#dr. chilton

[p3r1]

Study

[mrsfrederickchilton]

FREDERICK. Chapter 65

Of course you felt shame and guilt. You had come to terms with that.

The bad thing was that you felt something else, something you couldn't decipher, no matter how hard you tried.

Something that complicated everything.

You touched the scar on your wrist, which Doctor Chilton had kissed so tenderly at night (there and everywhere else), and buried your face in your hands.

“Tea's ready,” came from the kitchen, and you sighed.

He remembered everything.

You put on trousers and a turtleneck, pulled your hair back, and brushed your teeth. You transferred almost all the remaining money to orderly Higgins, and there was quite a lot of time left before the next installment from the tenants. You would have to sell something else. You certainly weren't going to be Doctor Chilton's sponger twenty-four seven.

You came into the kitchen, feeling that everything was completely different from the morning after Christmas. At the very least, Doctor Chilton already knew what he did not know then, and probably did not expect what he expected then.

“I'll have to go to the store after all. In the meantime, there's this.”

You saw packages from the delivery service on the table — yogurts, pancakes, crepes, condensed milk and jam for them. Apparently, the courier called by Doctor Chilton arrived and left, and you simply dropped out of life.

“I slept through it all,” you said. “I didn't even hear anything.”

After that nightmare, you really did fall into a deep sleep, switching off from the outside world. Into a peaceful sleep.

“I know,” Doctor Chilton nodded.

If it were up to him, he wouldn't get out of bed at all with you, sleeping soundly in his arms. So fragile and so tired from everything you had to endure.

He warmed up your breakfast in the microwave, you laid it out on plates.

“Would You like condensed milk or jam?” you asked.

“Ah...” he was confused, and you understood why, and thought that you shouldn't have asked.

“Personally, I want condensed milk to death.”

He pushed the container with condensed milk towards you, poured tea into cups.

“Good tea,” you praised, taking a sip. “And a sweater,” you couldn't resist.

Doctor Chilton was wearing a dark green sweater that perfectly set off his bottomless eyes. You found yourself thinking that you could stare into them for a very long time. And lowered your gaze.

“Thank you,” he replied. “What kind of yogurt would you like?”

There you go.

“And what kind would You?”

He shook his head sadly.

“Okay, I'll have strawberry,” you replied.

“Can we...” he hesitated.

“What?”

“Can we switch to informal ‘you’?” he looked at you. “This is kind of... ridiculous.”

“What exactly?”

“This!”

“Sleeping with your patient and addressing her as ‘You’?” Oh, yes, I forgot, nothing like that is officially happening.”

“You... No, you are unbearable.”

“I know.”

He just sighed. Silence fell between you.

You remembered how he comforted you after a nightmare. And what you were doing before that. Okay. Okay, okay, okay... You felt like a fool yourself.

“Frederick,” you said sternly, and he shuddered. “Pass me the yogurt.”

The yogurt was right in front of you.

* * *

He had to go to the hospital, but only for a few hours. Frederick asked if you wanted to stay and play the piano in peace.

Would you like to wait for him at his place?

“I'll be back at lunch,” he said. “More precisely, with lunch.”

Play, you suddenly remembered. What was that? The memory was unpleasant for some reason. But the voice... The voice was familiar.

“Okay?” Frederick asked.

You nodded. You could rummage around his apartment some more, maybe you'd find something useful?

But, alas, he left the office locked.

Well, then you'll really get down to music.

He arrived even earlier than he promised, with a bunch of food and, for some reason, in a great mood.

“Hi,” he said, and it was immediately clear why.

A small linguistic step — and a huge psychological one.

You cooked dinner together — unlike your love, Doctor Chilton knew nothing about cooking, but still managed to almost not spoil anything. You praised him, secretly rinsing the rice he had oversalted. A man who killed people never added a single extra crystal of salt to food. If you were to make a list of the differences between Doctor Chilton Frederick and your criminal, this would definitely be on one of the notes.

But the list would be endless.

“How is Doctor Irving?” you asked while you were eating. “Sobered up?”

“I’m afraid that won’t happen anytime soon.”

“Very well.”

Truth.

Frederick snorted contentedly.

“I hope his wife divorces him,” you added. “Otherwise, she’s just crazy to be with such a terrible person.”

He smiled, but the smile quickly faded and he looked down at his plate.

You wanted to tease him, but then you realized your words differently. Oh, well, of course.

Who would talk, right?

After lunch, Frederick went into his office, took a folder out of his briefcase and opened it.

