rest of the night away considering the man who invited you all to the club was your ex-boyfriend.

You and Alejandro have history together. You met when Laswell stationed you at Las Almas and you met Alejandro, the two of you got on well and dated early. But you broke it off since Alejandro was rather angry about you moving to Task Force 141.

It was more than awkward when you arrived back to Las Almas with Ghost and Soap, everyone could see the tension between you two and it was a rather bad one. Alejandro became visibly tense whenever you showed small acts of affection towards Soap and always tried to separate the two of you whenever he got the chance. Ghost was getting pissed that Alejandro kept distracting you and nearly told him off but Soap stopped him. Soap knew about your past relationship with him and wasn’t worried about it… Okay, he was getting worried.

Like when you all interrogated Valeria, she tried getting under Soap and Alejandro’s skin by trying to make the two jealous. Alejandro warned you all, especially you. When you got the chance to speak to him in private, he gave you a choice… Come back to him and be safe or you could continue risking your life for that man.

You still haven’t answered his question, you only came to the club so Alejandro could see your answer, you were happy with Soap, more than happy. You thought the club could also ease Soap’s worries.

You took another shot from the bartender, head still laying on Soap’s shoulder and one of his arms wrapped around your waist.

Alejandro came to the two of you, “Soap, (Y/n).” You gave him a tense smile, turning your attention back to the story, “Care to join me for a smoke, (Y/n)?” You looked back at Soap.

“...Just one.” Soap allows, giving your waist a squeeze.

And it’s where the two of you are now. Alejandro struggled to light the cigarette cursing in his language. You sighed, snatching the cigarette from his mouth and lighting it with yours, “Here.” You hand it back to Alejandro.

“If my eyes aren’t fooling me… That’s a ring.”

You look up at him confused before you realize what he’s talking about. You look at your right hand and smile, “Oh yes! Johnny proposed to me on the battlefield.”

“Did he now?”

“Yes, we were cornered in a building when Johnny got on one knee and used a grenade pin as a temporary ring. I have a feeling that he wants to do the same for our wedding.”

“I wanted to be the one to propose to you on the battlefield…” Great, now it’s awkward now, not like it hasn’t been from the start.

“Did you now?” You try to speak.

“Today. I’ve been wanting to for years, cariño.”

You stand to your feet, “Don’t you start, Vargas.”

“Cariño… You do remember that I love the way you say my name.” Alejandro blocks the way back into the club, “On your wedding day, I’ll laugh at Soap, he’s only borrowing the woman that I love. You’re still mine, (Y/n).”

“Enough.” You try to push past him but he grabs a hold of your shoulders.

“Give me one night, this night to show you.” Alejandro pleads, “You have two choices, walk in that bar you go with Soap or you could come with me.”

One hand cups your face, you slap his hand off you, “I love Johnny, not you.” Pushing him back, “I never want to see you again.” You walk into the bar with a huff, cigarette long gone.

When Soap sees you, you’re on the verge of tears, “Did he do something?”

“Alejandro wanted me to cheat on you.” You mutter, “Can we leave?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Soap plants a kiss on your head, apologizing to the rest of the group before leaving with you. Alejandro remains outside, finishing his cigarette. He watches as you leave with Soap, hands intertwined.

“You know where your heart is, you’ll forever remain mine, (Y/n) (L/n).”

© Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 12

We’re finally getting into the polyamory stuff I promised!!

Hannibal reads into Will’s whirlwind relationship with y/n and finds a way to insert himself into it. Will sees some patterns in his relationships. 

Trigger warnings: emotional and mental manipulation, discussion of toxic codependent relationships

"Your relationship with Miss [L/N] is a physical manifestation of your compulsory need to protect someone." Hannibal explained. "You've learned that you're capable of violence. Using it to protect someone allows you to hold on to your veneer of morality as defined by society."

"How do I keep ending up here?" Will leaned on the desk, knowing full well that the answer was because he wanted to.

"I like to think it's because my voice has replaced your conscience." Hannibal smirked, sitting in one of the black den chairs. "There must be some part of you that knows you're taking advantage of Miss [L/N], right?"

Will tightened his lips and sat in the chair across from Hannibal. "I'm not that deep in denial. I know it's opportunistic to keep her around when she has nowhere else to go."

"And you know she is only attached to you because she feels indebted to you." Hannibal leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. "Do you intend to keep her forever indebted to you so she can never leave?"

Will crossed his arms. "I don't know what you're accusing me of."

"Your girlfriend is quite loose-lipped." Hannibal claimed. "Aside from in the literal sense, it seems."

"So she told you about this morning, huh?" Will frowned. "And I'm sure you had nothing to do with that. So I couldn't let her go down on me and not return the favor. I'm a strong proponent of gender equality."

Hannibal licked his lips. This new image was particularly scrumptious as it formulated in his head. "I noticed the way you looked when you learned she and I had met."

"And what way is that, Doctor Lecter?" Will sneered.

"Jealous," Hannibal put up a finger to denote an incomplete thought. "But of whom, I couldn't place. Tell me, Will. Were you jealous of me, or of her?"

"I'd rather not." Will refused. "I'm not interested in fighting over a woman with you."

"Nor am I." Hannibal smiled. "But you must know that what you have going on with Miss [L/N] isn't sustainable. Not on your own."

"What are you planning?" Will furrowed his brow.

"The young woman confided in me a lifetime ago," Hannibal began. "That she wishes to be shared. For her own protection."

"That doesn't sound like regular dinner conversation." Will said, skeptically.

"Like I said," Hannibal turned around. "Is it really so hard to believe that she talks?"

"Here I thought bartenders were sworn to secrecy." Will rolled his eyes, refusing to process the information presented.

"I think it would be best for her." Hannibal said. "And you. You both need someone to watch over you."

Will glared at him. "I thought you were critical of Freud. Seems like now you're proving his point."

"It's written in the laws of nature." Hannibal rationalized. "Hydrogen is the most abundant chemical in the known universe. But one hydrogen atom is unstable without another. And even then, it's dangerously combustible. But, when met with an oxygen atom-"

"You drown." Will folded his arms. "See, I can play that game too."

“You know that this relationship with [F/N] is doomed to fail.” Hannibal said, gravely. “But you still deflect and drag your feet. When presented with a solution that would keep her in your life, you reject it. Why are you so self-destructive?” 

