#he knew what he was doing with chilton

[bardicious]

Soooo... Will and Hannibal are dead, right? I assumed Bedelia had cut off her own leg and set the table in preparation for Will and Hannibal.

[hobisfavoritespritecan]

Hey,

First of all, I absolutely adore your writing style and in general your stories (especially the Hannibal ones). Could you please write one, where Hannibal is overly possessive, because he thought his wife got too close to Chilton at one of his dinner parties? And to end it all of there is smut. (If you are comfortable with that).Thank you for considering

Close Call

Hannibal Lecter X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Over possessiveness on Hannibal's part, slight angst, swearing, mentions of blood and wounds, sociopathic and manipulative tendencies, uhh first time writing smut so hopefully it's okay (it's fairly light) ⚠️

I also didn't read through this again and edit it, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Hannibal finds himself somewhat outraged at an overly confident Chilton getting too close to his wife. No matter, he'll just have to remind the two of you of what's his.

Dinner parties were nothing short of extravagant when it came to Hannibal Lecter's craft.

The wines were paired with the delicacies adorning the plates on the mahogany table; everything had its own respective place, down to the last spoon and fork on each intricately folded napkin. There was, of course, the smell wafting through the corridors of the Lecters' home, signifying the delicious meal being prepared in the kitchen and acting as bait to those mingling in the living room as they awaited the call to be seated. From your perspective, the table had to be crafted to perfection so that the party full of rich good-for-nothings had no complaints of the events of the night. Of course, you adored your husband's cooking, but less so you enjoyed the company he chose. Intelligence wasn't something that came from the accumulation of degrees and the bragging of doing so- in your opinion- but rather came from the passion associated with the understanding of others and their natural environments. In other words, conversations of nonsensical retellings of the rise to power and gathering of wealth that these particular guests had were of no interest to you. These people spoke of books on law and work projects as though they've forgotten entirely what it means to express humanity: experience.

But you were ever so careful to express your opinion on the subject of what it means to be human. Although you acknowledged your differing perspective, you didn't want to diminish the perspectives of those who might only know of the desires associated with "book smarts," and not what you referred to as "experience points." These two things could coexist, but it was often that a person leaned heavier towards either side. You still had more to learn about the balance of these, but alas, that is the human condition.

Hannibal loved you for this.

Being someone so intensely driven towards the path of psychology and law, it was refreshing being married to someone who expressed opposition to having that be the basis of every conversation. He loved a good conversation on written words and philosophers and mathematical expressions, but he loved even more to have someone in his life that kept him his understanding of biology and the preservation of his humanity. With his- er- hobby, as some would refer to it as- it became difficult to maintain this humanistic approach. These dinner parties served more as an obligatory social preservation to his image, so as not to be caught with his peculiar hobby.

And the culinary arts were his escape, anyways. A win-win except for the fact you'd be bored out of your mind talking to some of these people, he knew. Nevertheless, you had a polite smile etched onto your face wearing very presentable attire. You were a master at code-switching, it seemed, replacing your usually laid-back and outgoing personality with a more hoity-toity, reserved aura.

You had on a slightly more revealing outfit; a dress so navy it almost seemed black under any lighting that wasn't direct candlelight. This dress had been cut just above the knees with an off-shoulder neckline, exposing the very top of your chest and the beginning of your upper thighs. It was classily paired with silver earrings gifted to you by your husband, and a half up-do with your precariously crafted curls threatening to spill out of the fastened hairclip from behind. Hannibal had expressed just how lovely you'd looked as he helped you with your zipper earlier, placing a hemline of kisses to your collarbone.

He wasn't the only one who'd had this realization dawn on them during the night, however. A bright-eyed Dr. Chilton who'd received nothing short of a pity-invite, found himself drawing away from the conveniently placed appetizers to the lavish chairs facing the fireplace where you sat. He silently waited for your conversation to conclude before he decided to sweep in and take the woman's place on your right, finishing the glass of brandy in his hand before doing so.

"(Y/N)," He almost seemed exasperated, as if he were already slightly drunk, "A pleasure."

He reached out his hand to you in an attempt to get you to shake it as an overly friendly gesture, acknowledgement to his presence. You proceeded to smile at him instead, as you'd become familiar to his intentions.

"Hello, Dr. Chilton, how are you?"

His face flushed as he withdrew his hand from your space, opting to rest it against his leg as he sunk further into his chair, getting more comfortable. He was definitely drunk and if not drunk, then the far side of tipsy. You already didn't care for the guy much, so this chance encounter was a hinderance in your eyes before conversational topics even arose.

"You know, I never understood the drab curtains you chose for the interior of your living room, Mrs. Lecter. They block out all of the sunlight." He began, eyeing the bottle of scotch being poured out by another guest to the left of your chair. His eyes seemed to be glazed over as he spoke, however, the dimly lit fireplace seemed to cast some light back into them. His suit of choice was a corduroy one. The heavy material of the fabric already making him break out in a slight sweat.

Grimacing, you feign another smile as you fully acclimate yourself to the conversation at hand. You tell yourself to remember your polite flattery, but honestly with the way Dr. Chilton was, you knew he would take any sort of attention to his character the wrong way.

"Yes, that was the way we intended them to be, doctor. Have you ever been to our home during the daytime? It's not as drab as you may have perceived it to be."

Dr. Chilton had been coming onto you for quite some time now. Despite knowing you were wed and the many implications of your marriage you'd spoken about, he still managed to hold onto the hope that maybe one day something would spark between the two of you. It wouldn't. It hadn't. His blatantly disrespectful comments about yours and Hannibal's relationship were starting to burrow under your skin and take root in an uncomfortable fashion. Part of you felt bad for the man, another part wanted to sock him in the face.

Respectably, of course.

"Perhaps not. Maybe I spoke out of turn." He claimed, uneasily moving about in his chair despite his initial comfortability at the beginning of your dialogue. Maybe if you kept with the slight I-don't-like-you innuendos, then maybe he would be drunk enough to give it a rest and would return to his normal self come morrow.

"Maybe." You agree, taking a sip from your glass of Chardonnay. It was almost dinnertime. You could hold out until then, couldn't you?

"You know," Chilton began, staring deep into the fire and allowing a hushed sigh to escape your lips in anticipation of another redundant comment, "I used to set fires in Uni all the time. Its a miracle I graduated with any degree at all with the amount of trouble I used to get into as a boy."

Pause. Was there finally something worthwhile to discuss with this man?

"Really? And the occasion was...?" You asked, trying to direct the topic back to this small bombshell the Doctor had just dropped in your presence. Experience points were far more interesting to talk about than a poor understanding of the "48 Laws of Power," which was the last conversation you'd had.

He seemed to perk up in his chair realizing that you'd finally taken something that left his mouth with interest. "None, we were just playing with matches and grew bored. Only got caught because the wind carried the flames back to our dorm which almost set alight." He smiled and for a moment, you could see the memory replaying through those glossy eyes of his. You felt included, as if you'd been there yourself, watching the growing light of the flames dance around the edges of the matches you were playing with.

As if on cue, your husband's hand was gently but firmly placed on your shoulder from behind. You knew instantly it was him because of the wafting smell of his woodsy cologne and the wine he was drinking infiltrating your nose. His grip on you was polite but there was an edge to it, an unfamiliar one at that. Was something wrong?

Turning around, you see his darkened glare towards Chilton in the chair next to you. His matching dark navy suit making him look all the more professional and intimidating in this light; if you were Chilton you'd have run far far away from the glare Hannibal had. He seemed to pay no mind, however, eyes still focused on you until your husband broke the silence:

"Dinnertime."

It was at that moment that you noticed all the other guests had made their way to the kitchen and the three of you were the only ones in the living room. How long had you been talking to the doctor for? Hannibal's repressed anger suddenly made sense.

Walking to the kitchen, you were in awe at the sight before you. Hannibal had really put his all into tonight, and it showed. The plates were nothing short of art with the first course on display with accompanying sauces and garnish that turned them into something out of a museum painting. The entire get-up was something out of the Renaissance itself; everything in its perfect place. Hannibal stood at the head of the table, glass in hand as he prepared to make a toast to progress the night's dinner.

"I would like to thank you all for coming out tonight."

A collection of smiles and exchanged glances ensued, everyone pleased with their invite.

"Amongst this crowd are the most intellectual and inspiring people I've had the pleasure of getting to become familiar with. You're all of high accomplishments and achievements and I would like to thank each of you, individually, with a meal that encapsulates such dedication shown by you all."

Your husband then smiled at you and raised his glass.

"I would also like to thank my lovely wife, with whom I share this simple but joyous life with."

There was a hint of something there, something alongside the adoration he expressed for you on the daily. There was a twinge of that anger once more, but could it really be directed towards your conversation with Chilton? It seemed so clear to you that your husband surpassed the former in every way possible: intelligence and compassion, hell, down to the formal attire he adorned himself with daily. There was no way he would feel threatened by another man so unruly.

"Likewise." You said, tilting your glass up to the ceiling in acknowledgement of his kind and respectable words.

"Once more to reiterate, MY wife and I spent a long time on this meal so I hope you all enjoy it." He smiled a forced grin and directed his gaze towards Chilton. "And nothing on the menu for tonight is vegetarian."

...

The night was filled with more of the usual countless bantering between everyone in the room, trying to appeal more and more to everyone else. You were swept into what seemed like every conversation in the house and all of this sociability was starting to grow exhausting. The meal was phenomenal, to say the least, but did little to calm your worries with your husband's current expression of intolerance and dismay. You wanted nothing more than to head upstairs to your shared bedroom and to sort things out with him; to maybe end the night with a passionate kiss and to then retire to bed, finally. That desire, however, seemed like miles away because of the ongoing event that you were starting to despise more with every passing minute.

Not to mention, your dress was starting to get extremely uncomfortable, as if your skin were melting into the seams of the fabric.

As if on cue to make the night worse, Dr. Chilton was making his way towards you, undoubtedly much more drunk this time. He was stumbling over his own loafers and the floorboards were not his friend at the moment. He was making a fool of himself and you wanted so badly to just disappear.

Just then, the floorboard by the fireplace where you were sitting popped up in front of him. Everything from then went in slow-motion, the wood, the stumbling of Chilton's feet and the slow advancement towards the fire. Seeing how this would play out, you wanted to yell "Stop!" but you were frozen. Just as you had predicted, he had a horrid fall towards the open flame, his cufflinks connecting with the place stones and his right arm breaking the fall. His hand wasn't lucky enough to miss the fire, his scream instantly echoing throughout the room.

"Dr. Chilton!" Hannibal yelled, already to his feet with the pitcher of water from the charcuterie table. It was insane that his reflexes allowed him to respond instantaneously. Almost as if he had prepared for the doctor's fall. Springing the water onto Chilton, the fire was put out almost as quickly as it had started.

"Are you okay?" You asked the doctor, leaning down to his level on the floor, holding his now hurt hand.

"B-b-bandages." He was able to muster out.

The closer look you got to his hand, the closer you could see the wound. The flames didn't consume his flesh for very long, although there was now a coating of red on his skin alongside a few open gashes. Looking to your husband for help, you instead saw him standing above you, a scowl on his lips. He looked angrier than he'd ever before and the sight of it scared you. Had he been angry that the party was ruined? That one of his guests were hurt?

Chilton was then led to the kitchen where his wounds were properly addressed and tended to. The aid kit that had collected dust on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet had finally been put to use, and, upon further inspection, it had been decided for the doctor to call for an ambulance for a more professional treatment.

He left. Everyone followed suit. It was now only you and your husband.

"I'm sorry that had to happen the way it did." You said, reaching out to touch his shoulder and soothe him in my way you could. "Would you like me to help you clean up?"

He mumbled something under his breath before he made his way up the elongated glass stairs. It was unbelievably peculiar for him to retire to bed this early, especially before cleaning up from a party.

"Is something wrong?" You asked, voice coming out as nothing more than a feeble whisper. He stopped in his tracks, his blazer now resting atop his free arm opposite to the one holding the railing. His tie was loosened and from where you were standing, you couldn't see his face all that clearly.

He finally spoke up.

"What are your intentions with Chilton?" He asked.

You stopped in your initial tracks to follow your husband up the stairs. Was he accusing you of courtship? And with the doctor of all people?

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean, (Y/N)."

Your heart broke for a moment, there was no way he really thought that after years of marriage, after what you had come to learn about him and his... capabilities...that you would choose another man, albeit in front of his own eyes?

"I have no intentions with Chilton, Hanni. Not as an acquaintance, not as a friend, not as a lover." You continued to follow him up the stairs and to your shared bedroom where he placed the blazer and tie on the bedside table rather than hang it up as he usually did. He undid his cufflinks and unbuttoned the top his neckline.

"I only want you, Hannibal. You know that."

He pursed his lips and finally, from where he leant against the bed, looked up at you standing in the doorframe. Your expression was a worried one, not of someone who had underlying intentions. Hannibal knew what you wanted, knew who you wanted, but Chilton had gotten the better of him tonight. And besides, tormenting the two of you to remind both of you who you belong to was a much more satisfying game to play.

"Alright." Hannibal said, accepting your validation with his thick, Danish accent. "Show me."