“Remembering yesterday’s reports…” he glanced at you and you came closer. “Can you read something?” he asked, holding several sheets of paper in his hands.

He looked a little embarrassed.

“Of course,” you answered, taking the printouts.

After skimming a few lines, you looked at him:

“Did you write the article?”

Frederick nodded.

“Recently. I haven't written anything for many years, really. I don't know what suddenly came over me.”

“That's good,” you smiled.

“Maybe. Will you tell me your opinion?”

He looked at you so intently that you even got a little nervous. It was obvious that this was important to him. What would be the right thing to do, what would be the best thing to say?

“But I don't understand this at all,” you answered honestly. “I already told you yesterday. You can post it on some special forum, even anonymously, if you want. Get reviews.”

“And then find it published somewhere under someone else's name? No, I don't trust anyone,” he said. Then he added: “Only you.”

Your heart sank at these words. Of course, you, unlike the forum visitors, would definitely not steal his article and pass it off as your own. But there was much more to his words than just concern for the article.

I trust only you.

“Okay,” you forced yourself to smile again.

“Just be honest,” he warned, just at the moment when you decided you were going to praise it anyway.

He’s right.

Trust and honesty. That’s what we need.

Isn't that right?

You nodded and delved into reading. You were afraid that you wouldn't understand anything at all and that the article would be boring, but you were pleasantly mistaken. The style, the presentation, the manner of narration were really excellent, as if a real writer was standing in front of you. It was easy to read, as if it wasn't a scientific article at all. It was interesting to read. You wanted to read. Just think, you didn't know that Frederick had such a talent. Why hadn't he written all these years?

He was scrolling through the news feed on his phone with exaggerated interest, waiting for you to read. You looked at him, pressing the sheets of paper to your chest, and he felt your gaze.

“The article is very good,” you said seriously.

“Really?” he glanced at you incredulously.

“Yes. Really.”

An embarrassed smile appeared on his face, making him absolutely charming.

Well, objectively.

“And I would like to read something else,” you added.

“Oh, that’s possible,” Frederick was delighted and, rummaging through the folder with papers, pulled out some sheets of paper fastened with a stapler. “Here’s another one, on the same topic. But it’s older.”

“Good,” you agreed.

This one was harder to read. It was boring, incredibly dry, full of bureaucratic jargon and filled, as it seemed to you, with not very deep respect for the reader. The author of the text clearly considered himself a significant specialist in this topic and did not deny himself the pleasure of informing the whole world about it.

“This one is bad,” you stated bluntly.

“Really?” Frederick asked again, now almost joyfully.

“Definitely. And I don’t think it’s yours,” you added, looking at him.

“True,” he grinned. “Doctor Irving’s.”

All clear.

“You are incorrigible.”

“This is so that you don’t suffer from guilt,” he answered.

You glanced at Frederick's recent article again. Compared to Dr. Irving, he was a master of the pen, even you could tell.

“Have you written more articles?” you asked.

“Yes... I suppose so.” He held out his hand for the papers, but you didn't give it back.

“And where are they? Published somewhere? I didn't find much on the Internet. Well, I mean, nothing like that.”

“In the desk,” Frederick answered. “Where I've been writing them for years, until I got tired of it.”

“But why?”

He literally snatched the sheets out of your hands. You saw that he was upset, although he had just been happy.

“Frederick?”

“Because I was advised to study science, not graphomania, and in the end I agreed with that.”

However, I didn't succeed in science either.

“Who advised you to do that?”

“Lots of people,” Frederick responded.

“If people like Dr. Irving told you this, you understand that they were just jealous, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

Everything in his tone indicated that he didn’t think so. He put the papers back in the folder and closed it, as well as the whole topic.

But you’re not done yet.

“Let me read another article of yours,” you folded your arms across your chest, looking at him almost with disapproval. “Just yours, not someone else’s.”

“This is nonsense,” Frederick said, furiously shoving the folder back into his briefcase.

“Right now,” you said. “Immediately.”

He looked at you in surprise, saw that you were completely serious.

“Okay…”

Frederick opened another article on his phone and gave it to you to read.

Which was to be proved, you thought a few minutes later.

“Write,” you said firmly. “Your articles—”

“You've only seen two,” Frederick interrupted you, but you didn't pay any attention to it.

“Your articles deserve to be read. You deserve it.”

“You just don't understand.”

“Of course I do,” you chuckled.

Just like yesterday.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, and you barely resisted the urge to hug him.

Don't do too much.