“Frankly, I don’t believe you have either of our best interests at heart.” Will admitted. “You’re putting up a front of psychological expertise so you can watch [F/N] and I dance on your strings.” 

Hannibal positioned himself behind Will’s chair. “So it’s okay when you manipulate somebody, but when I do it, I’m a monster, is that right?” 

“I’m not manipulating her.” Will protested. 

“Tell me, Will.” Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder. “Did you take her in for her wellbeing, or yours?” 

Will said nothing. 

“I see.” Hannibal nodded. “Her safety was a happy byproduct of your need to be good.” 

“I see you’ve got me pegged.” Will put up his hands in surrender. 

“Really?” Hannibal smirked. “I thought that was Miss [L/N]’s department.” 

Will shifted in his seat. “Let’s not pretend that you’re just an impartial bystander in all this.” 

Hannibal looked admiringly at Will’s profile. “I never claimed to be.” 

“You want to have your cake and eat it.” Will said. 

“I like all kinds of pastries.” Hannibal answered. “Is it so much to ask that I get to eat what I make?” 

“Were you at the restaurant that night?” Will narrowed his eyes. “You were, weren’t you?” 

“I believe you know the answer to that.” Hannibal nodded. “And I also believe that you weren’t there entirely for Miss [L/N], either.” 

Will began to catch on. “Because you were the one to suggest she was in danger, yeah, I got it.” 

Hannibal looked proud of himself. “Like I said, my voice has replaced your conscience. And you like it that way.” 

"As if our relationship wasn't toxic enough," Will smiled uncomfortably at the ground. "You think adding a murder survivor to the mix would balance it out."

"So what we have is a relationship now?" Hannibal ran his hand through Will's hair.

"I wouldn't even call it a fling." Will groaned. "I'd call it a mistake that I have yet to learn from."

Hannibal brought his lips to his ear. "Let's hope you never do."

[hannibal-abo]

Pacts Between Lions And Men

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/38XNgmH

by Ella_Emmens

Will finds Hannibal in Florence but before he can do anything, he finds you too. And all he can think of is all that Hannibal might take you away like everything else he cared about. But it seems he's forgotten who you really are.

Words: 1398, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Hannibal (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/M

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Alana Bloom, Original Female Character, Reader, Margot Verger

Relationships: Will Graham x reader, Will Graham/Reader

Additional Tags: Smut, Lemon, Angst, Violence, of course there's violence it's Hannibal, Will Graham x Reader - Freeform, There is no Hannigram, sorry - Freeform, Porn With Plot, There is some porn im sorry, not sorry, Friends to Lovers, old friends reunite, old lovers reunite to fuck, reader is a badass, reader is a boss bitch, will is sweet, But not dark

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/38XNgmH

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26

Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence

"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"

"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.

You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"

"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.

You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.

"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.

Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"

You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.

"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.

"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."

"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"

Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"

You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"

"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."

You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."

"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"

"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that." He mumbled.

You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.

"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"

"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."

"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger. 

“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”

The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.

"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."

"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.

"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"

You opened the door with a smile.

"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.

"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."

"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."

"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."

Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."

"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.

"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.

Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."

You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.

Charissa waved to you from the porch.

"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.

"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."

"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."

"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.

"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."

Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."

"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."

"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."

"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."

"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."

"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."

"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.

Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"

"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."

Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."

You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."

Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.

"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."

"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.

"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."

Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."

You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."

"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.

"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."

"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.

Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."

Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.

"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.

Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"

"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.

"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."

"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.

"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.

"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."

Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."

You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.

The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.

Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."

She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"

You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."

"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."

You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."

"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."

"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"

"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."

"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"

"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."

Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"

"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."

"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly. 

He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring. 

You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”  

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 15

Hannibal gives y/n an idea and y/n negotiates.

@viviace @deadman-inc-bikeshop @dovahdokren

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

Aftercare was Hannibal's favorite part of the evening. He loved to spend long, indulgent hours pampering his darlings. But usually, there was only one. And that was Will. And Hannibal's clawfoot bathtub, although beautiful, was not big enough for both of you at the same time. Meaning, you had to take turns.

You and Will argued back and forth about who was in more desperate need of aftercare; each advocating for the other, of course. That was Hannibal's fault, really. He should have known better than to ask you to make a decision.

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, sleeves rolled up and arms soaked to the elbow. "Who is first?"

Before you could speak, Will shoved you forward. "She is."

Hannibal knew better than to let the argument go on, and so did you. You followed him into the bathroom, the smell of lavender bath salts filling the air.

He removed your fluffy robe and watched you step into the warm bath. The water was just hot enough to soothe the aches in your muscles. Hannibal took his seat at the end of the tub where you rested your head. You leaned back and submerged your whole body. 

“You have such soft hair.” Hannibal said, pouring a bit of expensive-smelling shampoo in his palm. 

“Thanks, I use fabric softener and tumble dry it on low heat.” You answered. 

“You have a hard time accepting compliments, don’t you?” He probed, beginning to lather the shampoo into your hair. “Between that and the self-deprecation, I’d say you suffer from low self-esteem.” 

You felt yourself melting into him. The hypnotic motions of his hands chipped away at your defenses. “Is that really that surprising?” 

“For such an intelligent, sophisticated young beauty?” Hannibal chuckled. “I am surprised you don’t understand your worth.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” You offered. “The fact that a psychotic cokehead fundamentalist Christian cult leader wants me dead tells me I’m doing something right.” 

“You are a force of nature, my indulgence.” Hannibal assured you, still massaging your head. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know your power.” 

That got you thinking. Would it be so bad to just find a hunting rifle and blow Chase Mulvaney’s head off? What was stopping you? It certainly wasn’t your conscious. All your remaining moral fiber had been ripped to shreds over the course of the last month. 

“Tell me something about yourself, Hannibal.” You said, leaning back.

“What would you like to know?” He asked, retracting his hands. He cupped his hands in the water and poured some over your hair. 

“Do you ever think about morality?” You said, bluntly. 

The question pleasantly surprised him. “Quite a bit, actually. I like to think of myself as a student of philosophy, which deals heavily with the subject of ethics, human behavior, and yes, morality.” 

“Do you believe morality is subjective?” you tilted your head. 

“There’s not a doubt in my mind about it.” Hannibal smiled. “Those who think otherwise usually exemplify some of the best arguments for subjective morality.” 