"I- what?" You asked, being taken aback completely by surprise. His eyes were dark with thoughts you had grown to be all too familiar with from him. Despite clearly understanding his interpretation of the words, you still stood frozen at the door, waiting. There was something about this that wasn't going to be as sweet as the usual slow and sensual intimacy you'd had with your husband and you knew this fact.

Just then, as if taking your hesitance as permission, he stands and walks over to you, the height difference ever so apparent now that you were face to face. His gelled hair was now starting to come undone, as was yours, as he held your gaze. His hand came up to tuck your hair behind your ear and then trailed to your neck, your collarbone, your breast. He then allowed his hand to go further, down to your waist and then pulled you into him, holding you there as gently but firm as one could be. He was watching your face as he did so, never breaking eye contact even once.

Your breath hitched in your throat. A growing warmth developed in your midsection as your husband had you entranced with his every move. He was enjoying this, enjoying you, enjoying the situation he put you in. He had turned on his more sadistic side and it was becoming evident with the way he progressed down your body, replacing his hands with kisses and moving towards your thighs then back up, as if with haste, towards your mouth. You felt as though you were going to faint right then and there.

He suddenly stops his kisses and then goes to finish unbuttoning his shirt. His wide frame was revealed with every unfastened button popping off, slowly but surely. Every inch of his skin had been crafted to the likes of the gods, it was as if he were one of them himself. No imperfections in his skin as far as the eye could see. He was beautiful. He was the divine definition of beauty itself.

He swiftly moved his hands to your throat, fingers following suit as he held you there, against the bedroom wall, a juxtaposition to his masterfully divine beauty of feigned innocence. His breath was hot but not unpleasant as he whispered into the nape of your neck:

"You belong to me."

And that was all it took for you to fold entirely, becoming a puppet to his every command, desires of the flesh being the only thing on both your minds. You needed him and he needed you to need him. He wanted a full surrender, a full understanding that he was the only man you'd ever be able to fulfill these lustrous fantasies with.

"Do you understand?" He asked, not giving you a second to think any further before he moved you from the wall and to the bed, where he towered over you.

"Y-yes." You said, waiting to see what he would do next.

"Good. Now take it."

Confused, you looked up at him but he had already had other plans, flipping you into your stomach and forcing himself inside you, under your dress. The instant burn that you felt was replaced by immediate satisfaction as you saw stars. Through this position you could feel him inside you, hot and intense, pushing deeper and deeper until he bottomed out. He dug into you until he was all you could feel, hear, taste, see. He was owning every inch of your skin and forcing you to feel it.

And you loved it.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked, anger laced in his voice.

"You." You tried your best to get out with the intense feeling between your thighs but it was next to impossible.

"What was that?" He asked once more, forcing you to say it louder.

Just as you were about to respond, he picks you up and turns you around to face him, taking in his expression. You were on your knees looking up at him, tears in your eyes at the intensity of what had just happened. Your dress was definitely ruined by this point but you couldn't care less.

"You." You said, waiting for him to say something, anything at all. He placed his finger on your lips and smiled down at you while he toyed with them. He then put himself inside of your mouth, your jaws stretching to be able to take him.

"Good." He said, quickening his original pace as he sighed with content. You allowed him to finish before the two of you fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets.

He was holding you in his arms now, making sure you were alright as he kissed the top of your head and face, looking at the marks he'd left on your skin. He'd make sure those were more visible the next time someone tried to intrude on your guys' company. Especially on a pity invite.

He'd also make sure not to let Chilton off with a warning next time, making sure to purposely set his entire body on fire, not just his hand.

But you were asleep soundly in his arms, full of him and he had won.

...

A/N : Hello! This is my first time writing smut kinda so I hope this is up to par with some other fanfic writers. I really hope this fulfills your request! Lmk if anyone has any other requests, my ask box is open! 🫶

[bloomyeu]

peach eyes

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: in which chan and you struggle to convey the love you have for each other

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst? fluff? comfort? :) not edited

a/n: channie is so soft i luv him. fic is based off peach eyes by wave 2 earth

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He knew he loved you.

He really did, but at times he felt like it was never conveyed. The constant hours at the studio, the time away on tour, on a plane, at a showcase, hours that werent spent with you. He felt bad, when was the last time he kissed you? 3 weeks ago? Maybe 4?

Maybe its time he lets you go. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew you loved him.

Yes he was always busy, yes he wasn't home, but with him you were complete and that was that mattered. No matter how much time was spent apart.

Maybe its time you let him know you love him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Its been a few weeks since chan had last been home, and with the two weeks coming up to it, you could only think of how you could surprise him to make him feel the love you have for him. To hug and kiss him without anything holding you back.

He was supposed to be back at around 6pm. So you made everything he loved. A home cooked meal of jjajangmyeon, bobs burger on the tv, christmas candle lit, fuzzy blanket ready on the couch, and cuddles. 

The plan was to tell him how you felt as soon as you both finished dinner, although things don't always go exactly as planned. 

hey ynnie, flight got delayed :[ have no idea what time ill be home we also have a team dinner as soon as we land so dont wait up for me! im sorry baby, i rlly wanted to see u

hii channie awe thats sucks :/ i hope u have fun tnt and land safely!! will u still come tnt or r u gna stay at the dorms?

ur crazy i need to see u babe ofc ill be home ill jst be late

ok!!! ill be waiting <3

And with that dinner was put back in the fridge, candles were blown out, love confessions burned on your tongue, and tears were falling as you showered. 

You knew it wasn't his fault, he didn't even know. But it still hurt. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

He felt so bad.

All he wanted to do was come home and be in your arms, and yet the flight got delayed so he’d be back at around 9pm and had a dinner/team meeting/debrief as soon as he landed. Could it not wait till tomorrow?

He knew you were waiting for him, wanting to spend a day with him before the both of you are sprung back to work.

But life is unfair is it not?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It was around 1am when chan unlocked the front door of your(shared) apartment. 

The house was quiet, but he could hear Lorelei Gilmore talking about Chilton and whatnot.

“Ynnie, I’m home,” he whispered into the still apartment.

Walking into the kitchen, he noticed the food you’d prepared, and it made his heart swell. The jjajangmyeon, perfectly plated and covered with plastic wrap to keep it warm, the careful presentation that showed how much thought you’d put into making his favorite meal. You even remembered to set out his favorite pair of chopsticks—the ones you’d bought together during a trip to Japan.

The effort, the care, the love you’d put into this simple act of cooking for him—despite the long hours and despite knowing he might not even make it home in time to enjoy it—it all hit him like a wave. You still did these things for him, even when he felt he didn’t deserve it.

He could almost see you in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you cooked, imagining the smile on your face when you thought about how happy he’d be to come home to a meal made by you. The image was so vivid, so tender, that it made his chest tighten with emotion. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay, but it was impossible not to feel overwhelmed by the depth of your love and how much he missed these moments with you.

He walked out of the kitchen before the tears could spill, hoping to pull himself together, but then he saw you on the couch.

You were wearing his shirt, the one that was a little too big on you but somehow looked perfect, hanging off your frame in that effortlessly beautiful way only you could manage. The fuzzy white blanket was wrapped snugly around you, keeping you warm as you slept. Your mouth was slightly agape, soft snores leaving your lips, and your hair was slightly tousled, as if you’d fallen asleep waiting for him.

He knew you’d tried to wait for him, and he’d never felt so guilty.

You never complained about the hours he worked, you never argued when he said “10 more minutes” at the studio—you were so good to him.

And yet he felt he treated you like crap.

And that realization only made him let out a choked sob.

He sank to his knees beside the couch, his hand reaching out to touch your face gently. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake up. Chan watched you sleep, his heart heavy with guilt and love. He wished he could turn back time, be there for you more, show you how much you meant to him.

He sat there for a while, just watching you sleep. The room was dim, the only light coming from the TV playing Gilmore Girls on low volume. The soft glow cast shadows on the walls, creating a peaceful, almost magical atmosphere. Chan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. He knew he needed to be strong for you, to make things right. To treat you better.

Eventually, he got up and went to the bedroom. He changed into comfortable clothes and grabbed a spare blanket. He returned to the living room, covering you with the extra blanket before settling down on the floor next to the couch. He didn’t want to disturb you by trying to fit on the couch with you, but he wanted to be close.

As he layed there, he thought about all the times he’d missed, all the moments he should have been there for. He remembered the first time he met you, how your smile had lit up the room. He thought about all the little things you did for him, the way you always made him feel loved even when he was far away.

He made a silent promise to himself that he would do better. He would make more time for you, show you how much he loved you. He wouldn’t let his career come between you two anymore. He closed his eyes, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day, that he could start making things right.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Morning came, and you woke up to the smell of coffee. You blinked a few times, realizing you were still on the couch. The TV was off, and the apartment was filled with the soft morning light. You sat up, stretching and rubbing your eyes.

That’s when you saw Chan in the kitchen, making breakfast. He looked up and smiled when he saw you awake.

“Good morning, ynnie” he said softly.

“Hiii channie, good morning. How was the flight” you replied, your voice still groggy from sleep.

He walked over to you, holding a cup of coffee. “It was ok. made you some coffee.”

You took the cup from him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thank you.”

He sat down next to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and guilt. “I’m sorry about last night. I really wanted to be here with you.”

You shook your head, placing a hand on his. “It’s okay, it wasn't your fault. I know you’re busy. I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I wish i was here more, with you. I want to be here for you more.”

You smiled, tears forming in your eyes. “I’d like that.”

He leaned in, kissing you softly. a kiss filled with love and promise, a vow to be better. You kissed him back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you were willing to work through it together.

The two of you spent the morning talking, about anything and everything. It felt like you both were in your own bubble, just the two of you without any distractions. Chan told you about his tour, the places he’d seen, the experiences he’d had. You told him about your days, the little things that made you smile, the moments you wished he’d been there for.

As the day went on, you realized how much you’d missed these moments. The simple act of being together, sharing your lives. It was something you never wanted to take for granted again. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Over the next few weeks, things began to change. Chan made a conscious effort to be more present, to spend more time with you. He still had his responsibilities, his career, but he found a balance. He made sure to call you every day, even if it was just for a few minutes. He made time for date nights, for weekends away, for the little things that made your relationship special.

You could see the difference in him, the way he looked at you, the way he made you feel. The love was always there, but now it was more tangible, more real. You felt closer to him than ever before, and it made you realize how strong your love was.

as you were both sitting on the couch together, watching a movie, Chan turned to you, his eyes filled with emotion.

“Ynnie you know i love you right? you mean the world to me. Youre like my sunlight”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love. “I love you too, Channie, so much. With you I can do anything, were meant to be”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “Always,” he whispered.

And in that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges came your way, you would face them together. Your love was strong, and it would endure.

fin.

masterlist | requests

[ihavemanyhusbands]

High Risk

Gif by rocktheholygrail

PART THREE: GOING MY WAY?

Also on AO3

Part One // Part Two // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Nurse!Reader

Chapter Summary: The game is almost over, but there are still plenty of moving pieces, and they all seem to lead in one direction — Hannibal’s.

WC: 4.1k words

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, canon divergence (frederick is still head of baltimore state hospital, also no WOTL ending), manipulation all around, slight jealousy, Will being a little threatening, smut, sort of implied fear play (but not really), ummm sort of intention of abducting reader (goes willingly tho), unprotected p in v (DO NOT), oral (fem receiving), corruption, sort of implied switch reader and switch hannibal??? though more sub hannibal (kinda), a lil choking, just two silly little fugitives running off into the sunset together, and that all I can think of but lmk if anything else!

-------------------------

A guard came in through the door, momentarily halting as he took in the scene in front of him. Nothing was amiss, per se, but it was still an interesting sight to an outsider.

You looked over at him and narrowed your eyes.

“Yes?” You asked, voice clipped.

“He has a visitor,” the guard said, remembering himself.

“We still have thirty minutes left.”

He shrugged helplessly. “Doctor Chilton said to let him in.”

You glanced back at Hannibal and then nodded in assent at the guard. You glared up at the security camera as if you were looking at Frederick himself, wondering what he had in store now.

The guard stepped back to let in a tall, austerely dressed man. His brown hair was neatly swept to one side, the scruff on his face equally well-groomed. His blue eyes fixed on you as he hesitantly stepped forward, clearly not having been informed by Frederick, either.

“Hello, Will,” you heard Hannibal greet him, his tone light and unaffected.

Will nodded at him in return, but his gaze immediately returned to you. You stuck your hand out and introduced yourself as Hannibal’s appointed nurse. He took your hand and shook it briefly, letting go as soon as he was able.

“You’re dressed awfully nice for a nurse,” he commented, eyes roaming up and down quickly.

“Artist’s request,” you said, nodding towards the glass. 

Hannibal had asked to draw you in the same dress you wore during your dinner date, and you’d felt generous enough to oblige. You would change back to your uniform as soon as your time with him was over for the day, but a part of you was glad Will hadn’t come in after that.

“I have some matters to discuss with Doctor Lecter,” he said, clearing his throat. “I don’t, er… Would you mind?”

“Anything you want to say to me you can say in front of her,” Hannibal said with a casual shrug, setting his pencil down. “This is a friendly visit, isn’t it?”

Will hesitated, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Depends on what you would refer to as ‘friendly’.”

You made your voice honey sweet. “Surely I don’t pose any sort of threat to you?”

He didn’t fall for it, swallowing hard. “Yet to be seen.”

