MINI PAC READING: What Would They Tell You If They Could? (Romance)
GROUPS:
1 - 2 - 3
4 - 5 - 6
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Instruction: Think about your person while choosing a group. Do not use more than 1 group for one person. Just to remind you, this is only for entertainment purposes.
If you don't feel drawn to any group, then this reading is not for you.
GROUP 1
Cards: Ace of Wands, Knight of Wands rx, Wheel of Fortune rx, I Like You, Girl Talk rx, Pond, Archangel Metatron.
I like you. I know it's straightforward, but I cannot say it in any other way that's more meaningful or more direct. It might not sound meaningful but it is to me (I hope it is to you too). I feel there is a spiritual connection between us and it seems no matter what, we keep coming back to each other. Our connection is like a pond; can be insignificant to others but to us, it holds so much life and secrets but it can easily be destroyed if not cultivated. We are so hot and cold; we like each other, then we hate each other over something trivial (we both don't know what exactly annoyed us). I want to move towards you but things are holding me back. There's so much I want to do and say but I'm standing still. I know we will truly come together someday. No one knows about it because I don't share those feelings with friends. It seems too private and sacred.
SONGS:
Eric by Mitski
("Take off my clothes and watch me move; You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me; But how long, how long can we play this way?; I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you"
Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey
("Ours a love I held tightly; Feeling the rapture grow; Like a flame burning brightly; But when she left; Gone was the glow")
Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex
("Whispered something in your ear; It was a perverted thing to say; But I said it anyway; Made you smile and look away; Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby; As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine")
GROUP 2
Cards: 9 of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 7 of Cups, Noose rx, Mushrooms, The Snake, Hammer rx, Seraphim Seraphisa rx.
You will forever be in my heart and mind, but we can never be together in the way we want. There are way too many blockages and I do think we are not fit to be in a relationship. I am in a committed relationship (or you are) and I do not wish to leave her for I love her. Maybe I am a coward, but I am a practical and cautious one. I will not take reckless actions just to wake up one day and regret it. I think what we have is a fantasy, pleasant make-believe, daydreaming. However, I don't want you gone because you're an important person to me. I wish you happiness but I can't follow you.
SONGS:
Lonesome Love by Mitski
("I call you, to see you again; So I can win, and this can finally end")
Blue Banisters by Lana Del Rey
("She said, "You can't be a muse and be happy, too; You can't blacken the pages with Russian poetry and be happy"; And that scared me; 'Cause I met a man who said he'd come back every May;Just to help me if I'd paint; Now when weather turns to May; All my sisters come to paint")
Flash by Cigarettes After Sex
("I'm a flash; You were blinded by the love I had; I'm a flash; The light could only get in through the cracks")
GROUP 3
Cards: The Hierophant rx, 8 of Wands, The Devil, 10 of Swords rx, Wildflowers, Mirror, Keys on a Ring, Archangel Raphael.
You are the temptation, the chaos in my life, the wildflowers that can still be growing but can also be already taken by someone else while I wasn't looking. You're untouchable, unable to be caught, translucent. One minute you're here only to leave seconds later just to come back and stay for a long time. You're unpredictable, a sin worth sinning for. But I hate to be alone and you make me sad. I love to see you but I hate myself when you leave. I don't know if you have any feelings for me; is it something serious or is it just casual and convenient? I can't do this anymore, I'm trapped and I feel miserable. I wish I could tell you to stay away, to abandon me, to never come back. It would be easier for me to move on then but I am a fool for you. I wish I was strong enough to talk things through but I'd rather have some of you than none of you. Then again, being with you hurts me so what should I do?
SONGS:
Should've Been Me by Mitski
("Relive all the ways you still want me; I haven't given you what you need; You wanted me but couldn't reach me; I'm sorry it should've been me"
Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey
("I will love you till the end of time; I would wait a million years; Promise you'll remember that you're mine; Baby, can you see through the tears?; You went out every night; And, baby, that's alright; But when you walked out that door; A piece of me died")
Ambien Slide by Cigarettes After Sex
("Take my love with some pretend; You said you couldn't help it; Had everything that you wanted; When my love was something yours; But now you're feeling helpless")
GROUP 4
Cards: Death, Page of Pentacles rx, The Chariot rx, Archangel Sammael, Eileen Chang rx, Boat rx, Engagement Ring rx.