“Religious nuts like Chase Mulvaney.” You said. “He and millions of others believe in objective morality, but can’t even keep it consistent among themselves.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispered. “You don’t have to wait for aftercare to talk philosophy with me. I would be happy to do so anytime.” 

You spent a half hour in the bath, Hannibal stroking, kissing and cuddling you. As much as you wanted to enjoy the affection, your mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was just a hyperfixation, or post-multiple-orgasm clarity, but the only thought in your head was that Chase Mulvaney had to die. 

Your train of thought was chugging along smoothly until it was derailed by the violent buzzing of your phone against the tile floor. You leaned over the side of the tub, trying to make out the contact name from across the room. 

Hannibal dried his hands on a nearby towel and picked the phone up from the ground. 

“Who is it?” You asked. 

“This number is logged into your phone as just a picture of a...red demon?” Hannibal answered. 

“Oh, yeah.” You dropped your head. “I’ll call her back, just let it ring out.” 

“Who’s the demon?” Hannibal chuckled. 

You stepped out of the bathtub and reached for a towel. “Just somebody I know from work. Probably calling about covering a shift or something.” 

“Would that be the same person who believed I was the devil?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, watching you wrap the towel around yourself.

You were about to say yes, but caught yourself. “No. Just some lady I work with who always refused to share her tips with the buses. Super entitled, total pain in the ass. I’ve been looking for an excuse to tell her off.” 

“Well, we can’t keep you from that, now can we.” Hannibal cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at your face admiringly. “There should be a clean nightgown for you on the bed. Please tell Will I’ll be ready for him in a couple minutes.” 

“Wow, you really did think of everything.” You rocked back on your heels and swung to your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let him know.” 

He kissed you back. “Thank you, my indulgence.” 

“Just one more thing.” You stopped in the threshold. “Could I please use your computer?” 

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal looked up from the quickly draining tub. “By all means, what’s mine is yours.” 

You smiled and blew him a kiss before absconding into the bedroom. 

The nightgown he’d laid out for you had far more ruffles and lace than you’d consider appropriate for sleepwear, but it was comfortable and fit you well. 

You passed the message along to Will, but hurriedly. You were in a rush to be alone. You had some business to attend to.

You sat at Hannibal's desk, turned on his lamp and logged into your google drive on his computer. While you waited for the content to fully load, you scrolled through your contacts. When you found the demon, you pressed the green dial button.

It didn't take her long to pick up. "[F/N]! Finally, I've been trying to call you all night."

"Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes. "Some of us have lives to live. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"No need to be snippy." She scolded. "I have an offer for you."

"If it doesn't involve a portion of ad revenue, I'm not interested." You shook your head. "I'm not settling for a flat fee while you make the real money off my experience. My goddamn trauma."

"Sounds like we woke up and chose bitchy today." She teased. "You're not even going to hear me out?"

"Freddie," you began, pulling up a document on the computer. "I happen to have a four-page, comprehensive statement of what happened that night right here. Half of it was cut out for the FBI report."

You could practically hear Freddie drooling already. "And?"

"I won't accept anything under $1200 for it." You finished. "Or 30% of all ad revenue on this article."

"That's not fair." She protested. "Best I can do is $750."

"You made ten times that off my first article." You leaned back in the chair. "Don't try to lowball me, Lounds, I can do this all night."

"Since when were you the assertive type?" She asked, deflecting the conversation.

"Remember when you told me my fifteen minutes of fame was running out and you were my only option to get my story out there?" You recalled.

"At the time, I was right." Freddie contested.

"That was before Chase went from a cokehead to a domestic terrorist." You said. "Now I actually can take it to a more reputable outlet."

"But here you are anyway." She said. "Extorting a small, woman-owned independent news site just for the hell of it. I've got bills to pay, y'know."

"With gaslighting like that, I'm sure they're astronomical." You rolled your eyes. Sighing, you propped your knees against the desk. "Look, I don't hate you, Freddie."

"I don't hate you either." She agreed. "I thought trashing each other was just our mutual love language."

"The only reason I'm considering TattleCrime at all is you." You admitted. "You're loud and unapologetic and it makes people listen to you. I need someone who can take the heat."

"Because you know that mainstream news outlets are going to cut your writing down to maintain the status quo." Freddie finished your thought.

You pursed your lips. "Exactly. You're the only one who's got the cajones to run the whole story."

"I'm flattered." She said, then paused. "If I move some things around, I can probably get you $1000."

You opened a new tab and typed some words into the search bar. You scrolled through the results, leaving Freddie without an answer.

"Hello?" She said. "[F/N]? Did I lose you?"

"How soon can you pay?" You asked.

Your phone buzzed. You had a notification from paypal. A thousand dollars from Fredrica Lounds.

"Right fucking now." She answered.

"You've got yourself a deal." You said, firmly. You typed out Freddie's email address and pushed send. "It's all yours."

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 13

Sorry this chapter took so long homies 

Hannibal invites Will and y/n to dinner to discuss his proposition. 

Trigger warnings: self-degradation

Edit: fuck me I forgot the tag list sorry @deadman-inc-bikeshop @dovahdokren and @viviace 

The more you thought about Hannibal's proposition, the more it appealed to you. You simply needed to act on it before your inhibitions returned. 

Luckily, Hannibal gave you the opportunity to do just that. He invited both you and Will to dinner that night. 

The scene was just beautiful, just as you'd pictured the sommelier's house to look. Candles and fresh flowers decorated the table and soft orchestral music filled the air. Hannibal placed himself at the head of the table with you and Will on either side. Equidistant and within arm's reach.

Two objects of his affection, ready for the taking.

"Steak au Poivre with garlic butter prosciutto wrapped asparagus." Hannibal introduced the meal as if it were a fourth guest. "Enjoy, my loves."

"More importantly," Will looked at you, knowing you had the same question on your mind. "What are we drinking tonight?"

He reached across the table and grabbed a decanter full of dark red wine.

"An excellent question." He said, pouring a bit in each of your glasses. "We will be drinking Armore Di Valpolicella from 2013."

"That's a.." Will racked his brain. "Dry, full bodied red with a predominant tart cherry flavor."

He looked at you as if to ask if he was right, and you giggled. He'd been practicing his wine vocabulary, if not for you than for both you and Hannibal.

"Well done." You praised. "Except the part about the flavor."

Will furrowed his brow. "Is it not cherry?"

"Well," you picked up your glass by the stem. "It might be. But you have to, y'know, taste it first."