You tilted your head to one side and bit your lip, pretending to be conflicted. “Well, as it happens, Hannibal wants me to stay right here… I’m torn, really.”

Will glared at Hannibal, but the latter was still smiling amiably. He sighed in resignation, deciding to just face ahead and get through it. Hannibal took up his pencil once more.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to continue working on this while we talk,” he said, gesturing for you to get back to your original pose. 

You glanced once more at Will, but he was still determined not to look at you. A small little smile of satisfaction pulled at your lips, but you said nothing else. Now it was important that you listened, and you always knew how to blend into the background.

Will spoke first with threadbare patience. He mentioned Dolarhyde, a name you had already heard, almost always paired with the word Dragon. Hannibal kept his tone conversational, but there was a certain smugness to it that was only making Will angrier and angrier. 

But before he exploded, the barest movement of your hand seemed to make him remember himself. He cleared his throat, closing his eyes for a moment to regain his composure. 

“Let’s just get straight to the real reason for my visit,” Will said. “The FBI wants to use you to lure Dolarhyde out, by staging an escape.”

The following silence was tangible. Hannibal looked up from his sketches, considering Will for a moment. 

“You think that’ll save them, don’t you?” He asked.

Will’s hands clenched into fists as he struggled to maintain his self-control. “You told Frederick that you would only accept if I came personally to ask you. And now I have.”

You and Hannibal shared a quick glance, clearly impatient to discuss things but powerless to do so. Will pretended not to notice this, but he couldn’t help a sidelong glance at you. He couldn’t figure out what piece you were playing in the whole game. 

Hannibal inclined his head, acquiescing. “Then I suppose you already know my answer.”

———————-

Later that night, once you had clocked out and made your way to the parking lot, you found you were not alone.

Will was leaning against his car, illuminated by a street lamp, seemingly waiting for you. You blinked, internally startled, but casually made your way to your own vehicle.

He approached but still kept his distance, his features made more severe by shadows. In a way, he had still cornered you, and you knew he would be faster if you tried to run. Not that you wanted to, or at least not yet.

“Not smart to menacingly approach a woman by herself in the middle of the night,” you said casually. “You never know, she might just have pepper spray.”

He huffed with wry amusement. “I’m not here to threaten you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So then you waited here for hours for… what reason, exactly?”

He studied you for a moment, his expression curiously similar to Doctor Chilton’s on your first meeting about Hannibal.

“Frederick caught me up to speed,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “He said you might have more sway over Hannibal than anyone else right now.”

“How uncharacteristic of him to compliment me,” you said, noncommittal. “We all have our parts to play, and I’m happy to do mine.”

“Oh, I’m sure you are.”

You unlocked your car and lightly grabbed the handle, patience waning. “Is there anything else, Will?”

“I just came to ask that you put whatever feelings you might have aside, and not interfere with what’s going to come.”

“Feelings,” you repeated, almost laughing in his face. “Oh, how sweet. Is that what you gathered? Don’t tell me…”

He shook his head, but the hard set of his mouth told you otherwise. Interesting… Hannibal had certainly spoken about him a couple of times, but it had always seemed like he was forcing himself not to go into too much detail.

“Regardless, whatever it is, you need to stay out of it,” he said firmly. “This is beyond you and this place.”

“You haven’t said please once,” you pointed out, unmoved. “You forget I don’t know you, and I don’t have to listen to you. Doctor Chilton, on the other hand, can give me instructions if he so wishes.”

He took a step forward. “You think you can have him, is that what this is?”

You stood your ground, raising your chin imperiously. “Maybe I just don’t like the tone you’re taking with me.”

He knew better than to refute that, slowing down his breathing to compose himself. He looked down, but you were unsure if it was due to shame, guilt, or exasperation. Maybe a mix of all three.

“You’re right, I apologize. But I’m sure you understand, in some way, that I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t so… important to me. To everyone.”

 You took a step forward, bending slightly to one side, trying to catch his gaze once more.

“And I’m sure you understand, in some way, that I am not really the puppet master here,” you said, glancing at the building behind you. “You’re right though. I do want him, but I’m far from naïve. Just a passing craving is all.”

Will’s eyebrows raised. “But isn’t yielding the best way to get rid of a craving? Or so they say.”

“You sound like you’re still trying to convince yourself of it.”

It was then that you noticed just how close you were now standing. You even had to tilt your head back slightly to keep eye contact with him, your chests nearly touching. Tension crackled like a live wire between you, but neither of you moved. 

You let out a soft hum of amusement, one of the corners of your lips curling up in a smirk.

“Let me know if you ever decide.”

————————

In the end, you hadn’t been lying. You would do as you were told, and Doctor Chilton had specifically said you would not be a part of the staged escape. No distractions, this is where the real game begins. 

You weren’t filled in on the details of the whole plan, but you had a feeling that it wouldn’t matter anyway. They could plan all they wanted, but that didn’t mean things would play out as intended.

You didn’t even bother pointing this out to Doctor Chilton, as he wouldn’t have listened anyway. He’d already sealed his fate a long time ago.

You'd been allowed inside Hannibal’s cell while guards prepared him for transport, strapping him into a straightjacket and then securing him on a large hand truck. You waved away the guard that was about to put the anti-bite mask on him and took over instead.

There was a strange intimacy to it, your fingers gentle as they could be as you worked the straps behind his head. Almost imperceptibly, his head leaned towards your touch. You couldn’t see it, but he closed his eyes in bliss.

You weren’t able to say much, but you didn’t need to. Your eyes were mostly enough to communicate, and he didn’t really pay attention to anyone else in the room.

One of the guards nodded at you as a sign that they were ready to go. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement, allowed only a moment longer to say goodbye.

“We had a nice time, didn’t we?” You said softly, your knuckles touching his arm.

He turned his head and looked straight into your eyes, pinning you in place. Underneath his mask, you swore he was smiling.

 His voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “You don’t think I’d get rid of you so easily, do you?” 

You opened and closed your mouth, unsure of what to say — how to feel. But before you could even try to figure it out, the guards started wheeling him out of the room. 

——————————————-

A sound somewhere in your apartment dragged you out of sleep. Groggily, you lifted your head, listening intently. It sounded like a light thump, as if something had fallen, but you couldn’t be sure. 

It was silent, but it was a charged sort of silence, as if something – or someone – was filling it. You knew it would be impossible to go back to sleep with that feeling making your skin crawl. Slowly, you sat up, eyes straining to see in the dark.

You waited for a few more heartbeats before even thinking about moving. You pushed the covers aside and stood up, anxious about checking that nothing was amiss…

Then, that one loose floorboard right outside your door creaked loudly, and your stomach dropped. You definitely were not alone, and there was nowhere to run. The room seemed to grow significantly colder, the darkness pressing in.

A ragged sound escaped your throat as the doorknob slowly started to move from side to side. You quickly looked around for something that might serve as a weapon, fright making your survival instincts kick in. Nothing seemed exactly useful, but you settled for your bedside lamp, tightly clutching it with both hands.

If you were going to die, you would at least put up a fight first. 

The door started to open on silent hinges, slow and dreadful, as if whoever was on the other side was savoring the moment. Finally, a tall, shadowed figure was revealed. But of course, it wasn’t just any figure, and even though his features were not visible, you recognized him by the way he filled the door frame. 

Blood pounded fiercely in your ears as a confusing amalgamation of emotions washed over you. It was no real surprise that he had shown up to keep his promise, but you found you still hadn’t been quite prepared for it. 

It had been only a few days since his escape, and you had barely spent a minute alone. At work, of course, you were protected, but your apartment was also being monitored by police around the clock. 

You kept your head down and tried your best to lay low, miserable at being the center of constant attention. You weren’t dumb enough to believe they were just keeping an eye out for Hannibal. Doctor Chilton had made sure of that.

But you knew none of it would be enough to deter Hannibal. In fact, you were willing to bet he only found the obstacle amusing, especially with how easy it’d been to overcome it.

He had counted on Frederick’s arrogance, believing he could catch him again. He would never learn, and if it wasn’t so pathetic, it would almost be funny. 

“Hello,” he whispered, not wanting to alert anyone else of his presence.

“Hannibal,” you breathed, for once stunned enough to not know what else to say. 

“Did you miss me?”

“I have been waiting for you,” you said, not answering the question directly.

He could smell your fear, but he knew it was waning by how faint it was. Your heart was still racing, but you could think more rationally now, aware that you had to maneuver the situation carefully. 

He took a step closer, his eyes flicking to the lamp you were still clutching. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “You know that, right?”

You hesitated for the barest second before nodding. Then you remembered he could probably not see you very well in the dark. 

“I know,” you said with as much certainty as you could muster, slowly setting down the lamp. “How did you…?”

“I have my ways.” He shrugged casually. “I’ve been making some arrangements for us.”

“Us? What kind of arrangements?”

He took another step forward, almost within arms reach.

“Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough before.”

“You never said anything about running away together.”

“I think we can both agree some spontaneity is good to keep the spark alive.”

You stared at him for a moment, teetering on the edge between dread and… something else. Elation, maybe?

 Though daunting — and incredibly foolish — it was a very tempting proposition. Or it would be, if it was a proposition at all. The way he phrased it made it seem otherwise.

But if you thought about it… Did you really want to return to Baltimore State? To the life you used to live?

All you’d done was passively cruise by day to day, no end in sight. Pacing those liminal corridors that seemed to mirror each other, the sterile air cloying your lungs, numbing you. 

And that wasn’t to mention the obvious — your superior. Having Doctor Chilton’s interest had been a double edged sword all along, but you had been willing to take that risk as long as Hannibal was around.

So, no, going back would be no life at all. Here, Hannibal was not just offering you a new start, but also one last fuck you to your mutual foe. He would be utterly ruined after this, his credibility totally gone.

Still, you couldn’t make it too easy for Hannibal, not at this point of the game, so close to the finish line.

“I think I need some more time to make up my mind,” you said, stepping forward and meeting him halfway.

He glanced at the window. “We have a couple of hours before the sunrise.”

“Should be more than enough for you to convince me… If you can do so quietly.”

You almost shuddered as his hands came to rest on your hips, the sudden touch pleasantly surprising you. Your hands, in turn, slid up his chest. For a moment, it was strange not to feel the rough material of his prison jumpsuit, now replaced with a cotton shirt.

He let out a long exhale as you tilted your head back to look up at his face. “It has been torture, not being able to touch you.”

“You poor little lovesick puppy,” you teased, sliding a hand to the back of his neck as you went on your tiptoes. “Show me how much you wanted it.”

He kissed you without hesitation, but your lips battled his for dominance immediately. The only sounds in the room were your harsh breaths and the obscene tangling of your tongues. 

You pulled back only to tug your shirt off, tossing it on the bed. As you kissed him once more, you pushed the hem of his shirt up and over his head. Then his skin was against yours, warm and intoxicating. You brought his hands to your breasts and he let out a small, desirous sound. 

You shushed him gently, letting him feel you as you reached down to undo his pants. His touch was more hesitant there, almost reverent. He’d tried to envision what might be under your uniform many times, but he had not been prepared for the real thing. It was a shame the darkness didn’t let him see every detail, but there would be time enough for that. 

Just as you were reaching into his briefs, he stopped you, holding your wrist with one hand. 

“You’ve had your turn,” he whispered. “Now it’s mine.”

“Take them off, then,” you said, referring to your panties. 

Before you could react, he pressed you against him, grasping the thin fabric behind your back and effectively ripping it apart. You tensed slightly at the small display of strength, both titillated and a little intimidated. He could smell the influx of arousal, tinged faintly with fear. It was a narcotic combination that he could barely resist, but he held onto his self control.

Once you were totally bare, he was unsure of where to start. He wanted to taste you all over, let his tongue find all the sensitive spots that would have you shaking. He wanted your cool mask of composure to slip, finally revealing what was underneath. He’d gotten a few glimpses already, but it only made him want more.

He lay you back on the bed gently, pulling your hips towards the edge. He kissed his way down your body, sporadically using his teeth to keep you on edge, too. You closed your eyes and let yourself enjoy his eager attention, arching your back as he tongued your nipples into hard peaks. 

His mouth trailed lower, and even lower still. The first long swipe of his tongue over your clit surprised you, involuntarily letting out a choked sound and immediately covering your mouth with one hand. 

His shoulders shook as he chuckled silently. “I thought you said we had to be quiet.”

You glared at him in warning, pushing his head back down. “Too much talking, not enough convincing.”

Unfortunately for you, he took that small crack in your self control as a challenge. He was relentless but methodical, holding your legs apart so you could not squirm away from him. You bit your fist to keep from making any more sounds, your free hand buried in his hair. 

Your hips rocked wantonly against his face, his tongue sliding easily through your folds with each movement. Your grip on his hair tightened as your pleasure began to intensify, your legs struggling against his hands. 

And then, right when you were on the brink, he pulled back to let a string of saliva fall onto your cunt. You were about to protest in outrage, lifting your head to look at him, but he pushed two fingers inside of you. You clenched around them as he teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, all words of scorn vanishing from your mind. 

Both digits curled upwards, touching a very specific spot… and suddenly, you were coming hard, a pitiful whimper in your throat. You rode it all the way through, almost to the point of nearing a second orgasm. His teeth grazed your inner thigh, the sting making you clench around his fingers even harder. 