I don't want to try to fix this thing between us anymore, it's a fool's errand. We tried and it didn't work, it's time to move on to something else because we are just wasting our time and I'm exhausted. Let me go. Let me leave, peacefully. I don't want to fight but I'm frustrated. I think we tried to escape the inevitable but at the end of the road, we cannot pretend any longer. Relieve me of this burden and don't resent me.
SONGS:
Working For The Knife by Mitski
("I always thought the choice was mine; And I was right, but I just chose wrong")
Bel Air by Lana Del Rey
("Gargoyles standing at the front of your gate; Trying to tell me to wait; But I can't wait to see you; So I run, like I'm mad, to heaven's door; I don't wanna be bad; I won't cheat you no more")
Tejano Blue by Cigarettes After Sex
("We wanted to fuck with real love; Wanted it sweet, so pure and warm; And when you say you want it all, I know you want it all; Baby, take it all from me; I always will make it feel like you were the last one; So get in the waves like it was the first time")
GROUP 5
Cards: The Star rx, 7 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords rx, Glove rx, The Phoenix, Paradise rx, Archangel Haniel.
I wish we could start anew, without any bitter history between us that holds us back and clouds our judgment. We cannot fully be together while all these thoughts are troubling us, making us suspicious of each other and insecure. I know we both lost hope for this connection, yet we are still going and proceeding with it in any way we can. We don't want this to be over but we need to find a solution. I want you in my life and I'm willing to put work into it. Are you? Someone needs to make the first step though and it's the most difficult thing to do. We cannot stay still for much longer though. We communicate telepathically but we also have to communicate in real life.
SONGS:
First Love/Late Spring by Mitski
("Please hurry leave me; I can't breathe; Please don't say you love me; One word from you and I would; Jump off of this ledge I'm on; Tell me "don't" so I can crawl back in")
Video Games by Lana Del Rey
("It's you, it's you, it's all for you; Everything I do; I tell you all the time; Heaven is a place on earth with you; Tell me all the things you wanna do; It's better than I ever even knew; They say that the world was built for two; Only worth living if somebody is loving you")
Goodbye Mr Blue by Father John Misty
(" But maybe if he'd gone sooner; Could've brought us back together last June; When the last time was our last time; If only then I knew; The last time was our last time; Would've told you that the last time comes too soon")
GROUP 6
Cards: Page of Swords rx, 9 of Cups rx, 4 of Swords, Sappho, Archangel Chamuel, Cupid's Arrow rx, Separation rx.
Do you love me? You say you do why does your love cause so much pain? Why am I in agony instead of being elated and happy? Is this how you show your love? I feel neglected and manipulated. I feel ignored and mocked. Am I your partner or your pet? Do you even care what I want? Do you care what I have to say? You treat me as a child as if I cannot think or decide for myself. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think so lowly of me? When you're not here, I don't miss you and my mind is at ease. I lost all hope for anything to change. It hurts even more because I love you, but your love is weird and dysfunctional. I feel trapped. I even stopped speaking my mind because it was met with ridicule and anger.
SONGS:
Wife by Mitski
("For if I am not yours, what am I?; I daydream I'd give one a name of my own; For even I am on loan; For even mine is unknown; So let me go towards the morning star; With hope it won't disappear;)
Carmen by Lana Del Rey
("Baby's all dressed up, with nowhere to go; That's the little story of the girl you know; Relyin' on the kindness of strangers; Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem; Lyin' to herself, 'cause her liquor's top shelf; It's alarmin', honestly, how charmin' she can be; Foolin' everyone, tellin' 'em she's havin' fun")
Hot by Cigarettes After Sex
("Is it all in my head? 'Cause I keep getting scared; That I'll always be lost forever; But I don't give a shit if I'm too delicate; When you hold me, it's always better")
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oouugghhh hannigram either 7 or 45. maybe even combine the two.
ok so it has been. a while. this one got, uh, more than a little out of control lmao (almost 3500 words holy fuck). but it's finally finished! i'm not sure if it exactly fits the prompts anymore but i tried to combine them both :) i hope you like it! (even if it did just end up as yet another mizumono fic lol oops)
***
"You were supposed to leave," Will hisses, and his voice is a devastated, furious thing.