You began to swirl the liquid in the glass, letting the scents grace your nose. Will followed your lead.

After getting a good whiff, you brought the glass to your ear. "Hear the wine."

Will looked confused. "What?"

You swirled the glass close to your ear. "You can hear the ocean closest to the vineyard where this wine was made."

Will reluctantly positioned the glass near his ear, causing you to lose your air of seriousness and bust out laughing.

"Okay." Will rolled his eyes and placed the glass back on the table. "Very funny."

"I'm sorry." You said over laughs. "Let's just taste it."

Will smiled awkwardly and brought the glass to his lips. You did the same. This wine was lovely, dark and deep with a chocolatey finish.

Will turned to Hannibal with his empty glass in hand. "I'm not sure what that taste is, but I like it."

"Is it to your liking, [F/N]?" Hannibal asked.

You dropped your shoulders. "It's delicious."

"As you likely know, I've propositioned each of you separately." He said, filling each of your glasses. "I expect to end this night with one of you under each arm."

"For the record." You piped up. "I'm absolutely cool with that."

"Good girl." Hannibal praised. His gaze turned to Will. “Are you amenable?”

Will looked at Hannibal, then at you. You silently begged him to say yes. He was acutely aware that all eyes were on him and he had to make a choice. 

"I suppose I could be, given the right circumstances." Will leaned back in his chair. “You’ll just have to do a better job convincing me.” 

“And I intend to do just that.” Hannibal took his seat at the head of the table. “[F/N], would you come here, please?” 

You stood up from your seat, making sure to smooth the wrinkles from your dress. Hannibal produced a flat gift box secured with a ribbon from the inside of his coat and handed it to you. 

“Welcome home, darling.” He said with a warm smile. 

Your eyes widened. “Is this jewelry?” 

“Open it and find out.” He urged. 

You untied the ribbon and flipped the box open on its hinge. A pair of fancy little black gloves stared back at you. 

“They’re suede, with a cashmere lining.” Hannibal explained as you lifted them from the box. “Perfect for delicate, scarred skin.” 

When you realized what he meant, your mouth hung open in delight. “Are these for my-” 

“Yes, love.” He interrupted. He took your bandaged hand and began to gently unwrap it. “You can say goodbye to these nasty bandages.” 

You leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek. "Thank you, Dr. Lecter."

"Sweet girl, call me Hannibal." He insisted, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "I'd like to get used to the sound of my name on your lips."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Thank you, Hannibal."

"That's a pretty cheap move, Dr. Lecter," Will taunted. "It's almost insulting that you think I can be lured in with gifts."

“My darling must learn to expect only the finest out of life.” Hannibal said, slinking a hand around your waist and smiling smugly at Will. “Not that you would be interested in that.” 

You pulled the gloves onto your hands and held them out to him. "They're really soft, Will."

Will humored you and took your hands in his. "They are very soft."

"Don't rub it in, [F/N]," Hannibal instructed. "He's already told us he's not interested."

You returned to your seat and tucked the gloves back into the box. You sunk your fork into the tender filet and cut off a piece. “Come on, Will. Don’t make me beg.” 

Will smothered a laugh. “That would be beneath you, [F/N].” 

You raised your eyebrows and pointed your fork in his direction. “You underestimate how pathetic I really am.” 

“Now we’ll have none of that, understood?” Hannibal scolded you. “You’re not pathetic.”

You shot Hannibal a disarming smile. “I was just joking.”

Hannibal’s serious expression didn’t falter. 

“I’m going to have to agree with him on this one.” Will cut in, seemingly without thinking. “Even if it’s a joke, those kinds of words can leave a lot of damage, especially when you say them enough.” 

Hannibal looked lovingly at Will. “That’s right.” 

Will went quiet for a second. He seemed to have a whole conversation with Hannibal through a series of glances. 

Will leaned over and placed his hand over yours. “That’s our lover you’re insulting, after all.”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 11

Y/n returns to Quantico and sees a familiar face. 

@deadman-inc-bikeshop @viviace and @dovahdokren 

Trigger warnings: mention of FGM, graphic descriptions of violence, bombs, religiously motivated violence, torture, cults, implied sex abuse

Out of everywhere you expected to see him, the FBI headquarters was the last place you'd have possibly thought of.

But he was there. His intimidating height was even more pronounced now that he wasn't sitting on a bar stool. The harsh fluorescent lighting enunciated his sunken bone structure, giving him an eerie halo. The fact that he was standing over a flayed corpse didn't help.

"Ms. [L/N]!" Jack greeted. "This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, he occasionally acts as a consultant on large cases such as this one."

"Hello again, Miss [L/N]." Hannibal said, eyeing you up and down with an unreadable expression. "I'm dreadfully sorry these are the circumstances under which we have to meet, but it is a delight to see you nonetheless."

"Dr. Lecter." You nodded, trying to cover your nervousness with a smile. "It's always a pleasure."

"You two know each other." Will said in complete non-surprise.

"Her bar is the only one in town that carries my favorite Bordeaux." Hannibal explained. "Though I've come to find that the bartender is excellent company."

Something about how he said "her bar" made your heart flutter. You'd convinced him that you were in charge, and you were determined to keep it that way.

"Not to break up the reunion." Dr. Katz interrupted your thoughts. "But we are standing in front of a dead cultist's body."

Jack cleared his throat. "Thank you, Dr. Katz. What can you tell us about this woman?"

"Her name is Catherine Miller, or at least it was." Dr. Katz began, grabbing the corpse by its left hand and revealing a scar on its inner arm. "I think Chase may have just been calling her 'unwoman'."

"Erasing a person's identity is one of the many warning signs of a dangerous cult." Hannibal observed, crossing the floor.

"Usually they try to change their names in an attempt to make them shed their genuine personality in favor of the cult personality." Jack agreed. "But she must have been so far gone to willingly give up her entire identity."

"That's not even the beginning." Dr. Katz rushed to the other side of the examination table. She paused for a second and lowered her head in respect. "She was mutilated."

All eyes turned to the body's lower half. Dr. Katz took the corpse's hand and rubbed her thumb gently across the back, as if to comfort it. You and her shared a look of mutual disgust and anger. No words had to be exchanged.

You were the one to break the silence. "In Handmaid's Tale, circumcision was a punishment for... gender treason."

"Homosexuality." Hannibal said, looking down. "Well, more accurately, any sexuality or gender identity that exists outside Gilead's biblical worldview."