He smiled like the cat that got the cream and you pushed at his head, overstimulated. 

He stood up to take his pants off, intent on prowling on top of you. You could see the proud silhouette of his hard cock in the semi darkness, your eyes having adjusted enough to see him a little better. 

You remembered the feel of velvety soft skin there as you watched him grip himself, stroking slowly, tantalizingly even. As you looked into his eyes, you could tell he was thinking of the same thing, and he was growing more worked up because of it.

But when he started to move, you placed a foot on his abdomen to stop him, shaking your head. 

“Get on the ground,” you panted. “The bed will creak too much.”

He did as told and you slid off the bed. You pushed him onto his back, eyes flicking down to his erection resting on his lower abdomen. You felt a rush of power seeing him there, as if at your mercy, but you were still aware that the scales could tip over at any given moment.

“My turn again,” you said with a devious grin, holding his gaze as you spat on the palm of your hand. 

You slicked it all over his length as you straddled his hips. You held it with one hand and lined the slick tip with your entrance, slowly sinking down on it. His mouth fell open with pleasure as you reached the base, his hands grasping your hips. You placed your hands on his chest as leverage and started to move at a torturously slow pace, barely at all. 

“Did you miss me?” you purred his earlier words back at him, leaning forward to loom over him. 

He nodded quickly, his hips bucking slightly to meet your gyrations. “Every moment.”

You huffed with amusement. “How cute.”

Experimentally, you slightly picked up the pace, making sure the floor wouldn’t creak. With a little more confidence, you leaned back and found a steady rhythm.

 He palmed your breasts with one hand as they bounced a little with each rise and fall of your hips. The stretch of him inside you at that angle was almost too much, but you’d always liked that thin line between pain and pleasure.  

Unable to stand being idle, he sat up, strong arms enveloping you. His legs spread in order to find a better angle to thrust upwards, and he pressed you against him to kiss you.  

He set the pace then, going deep but not too fast, dragging your body down to meet his thrusts. Your lips were locked on his for a moment as you tried not to moan, fingers burying in his hair once more. 

“You don’t play very fair,” you murmured, making him chuckle. 

“Neither do you.”

Boldly, without even thinking about it, you brought your hand down to curl your fingers around his neck. You felt his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard, but he grinned deviously. His thrusts turned harsher then, barely leaving room for you to process any more thoughts. 

Your fingers squeezed a little harder as your cunt began to clench around his cock. There was a low sound in this throat as you felt him twitch inside of you. At that point, both of you were mindlessly chasing release, though still careful to stay relatively quiet. 

Right before you came, his whole body tensed as he held you down, and you felt heat flood inside of you. That tipped you over the edge, and it was effectively a point of no return for you, the last piece to seal the deal. As he held you through it, kissing your neck as you let go of his, you considered yourself thoroughly convinced.

You stayed like that during the comedown, but pulled back slightly until you were nose to nose. You shared breath for a few moments, foreheads touching, and you found yourself feeling something more than just curiosity or hunger. 

“Suppose I won’t have any time to pack, will I?” You said between pants. 

He shook his head. “We’ll get you all new things for your new life. Our new life.”

“Where are you going to take me?”

“I won’t ruin the surprise. All that matters is that it’s far away from here.”

A smile slowly spread across your face, one of the most genuine gestures you had ever shown him. He returned it with equal sincerity, pleasantly surprised.

“Well, I like the sound of that,” you said. “But first we have to figure out how to sneak out of here.”

“Leave that to me, I’ll take care of us.”

-------------

THE END.

[jessmmariano]

A list of reasons why Rory Gilmore is a good person and not the shallow, manipulative person people make her out to be:

Took full responsibility for breaking Paris’s project and offered to help her fix it despite Paris being only rude to her at this point

Didn’t tell anyone that Paris had to take her cousin to the Chilton formal despite Paris taunting Rory/saying Rory couldn’t get a date

Told Paris that she could talk to her if she ever needed anyone to talk to despite the fact that Paris had just exposed Lorelai and Max kissing to the whole school

Encouraged Tristan to ask out Paris because she knew Paris had feelings for him

Helped Paris get ready for her date with Tristan and allowed her to borrow her mother’s clothes

Reassured her mother several times about her relationship with Max

Agreed to a coming out party because it made her grandmother happy

Helped Paris study numerous times despite Paris almost always antagonizing her

Gave Jess a chance and was nice to him when the rest of the town despised him. She even vouched for him/defended him often.

Took partial responsibility for the car accident with Jess instead of letting him take the entire blame, which the entire town was doing (and she reassured Luke as well).

Dyed Lane’s hair and then also then dyed it again after Lane freaked out (and she even left the Kim house through the window so that Mrs. Kim wouldn’t see her)

Agreed to go with her grandfather to visit Yale to make him happy even though she didn’t really want to and was only interested in Harvard

Apologized to Dean after their break up and took full responsibility for the problems in their relationship (even though it wasn’t all her fault).

Took time out of her busy end of the year schedule (when she was dealing with finals and being valedictorian) to help her grandmother pick out an outfit for her graduation

Went back to Kyle’s house the day after the disastrous party to get Lane’s heavily stained backpack and deliver it to her

Was always super supportive to her friends (Lane with her band, Paris with academics, Lorelai with the Inn, all of them about their relationships, etc.)

Helped her mother throw a baby shower for Sookie (albeit they never got to have said shower).

Took care of Logan when he in the hospital and after even though he hadn’t been the best boyfriend at this point.

Always encouraged Dean to pursue his dreams/passions and told him he could do what he put his mind to.

Anyways this is all I can think of off the top of my head but stop saying Rory Gilmore is a terrible person. Yes, she made mistakes, but everyone does lol

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hi,

i heard you are taking requests again. So could you please write a Hannibal x fem!reader one-shot, where she used to study alongside Will at the FBI and actually made it, but works in field in another state. After a series of murders she is ordered to Baltimore. Hannibal soons takes a interest in her after she got ordered to start therapy lessons. Will tries to warn her, but after Hannibal got attacked by the orderly, they confess their feelings.(with nsfw?)

Hannibal X reader: Homecoming

Warnings: Smut, fingering, penetration ( p in v), angst (really little), female reader, no use of y/n, not proofread.

Word count: 2K

You never expected to be back here. You’d grown up in Baltimore but you didn’t have a lot of love for the place. One of the reasons you’d been so excited when they told you you’d be working in another state was the fact that you wouldn’t have to face spending the rest of your days here. 

Seemed fate had other plans. 

Not only had you been called to assist with a murder case you’d just found out Will, one of your friends, was currently behind bars. You’d been surprised when Jack had told you why Will was locked up. There was no way he would have harmed someone. The Will you knew would never be capable of killing someone, much less eating one of their body parts. You knew something was up but there wasn’t a lot you could do. 

When Jack had told you you were being sent to mandatory therapy sessions you’d almost cussed him out. You didn’t need therapy, you were more than capable of handling seeing grime scenes without losing your mind. But Jack wasn’t giving you a choice. He told you he’d almost made a mistake with Will and that things would have been a lot worse if Hannibal hadn’t been accompanying Will's situation.

You weren’t what Hannibal was expecting. You put on this tough girl mask whenever you were at crime scenes. Anyone who looked at you could tell you knew your stuff and that you weren’t scared to be there. But the moment you stepped into Hannibal's office you were a different person. Less guarded and more sentimental. You talked about how being in the FBI made you feel like you were helping the victims but it also made you angry at people. You didn’t understand how someone could be cruel enough to hurt another person. Slowly Hannibal managed to break down your bearers and pretty soon the two of you found yourself searching for each other in a crowd. 

You’d wanted to visit Will since you’d arrived but you were so caught up with the investigation you hadn’t had the time. Jack had given you a day off and you took the chance to go see Will. You walked through the white floors, a chill running down your spin as you continued to make your way to Will. You had always hated these types of institutions but you knew better than to let the discomfort show. 

Will’s head snapped up at the sound of you entering the room. You smiled at him and he tried his best to return the gesture. You sat down in front of him, your hands instinctively moving to grab onto his. You waited for someone to yell on the intercom for you to keep your hands to yourself. When no one did you moved your attention to Will. 

“There aren't any cameras. He just likes to listen.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Chilton.”

“I’m not sure he’s allowed to do that.”

Will let out a dry laugh.

“He does whatever he wants. They all do.”

He looked a lot different then you remembered him. Less full of life then when you’d first met. It pained you to see him like this. You caressed his hands. After a moment Will gripped onto your hands, his fingers weaving into yours. He let out a tired smile.

“I can’t believe they sent you. All you wanted was to get out of here.”

“I know right.”

“How’s the investigation going?”

“As well as it can be i guess. Hannibal has been a great help.”

Will's body tensed at the mention of Hannibal. He tugged your hands, forcing you to move closer to him. You gave him a quizzical look, not understanding the sudden shift in the air.

“Will what’s-”

“Be careful around him. He’s not what he seems to be.”

Before you could ask him what he meant one of the workers opened the door, informing you your time was up. You gave Will one last glance before getting up to go.

You couldn’t get Will words out of your head for the rest of the week. You couldn’t understand what he was talking about. Sure Hannibal was a bit odd but he seemed absolutely harmless. You couldn’t think of anything that would make you fear him. You went on with your day as usual until you got the call from Jack. Your stomach dropped at his words, rushing to grab your badge and gun before you raced out the door.

You stared at the grotesk seen before you. You didn’t know Beverly for long but from what you could tell she was a wonderful agent and a lovely person. You watched Will take in the scene. Jack moved to exit the room but you couldn’t get yourself to leave. You knew it would be best for Will if he was alone, but you also knew Beverly was his friend. You moved over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face you, tears welling in his eyes.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Will stared at you, contemplating it for a moment. He shook his head.

“It’s better if I'm alone.”

“Okay.”

You turned to leave but before you were out Will called your name out. You turned to look at him. 

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna find him. And you’re gonna catch him for me.”

“I promise.”

With that you left the room, leaving Will to do what he did best. Get inside the killer's mind.

You tried Hannibal's phone for the fourth time.

“He isn't picking up.”

Alana paced around the room as Jack checked Hannibal's journals. You had a bad feeling. Ever since Alana told you about her conversation with Will you’d been on edge. Hannibal always picked up when you called and if he didn’t you knew where you could find him.

“He isn’t here.”

“There isn’t anything in his calendar.”

Jack's phone rang, filling the room. He picked it up speaking to the other person on the line as you and Alana looked at him expectantly. 

“They got a trace on his phone.”

The three of you rushed to the car. You sped down the road trying to get where you were  going as fast as you could. Once you arrived you raced through the place, trying to be quiet but also not wanting to waste time. You could hear your heart beating in your chest. The thought of something happening to Hannibal affected you more than you’d anticipated. You and Jack went in front, your guns at the ready. 

The moment Hannibal's frame came into view you froze. You barely registered what was happening until Jack took the shot. The sound of the gun ran through the room. The sound seemed to snap you out of your frozen state. You watched the killer put his foot out, kicking the bucket from beneath hannibal. The sound of choking made you snap into action. You rushed over to him, trying your hardest to lift him up.

“Help me Jack!”

Jack moved to where you were effortlessly picking Hannibal up onto his shoulder. You watched Hannibal gasp for air, your hand moving to rest against his cheek. He looked at you, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“It’s okay. We got you.”

Hannibal woke up in a hospital bed. He groaned as the bright lights filled his vision. He looked around the room, his eyes finding your frame immediately. You were splayed against his chest, completely asleep. He moved his hand to rest on your head. You stirred at the contact, eyes opening. You looked up at him, lifting your body off his.

“You’re awake.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since they let visitors in.”

You were surprised to feel tears streaming from your eyes. Hannibal's hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb collecting your tears. You grabbed onto his wrist holding on to him. 

“I thought we weren’t gonna find you before it was too late.”

“But you did.”

“Barely.”

“Doesn't matter. You saved me.”

You moved forwards, hugging Hannibal as best you could. His hand wrapped around you, keeping your body against him. You let out a relieved sigh, slowly lifting your face so you could look at him. You stared at him for a moment before inching your face closer to his. You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Hannibal tugged you to him, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away. He smiled against your lips.

“When can I get out of here?”

“The doctor said he would release you tonight.”

“Good. I owe you dinner.”

You’d tried your hardest to keep your hands off of Hannibal. You wanted to show him you could control yourself, even though every inch of you screamed to tug him over the counter and kiss him. You focused on cutting up your tomatoes, steeling yourself to pay attention. You had been doing just fine but then Hannnibal had moved over to you, his hands wrapping around your waist. He nipped at your neck as his hands moved to splay against your stomach. He tugged you into him causing you to gasp as you felt the outline of his dick push against you.

“I can’t hold on anymore. I thought I could make it through dinner but I was wrong.”

He leaned to whisper against your ear.

“I need you now.”

You placed the knife you had been holding down, turning around so you could face Hannibal. You tugged his collar, moving to give him a fierce kiss. Hannibal squeezed your ass, biting at your lip before  prodding his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues tangled together as you moved to toy with his zipper. Hannibal's hand moved to pull your pants down, tugging them until they were completely off your body. He shoved his hand into your underwear, causing you to gasp against his mouth. He pushed his fingers inside you, moving them in and out for a moment. You gripped onto his shoulder, biting into your lip as he fingered you. Hannibal's free hand moved to tug at his pants. He pulled his boxers down enough to free his dick. He removed his hand from inside you, making you whine at the loss. Hannibal moved your underwear to the side before gazing up at you.