Frederick took the diary from the table, tore out a sheet of paper and pulled a pen out of the drawer.

“What are you doing?”

“You told me to write,” he smiled.

You sighed. You already understood what was happening.

4. Kindness

“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” you countered. “It’s just a fact. You really write great.”

“You could have just said it was a good article,” he shook his head. “You didn’t have to add anything else. Or read the others.”

Truth.

“And that chess game,” Frederick added.

“Chess?”

“The one you play with the orderly.”

Your heart sank. Does he know?

What else does he know?

“He tried to persuade everyone in our hospital, but no one would agree to play with him. Kindness — I can’t think of any other reason why you would agree to do that.”

Oh, Frederick...

“I didn't think you knew,” you said.

“This is my hospital. I know everything that goes on in it.”

Except the most important things.

“I have very little kindness in me, Frederick.”

Truth.

“I think it's enough to make this list.”

The list of my normality.

“Which I hope will end soon,” you joked.

“Never. Come here,” he pulled you close and hugged you.

“Never? That would mean I'm completely normal,” you hugged him back. “And I'm not.”

Truth?

Next chapter (Chapter 66)

Masterlist

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

“I need this job”

Frederick Chilton x Secretary!reader

Summary: You’re often late to your job as Dr. Chilton’s personal assistant and he appreciates punctuality. So when you aren’t there on time, it’s bothersome and could end up with you fired. At least he’s willing to give you another chance if you do something for him..

Tw! Dubcon, manipulation, reader being taken advantage of, abuse of power; Chilton being an ass, oral (m receiving)

(Please tell me if I missed some.)

People: @toshanyanyomy @neonlifeform @potatowithahat @mongooseundertheporch @beardedbarba @spellbound-multi @obnoxiousbag @jeongiejellie @mcghestie @blood-and-guts-and-spiderman @vorpaelyzis @slimegecko @bakedbeansplease @chimaerite @blue-cheerios @allthatglitterandgold @islatama

Note for those tagged:

You probably don’t remember why you’re tagged but early last year I made a post asking if anyone wanted some Frederick Chilton x readers and yous liked, reposted, or commented on the post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped in from the rain, peeling off your coat and draping it over your arm. Your footsteps echoed throughout the quiet corridors. Nurses shot you looks of sympathy as you rushed down to the office at the end. Just as you reached it, the door swung open.

Your boss, the ‘respectable’ Dr Chilton loomed in the doorway, an aura of faux confidence and narcissism radiated off of him and his thousand dollar suits. “Oh good, you’re finally here.” He mumbled in a less than enthusiastic tone, stepping aside to let you in. A tired smile rested on his lips, and his eyes were void of anything except slight rage.

The tension pooled from all angles in that room since the second you stepped in. Your pace slowed, matching the pace of his footsteps between each tap of his cane. He slammed the door behind himself, the loud noise echoed throughout the room and made you jump out your skin.

Fear.

That’s all you could feel in this moment.

The room felt like it was getting smaller, was it? Maybe. Who knows? Could he tell you were freaking out? Could he tell you felt sorry? Maybe you should say something:

“Sir, I’m-“

“How many times have you been late this week?” He asked, plopping himself into his seat. He bore a serious expression that threatened to fall due to a smug smirk that lingered just beneath it.

You balled and uncurled your fists over and over as you stood in front of his desk, your eyes avoiding his sharp gaze, “three..”

Dr. Chilton’s smirk finally peaked through and he leaned forward, propping himself up on his arms. “I’m sorry, my dear. What was that?” His voice exuding cockiness.

“3 times, sir.” You replied louder, not bothering to hide the way your voice shook as you spoke. He could tell you craved nothing more than to sink into the floor, let the world swallow you whole- anything but stand here and get yelled at due to the plethora of excuses that you had offered him the past few days.

He cleared his throat, causing you to finally make eye contact with him, and repeated what you said; checking to see if he enjoyed the taste of that number as it rolled off of his tongue.

He did not.

Dr. Chilton hummed softly, thinking over his next words carefully. Without breaking eye contact, he stood back up and walked around his desk at an agonisingly slow pace, as if he was taunting you. His cane tapped on the floor before coming to an abrupt halt as he reached the front of his desk. He leaned against it and raised his hand, beckoning you closer with two fingers. “You do know that I have fired nurses for much less than this, correct?”

Your shoes clacked on the floor as you cautiously walked to him, stopping two feet away. His eyes scanned your face as you silently nodded.