"I wonder if that's why Chase strapped her to a bomb." Dr. Katz added with quiet conviction. "He needed to destroy any evidence of brutality."

"She said that she once was a sinful woman like me." You said. "Or something to that effect."

"Was she perhaps under the impression that you existed outside of Gilead's biblical worldview?" Hannibal asked, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. He was asking out of his own curiosity and you could tell.

"Well, I am." You admitted. "But I'm not sure how she or Chase could have known that."

"Evangelicals make assumptions about people all the time." Dr. Katz groaned. "I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"And here I thought the bible said 'judge not lest ye be judged'." Will added, not looking up from the body. He took a few steps and pointed to some strange laceration. "What's this?"

"I have no fucking idea." Dr. Katz answered. "It looks like someone tried to skin her like a deer, but only in that one spot."

"And it's done very sloppily at that." Said Hannibal.

"Yeah, well when you're guided by the hand of god, you don't need a medical license." Dr. Katz's voice was sharp with sarcasm.

"I'll bet that's why Chase strapped her to a bomb." Will said. "It would destroy all the evidence of brutality."

Dr. Katz looked sadly on the body and closed its eyes. "I think Catherine has suffered enough for the time being. I'm going to close her up."

Jack gestured to you. "Miss [L/N], Will and I are going to examine the crime scene. Dr. Lecter will be taking your statement."

"I know it’s unorthodox, but I am nothing if not a professional." Hannibal peered down at you.

Hannibal silently escorted you to an out-of-the-way office where he promised you’d have some privacy. Privacy to discuss what, you were unsure. 

“I’m sure you have a million questions, Miss [L/N].” He said, closing the door behind you. “But if I could trouble you with a few of my own, I can make it worth your while.” 

He sat on a nearby couch and patted the space beside him. You awkwardly stood in the middle of the room, looking everywhere but at him.

“Come, sit by me.” He beckoned you with his fingers. “I’d like you to be close.” 

You let your feet carry you to his side, still avoiding any eye contact. You fidgeted with your purse straps and kept your head down. 

“You and Will Graham have met?” He asked.

You wordlessly nodded your head. You had a sinking feeling that he was about to scold you. 

“Have you been intimate?” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but he stopped you. “There’s no use lying to me, Miss [L/N].” 

You dropped your shoulders. “How did you know?” 

He leaned towards you and took a short, audible breath in. “I find it quite hard to believe that you wear the same aftershave.” 

“Is he your boyfriend or something?” You said, somewhat sarcastically. 

“Or something.” Hannibal tilted his head. “An object of my affection, is probably a more accurate term.” 

“You want me to back off?” You raised your eyebrows. You had just witnessed this man examine a flayed corpse without so much as a flinch. You didn’t want to get on his bad side. 

“No.” 

His answer took you by surprise. “Pardon?” 

“When two objects of your affection find each other, there are certainly far worse fates than to see them enamored with one another.” Hannibal explained. “It can lead to some highly desirable outcomes.” 

You understood what he was saying, you just couldn’t believe it. “Like what?” 

He grinned. “I think you already know what.” 

“You mean, like a threesome?” 

So much for professionalism. 

Hannibal clicked his tongue. “Now don’t make it sound so crass, darling. I’m an intelligent man of strong moral character. I’m not driven by lust alone.” 

At least he shared your contempt there. The word ‘threesome’ conjured up bad memories of being approached by straight couples on dating apps who saw you as nothing but a disposable sex toy to boost a straight man’s ego. For that reason, you stayed away from the idea altogether. Hannibal, however, had you reconsidering. 

“So a throuple.” You said. As the word left your mouth, you found yourself more amenable to the idea than you’d anticipated. “I just don’t know how I’d feel being shared between two men.” 

“Oh, [F/N],” he purred. “You would be worshipped by two men. Loved obsessively. Given everything you could ever desire. Not to mention protected at all costs.” 

That last point struck you. For so long, you had lived alone and in fear. And now, you would take any opportunity to not be alone. 

"You like the sound of that. I can tell." Hannibal broke the silence.

"I can't hide anything from you, can I?" You said, pushing your hair behind your ear.

He smiled proudly. "I thought so."

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 9

Writing smut is very hard.

Y/n wakes up at Will's place and she finds a way to repay him for saving her life.

Contains: pretty much nothing but porn, m/f, oral sex (both m and f receiving), hand guiding

You woke up to the barking of what seemed to be a thousand dogs. It was quickly followed by a desperate hushing and a groan of exhaustion when Will realized they’d already woken you up. 

Will looked deeply embarrassed. Not only for his dogs, but because he was wearing nothing but an undershirt and a pair of blue briefs. “...good morning.” 

You propped yourself up on your wrists, trying to not look too ecstatic at the house full of dogs. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” 

“[F/N], these are Max, Jack, Harley, Ellie, Buster, and the one over there sniffing your bag is Winston. He’s my newest.” 

He pointed to a large, bright orange dog with his nose in your bag. You threw your legs over the bed and tried to shoo him away before he got into your medicine. 

“Back off, nosy boy!” You scolded playfully. Winston yipped helplessly and fled back to Will.

“Fellas, this is [F/N] [L/N], she’s a guest.” He introduced. 

Your eyes snuck from the dogs to his briefs and then back to the dogs. You prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that he didn’t catch you. 

“I should probably make myself decent.” He scratched the back of his head.

“Or I could just make myself less decent.” You blurted out, not even taking a second to think if it was a good idea. 

Will bit his lip and looked at the ground. “If you wanted to, I suppose that would be fair.” 

You began to slowly untuck and unbutton your blouse. “Are you sure? Because I’ll do it but only if you want me to.” 

“It kind of sounds like you want to.” Will raised his eyebrows. 

“Well, for the sake of fairness, yeah.” You rationalized. “But if it would make you uncomfortable-”

“Honestly I’m uncomfortable with being the only one in the room in my underwear.” Will folded his arms. “And it sounds like you have a way to remedy that, so, by all means.” 

"Okay. I'll do it." You said, quickening your fingers. You didn't even think about it when you pulled your shirt right off your chest, revealing a well-worn bra.

Will pursed his lips and looked down. "You were wrong, this is a different kind of awkward."

"Yeah, I don't know why I thought this was a good idea." You shook your head and noticed that he was clenching a muscle.

You went as long as you could without looking, but he wasn't trying to hide it, either. The space between you narrowed until you could feel his breath against your cheek.