“This okay?”

You nodded at him, watching as he began to guide his dick inside you. Both of you moaned as he entered you. You threw your head back, causing Hannibal to latch his lips onto your neck. He groaned against your skin, hips snapping into your. You moved to wrap your legs around him. Hannibal hands dug into the flesh of your ass as he continued to pound into you. Your arms flailed around as you tried to grab onto him. 

“Fuck Hannibal.”

“Ah-shit- perfect fucking girl.”

Hannibal moved over to a clear counter, allowing him to lay you down. His hands moved to either side of your body, palms gripping onto the counter as he caged you. The new position allowed Hannibal to move against you at a quicker pace. Your body moved against the counter as Hannibal continued to fuck into you. Your walls fluttered around him as your orgasm approached. Hannibal leaned down to kiss you, giving you one last powerful thrust before spilling into you. He could tell you were close, his hand moving to toy with your clit. Soon you were seeing stars, your juices spilling against Hannibal's dick. 

Hannibal pulled out of you before tugging you off the counter. You adjusted your underwear grabbing a towel to clean up before pulling your pants back on. You washed your hands before moving back to where you had been. You continued to chop the tomatoes as if nothing had happened but every once in a while you’d glance over at Hannibal. He met your gaze giving you a smile that told you this was just the start.

Maybe Baltimore wasn’t so bad.

[misscherrys-world]

A/N: Hey it’s been a while since I wrote something. So here’s the deal, I had a dream. I lived in Stars Hallow and Jess Mariano asked me out on a date, we went to watch a movie, took a ride in his car, and ended up kissing. He was the sweetest boy ever..

So I’m going to write a fic about this dream bc I didn’t want it to end tbh. It’s going to be pure fluff

Jess Mariano x fem! Reader.

A/n: Jess and Reader are 18 years old, it happened after he broke up with rory, and he didn’t leave stars hallow. It was my dream so no buts. It is short but this was it. Enjoy!

It was a quiet summer night, miss Patty just finished her classes and closing up as I passed by, “hello miss Patty!” “Oh hello darling, have a good night sweetheart!” She said cheerfully “back to you miss Patty.” I said as cheerful as she. Well it’s not my natural self to be this friendly, but today is something special, Jess, Luke’s nephew, asked me out as he served me breakfast at the diner this morning. I know about his history with Rory, she’s a sweet girl, we attended the same school until she transferred to Chilton. But we weren’t close enough for me to reject the date. Like we knew each other me and Rory, talked occasionally but we weren’t friends.

So here I am on my way to Luke’s diner, now don’t get me wrong the boy must pick up the girl I know, but I was already hungry I needed at least some coffee.

As I walked in I caught Luke’s attention, “Y/n! Hey”, “Hey Luke, can I have some coffee to go please” as he poured me a cup of coffee, Jess was making his way down the stairs, I caught him by surprise and he looked cute tbh. “Am I late?” He looked at the diner’s clock then to his watch to see if his watch was accurate, “Oh no I came early to get some coffee.” I said with a chuckle “You could have just called and I would get you what you want while picking you up” he replied as he kissed my cheek and went our way to the movies.

“I am telling you, that movie sucked” after watching the worst movie in history I said to Jess as we make our way out to his car, “And the plot twist? Kirk’s dreams are way more interesting than this idiot who wrote this” Jess replied sarcastically as I laughed at his expression. “So y/n, what are we doing next then?” “I don’t know but I like this summer breeze, can we go on ride with no specific destination?” He started the car and pulled out the driveway “my favorite kind of date.” He said facing me with his sweet crooked smile.

After a while, I was really enjoying the ride, blasting our favorite music, it happened we shared the same music taste, singing along some songs, laughing and talking about everything that we know. As we drove by the lake he cracked a question “do you have a curfew at home?” “Yeah, 11 pm max” he nodded his head as he stopped by the lake near the trees “come on I want to show you something” as we stepped out of the car he took my hand and lead me to his favorite spot at the lake, the summer breeze was really good it was a very nice night.

We sat down by the lake as he told me this was the spot Luke threw him into the water and how it was his favorite memory with Luke. “You know, Luke and you are very similar” “there’s no way” I continued “you both are really stubborn, but have a soft heart, I think it goes within the Danes” he chuckled softly as he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear so he can get a better look at my face, his eyes went sleepy and soft, never breaking the eye contact, he leaned over and stopped few centimeters from connecting our lips together, “I really like you, y/n” “I like you a lot too, Jess” as I closed my eyes I felt his soft lips pressing against my lips, his hands placed softly on my hips keeping me pressed against him with no pressure. He deepened the kiss and now one of his hands is on the back of my neck, titling his head a little to deepen the kiss even more. As soon as we went out of breath we broke the kiss.

I haven’t noticed my hands were missing his hair “you have really soft hair, Mariano” he smiled as he leaned again to kiss me but this time it was a quick soft kiss on my lips then my cheek and then my forehead and my eye, “let’s get you home before I get you in trouble”, “yeah let’s go”. It was already 10:50 pm and the ride to my home was at least 20 minutes ride, “I really had a good time, Jess” he looked at me and said “same time next week?” I said yes as he pulled over to my house driveway, he stepped out the car with me to say hi to my parents and apologized for making me late as it had passed my curfew, we wished each other a good night.

I have to say, it was the best date I’ve ever been to. I can’t wait till tomorrow to see him at breakfast again.

[bliss-is-in-blood]

I keep thinking about a "let's fake Will death to launch Hannibal on the Great Red Dragon" scenario gone wrong.

The idea is launched and they make a whole plan to sell it to Hannibal.

Hannibal doesn't buy it and ask to see where Will has been killed. Thankfully Will had been considerate enough to demand they use his own blood, thinking Hannibal might just not buy it.

So they bring Hannibal out all tied up in his standing trolley right to the scene they created just to see Hannibal sniffle around like a damn dog and looking around, then for him to tell them he doesn't believe it and would like to see the body.

They try to dissuade him, tell him he's already buried (wrong move Hannibal knows law enough to know if Will was truly dead from the Dragon hands they would keep his body for investigation for longer than a week or two) Hannibal just tell them to unbury Will if that's what it takes.

So NOW they have to craft the most perfect pastiche of death with Will so they can convince Hannibal, sure they start to think it's pointless but they have one go at that plan so why not go all in. It's a tedious process and a bit tedious for Will because he HAS to smell like a corpse to the point Hannibal can't discern he's alive, and it's without talking about makeup and how they are gonna make him breath so imperceptibly that Hannibal doesn't notice.

In the end, despite all their effort, Hannibal refuse the "deal".

The crew are flabbergasted I'm telling you.

Only for Hannibal to escape two days later in a bloodbath of his own making to the point Alana and Chilton wonder if their security was on point or if Hannibal stayed in his cell just because he still wanted Will to know where he was when he could have escaped at anytime.

Where is Hannibal ? who knows ?

They do find Dolarhyde a few days later, it's a carnage, a slaughter beyond anything they've ever seen. Shapeless and rageful and franckly they take time to understand it's the Red Dragon by how fucking messy the scene is.

Corpse have been droping dead here and there too, there's no design, it's "killing because you're in the way" type of kill.

Then Hannibal start to goes after people that knew Will and made him upset one way or another.

Now they understand how deep in the shit they are. Hannibal is loose on a carnage, vengeful run against all of them and everybody going against his way. He's fast, efficient, they don't know where he is. All they know is that Hannibal lost his mind and he will slaughter whatever, whoever he put his hands unto.

They guess their fake death scenario worked, maybe a bit too well. They try to advertise that Will is actually alive, it doesn't work. They try to corner Hannibal it doesn't work.

And Will in the background, not worried at all because he's basically the only person in the world that would be safe around Hannibal right now, thinking he ordered his mutt (hellhound really) to attack but never thought about how he would call him back to his feet.

[fbfh]

tristan dugray with baby fever

STOOOOOOOP PLEASE PLEASE KEEP GOING

no bc we've already established a LOT about Tristin. he's dedicated. obsessivley so, even. once he HAS you he doesn't get jealous in a petty way as much as in a puffing out his chest birds acting eccentric to defend their turf way. when he gets jealous the pda goes in FULL SWING. he is so shameless and has just a little sprinkle winkle of bull energy. so you would think that his baby fever comes from this obsessive lovey dovey I want everyone to look at you and know you're mine place right???????? not quite. like it does but not till later. Tristin's baby fever is soul crushingly gut punchingly triggered by watching you interact with a little kid. Chilton is a k-12 school, so this probably started late in your senior year. there was some little kid who was new and got horribly lost and ended up in the high school building instead of the kindergarten building. you and Tristin saw her hiding behind a bench and you stopped to help her. Tristin stood nearby, watching the way you crouched down and introduced yourself in a gentle voice, the softness of your demenor to not scare her. you told her you get lost all the time, and it's normal for a new school to feel scary until you get used to it. you smooth her hair and tell her chilton is really fun and the other kids are nice. you tell her how great the cafeteria is and how cool the junglegym is at recess. you offer to help her find her kindergarten room, and Tristin watches with wide eyes and changing brain chemistry as you scoop up this adorable little kid wearing a backpack as big as she is and walk over to him.

"This is my friend Tristin. Tristin, this is Lilly. Do you wanna walk with us to the kindergarten building?"

Lilly tries to say hi but hides shyly as you chuckle. Tristin walks with you two all the way across campus as you two show Lilly all the cool statues and portraits, all the old trophys and class photos along the way. Tristin works his magic, charming giggles and smiles out of Lilly as you two turn a terrible first day into a pretty good one. You each hold one of her hands and swing her along as you finally reach the kindergarten building, smiling and giggling right along with her until she's safely dropped off at her kindergarten room. Mrs. Benning, the teacher, thanks both of you profusely. Before you part ways, you give Lilly a hug and high five for good luck. Mrs. Benning sends ahead a note so neither of you get in trouble for missing class, and I swear to god, Tristin does not stop thinking about it for weeks.

Flash forward a couple years, Tristin is almost out of college and ready to step into the marketing department of the family business, just like his parents and grandparents planned. One day he gets a call from his dad, telling him that his cousin Honor's baby shower is coming up soon, giving him the details of when to be there and what to bring, but he kind of stops listening after that. Honor's having a baby? like, his cousin Honor? the one that's not too much older than you and him? he stares at you sitting on the floor in front of a mirror, doing your makeup and wearing one of his shirts with the coffee he made you at your side, and suddenly he can't stop thinking about a little toddler that looks just like the both of you running over and sitting in your lap while you do your makeup. calling you mama, shaking a rattle or whatever toddlers play with, wearing those little pajamas with the feet on them... and now it's all he can think about. he knows his dad and grandpa have had his life planned out for him since before he was born, he always knew the timeline was graduate, marriage, kids, take over the family business and he really never had like... a resentful "I hate my destiny" phase with it. Up until high school he was very much in the "oh that's years away that doesn't have anything to do with me and my life yet" mindset. then he met you. and now, standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom in your shared apartment watching you get ready, Tristin is overcome with desire. he wants you. he wants a life with you, he wants to hear you say that he's the father of your child. he wants an unbreakable, irreversable bond of every possible kind with you. chemical, social, legal, eveything. he wants to cuff you, to lock you in. he wants to sleep at night knowing that your and his babies, toddlers, kids, are sleeping soundly in their cozy rooms right down the hall, that you get to sleep next to your husband Tristin, the father of your children Tristin. he wants to hear people call you Mrs. Dugray, wants to bump up his old man to a grandpa, prove to his dad how a dad should treat his children. he wants to break the godforsaken generation cycle that always seems to come with the generational wealth, and raise your kids to be loved and happy and secure. and in that moment, he speedran through all the stages of baby fever to stage 4 extreme terminal the baby fever is baby fevering kinda baby fever. god help you, the (surprisingly short) span of time between now and when you get pregnant???? he's going to be more insufferable than ever.

I will be writing more about how insufferable and nightmare and evil /pos tristin is with baby fever just not in this ask cause it's getting too long. send me more excuses to talk about this.

[honeygrahambitch]

(two weeks post-fall)

Will woke up from what many would not call "sleep". He was getting sick and the fever was not making it easy for him to rest. That was especially at night when he would wake up every two hours until the sun would rise and he would fully abandon sleep.

He was trying to hide that from Hannibal. They hardly had any medication and he didn't want to use their resources on himself. Not when Hannibal had been in a worse shape than him after the fall.

Besides, he was used to being feverish. He could handle it. He kept replaying those thoughts in his head as he pulled his blanket over his shoulders trying to ignore how cold he was feeling.

What drew his attention from that was a certain smell. Something he hadn't felt in what felt like ages.

He had a look at his phone. It was past midnight. Was he hallucinating the smell then? The unique flavor that any human being could recognize?

With the blanket on his shoulders, he left his bed and then his room. In the little kitchen of the cabin, Hannibal was pouring something liquid in a pan on the stove.

"You making pancakes?"

"Crepes."

Will nodded. Of course.

"I didn't mean to wake you up." Hannibal said as he flipped the crepe swiftly without any effort.