There is blood soaking into his shoes and the scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, and the worst part is that Will doesn't even know whose blood it is anymore, but the question is lost to the back of his mind. Because in front of him stands a dishevelled man whose shirt is a mess of shiny red stains, a knife dripping in his hand.
A man who isn’t supposed to be there at all.
"I didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time," Hannibal says. The words one last time should be ringing alarm bells in Will's head, but he can’t hear them over the overwhelming chorus of thousands of other alarms, because everything is going wrong. There is blood on the floor and on the walls and Alana and Jack lie dying among shards of glass, and there is a SWAT team likely only minutes away, and yet Hannibal is still here.
They both are.
And now Will doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t known what to do for the last 3 months and hadn’t known what he’d do next when he’d made that phone call, telling the Chesapeake Ripper that they know. All he’d known was that he didn’t want Hannibal to die, didn’t want him locked up in a cage by his own hands. But here he is, faced with the consequences of his own actions, and once again Will doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to feel, or even what he is feeling beyond the adrenaline and desperation and horror and relief and confusion. He doesn’t want to feel the overwhelming guilt and sense of responsibility that has been steadily building behind his ribs since this whole scheme began. Yet that guilt now tears at the lining of his chest and crushes his lungs and holds his throat in a chokehold, and it’s just all too much and all he can think is none of this was supposed to happen and this is all my fault and what if?
Seeing Hannibal alive, he’d been struck by a sudden wave of relief that had almost caused his knees to give out beneath him. But now, as Hannibal’s eyes meet his, the awful look that greets him makes a pit suddenly form in his stomach, and the relief gives way to guilt again. And Will can’t take it.
None of this was supposed to happen.
This is all my fault.
What if?
And then it hits him: none of this was supposed to happen. And it hadn’t needed to. This awful mess of glass and blood and ruin could have all been avoided if Hannibal had just listened. If he’d trusted Will when he’d picked up the phone with shaky fingers and told him to run. But he hadn't. And this realisation comes with a sick sense of understanding, because for the whole time Will had known him, Hannibal had always had to have something hidden up his sleeve, always had to keep secrets from Will. Always had to know better. Feel superior. At last the final veil falls from Will's eyes, and all at once he can see how foolish he'd been to ever believe that they could be equals. How pathetic it was that, for those few long weeks they'd spent together, he'd actually believed that they were.
(Will fiercely forces back the voice in his head that whispers that he hadn’t exactly given Hannibal a reason to trust him.)
Heart hammering against his ribs, all of that guilt and fear melts together and stretches and twists and is reborn as deep, righteous anger.
Because no, all he’d wanted was for Hannibal to be safe and free and far from here, even if it meant Hannibal hated him, even if it meant they could never be together, even if it meant that one day Hannibal would come back and rip his still-beating heart from his chest without remorse. But instead here they are, highly armed police likely mere minutes out. And all because Hannibal hadn’t listened. Bitterly, Will thinks to himself that maybe he couldn’t change Hannibal in this way after all.
As if hearing the war cry of bitterness and anger, the resentment he’d kept locked away over the last year begins to bay and claw at its cage too, and, with no reason left to hold it back, Will finally opens the latch and lets it loose.
His next words come out as a growl. “Well now neither of us might get to leave at all”.
Hannibal looks at him, and before he can hide any emotion behind his mask Will can see surprise and deep betrayal warring behind his eyes. It should make him stop and consider, that surprise - that indication that he is behaving in a way that Hannibal did not quite anticipate. But the look of betrayal is like a knife to his chest, and so Will grips his resentment tightly and fumes.