“You’re very lucky I enjoy having you as my assistant. If you were anything like my last one, I would’ve kicked you to the curb by now.” He leaned his cane against his desk, just beside his legs, and folded his arms.

“..I am really sorry, sir. It’s difficult because of those road works and-“

Dr. Chilton’s hand shot up, stopping your apology before you could prattle on any longer. “It’s very irritating to have an assistant this disobedient- this…this unprofessional, I need you to understand that.” He spat, malice coating each word that came from his lips. Once again, he beckoned you closer.

To which you complied and stepped closer, only for him to grab you chin and yank you towards him, leaving a sliver of space between himself and you. “Hardworking, kind…yet you struggle to follow the simplest of rules.”

Your hand shot up to meet his wrist, grabbing it tightly and trying your best to pry it away. A silence fell between the two of you, making you more uneasy. The clock on the far side of the room was the only source of sound- aside from the faint echoey screams of patients who were slowly losing themselves to this slate grey, solitary prison, ruled by a tyrannical man on a power trip.

His gaze wandered down your body, analysing you, trying to find anything. A shiver shot up your spine as he smirked and let go of your chin, crescent indents from his nails on the underside of your jaw. His hand fell to your throat, his index and middle finger traced the marks he left. A soft chuckle left his lips as he pushed off the desk, causing you to step back.

He grabbed his cane and leaned on it as he stood up straight. “You know, three times could be three too many.” He smugly stated, both hands now clasped on the top of his cane.

You felt your stomach drop, “Excuse me?” You mumbled breathlessly.

“You heard me.”

Worry flashed across your face as you took a half step forwards, leaving enough space between the two of you. “Sir, I need this job-“

“You can find another. They won’t keep you as long as I have though, probably won’t pay as good either.”

Your mouth opened to protest but nothing came out.

Why did he switch? It was so sudden.

You were so screwed.

Your rent was due soon and you were one more pay check away from being on time this month. You had student loans to pay back too- you couldn’t risk this.

A jolt shot through you at the feeling of his warm hand gently nudging your agape mouth shut. Your eyes met his once more and there was something in his, besides the intimidating moss green you associated with this stern figure. His hand cupped your chin, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “It would be such a shame to see something so pretty out on the street.” Dr. Chilton stated, his voice somber, almost as if he felt bad for firing you. He guided his hand to weave through your hair, tugging your head back so you were looking directly at him. “You’re fresh out of college, aren’t you? No scholarship, I assume. Lots of debt?…rent due as well, I can imagine.”

You stayed still, listening to him as he spoke about you. You were aware that he knew all of this. No questions were needed for this, he has your file, after all. All those silly questions he asked prior to this moment seemed to make sense; it wasn’t general questions, he was finding things he could hold over you- use against you if it came to it.

The room went cold as the two of you drew closer to each other. Despite that, you felt hot. Very hot. The lingering warmth of his hand on your chin, the feeling of his nails digging into your soft skin. His caresses and pulls, although not too harsh, still were strong enough make you feel winded.

A gasp leapt from your lips as he tugged your hair, forcing you closer, your faces now inches apart. “I wonder what someone like you would do to keep their job…” he purred, his empty hand snaking around your waist.

~~~~

The wind and rain battered against the glass windows, threatening to burst through. Not that you could see the windows anyway, the blinds were drawn so no one outside could see you under Dr. Chilton’s desk, or watch as his hips rolled up to meet your mouth, or see that his trousers were all the way down at his ankles.

The faint smell of his cologne and the taste of him on your tongue had you drunk and craving more. Along with the mewls, moans and whimpers which fell from his lips.

A sloppy, lopsided grin was strewn across the doctor’s usually stressed and irritated face. You had never seen him so relaxed, it was odd to not see him with furrowed brows and his lips pressed in a fine line. But it was nice..he deserved to relax for once- although you’d gladly have it be anyone else doing what you’re up to. Frederick praised you as you took all of him in, one hand planted in your hair to guide you and keep you from pulling away when he got too close to the back of your throat.

Your head violently moved along his length as he chased his high, hand shaking vigorously as he tugged on your hair. Then he slowed as his release poured into your mouth. You held it in your mouth and turned to the bin, believing he’d let you spit it out. He eased his hand out of your tussled hair, moving to your chin to guide your head up so your eyes caught onto his.

“Swallow.”

He commanded, and, not risking your pay check, you did as he told. For that, he cooed and pulled you to your feet, sitting you down on his desk. “You did very good today…if you want to keep your job then perhaps we should keep this going.” He remarked, a cocky grin on his face.

A simple nod is all you could manage as you fixed your hair and wiped the drool off your chin, silently watching as he tucked himself away and put his belt back on. After that you padded across the wooden floor and opened the blinds again, despising how loud the floorboards creaked as you sauntered over to each one, the feeling akin to stepping on a squeaky floorboard whilst trying to sneak back to bed after getting a glass of water.

“Now then,” he reached for a pen and sighed as he glanced at the mountain of paperwork lingering on his desk. “Lets get to work.”

