#Mischa Lecter

[pesky--dust]

Hannibal: Should the universe contract, should time reverse and teacups come together, a place could be made for Abigail in your world. (Ko no mono) Will: [Hannibal: Where does the difference between the past and the future come from?] Mine? Before you and after you. Yours? It's all starting to blur. Mischa. Abigail. Chiyoh. (Dolce)

Hannibal and teacups and time and the rules of disorder: Ko no mono, Mizumono, Primavera, Dolce, Digestivo

Hannibal was born to be a girl dad.

[screaming-sobbing]

Showing some love for the ladies

[tethered-heartstrings]

hannibal nbc "shiizakana" / "secondo" / "primavera"

[rocktheholygrail]

2x11 || 3x03

[threadsoflacee]

the way hannibal talks about mischa in this scene is. 😢. he breaks eye contact with will and talks sadly but fondly of her. and his lips quiver before saying her name. like he hasnt said it in so long. his voice getting rougher like he’s about to cry. looking down as he has never talked to anyone about this subject. his breathing picking up. as a big sister this HITS!!!!!!!!! hannibal being the oldest sibling makes so much sense.

[cece693]

Handcuffs (Hannibal Lecter x GN! Reader)

Just wanted a break from writing Percy Jackson fics, so here's something for my favorite slasher :)

Summary: You made Hannibal Lecter fall in love with you, however, that doesn't mean that your cannibal suddenly turns into a normal person. You can't declaw a predator, nor do you want to.

tags: possessive Hannibal, reader loves him, insecurity, handcuffs, no funny business though ☹️

Hannibal was a man of little emotions, his person suit knitted tightly to conceal the darkness he harbored within. But after he met you, that meticulous facade he had spent his entire life perfecting turned to nothing. He allowed you to see him—see past the elegant, cultured mask to the predator lurking beneath. You saw the monster Hannibal Lecter was, and loved him regardless. You didn’t flinch from the truths others would fear, didn’t shy away from the hunger in his eyes or the blood on his hands. You accepted him, wholly, and in that acceptance, Hannibal found a kind of vulnerability he had never allowed himself to feel.

So, to be frightened of losing that bond—over something as trivial as a fleeting conversation—was not irrational to him. You and he were bound together, sewn tightly by an unspoken understanding, an irrevocable trust. It was not love in the conventional sense; it was something deeper, darker, like two conjoined twins who could not survive a separation. You were his, and the very idea of another daring to encroach on what belonged to him was an affront Hannibal could not tolerate.

You lay on the bed, one wrist tethered to the headboard by a pair of handcuffs. The metal was cool and unyielding against your skin, biting just enough to remind you of your restraints without truly hurting. Hannibal stood beside you, his form still as he observed you with that unnerving intensity, his eyes reflecting the dim light like those of a wolf caught between the urge to protect its territory and to devour it whole.

There was no anger in his face, only a calm so controlled it bordered on unnerving. It was the kind of calm that came before a storm—before a decision was made, or a life was taken. You knew better than to argue. The situation was absurd in its own way, but also unmistakably Hannibal. This was his way of showing love, his twisted, possessive proof that he could not and would not risk losing you. After all, if he didn’t care, you would not be breathing right now.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze with steady resolve. “You know that, Hannibal.”

He remained silent, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he watched you. Then he took a step closer, his fingers brushing over the curve of your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. The touch was gentle, but there was a possessiveness in the way his thumb grazed your skin.“The fault is not yours,” he conceded, his voice a low murmur. “But there are others—pigs—who think they can encroach upon what is mine.”

He moved his hand lower, letting his fingers curl around the cuff on your wrist. “I am not a man who shares,” he continued, his voice like dark velvet, smooth but edged with something dangerous. “Nor am I one who takes kindly to trespassers. You belong to me.”

“And I do,” you replied softly, letting the words fall between you like a vow. “You don’t have to worry. No one else even comes close.”

For a moment, Hannibal's expression softened, though only slightly. He leaned in, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with something unmistakably him. “You speak as though you understand,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against your ear, “but humans are fickle creatures. Even the strongest bonds can unravel if pulled upon by the wrong hands.”

You tilted your head just enough for it to hover near his ear. A whisper, a vow. “Not ours. Not this.” You rattled the cuff slightly for emphasis, giving a faint smile. “You don’t need these, Hannibal. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

A shadow of something almost like doubt flickered in Hannibal's face, which you didn't catch. Hannibal was not a man who often second-guessed himself, but when it came to you, there was a vulnerability he despised, a quiet dread that perhaps, one day, he would wake to find you gone.