What had Hannibal expected? For Will to be small, desperate? Cowering? Begging for forgiveness? His lip curls in derision. As if he would give him the satisfaction. No, mongooses have teeth and claws, and may whatever god he believes in help Hannibal if he thinks Will won’t use them.
Hannibal manages to force the emotion all behind a mask of icy indifference, and now when he looks at Will his gaze is blank. Though it is not his usual blankness which Will has become familiar with. It is an empty, unsettling kind of blank, the sort of blank he’s only ever seen in the eye of a shark. When Hannibal speaks his voice is cold, colder than Will has ever heard it.
"Forgive me for having doubts about the sincerity of your warning when you've been lying to me for the last month. Forgive me for wanting to see the truth of where your loyalties lie."
The acknowledgement is agony. All the guilt Will had been trying to force down suddenly rears its monstrous head again, and he finds his voice suddenly drying up. His throat feels tight.
He whispers. "My loyalties lie with you'
Hannibal only scoffs. It is ugly. Will has never seen Hannibal ugly before.
"A last minute change of heart is hardly loyalty, Will," he says. “What does Uncle Jack think of your loyalty, lying bleeding out in my pantry? Alana, shattered on the street? How can I be sure you do not still intend for me to join them?”
Hannibal takes a step towards him, adjusting his grip on the knife. Will’s heart pounds. He forces himself not to take a step back.
“Because I chose you, Hannibal, I was always going to choose you, I just needed time to accept that.”
But Hannibal just looks away. “If that is what you truly believe, then you haven't just been lying to me, you've also been lying to yourself.”
It’s so wrong, yet Hannibal had said it with such certainty and disdain that all Will sees is the arrogance with which Hannibal always assumes himself to be right. He dares to presume to know what Will is thinking better than Will knows himself? It turns out Hannibal Lecter really is just like every other psychiatrist Will has ever met, and a sense of grief rises up within him at the loss of something he’d never thought he could have until meeting Hannibal.
He hates himself for mourning what he shouldn’t want.
Will smothers the voice in his head whispering that Hannibal may in fact be correct, that he really does know Will's mind better than Will does his own. Instead he lets anger take over again, and this time it burns.
“You know nothing,” he hisses. His hands shake. Deep waves of indignant resentment roll over him, the roaring of the waves matching the blood in his ears.
He doesn’t know what he expects Hannibal to do next, but it isn’t for Hannibal to hum to himself, then huff a mirthless laugh and concede in a tone both melancholy and angry, “Perhaps you’re right.”
Once again Hannibal meets his eyes. “You know, I've never fully been able to predict you, Will, but this time I had hoped. It is a mistake I will not make again.”
He prowls closer still, and this time Will steps forward to meet him. Fight has won over flight and as the rising fury makes it hard to find words Will’s body seems to have decided to speak for him. The ticking clock of the impending arrival of the FBI ignored in favour of the burning, all-consuming rage within him.
But the fear of their time running out is still there, forced down as it is, and between that and the anger it’s only getting harder to think, and Hannibal is only making it worse. Every word that leaves his mouth brings fresh waves of intense emotion and it’s rapidly reducing Will to a state where there is nothing in his brain except pure animalistic rage-fear.
He just needs Hannibal to stop talking for one moment so he can think.
With what little coherent thought remains in his brain, Will decides to tell Hannibal in the only way he can manage anymore.
“For once in your life can you please just shut the fuck up”.
Hannibal's eyes flash dangerously. His lips curl up into a snarl, and the part of Will that still understands anything knows that he’s made a mistake - he’s only succeeded in confirming for Hannibal exactly how his words are affecting him, and getting him to stop now won’t be achieved without consequences.
Hannibal is quick to recover, a cruel grin taking over his face. His head tilts condescendingly. “Terribly rude, Will,’ he taunts.
The fire inside Will soars higher. He can feel it scorching his insides.
“Fuck you, Hannibal.” He spits.
Hannibal begins to loom over him, moving closer still in a manner that can only be called predatory, until all that separates them is an arm’s length. The knife still glistens in his hand.