~~~~~

To my hos, PLEASE IGNORE THIS PURE SMUT OMG-

Sunday 19th January 2025, 7:41 PM

[rotscribe]

this guy is always in situations.

[doe-eyeddarlin]

Dr.Chilton: Don’t be bitchy.

Hannibal: You’re telling me not to be me, Rude!

[musical-kid2]

NBC Hannibal memes

[444starlover]

thinking abt the parallels between CGB Spender (the smoking man) in the x files and Frederick Chilton in NBC’s hannibal.. the parallels being they’re both annoying sons of bitches i hate and neither of them will die ?? literally both of them burned alive and survived it. how many times does it take to kill these men ??

[the-chilton]

[commander----shepard]

[murder-husbands-2-0]

I’m kinda convinced that Doctor Chilton is some sort of immortal being. Honestly, how did he not die a lot sooner? He had his organs removed, he got shot in the head and he got lit on fire. None of those things actually killed him. Will was pretty bad at dying too honestly. Actually, everyone was just really bad at dying or staying dead.

[charred-angel-ribs]

I'm on season three (3), episode (12) of Hannibal:

Bro, Chilton's an alright guy, but after all of his experience...

HOW THE FUCK DOES HE KEEP BEING SO GODDAMN STUPID??

MOTHERFUCKER WAS SMILING AWAY IN THAT PHOTO COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS TO THE DANGER HE WAS PUTTING HIMSELF IN-

AGAIN *Head in hands*

[p3r1]

Mood

[mrsfrederickchilton]

F R E D E R I C K (ongoing)

Dear readers, I have written a huge story (slow burn) involving our dear Dr. Chilton, a female reader and her criminal lover (definitely not Hannibal, younger and not cannibal). I have never posted any of my stories here before and I am very nervous about doing this for the first time. Please, if you would be interested in reading this, leave some kind of sign. Below is the annotation / summary and list of chapters (ongoing, with links).

Love. Passion. Lies. Betrayal.

A game where every rule will be broken.

He was taken from you, and without him you see no point in anything. Half of your soul, the love of your life is a criminal who ended up in a mental hospital trying to protect you. Its egocentric, arrogant, smug and ambitious head, doctor Chilton, is the only one who can give you permission to visit. However, he uses the situation for his own benefit and does not intend to give in at all.

Can you outplay him?

What are you ready for?

You know that you are ready for everything.

Psychological confrontation, a dangerous interweaving of three destinies, deep feelings and hidden intentions – the story "Frederick" can be classified as a romantic thriller, dark romance, psychological thriller, drama, modern and action-packed love story.

Dear Readers,

Unfortunately, English is not my native language. Therefore, I apologize very much for possible mistakes and inaccuracies. I use my knowledge and two different online translators. I will be grateful if you point out possible mistakes to me, do not hesitate to do so.

I am very grateful to you for reading. If you leave any comments, I will be very happy. There is nothing better for an author than feedback from dear readers.

------ Also on AO3------

LIST OF CHAPTERS (ongoing)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35, Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40,

Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44, Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51, Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, Chapter 55, Chapter 56, Chapter 57, Chapter 58, Chapter 59, Chapter 60, Chapter 61, Chapter 62, Chapter 63, Chapter 64, Chapter 65, Chapter 66, Chapter 67

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

Can y’all please send some ideas for a Frederick Chilton x reader?

I’m so stumped.

[lilyllama101]

The funny little accent Chilton puts on in court is hilarious (especially with his silly little cane).

[doe-eyeddarlin]

Please for the love of god. Someone out there write reader x fanfic about Dr. Chilton! I can only read my own writing so much before it feels conceded. Anyway, ya girl is dropping some Chilton X reader fics all weekend. I’ve also been writing for Rafael Barba lately because Raul Esparza has me in a chokehold rn. I’ll happily take requests my asks are open.

P.S. I’m also thinking about doing a spicy fic with a hypnosis kink for Dr. Chilton. You can’t tell me that’s not totally on brand for him.