"I was awake." Will said as he sat down at the table and pulled the blanket tighter, which Hannibal didn't miss. It was not a cold night. "I didn't think of you to be the type to get midnight cravings."

"Only at times. I did debate whether I should use our few resources on a personal craving."

"Not so personal, I can never refuse panca- crepes." Will corrected himself. "You appetite coming back is a good sign."

"Yes but your fever is not."

"Fever? I'm fine." Will said as their eyes locked. "It's nothing."

"You are aware we do have aspirin, aren't you?" Hannibal asked as he placed a perfectly folded crepe on a plate in front of Will. It would have been amazing if he hadn't had to fill it with jelly. Store-bought jelly. But it was the least he could do with what they had. At least he was sure Will wouldn't mind it.

"I am, yes." He said as he lifted the crepe and put it back in the plate quickly, as soon as it burnt his fingers. "I just want to make sure you are fully recovered. Maybe you'll need it."

"It's enough for me as well. You should certainly not deprive yourself of medication at my cost."

"You didn't left your bed at all last week. Your state was critical, Hannibal. I just got a little fever."

"Thank you for your concern." He said as he realized contradicting Will was of no use. He flipped another crepe. "But you will be as useless as I was if your cold progresses. If we have to change our location again, your condition will only worsen."

He knew he had to approach the subject from an utilitarian perspective, since Will put more price on resourcefulness than on his affective concern.

"If I promise to take an aspirin, will you let me enjoy my crepe?" He asked defeated, even though he was trying to hide his own amusement.

"Yes. And I apologize for the jelly. It's less than adequate than what I normally use."

"It's perfect." Will said as he was devouring his crepe. "I promise to find you a house with a fully equipped kitchen. With a fully equipped fridge."

It was not much, but it was coming from Will.

A promise.

A promise to give Hannibal something he had been deprived of in the last few years in Chilton's hospital.

For now, eating crepes filled with jelly at midnight, in a wooden cabin would do.

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

a/n: the penultimate chapter, everyone. I can't believe we've made it so far. i hope this story kinda works...it was my first time doing longform and one day i will rewrite all of this to make more sense, but for now its as it is. I love you all.

Loki knew it was improper of him to have met you without a chaperone-like that, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He wanted, no need, to see you. Damn the consequences. Still, guilt gnawed at him. You were innocent in these games, merely appeasing a figure bigger than yourself. He could relate to that.

On Sundays, he had breakfast with his mother. Thor was usually in meetings with the Allfather, but Loki was never truly wanted there and preferred to spend time with the lady of the house anyway. Their usual tea and assortment of pastries didn’t improve wasn't his mood, though, and he still felt contemplative. Frigga noticed.

"My son, what is wrong?" She questioned, putting her teacup down. She always drank jasmine, a delicacy they got from Odin's dealings with China. She preferred the lighter floral flavor to the Queen's English breakfast tea.

"Nothing is wrong, Mother," Loki lied, the words rolling off his tongue with ease. He was always good with lies. Unfortunately, his mother was even better at seeing through them.

"It wouldn't have anything to do with the Chilton girl, would it? The one your brother didn't marry?" Frigga delicately grabbed a scone as if she were discussing the weather. She was trained to gather information without making it seem like she was. Another thing Loki learned from her. 

"The mamas of the ton gathered for tea the other day, and her Grandmother was discussing it," Frigga continued on. "Dreadful woman, truly, I don't envy those two girls."

Loki hid a laugh behind his hand, coughing instead and taking another sip of tea. 

"She was very loudly complaining about her youngest granddaughter's willful spirit and how it would give her a heart attack one of these days," Frigga chuckled. Loki got the sense she remembered the many times he and Thor had given her a scare.

"Some of the other mamas made comments about how you and she seemed to spend more time together than she and Thor," Frigga spooned some sugar into her tea. "So, my son, I will ask you again if anything is wrong."

Loki took a pause at that, holding his tongue. He drummed his fingers on the table. 

"I won't answer things you already know."

"Did something happen?" His mother raised a brow, a challenge in her gaze. His stubbornness was less from his father and more from his mother. She could will any man into submission.

"Nothing happened, mama," Loki sighed. Not a lie. Nothing happened. Although he wanted it to happen. He wanted to press his lips to yours, breathe in your scent, hold you so you could never fall away from him. Instead, he let go. He wouldn't be the stain on your life that he is on his fathers. 

Frigga pursed her lips, observing him. She set down her tea cup and rested her hands on the table, something she only did when she was about to say something of importance. Loki braced himself for a lecture. 

"Your brother is not a jealous man, and your father is a hard one to please," Frigga stated. "The only thing in the way of your happiness is yourself. I did not raise a fool." With that, Frigga excused herself from tea, leaving her son alone at the table. The only sound left in the room was the clicking of the grandfather clock, the minute hand matching the pace of his thoughts. 

Loki liked you. He might even love you. That was the only logical explanation for his delusions. He rubbed his eyes, hating the tension building up behind them as he thought of the chaos he had caused by even getting involved in the life of you. 

"Mother said I might find you here," Thor said from the doorway, walking over to the now vacant seat. Loki glanced up as Thor poured himself some tea. Or attempted to. He spilled some creamer and burned his fingers, picking up the cup from the body, not the handle. 

"You need to wait for it to cool," Loki sighed, wiping up the spilled creamer. It's appalling to Loki that his oaf of a brother is the one expected to take over the Odinson household. 

"I don't often drink tea."

"Clearly."

"But that's not why I'm here, brother," Thor ignores his jab, gingerly sipping his tea and visibly relaxing when it doesn't burn his tongue. 

"Oh joy," Loki leaves the table, strolling towards one of the setees. He, of course, does this quite dramatically. 

"I always thought you be clever, but I am shocked to find you acting so idiotic," Thor puts his tea down, standing up and heading Loki's way. 

"How dare you–"

"Lady Y/N is obviously enamored with you, and you with her. I don't understand why you aren't doing anything about it," Thor sighs. "Is it your own stubbornness? A sense of pride? Please explain it to me."

"I am not enamored with her, and it is not stubbornness," Loki hisses. "She can do better than me, a second son, anyway."

"Is that what you truly believe? That you are really just a second son?"

Loki doesn't respond to that. He just stares out of the window overlooking the room. His mother was inspired by Greek architecture and, therefore, put arched pillars as separators for the open windows. They overlooked the veranda, which was starting to transition into autumn. Oh, how time has passed. 

"I will be leaving for France in the coming months."

Loki turned to his brother, hiding a shock that otherwise would have covered his face. 

"Leaving? For what?"

"For war," Thor said. "Napolean is out of exile, and his troops are approaching Waterloo. I intend to be there alongside my brothers."

"You must be mad."

"Perhaps," Thor laughed. "But I have always wanted to fight, not to sit behind a desk and manage the affairs of a household. You have always been a better diplomat. I much prefer being a soldier." His brother took a seat on the settee, running a hand through his hair and waiting for Loki to sit down. "Allfather will be declaring you the heir as soon as you are wed. So, no, Loki, you are not the second son. You are the better one."

"I don't deserve you," Loki frowned, finally sitting down next to Thor. "You are a better brother than I could ever be."

"Life has not always been kind to you; that is alright; you are learning," Thor said, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder, demanding his attention. "You deserve peace, and you are allowed to have it."

It is not often that Loki becomes emotional. He is used to putting aside his own wants for the needs of the crown. He is used to enduring verbal backlash from his father over every little thing. He is used to being ignored when his brother enters a room. So often, he felt like a tablepiece in his own home. But truly, he was an idiot. His brother saw him the whole time. 

Without another word, Loki embraced his brother, shocking them both. He was done being a tablepiece. He wanted to be seen. 

~

"Letter!" Ivy screamed from the bottom of the stairs, immediately being shushed by one of the housekeepers. Immediately after your rendezvous with Loki, you had told Ivy everything. All of your fears, wants, and concerns. You had actively been courted by Thor; you couldn't pursue Loki. But he put you in a compromising position that could have gotten you in trouble in society. Did you like Loki? Or did you convince yourself you did? These were the questions swirling around your brain all week. Ivy was in favor of you running off and eloping if only to annoy Grandmother. You hit her with a pillow for that statement. 

"Why would I be receiving a letter?" You ask, descending the stairs as you glared at the offending item. 

"No clue, but I think you should look at it," Ivy said coyly. You got the distinct impression she knew exactly what this letter was about. You took it out of her grasp, peeling off the wax seal and reading the inked words. 

Meet me at the ball by midnight tonight when we first conversed. 

Loki

"So?" Ivy peered over your shoulder. "What did he say?"

"Poetic things," you drawled. "He has such a way with words."

"You're lucky the man likes your sharp tongue; otherwise, you'd scare off all the suitors," Ivy sighed. You suppressed a small smile. "So? Are you going?"

"Did you write this?" You ask her, turning around and crossing your arms. 

"Of course I didn't!"

"Really?"

"I am not one to lie, sister," Ivy grabbed your hands, pulling you closer. "I am only the messenger. A messenger that is urging you to listen for once in your life." You only glared at your sister. 

"I have nothing to wear."

"I already bought you a dress."

"You've been planning this, haven't you?"

"Perhaps," Ivy shrugged. "Now, c'mon! I want enough time to transform you."

You indeed didn't have a choice. Ivy was persistent when she set her mind to something. She yanked your hair left and right to transform it into a perfectly curled and pinned high bun. The dress she chose was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and you had no clue where she could've possibly afforded something like it. It was a deep green with a traditional empire waist, but the bodice was covered in a lacy emerald green fabric and decorated with a glimmery trim. The skirt faded to a lighter emerald green at the bottom, giving the appearance of a forest being lit up by the sunrise. You wore your mother's necklace to match, something that grounded the outfit into something wholesome yet romantic. 

"You look ethereal," Ivy looked at you in the vanity mirror. "You look like Mom."

You smiled, turning around to envelop your sister in a hug. "I love you, Ivy." She just squeezed you tighter. "I never want to go to another ball again; this is ridiculously tiresome." Ivy laughed at that and let you go, smoothing down the parts of your dress that got scrunched up. 

This event took place outside, a last-ditch effort to enjoy the weather before winter set in. The ball was set on the lake, with a variety of lanterns floating through the waters and hanging around the pavilion where guests danced. It looked like a twinkling city, and it was one of the few times when your breath was taken away. 

You were already getting more stares than usual from other people, perhaps because it was the first time you dressed up. Or perhaps because everyone knew that Thor didn't propose to you. You ignored their stares and found the first drink you could. It was a long way till midnight, and your nerves were already getting the better of you. You hiked up your skirts and found your way to the water's edge, where workers were helping guests set out lanterns of their own. You asked one of them if the lights were just for decoration or if there was a specific meaning. 

"To drive out the darkness of winter and hope for a longer spring, m'lady," he bowed, offering you a lantern of your own. You accepted graciously, finding a quiet place farther down the shore to push your lantern out. 

"Making a wish?" a familiar voice said. You turned to see Loki, arms crossed and looking every bit the prince he was meant to be. 

"Driving away the darkness, at least that's what they told me," you gestured towards where most of the partygoers were. 

"I believe in some traditions; it is also to honor the dead."

"What a somber occasion for a party."

"I surmise they didn't truly know the reason; they thought it would be pretty." Loki shrugged, earning a chuckle from you. You closed up again, remembering that awkward encounter all those nights ago. Turning to your lantern, you looked at the water before returning to the prince. 

"We need more lanterns," you declared, marching back to the initial servant who gave you yours. Loki followed behind, not saying anything, but you could tell he wanted to ask. You got three more lanterns and passed two to Loki, returning to the spot you scoped out before. 

"Do I dare ask what you're doing?"

"Honoring the deceased," you crouched down, taking one of the lanterns from Loki so you had three. He joined you on the ground, letting you have a moment with your three lanterns. Taking a breath, you pushed them all out on the water. He waited for a second to let his drift away as well. 

"To your sister," you said, bowing your head slightly. 

"To your family, may they find brighter shores," Loki breathed, eyes softening as he looked at you. 

You both continued sitting on the shores, not making a move to get up. If anyone caught you in this position, it would be trouble, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care. 

"We can't go back, can we?" you whispered, looking out at the lanterns getting farther and farther from shore.

"No, we can't."

"Then, why haven't you asked me?" your voice cracked slightly, your eyes finding Loki's. 

"Because I'm worried I don't deserve you."

"That isn't up to you to decide, is it?" you inquired, raising a brow. Loki's mouth tilted up in a smile as if trying his best to suppress it but failing miserably. 

"I should probably ask then."

"Most likely, before the fireworks start and I am unable to hear you stumble through your speech," you jested, sliding back into your old routine so easily. Loki sat up, offering you a hand, which you took gratefully as you smoothed out, your dress. 

"Such a sharp tongue on you; will that ever change?" Loki questioned. 

"Most likely not."

"Good," Loki grinned. "I wouldn't want anything else."

"You're stalling."

"I might be a wordsmith, but being vulnerable is not something I particularly enjoy," Loki responded. "But with you, I am forced to be vulnerable, and it rather terrifies me. Except, I keep coming back despite that fear because a day without you is a day without the sun." Loki let out a breath, brows furrowed. He looked so serious, and you thought you had never seen him so handsome. "Y/N…marry me."