Instead of unlocking the cuff, Hannibal eased himself onto the bed beside you. The mattress dipped slightly under his weight as he slid close, his arm looping around your waist with a possessive grip that didn’t quite loosen. He pressed his chest against your side, his legs intertwining with yours as though to form a barrier, ensuring you could not slip away even if you wanted to.

You felt his breath stir the hairs on the back of your neck as he spoke, his voice low and almost tender. “It is not you I distrust,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “It is the world. The world is full of banal, foolish people who do not understand the bond we share. I will not allow anyone to fracture it.”

His hand moved up your back, his fingers splaying against your spine as though grounding himself in the reality of your presence. “You have spoiled me, my dear,” he continued, his tone dropping to a near whisper, “with your loyalty, with your love. And now, I am left with the knowledge that I could not bear to be without you.”

You nestled closer to him, feeling the tension gradually bleed from his form as he adjusted his hold around you. The handcuff remained fastened, but it felt less like a restraint now, more like a reminder of his claim on you. His thumb traced small circles over your skin, soothing in its rhythm.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said softly, your voice laced with affection. “You’re stuck with me, Hannibal. Whether you like it or not.”

He let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle, a rare sound that warmed your heart and made you fall more in love with this monster. “Indeed,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as though he could seal the promise into your skin. “And I would not have it any other way.”

As his breathing began to slow, the grip around your waist eased just enough to allow you to shift comfortably against him. But even in sleep, his arm remained draped over you, his fingers curling possessively into the fabric of your clothes. It was a silent promise, a wordless reminder that even in his most vulnerable moments, he would not let you go.

You listened to the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat, steady and strong, a soothing lullaby that seemed almost out of place for a man who carried so much darkness inside him. But it was real—just like his love for you, just like the monster you had chosen to love in return.

As the darkness of the room wrapped around you both, you let your eyes close, feeling the weight of his possessiveness settle over you like a protective shroud. There was comfort in knowing that you belonged to him—and that he belonged to you in return, even if it was in the most unconventional, twisted way.

[prisonhannibal]

Hannibal grabbed a boar spear from the wall and Grutas, with his sure instinct turned his gun on the little girl. "Drop it or I'll shoot her. Do you understand me?" The looters swarmed Hannibal and Mischa then. - Hannibal Rising by Thomas Harris

This is inaccurate because Hannibal was wearing a coat in that scene but I forgot until I reread it to quote it. Quote is from the chapter after their parents were killed

[willgrahamscock]

Do you think Hannibal finally prayed to god when he was dragging the blade across Will’s stomach? Do you think he was begging a god outside of himself to stop him from killing the love of his life, as he begged him to let Mischa live? Do you think he realized that when Will said he’d already changed Hannibal, he meant he changed him from a wrathful god to a man who is capable of mercy and forgiveness? Do you think he killed Abigail to show Will that he can be both

[lonelysa1lor]

"She was not my daughter but she was my charge"

[naegleria-nfowleri]

Hannigram Childhood Friends AU (a.k.a no one dies/everyone lives)

Will helped Hannibal and Mischa escape from their captors

[duizblo]

"I know what people think I did. They're wrong. Why can't I tell everybody that they're wrong?"

lololol it's been a while hi everyone :).

here's on tiktok btw go support pls!!

[screaming-sobbing]

Alphabet soup

[tethered-heartstrings]

hannibal nbc - 3.07 "digestivo" / 2.06 "futamono"

[vampv0id]

[bluemoonscape]

I’ve seen takes before by Hannigram deniers along with the usual “they’re just friends” stuff that “I saw it as a fucked up father/son relationship”

Which. No. It’s obviously romantic. It’s been portrayed as romantic and confirmed as romantic by the creators. This wouldn’t be a discussion if one of them was a woman. But while it is NOT a father/son relationship, there is something inherently paternal about it.

The show itself gives us this idea if you’re looking; the parallels between Hannibal’s love for Mischa and his love for Will, the parallels between Hannibal’s gentleness with Abigail and with Will (the scenes where Hannibal is sitting next to Abigail’s hospital bed and then later Will’s bed make me think of this), it’s all pointing to this layer in Will and Hannibal’s relationship. Hannibal sees Will as his equal while also seeing him in something of that paternal light. There’s a post I saw recently drawing parallels between Hannibal carrying Will through the snow, saving him, and Hannibal unable to save Mischa in the snow as a child. Will is his chance to heal himself from old wounds. Will makes him human in a way nobody has since Mischa. He brings out those loving, protective feelings in him that he’d thought long buried.

It’s not a father/son relationship. That’s not the core of their dynamic, that isn’t what defines it. But Hannibal’s desire to shape, care for, and protect Will reads as very paternal when considering the obvious connections made between Will and Mischa and their respective relationships with Hannibal.

[hannibalhadalittlelamb]

this is my private life (come and get me out of here)