His hand hovered over the small of your back. "May I?"

You nodded. He suddenly pulled you in so you could feel him stiffen against you. All the blood rushed to your face.

He pressed his lips against yours, wasting no time and running his tongue along your bottom lip. You wrapped your leg around his waist while you hurriedly unclasped your bra.

You broke the kiss for air. "Feel me."

You took his hand from its spot on your back and placed it over your breast. You fit so perfectly in his hand, it was as if he were made for you. Or, more likely, you were made for him.

Will groaned and you could feel him twitching against you. It pained him to kill the momentum even just for a second, but he needed to take you to the bedroom. He grabbed your hand, pulled you into the room and slammed the door behind you.

Once you were safe in the privacy of his bedroom, he made every primal desire known. He pinned you against the wall and latched on to your neck, blood pooling under your skin. He was determined to turn you red.

He left a trail of love bites down your neck. His hand crept behind you and he forced your back to arch, just so he could more easily devour the valley between your breasts.

You slipped your thumbs into his waistband and lowered his briefs just enough to free his throbbing erection. You gradually lowered yourself, letting the anticipation eat him alive. You wanted to tease him. You wanted him teetering on the edge of his orgasm, to the point where a light breeze could push him over the edge.

In short, you wanted him to see stars as he emptied himself down your throat.

You teased his head with the tip of your tongue, lapping up his precum. When he clenched his hands into white-knuckled fists, you smiled.

Wrapping your lips around him, you anchored yourself with a hand on the back of his thigh. You run your tongue up and down his length. Every muscle in his body tensed, so you gave his thigh a firm squeeze.

"Fuck..." he grunted, taking in sharp, truncated breaths. "...[F/N], fuck-"

You took his entire length in your mouth. He slammed his fist against the wall. You bobbed your head, squeezing his thigh intermittently.

"Fuck, [F/N]-" He tilted his head back and grabbed a fistful of your hair. "I'm close-"

You swirled your tongue around him, paying special attention to the all the little veins and crevices. Your eyes rolled back in your head as he filled your mouth with his hot, thick cum.

He panted and fell from between your lips with a satisfying pop. You met his eyes and swallowed.

You pushed yourself up to your feet. "We're even now."

"We most certainly are not." Will said, still feeling lightheaded. He approached you with ravenous intent. He pushed a blade of your hair out of the way and nibbled at your earlobe.

Suddenly, he pushed you down on the bed. Your skirt was bunched up around your waist, and his hands were on your knees. You trembled with anticipation and he felt it.

Will kissed a line up the length of your inner thigh. The closer he got to your sex, the more he lingered. He was tormenting you the same way you tormented him.

"Fuck, you're absolutely dripping for me." He observed. "What is to be done about this?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He used his tongue to part your folds and find your most sensitive spots.

"Hmm.. Will..." you whined, tangling your fingers in his curls. His stubble was coarse against your delicate skin.

You rested your legs over his shoulders as he teased your opening with his practiced tongue. He drew nearer to your clitoris, anchoring himself with a possessive handful of your ass.

He hungrily lapped up your arousal. Your leg began to tremble and he smiled into you. His tongue graced your clitoris, making you double over in pleasure.

"Oh god-" you gasped, pushing his head deeper between your legs.

You spill into his mouth embarrassingly quickly. You weren't used to having someone give you such special attention. Especially not someone as generous as Will Graham.

He pulled away from you, a strand of your cum lingering on his lips and plenty more in his beard. He looked up at you. Seeing you flushed, gasping for air and thoroughly red made him smile.

"Now we're even." He said, giving your leg one last soft kiss.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 7

Y/n meets her savior and officially joins the investigation. 

@deadman-inc-bikeshop @viviace and @dovahdokren here you go. If you want to be on the tag list, send me a DM. 

Trigger warnings: dissociation, implied sex abuse/trafficking, discussions of death, drugs

It was only when the man left your line of sight that your senses started to return. And even then, you felt like you were on a separate plane of existence from everything happening around you. You were floating, completely numb to your surroundings, letting the world push you wherever it needed you to be.

You weren't entirely sure how you made it from the dumpsters to the FBI headquarters, but there you were.

You listened in on the conversation happening in the other room. From what you could tell, the man who saved you was arguing with his boss.

"Because if there's so much as a Tylenol in her system, you're going to pass it off to the DEA." The man said, his voice soft but firm. This wasn't the first time they had this argument and it showed.

"Will, it is not my fault that the DEA gets preferential treatment." The boss sounded exhausted. "We have a better chance of catching this man with their resources. And we can't turn a blind eye to how substances affect human behavior. I thought you of all people would accept this."

"What if there's nothing in her system?" The man posited. "Then all we have to work with is our own resources. Would that be so bad?"

"Look," the boss said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. "We can't determine anything until forensics gets lab results back tomorrow. For now, see what you can find out from the waitress. She was able to keep her talking, maybe we can find out about what."

The man resignedly left the room and made his way to you. You glanced around the hallway, hoping he wouldn't notice that you've been eavesdropping.

He sat on the opposite end of the bench. You pulled the security blanket from the ambulance tighter around your shoulders.

"I know this is such a stupid, insensitive thing to ask," the man broke the silence. "But are you okay?"

"If it makes you feel any better," you sighed and dropped your shoulders. "I wasn't really okay to begin with."

"Yeah." The man agreed. "It doesn't matter how much you break something, it's still broken. Broken is a... Boolean value."

"It's just that.." You clutched the receipt between your fingers. "Just as I thought things were starting to improve, the universe sends me a cultist strapped to a bomb. I'm never going to recover from this."

"I don't think anyone expects you to." He said. "My name's Will, by the way."

"[F/N]." You said, just for formality's sake. He already knew your name. "I don't think I ever properly thanked you for saving my life."

"Don't worry about it." Will smiled weakly. "If you think you can, though, it would be innumerably helpful if you told us what happened."

You knew you weren't in a position to be asking for favors, but you were desperate. "Could I maybe stay with you for a while?"

Will hovered his hand over yours as if asking for permission. You took it, perhaps a little too eagerly.

"I'll stay with you as long as you want."

Will's presence made it easier to tell the man, whom you learned was the head of the Behavioral Science Unit of the FBI, everything that progressed that night.

"And then she started chanting that one bible verse about the martyrs inheriting the kingdom of heaven." You finished. "That was when Will shot her in the leg."