"Yes," you responded, grinning. "Now, I think I am owed something."

"Yes, yes you are."

Loki wasted no time in pressing his lips to yours, gentle yet strong in a way that had you yearning for more. The fireworks erupted in the background, the party cheering for the colorful display of lights and excitement. You yourself felt like a firework, quickly bursting into a million specks coating the sky. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

taglist: @eleniblue @iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @gruftiela @saay-karani @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea @lilaclaufeyson @gardasngan @evasmlp @swampespresso

[clowningaroundmars]

aromantic mike chilton for @aggressivelyarospec week!!!! :D

accompanying story under the cut!

It didn't work out with Julie.

They had broken up and decided it would be best to stay friends. After all, with Mike... nothing really changed at all. Like... nothing.

And that was kinda the problem.

Julie didn't think herself to be too judgmental of a person, not after everything everyone's been through. She and the Burners worked hard, played hard, and succeeded together (oftentimes against all odds).

They slept in cuddle piles after dinner some nights whenever Julie could slip away for more than a day without arousing her dad's suspicions. They passed bongs around for a lung-hacking hit or two, went skinny-dipping in the lake at night, patched up each other's bloody wounds countless times.

And then somewhere down the line, Julie fell in love with Mike.

She had no idea when exactly, since she doesn't really do feelings like that, can't afford to with a life like hers. But it happened... somehow.

Julie couldn't quite place exactly what it was that initially drew her to him, especially at first. Sure, the guy was friendly, decisive, assertive without being too overbearing, and unbearably charming. But.

It was the charm that caught poor Julie totally off-guard, really. She'd often hear her father ranting and raving about his golden-prodigal-son-turned-traitor, and his ID photo in his file wasn't really much to look at, either. Julie would never admit it out loud, but she had snuck down to Motorcity for the first time ever with low expectations.

Later, she came back up to her pod in Deluxe with stars in her eyes.

But she wasn't in love with him then, no. She knew this because she was pretty sure her constant Mike Thoughts did not manifest until after the kids all went to Antonio's together for the first time.

It was summertime, around nine months after the group was (un)officially formed. The heat had Mike shirking his jacket and leaving it in Mutt, and his old t-shirt was getting a tad bit tight after all the exercise he was getting around the hideout, especially after Texas moved his workout gear in and Mike took him up on his offer for semi-regular sparring sessions.

And boy, did that Mike fella fill out. Mhmm.

Even Julie-- a girl who was mostly blind to typical male affections directed at her in school-- had to admit to herself that when Mike put on a little more weight in the right places, when his biceps bulged a bit as he flexed an arm and his shoulders got a bit wider... it took a lot more effort to wrench her studious gaze away.

Geez Louise.

Before long, she was doodling their initials and combining both of their names in her little sketchpad. Gag. Gross.

But Mike never seemed to pay attention to her the same way in return. She didn't catch him looking away from her at inopportune times, and he'd never lay a single hand on her aside from a typical friendly pat on the shoulder, or a comfortable lean on an arm while the Burners all lounged around during movie nights. Hell, he seemed more affectionate with his best friend Chuck than he was with her most times.

So she kept her thoughts to herself. Easy peasy. She kept secrets from her dad, from her friends, and now from Mike. Like everything else, she created a neat, separate file in her head and tucked that little secret away. She managed to conceal it for long enough.

Until it became too big to ignore.

And then it happened.

And it really just... happened. Julie hardly registered herself even doing it.

It happened like this: Mike had rescued Julie from certain death at the lake after she crashed an out-of-control 9 Lives out through the barricades and into the water, and they were panting and coughing up water on the sand after Mike succeeded in dragging her out. Dutch and Texas were busy racing around and distracting the Kanebots, luring them all away from the pair.

Julie didn't say anything. Neither of them did. Julie just... surged forward when she blinked the water out of her eyes and saw him, his angelic face hovering mere inches away from hers. She remembered the dewey drops on his long lashes and the warmth of his lips more than anything else.

And then she's pretty sure she blacked out afterwards because the next thing she remembers, she's waking up on the couch wrapped in blankets and towels, wearing Chuck's hoodie.

She doesn't ask anyone why Chuck opted to be the guy to lend his clothes to her.

(It wasn't Chuck who lent it to her though.)

After Jacob makes sure she has a steaming mug of soup in her hands and is generally fussed over enough, he bids her a goodnight and leaves a big holoscreen playing old-timey anime shows for her.

Shortly afterwards, Mike slips into the room on feet far too quiet for a rowdy teenage boy like him. Julie almost misses his entry and startles when she notices him casually leaning on a wall over to her right, almost blending in against the garish grafitti and street signs.

They sat down and spoke quietly, privately.

Julie appreciated that Mike had enough tact and forethought not to confront her in front of all of the guys. Thank god. Julie wouldn't even know how to handle the endless teasing that would inevitably assault her from all angles if they ever even suspected that she had a crush on Mike.

And how embarrassing, really! The only girl on the team falling for the charming and roguish leader of a group of rebels. Double gag.

It was by some miracle that no one ever suspected Julie's true feelings, and that the actual love interest found out before anyone else did. Lucky her!

And incredibly, Mike shared her feelings too! Who would've thought it! Definitely not Julie, that's for sure.

Mike hadn't even seemed to glance her way at all in all the time they had known each other. He always maintained the same level of friendliness with her as he did with the other guys. But he confessed then that he knew Julie was special, and that their bond that grew in the time they had known each other was special, too.

Wow. Look at them, both hiding their feelings so well! It's like they were meant to be.

So they agreed to go steady.

Eventually, they told the rest of the Burners. Well, it really was just that it was kinda hard for them to ignore when Julie would sneak her index finger over to Mike's hand and hook it onto his pinkie as they walked back to their cars after a quick errand run for the Skylarks or an easy mission.

So they decided to make the announcement at Antonio's, which Julie thought was perfectly poetic. It was where she first fell in love with Mike, and now here they were a year and a half later, making it official.

They didn't expect the other guys' reactions, though. The Burners received the news... lukewarmly.

"You guys were in love?" Texas spewed bits of pizza all over the table as he chewed with his mouth open. Ugh. Typical Texas.

"Oh! Wow... uhm. Congrats, guys." Chuck seemed to hide behind his hair even more as his shoulders hiked up in a nonchalant shrug.

Dutch rubbed his chin. "...Yeah. Uh, yeah...? Cool. Congrats, you two."

And then silence fell over the table.

"Is... is there a problem with this, or?" Julie dared to press.

Everyone silently exchanged glances.

Mike-- bless his heart-- misread the situation and clasped his hands together on the table.

"Guys, look," he started, "this isn't gonna change anything about the team. We're still gonna be friends, I’m not prioritizing Julie over anyone else on missions. It's just... we're gonna... we're gonna be the Burners, except I’m dating Jules now! That's all!"

Mike smiled warmly at all his friends. Chuck chewed on his lip.

Dutch bobbed his head thoughtfully. Then, after a while, he said "nah, yeah. We figured. I mean, you're a pretty great guy so it's not like we thought you were gonna up and abandon us or anything. It's just that... uh. So when did this uhhh, yanno, this whole thing start?"

Julie blinked.

Mike cocked his head. "Start?" He asked.

"Y'know, like when did y'all start liking each other? Because uh, no offense, but this is kinda comin' out of the blue for us. Literally nobody thought this was gonna be a thing. Tell us some stories!"

Mike blew out a breath and leaned back in the booth. Julie smiled.

"Weeeellll," Julie squinted with excitement and then let the cat out of the bag.

She told them all about it, how in this very same booth she watched as Mike's t-shirt stretched over his muscles all those months ago and how his smile seemed to shine brighter than the diner's neon signs. Then about how she leaned against Mike's broad chest after agonizing for hours over not being able to free him from her father's maximum-security prison that one time. About all the dreams she'd have of them together, the intimate late-night talks they'd have while having a couple of drinks on the rooftop of some abandoned building. How she loved his bright eyes and strong hands...

When she finished, she had a dreamy kind of look all over her face. Mike had a brow quirked, but he smiled back at her all the same.

Everyone exchanged glances again.

"So Mike. Was it like that for you?" Chuck asked eventually. It had a strange sort of lilt to it, like he was in on an inside joke that Julie wasn't.

She bristled a bit.

"Oh! Uh." Mike glanced around quickly. "Not... really? But Julie's super pretty, so when she confessed to me, I was pretty stoked."

Mike grinned like a goofball. Julie grinned like a goofball. The rest of the Burners looked skeptical.

"Hm. Cool! Well, great." Chuck turned back to his loaded pizza slice.

And just like that, things mostly went back to normal.

And, uh... Mike was right, this... really wasn't changing anything between them and the Burners. Like at all.

A small part of Julie was kind of hurt by it, but she tried to wave the feeling away. It was nonsense, and she should be happy. Mike loved her! He just wasn't a romantic type, that's all. He loved his friends, loved being a Burner... it was fine.

Right?

It was normal for her to have to remind Mike every now and then to go out on a date with her. He's a busy guy, and this was his first relationship. Julie just had to be patient.

Patient... patient. Yeah. She could be patient.

It was when Chuck joined them for their sixth "movie date" in a row that the patience was starting to run a bit thin, though.

Chuck and Mike settled side-by-side on the communal couch, swapping snacks as easily as breathing and nursing a popcorn bowl between them. Mike hooked an arm over Julie's shoulder though, so Julie said nothing.

It was a couple of months later when Mike makes a quiet confession to her as they laid together in his pristine bed one night.

"I don't really like kissing all that much," he mumbles, face half-buried into his pillows. "But I like holding you. Is that okay?"

Julie's heart sinks into the covers. But she nods anyways. "Yeah. That's okay."

"Really? Do ya mean it? It's not weird or anything, right? We can still be together but not kiss. Maybe I can give you forehead kisses instead?"

Julie sighed softly. "Mmnyeah, that's fine."

"It's not you, it's me, Jules. I just--"

"Mike. Trust me, I get it. It's okay, seriously."

Mike gave her a grateful smile back.

Damnit. Well.

Anyways, life continued on. Julie resigned herself to accepting the fact that her boyfriend was just simply a guy's guy.

Julie liked cars but Mike was all over Mutt. Loved the damn thing more than he loved her, honestly. She loved being a Burner, but it seemed like it was Mike's purpose, like he was more devoted to the city under the dome than he was to his girlfriend. And above all, Mike loved the Burners. All of them. He spent a bit more time with Chuck than he did with anyone else in the team, but he was always there for everyone just as passionately.

Which was. Fine.

Freeing Motorcity from her father's reign of terror was indeed way more important than holding hands with a cute boy!

Duh, of course, stupid Julie.

Whatever.

When they inevitably broke up, it blindsided Mike. He thought they were the best of buds! The bestest of buds-- aside from him and Chuck, of course! But while he loved Chuck fiercely, his love for Julie was... different. Fierce but different. He could never describe it in words but he knew what he was feeling was real.

He loved Julie! So when she suddenly broke up with him, it was like getting hit with a sack of flour out of nowhere.

They were leaned up against Mutt's hood on a cliff overlooking Lake Erie when Julie finally broke the news. They were casually smoking a cigarette, passing it back and forth. Mike's idea of a "date." Anyways.

"I can't really keep doing this, Mike." Julie sighed out a cloud of smoke. She said it so matter-of-factly, as casually as if she were simply commenting on the weather.

Mike whipped round to look at her. "Keep doing what?"

"This," Julie threw her hands up and tucked them into her vest pockets after handing Mike the cigarette back. "This... 'relationship'. It's not working out."

"What... whaddya mean? We just started dating, it's kinda too early to tell--"

"No, Mike." Julie interrupted loudly. Her eyes were avoiding Mike's face carefully. "No... it's not. We've been together for months and we have never moved on from our friendship. You... just admit it, dude. You're just not into me."

Mike pushed himself off of Mutt and placed his hands on both of her shoulders, forcing them to stand face-to-face. "Julie, look at me." He had his jaw set.

Julie swallowed as she peered up at him from her bangs.

"I love you more than you can ever know. I know I’m messing up, but... but I’m trying, okay? Just give us one more chance, Jules. I can make it right, I know it!"

Julie took a step back, wrinkling her nose. "Mike! Just give it up, okay? I know you don't feel the same about me as I do about you," she pleaded, mortified. "It's okay! It's fine! We can just move on and let it go!"

"B-but it's not! No, Julie c'mon, bro--"

"Bro?!" Julie exploded, hands in the air now. "Are you hearing yourself right now? Am I your girlfriend, or your bro?"

Mike gaped at her like a fish, mouth opening just to close again. Then, he hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He kicked a couple of rocks off the cliff, watching the pebbles scatter and plummet dozens of feet below.

Then he ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit of his, before returning back to Julie.

He exhaled loudly. "What... what's the difference? You... isn't that what dating is all about? Being best friends with your partner?"

Julie glared at him. "Yes! And it's also about being more than that, too!"

Mike scoffed. "More than friends? What does that even mean? Nothing is more important than friendship, Jules. Not in Motorcity."

"Nothing is more important than friendship?! Mike--" Here, Julie took a step back to pinch her nose and exhale. "Look. When I confessed my feelings to you for the first time, what were you feeling?"

"What was I feeling? Uh, I dunno, happiness I guess? What, did you want me to say that I didn't care? I care about your feelings, Julie! I do!"