“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Will? Childish comebacks? I’ve come to expect better from you. I'm disappointed.” There is a gleam of self-satisfied malice in his eyes and the shape of his lips. He looks dangerous. He looks beautiful.
Will hates him.
Will loves him.
Fuckyoufuckyoufuck-
And suddenly Will can’t take it any longer.
Before he knows what he is doing, he’s grabbing Hannibal by the bloody shirt and crashing his lips into his.
Time seems to stop, the world narrowing into a millisecond of time in which Hannibal’s hair brushes against Will’s forehead, breath warm against his mouth, their noses pressed almost painfully against each other. A moment where the cooling blood on Hannibal’s shirt soaks into Will’s palms and stains his fingers red. A moment where Hannibal stands deadly still, as if frozen, and Will feels as if he’s been frozen too.
There is a distant pressure in the corner of Will’s abdomen, then the vague sound of something clattering to the ground. But Will’s lips are on Hannibal’s and it is as if everything everywhere is inconsequential other than the feeling of Hannibal’s teeth against his, just as he’d imagined on so many a lonely night.
The moment seems to last an eternity before Hannibal’s hand finally comes up to grasp the back of his shirt tightly, and Will feels the sharp pull of the fabric against his skin, the pressure of Hannibal’s knuckles firm against his flank. A breathy gasp escapes his burning lips, and he can’t help the animal noise that subsequently tears its way from his throat. Luckily it seems that is what it takes for Hannibal to finally move his mouth and kiss back with equal force, teeth scraping sharply against Will’s. They gravitate closer and closer until Will’s arm is wrapped around Hannibal’s neck and their hips are pressed tightly together.
Eventually, Hannibal lets out a deep growl before he at last pulls away, dragging Will backwards until there is an arm’s distance between them. Will’s eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Hannibal. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and setting him alight, but this time it is not with anger but something wholly new.
As they lock eyes, Will realises that Hannibal is finally allowing Will to see, without barriers or veils, the full breadth of emotion in his eyes. There is still frustration and betrayal, yes (indeed, Will hadn’t let go of his either) but there is also - and Will’s heart skips a beat when he recognises it - pure and all-encompassing adoration. A wonderful warmth blossoms within his core, rendering him both weak and solid and light as a feather, and it is unlike anything Will can ever remember feeling.
He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.
Then those wonderful, expressive maroon eyes flicker downwards, and Hannibal’s brow furrows, lines around his eyes deepening. Confused, Will follows his gaze, and is surprised to see a growing deep red stain on his shirt, though any reaction he distantly thinks he perhaps should be having is dulled and seems to float just out of reach. It’s strange; there isn’t any pain, just the memory of an odd pressure that he’d ignored at the time and a peculiar sense of unreality.
For a moment he just stands, uncomprehending, but as the adrenaline finally starts to wear off he becomes increasingly aware of a dull ache at the site of the wound, and it isn’t long before that dull ache blossoms into a terrible burning pain. Hand instinctively falling from Hannibal’s shoulder to hover protectively over the wound, Will looks back up at Hannibal, a mix of confusion, surprise, pain and betrayal written across his face. An involuntary whine slips from his suddenly dry throat.
The vocalisation appears to spur Hannibal into action. He takes Will gently but firmly by the arms and quickly guides him to a nearby sofa, helping him lay down across its seats before sinking to his knees beside him and pulling up his shirt to inspect the injury. A moment passes, then a near-imperceptible line of tension seems to drop slightly from Hannibal’s shoulders and he pulls Will’s shirt back down.
“It is as I thought: due to the angle and the quick loosening of my grip on the handle, only the tip of my knife entered your body. The wound is not so deep as to require immediate attention, but it will certainly require stitches.”
He guides Will’s hand back to his injury and helps him to apply the right amount of pressure. It hurts, and when Will winces and lets out small pained noise, Hannibal brings a hand to his hair and cards it through the damp curls. It feels nice, it feels so very nice and right, and Will’s eyes slip closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling. When he opens them, Hannibal is looking down at him, face once again carefully blank.