The director, whose name you learned was Jack Crawford, took a moment to ponder the information. You felt like a child that had been sent to the principal's office.

"Do you have any reason to believe that the woman was under the influence of any drugs? Alcohol?" Jack asked, resting his hands on the desk.

"Not with any certainty, no. I didn't see her ingest anything." You shook your head. "If she was under any influence at all, it was probably against her will."

"What makes you say that?" Jack cocked his head. "In your own time, of course."

"She was..." you glanced at Will, just to remind yourself that he was there. "Scared. Nothing she said had any conviction behind it. It was like she was a hostage being forced to read a fake suicide letter."

"What about these 'cult names' you mentioned?" Jack said. "What significance do you think they have?"

"She kept referring to Chase as 'vanguard'." You began.

"That's what Keith Raniere called himself." Jack interrupted. "Keith Raniere was the head of a sex trafficking cult."

"And the only reason I know that is because I listen to a lot of podcasts." You felt the need to explain. "I'm not sure how Mulvaney decided it would be a fitting title. Maybe he identified with Raniere."

"Did the woman call herself something, too?" Jack leaned in.

"Funny you should mention that," You forced a laugh. "Because she referred to herself as an 'unwoman'."

"That is interesting." Jack brought his hand to his temple, perhaps trying to convince you that he knew what ‘unwoman’ meant.

"He probably thinks Handmaid's Tale is some kind of instruction manual." You said, emphasizing the title of the work. 

“Handmaid’s Tale!” Jack exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "So, are you thinking maybe he's running a breeding cult?"

“Like a borrasca.” You turned to Will, hoping that maybe he would understand what that meant.

As if on cue, a woman in a lab coat burst into the room. 

“Dr. Katz,” Jack announced, taken aback by her urgency. “Welcome.” 

“Jack, you’re going to want to see this.” Dr. Katz said simply. 

Jack stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, Ms. [L/N], Will. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

Again, you were alone with Will. 

“I’m...” Will broke the silence, pausing to find the right words. “Jack isn’t as scary as he looks. He just has a habit of asking too much of people. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’re perfectly within your rights to tell him to back off.” 

You shook your head. “That wouldn’t feel right.”

“Tell me about it.” Will muttered and leaned back in his chair. “It does seem pretty out of character for him to want to drop the whole case on the DEA, but he does have a point about their resources. You can’t argue with money.” 

“No.” You agreed. “You can’t.” 

Will sighed. “I’m sorry. The last thing you probably want to hear about is FBI in-fighting after almost being killed twice in a two-week period.”

“It doesn’t really inspire confidence, no.” You said. 

“Let’s talk about something else.” He offered. “Do you like... fishing?” 

You laughed at his strange attempt at making conversation, but answered honestly. “I used to go fishing with my grandpa when I was a kid.” 

Realizing he’d tapped into a happy memory, Will decided to follow it. “Where did he take you?” 

“My grandparents had this lake house up in Michigan.” You reminisced. “On this dinky little manmade lake where all the rich boomers took their spoiled grandkids for the summer.” 

“Did you ever catch anything?” He shared a little smile.

You realized that he was doing the same thing to you that you did to the unwoman. He was trying to keep you talking to avoid, or at least prolong, some catastrophic event. But he was doing it for your sake. You appreciated that. 

“We pulled up a ton of bluegills, some walleyes, occasionally a bass.” You listed. “One time he and his brother-in-law settled a dispute by seeing who could catch a catfish first. They were outside all day.” 

“Did he ever take you downstate to go fishing on Lake Erie?” 

You stared vacantly ahead. “He wanted to.” 

Will lowered his head in respect. “I’m so sorry.” 

“It was, like, fourteen years ago.” You admitted. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Still,” Will shrugged. “Grief takes a lot out of you. I’m sorry for bringing it up, I had no idea.”

“At this point, most avenues in my life end in death. It’s not your fault.” You smiled at him. “Thanks for trying, though.” 

You settled into another prolonged but comfortable silence. 

“I think Jack is going to arrange to get you into some kind of protective custody, by the way.” He said, shifting his body to face you. “And I don’t think he’s going to give you a choice now that he knows Chase is targeting you, specifically.” 

“Yeah, I was thinking about that.” You answered. “I think they’re probably going to insist I quit my job, too.” 

“You sound disappointed.” Will nodded. “You’ve grown to like that job, huh?” 

“I was good at it.” You admitted. “My boss was gunning for me to take over when he retired. I had big plans for that place. I know waitressing is supposed to be a job that’s ‘just a job’ but--” 

“You had ambition.” Will finished. “You were making an investment for your future.” 

For the first time in a while, you felt heard. “Right.” 

“If you would permit me to say,” Will stood up and walked towards Jack’s desk. “I think you would be an invaluable asset to this investigation.” 

You leaned on the armrest. “I don’t know, Will. I feel like I would just get in the way.” 

“But the sooner we catch this sick fuck, the sooner you can get back to your restaurant.” He said, grabbing a post-it note. He gestured to you with a pen. “And I will do everything in my power to get you back to that restaurant.”

“Why?” You asked. “I’m just a waitress.” 

“Your profile of Chase Mulvaney in your TattleCrime interview was a work of genius.” Will took off his glasses. “And it was incendiary enough to make him come back for you. It wasn’t just a cocaine-fueled bout of murderous hysterics. He remembered you. Now, throughout this investigation, Jack has been ignoring me. But maybe he’ll listen to you.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” You raised an eyebrow. “What then?” 

Will sighed and leaned back on the desk. “Then I do it myself.” 

“Fuck it.” You said, the complete contents of your soul behind those two little words. If he was going to raise the stakes, by god you were going to match him. “I don’t have much else to live for, so might as well die for something.” 

“That’s the spirit.” Will agreed. 

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 6

So we’re slowly but surely getting into the Hannigram shit I promised.

Someone with murderous intent finds y/n just as she thinks her life is beginning to improve. Little does she know, it will. 

@deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovadokren here you go homies

Trigger warnings: Suicide bombing, graphic descriptions of violence, gun violence, death, cults, cult manipulation

You waited until he had left the restaurant to read that all-important scrap of paper. For some reason, you felt the need to hide in the bathroom to read it. It was probably just a name and phone number, but your brain was anticipating some kind of love letter. 

You carefully unfolded the receipt like it was your most treasured possession. Inside, it simply read ‘Hannibal Lecter’ followed by a phone number. 

You hugged the paper against your chest and a huge smile overtook your face. You couldn’t attach any rhyme or reason to why you suddenly felt so alive, other than you were completely and utterly infatuated. You felt like you could break into song. 

“Hey, [F/N]!” Charissa said, banging on the stall door. “Not to interrupt whatever this is, but could you take out the trash please?” 

“Oh.” You answered, your voice cracking. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.” 

Charissa trailed close behind you as you collected the bags from each can around the restaurant. She was uncharacteristically quiet, probably waiting for you to start spilling every detail of your night. The joke was on her, because you could let the silence go on forever. She wasn’t getting a word out of you. 

“So you’re not going to tell me?” She sounded deeply offended. 

“What’s to tell?” You said, hoisting a very full garbage bag over your shoulder. “Nothing happened.” 

“He sunk his teeth into you, didn’t he?” Charissa asked. At this point, you weren’t sure if she meant it metaphorically or literally. “That’s why you’re acting all, y’know, not downright miserable?” 

“Is that how I act usually?” You began to make your way to the back.

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but,” She prefaced. “You basically have two moods. Depressed and customer-service happy, which is just depressed with a facelift. And whatever is happening here doesn’t fit into either of those categories. So something happened.” 

“Detective Charissa Rodriquez does it again.” You rolled your eyes and put one hand on the back door. “Some things just have to stay between a bartender and her... possible love interest.”

You punctuated the last sentence with a wink, sending your friend into a righteous fury. 

“Holy shit, [F/N]!” She exclaimed, smacking her hands together. “Come on, [F/N], I’m your best friend. You’ve got to let me in.” 

“I’m still trying to process what happened myself.” You said in earnest. “Believe me, if I’m telling anyone, it’s you.” 

“I’ll hold you to that.” Charissa wagged her finger. 

You tightened your grip on the garbage bag and lugged it outside. The night had fallen, and the orchestra of cicadas and crickets was in full swing. The warm pre-summer air welcomed you. As much as you resented her for bringing it up, Charissa was right. You hadn’t been truly happy in a very long time. And, as terrifying as the thought may have seemed, in a way, you owed it to Chase Mulvaney. 

You hauled the garbage bag into the dumpster and slammed it shut. The crash echoed and you turned back towards the door. 

Someone grabbed your arm. Your immediate thought was that it was just Charissa playing a cruel joke, but then they twisted it back and shoved you against the wall. You felt the cold blade of a knife against your neck and you froze up. 

“You didn’t repent.” A manic voice hissed into your ear. You could feel your heartbeat against the cold brick wall. The hands that bound you were soft and the voice was much more female. This was noticeably not Chase. 

You sputtered as you tried to articulate any of your thousands of questions. “Who the fuck are you?!” 

“Silence, she-devil!” The girl slammed you against the wall. “Keep your forked tongue between your teeth or I’ll cut it out!”

Her voice and hands shook and she enunciated as if she were reading off a script with a gun to her head. The adrenaline turned to genuine fear when you felt something hard strapped to her midriff. You knew in that moment that she wasn’t going to use the knife. 

"I thought Chase wanted to kill me himself." You muttered.

“Did you really think vanguard would be stupid enough to come back here?!” She forced a laugh but her voice was broken with fear. 

“Yes.” You said back, resigning to at least die with honor. “And, why is Chase the one in charge?!” 

She tightened her grip on your arm and smashed your head against the wall. “Don’t you dare talk about vanguard that way!”

He ripped off his cult leader title from fucking NXIVM? You thought, fully aware that it could easily be your last thought ever. 

“No, but seriously, think about it!” You implored her, hoping that if you got her talking, she wouldn’t hit the detonator. If there was one thing you knew about evangelicals, it was that they loved to hear themselves talk. “Chas- er, vanguard attacked me in broad daylight in front of dozens of witnesses. You’re smarter than he is! You came after me when I was alone in the dark!” 

“Everything he does, he does for a reason.” She shouted. "It's not the unwoman's place to question vanguard!"

“Oh god, now he’s ripping off Handmaid’s Tale?” You said out loud this time.

“Vanguard told me that you would try to fill my head with lies!” She growled. “So long as you are alive, you stand in the way of god’s work! You spread only falsehoods about our savior!” 

“Is this about the TattleCrime article?” You ask. “Because I didn’t say anything about god, I only talked about--” 

Then it hit you, again. “Oh, so this is a cult cult.”

"It's not a cult!" The girl screamed. This was the first time you'd sensed any genuine emotion behind her words. "Vanguard takes good care of us. And he can take care of you, too [F/N] [L/N]."

"By sending someone to kill me?" You spat.

"No!" The girl exclaimed. "No, no, no, no, no! Silly! I'm here to save you. If you repent now, and let Jesus Christ into your heart, your earthly shackles will be broken!"

"And what's in it for you, huh?" You struggled against her grip. "The privilege of blowing yourself up for Chase Mulvaney?"

"I was a sinful being like you, once." She said. "My grand reward is to give my life to save another."

You heard the click of a gun behind you. “Put the knife down and take off the vest!” 

The girl grabbed you by the neck and turned you to face this approaching foe. She held the knife to your throat. “If you shoot, she’s dead.” 

You couldn’t make out the details of his face, because he was backlit by headlights. You could, however, see the face of your captor. She was completely emaciated with bones protruding from her skin. Her head was sloppily shaved and whatever instrument she used to shave it left deep cuts on her scalp. 

She reached a shaky hand into her pocket and pulled out a detonator. Tears streaming down her face, she began to chant. “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

The man let off a shot, sending a bullet into her leg. She fell backwards, dropping the detonator and the knife and giving you an opportunity to run. The man gestured for you to get behind him and you obliged. He then let off a second shot, this bullet hitting her right through the skull. The girl collapsed backwards, her brain matter painting the side of the building. 

The man dropped his gun, mumbled something about a bomb squad into his phone, then turned to you. Finally, you could get a good look at his face. Immediately, you noticed his rich brown curls and a smattering of scruff around his jaw. His features were soft, comforting even. But a long enough examination of his face told you that he was just as deeply haunted as you were. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, weakly.

“You...” You said over desperate gasps for air. “You saved me.”

Soon enough, the first responders joined you. But for a few minutes, it was just you, the man and some unspoken mutual understanding words couldn't articulate.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.”