“There is likely very little time left before the FBI arrives,” he begins, “and I will soon be leaving for Florence. I will offer you this once and only once, and you will have until I return with our passports and a select few other items to make your decision.”
He fixes Will with a heavy look. “One last chance, Will. You can come with me to Florence, and I will show you the city where I became a man. We will leave immediately, take up new identities, and likely never return.
“Or, I can leave you here. You can wait for the cops to arrive and take you to a hospital. Your reputation will remain intact, and you can go back to your job and your house in the woods, your life as you know it, and you will never see me again.”
An almost undetectable pause, and then, “This is your final decision, Will. I suggest you make it wisely.”
With this he climbs to his feet and leaves the room
For a while Will sits thinking, but deep down he knows his mind is already made up. The myriad of complicated feelings he harbours towards Hannibal still plague him, and a part of him still wants to lock the man up and throw away the key, but he’s finally willing to admit that it’s all inconsequential. He knows now he can't live without Hannibal, for better or for worse, whether he loves him or hates him, or a twisted mix of both. He’ll miss his life terribly for the isolated comfort it brought, but he’d miss Hannibal far, far more.
There is only one choice to make.
The moment Hannibal reappears in the doorway Will is speaking.
“I want to come with you.”
Hannibal’s face remains carefully blank. “You understand there is no going back from this. I will not change my lifestyle and you can never return to the false life you have led. You will be shedding your sheepskin for good this time, and the world will be on our tail for as long as we-”
Will cuts him off.
“I want to come with you,” he repeats firmly.
A long pause, and then a small but genuine smile graces Hannibal's lips. With a dip of his head, he seems to accept the decision. “Very well,” he says, though Will can hear the unspoken relief that lies beneath it. He lets himself smile back, tired but overjoyed and honest. It feels right.
Hannibal comes back to where he lies on the couch, and helps him get up, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds Will against his side.
“Do you think you can walk?” he asks.
Will’s breath catches as the shift to being upright pulls sharply on his wound. While it could have been far deeper - and Will doesn’t want to imagine what Hannibal’s initial plan for him was - it is still painful, and increasingly so as the last of the adrenaline wears off. Plus, he’s losing a fair amount of blood, and the change in angle temporarily darkens his vision and sends stars dancing across his eyes. Grimacing, he closes his eyes and waits for the pounding in his head to stop. Hannibal lets him lean against him, steadfastly taking his weight, and says nothing.
When the stars fade and he feels steadier on his feet, Will considers Hannibal’s question, and after a moment of assessment nods - he’s been shot in the shoulder before, he can handle this - and lets Hannibal lead him out of the house and down the street to an unfamiliar car.
Alana is unconscious now, and Will catches Hannibal’s eyes lingering on his jacket where it lies over her body. He looks at her, the person he’d once imagined sharing a life with, and thinks of how important she had always been to him, even after everything. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia hits him, accompanied by a longing for a simpler time when maybe it could have been possible. But ultimately he allows Hannibal to help him into the passenger seat of the car. This is the life he’s chosen, the person he’s chosen, cannibalism and all. There is no going back now, and nothing to be gained from contemplating what ifs.
Then the car door closes, and Alana is hidden from sight.
There is another noise as Hannibal gets in the car from the other side, and after fiddling with some dials and buttons, he starts the engine.
“I will drive us to the airport where our flight awaits. When we are a safe distance from the house we will stop and I will clean and suture your wound. But for now I suggest you sleep - you will need the rest if you are to recover well.”
He must notice the lines of discomfort on Will’s face, as he adds, softening slightly, “There are some painkillers in the door.”
After taking the pills as directed, Will lays his head back against the headrest and allows his eyes to close. The last of the adrenaline has left his system, leaving behind a sudden bone tiredness that makes his lids heavy and breathing slow.
With the sound of the vehicle lulling him and the comfort of Hannibal’s presence beside him - alive, together - sleep comes quickly, and the last thing Will knows before the darkness claims him is the feeling of a warm hand gently coming to rest upon his own.
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