"So you started dating me because you didn't want to hurt my feelings?!" Julie shouted.

"Where are you getting that from?!" Mike shouted back.

"Mike! You are just not into me! I can just tell! It's okay! W-we can just be friends, like how we used to be. I don't even know why you're fighting me so hard on this, I'm the one breaking up with you. You can't change my mind!"

"Right," Mike huffed, "because you don't love me anymore. No, I get it. It's fine."

They glared at each other for a beat.

Then, Julie shoved her hands back into her vest pockets. "No, Mike. I do love you. I just think..." she sighed, all the wind in her sails blowing away, "I just think it's best for us to go our own separate ways."

Mike startled. "Wait, what? Jules... are you...? You're not leaving the Burners, are you?"

"No, I'm not leaving the Burners." Julie says through clenched teeth. "I'm just gonna take a quick break and then when I come back? We're gonna be just friends again, Mike. Alright?"

Mike inhales deeply, his own anger trickling out of him like water as well. "... Fine. Fine, yeah. Whatever you want, Julie." He hangs his head.

They then stare off into the horizon together, watching the twinkling star-like pinpoints of light on the underside of the dome. Watching as the lake's waters undulate and shimmer in the darkness of the cool evening, a gigantic dark mirror reflecting the pinpoints back to the ceiling.

Mike idly scuffs his boot on the ground again, putting out their shared cigarette. In a sad sort of way, the dying ember of the smoldering stick being stomped out into rocks and gravel was a lot like their relationship: dead and done. And of course it had to be Mike to put them both out, huh. Right.

Real poetic.

Julie turns around wordlessly, climbs into Mutt and sits in Chuck's seat.

Time to go.

After a few seconds Mike nods once, fixes his collar and slides into his own seat.

The ride back up to Deluxe is quiet.

Except this time, it had been a long while since they had the time to relax like this. These days, Kane's attacks were getting more and more savage, brutal... and cunning.

It was a couple years later when the kids were a bit older --but not that much older at the same time-- that they all filed past the doors of Antonio's and slid right into their usual booth.

Kane's latest attempt at a hostile takeover of Motorcity involved way too many sneaky double-crossing spies all trying to break the Burners up and weaken the city's best defense. Sneaky bastard, that Abraham Kane.

But they thwarted him yet again, despite it all. They beat the bad guys, restored peace back amongst the gangs and the civilians, and saved the day.

It had taken weeks this time, but they succeeded.

So now to celebrate, they're placing their orders for the greasiest, most heart-clogging fast food on the menu and sitting back to happily sip at their drinks. They're finally enjoying their time together again, and Mike is especially pleased that everyone made it out alive.

Sitting elbow-to-elbow with his bestest friends in the world, Mike takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to clap his hands together and get everyone's attention.

"Okay, guys!" He announces. "So, I'm pretty sure we're all kinda fried after... y'know, everything. Everyone's probably too tired to care about what I'm going to say next! So... confession time."

"Hmhmm! Spill, then," Chuck smirks, his chin in his cyborg hand. It was a recent upgrade to his prosthetic, and it shone a beautiful silvery-blue under the diner lights.

Mike chuckles nervously. "Uh, I... I think that... I figured out that I can't fall in love!"

Everyone stares at him.

Chuck casually slurps his milkshake through a straw.

Dutch turns to him then. "Wait. You knew?"

Chuck sits up. "Uhh hahaha, whoa. Where'd that come from? You psychic or somethin'?" He deflects awkwardly.

"You're clearly not surprised," Dutch points out.

"Pfft yeah I'm not surprised. Who's been Mike's best friend since, like, kindergarten again?"

"Ah. And ya didn't think to let me know anything back when we were dating? Sure would've saved us a lot of time," Julie quipped drily.

Chuck holds his mismatched hands up. "Now hold on a minute! I didn't know back then, obviously. Besides, you two dated years ago for like... three seconds!"

"Two years ago, smartass," Julie snips back.

Mike clears his throat conspicuously. "Guys! Guys, no need to fight over me," he jokes awkwardly, "because I, uhm, I've decided I don't belong to anybody! I'm just me, and I'm not dating anyone. Like, ever."

Everyone turns back to him again.

With four pairs of eyes on him, Mike draws in on himself a bit as he continues. "Yeah, it's. It's something that I've been kinda discovering about myself and I'm still... exploring it. But I'm pretty sure I've never had a crush in my life. I was just walking through life distracted by everything else for so long that I never noticed it, but... yeah. I've just. I've just never felt love for anyone else before, I guess."

"Which is fine," Chuck blurts out suddenly. "It's... it's fine! That Mike's never fallen in love with anyone. It happens. Some people just don't experience a common thing most people do... like romance, or sex. Yeah! Totally normal!"

Dutch smirks at Chuck. "You too, then? You a non-romantic as well?"

Chuck shakes his head so hard his bangs swing. "No! Nuh uh, I'm a lover, not a fighter. I'm definitely a romantic!"

"Why so nervous all of a sudden, then?"

"Because," Chuck replies, "because... it's fine! To not ever fall in love or like... date, or kiss or have sex or whatever. We're in Motorcity now, and we can get to do whatever we want. And if we don't wanna date, then we don't have to!" Then he clamps his mouth shut.

Mike perks up then. "That's right! And ah, yeah! Speaking of, Chuckles... lemme tell ya, I really gotta hand it to ya. If it weren't for you, I'd've never figured this one out. So, thanks, buddy! As always, you really had my back on this one."

Chuck and Mike smile at each other and Texas raises a brow.

"Huh?" Texas says. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

Chuck titters nervously as Mike pulls up a screen and opens up a forum.

"It means that Chuckles here helped me find a site that explained everything I was experiencing! Or... not experiencing, really."

Chuck clears his throat, clearly relieved. "Uh, yeah! Well, after Mike's like, 10th girlfriend that one time he couldn't stop bringing people back home, he came to me all frustrated and stuff and... well, we went off to find my friends in the LARPing arena to see if anyone had any idea why he was burning through dates like Mutt burns through tires. And so someone suggested he might be aromantic, and uh... well, the rest is history!"

Dutch and Julie hummed in acknowledgement.

Everyone knew what that was like, how weird it was that Golden Child Mike all of sudden started bringing people home from parties and bars shortly after his breakup with Julie. Sometimes he even had two people on his arms, some men, some women. Never the same person after two or three times, though.

They were all perplexed when they first heard laughing and chattering behind Mike's bedroom door. Once the moaning started, though... well! Everyone poked fun at him the mornings after and teased him to varying degrees, but things were mostly chill in the beginning.

Everyone remembered Mike's frustrations after a while, though. How he could never quite land a steady relationship-- no matter how hard he tried, with whoever. It got to the point where the Burners stopped their teasing and became quite concerned after Mike introduced his 5th girlfriend in the span of like... 6 months, once upon a time.

It was shortly after his final breakup that Mike flopped down onto his best friend's messy bed one evening and finally had The Conversation.

It went well, all things considered. Chuck, patient as ever, listened to his friend and then when he couldn't offer any solid advice, he offered a distraction. The LARPing arena proved to be much better help than they could ever hope for.

Ever since then, Mike's been up late into the night often, completely engrossed in all things aromantic. He wanted to learn more about it, yearned for a community that knew exactly what he was feeling; so he stayed awake just swiping through sites and PDFs on his holoscreens, eating every bit of information up.

Now, it looked like Mike was at peace with himself and his station in life after all this time. That was a relief!

"Aromantic! That's it! Look at this, guys." Here, Mike grins and pulls up a photo of a striped flag. "This is the community flag. Look familiar?"

The colors of the flag had two shades of green at the top that then cascaded into white, then grey and then black.

Texas leaned forward. "It looks like Mutt!" He practically shouts.

Everyone laughs.

"Yeah, that sure is a you flag if I've ever seen one," Julie quips.

"Right? Like it was meant to be! So I guess I'm part of this community, then. I mean, this really is a kickass flag..."

"But what does that mean, though? That you can never fall in love with anyone, ever?" Julie asks.

Mike closes his screens and clasps his hands on the table, exhaling a bit. "Uhh, well? Well, yeah! I can't ever fall in love... but it doesn't feel that way to me! Ugh, I'm probably gonna do such a bad job explaining this," he laughs self-consciously.

"It's okay, dude. Take your time," Dutch smiles warmly.

Mike shoots him a grateful smile back. "... It... it's like. Well? It's like... I've never felt butterflies in my stomach before, so I have no idea what that's like. But I like you guys, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. I love hanging out with you all even though I don't think about any of you guys like that. I love making friends-- like true friends-- and I can't stop thinking about how happy hanging out with people makes me. I guess I'm just way more platonic than romantic, because I am just... so bad at love! God, I've never had so much trouble with anything in my life before like I have with romance," he groans, grimacing.

"And when Mike Fucking Chilton says that, that's how you know he's struggling!" Dutch puts in.

Everyone giggles.

"Wow," Julie gives Mike a side-long glance. "Finally. Something that The Great Mike Chilton is bad at! We've finally got him, boys."

Texas leaps out of his seat and enthusiastically karate-chops the air. "Hoo-WAH!!! Finally! Something I got over on ya, Mike. Texas is better at romancing than you!"

Julie rolls her eyes.

Mike guffaws. "Psshhwhat? C'mon guys, I'm bad at plenty of stuff. This isn't the first!"

"Oh yeah? Name one thing!" Dutch challenges.

"Uhhm well uh, I...? I'm pretty bad at... hm." Mike drums his fingers on the table. "I'm bad at coding! I'm not nearly as good as Chuck at the software and tech side of things!"

"But ya could be! You could totally learn how to, if you'd just sit down with me for more than 20 minutes," Chuck points out.

Mike stubbornly folds his arms across his chest. "Well, I don't wanna! What're you gonna do about it?"

And just like that, the kids all return back to normalcy, bickering and quibbling about nothing as they finally receive their food from the waitress. Soon after, Chuck and Texas are throwing pizza toppings and wadded up paper at each other and Mike is mom-ing at them to quit it before they all get kicked out.

It was as if nothing even happened.

It was simultaneously comforting and also thrilling how easily Mike was accepted back into the fold; the Burners' Heartless Leader who could never fall in love.

On the inside, Mike was deeply grateful and his heart felt full upon learning this, though. It was a nourishing feeling that his bestest friends in the whole world who worked hard, played hard, lived fast and free alongside him... they loved him and accepted him back, no matter what. It was a much nicer and fuzzier feeling than any romance-filled relationship or hookup ever gave him.

Now, the Burners are finally leaving the diner, all tipsy and giddy from their impromptu late-night happy hour session.

Mike has a casual arm slung over Chuck's shoulder as they traipse on over to Mutt. Everyone casually daps each other up and offers quick goodbyes before climbing into their respective cars.

Mike slides behind the wheel and exhales. Chuck clicks himself into his secure harness.

"Well! That went pretty well! A little too easily, honestly but," Mike breathes.

Chuck's blonde head bobs. "Well yeah, dude. Of course. What'd ya think, that'd we kick you out of the team for that?"

Mike shrugs and turns his skeleton key into Mutt's ignition, bringing her to roar awake again. "I mean... no. But, y'know. It's weird, having a leader of a gang that can't ever fall in love, right? Like some heartless freak or somethin'. I dunno," he chuckled wryly.

Chuck frowns. "Mike. You're not a freak," he says firmly.

Mike gives his best friend a sidelong glance. "Chuck..." he speaks, voice low, "it's not like that! You know what I mean... it's just that sometimes people who are different don't get treated so well all the time, yanno?"

"Yeah, sure, back up in Deluxe," Chuck argues. "But it's different down here in Motorcity. It's good here for people like us!"

Mike hums thoughtfully as he drums his fingers on the wheel. "Yeah, you're right..." then, he smirks at Chuck. "So if that's true, then why didn't you come out, back there? I actually thought you were gonna do it. It even looked like Dutch suspected something, too!"

Mike smiles at his friend, who is doing his best impression of a carseat cover now.

"Mmnyeah... yeah, I could've." Chuck gives a noncommittal shrug, hesitating.

"What's wrong?"

After a few seconds, Chuck swipes at his bangs self-consciously and clears his throat. "Uhmm well... being aromantic and never falling in love is kinda... badass, don'tcha think? But for a guy like me, never wanting to have sex and being a dope for romance is just pathetic," he laments. "If people hear that I'm asexual and that I never want to bang anyone, I'd get laughed out of the room! It's not an asexual thing, Mikey, it's a me thing."

Mike throws Mutt into reverse and backs her out of their parking spot with practiced ease.

"Chuckles. My guy. Look, who cares what other people think? If you don't wanna bone, you're just not gonna. That doesn't hurt anyone at all, so screw anyone who says anything about it. If anyone gives you a hard time, call me up and I'll spin the block for you,"

Chuck bursts into a peal of nervous giggles. "Whoa, whoa Mikey, geez! Christ, thanks, man but that's really not necessary. I appreciate you, though,"

They smile at each other again.

Then after a beat, Mike adds, "plus, if they know about aromanticism, they're gonna eventually find out about asexuality, too, dude."

Chuck laughs weakly as he clutches his arms. "O-oh...! Yeah... yeah that's tr--"

Mike suddenly slams his boot down on the gas pedal and Mutt growls as she lurches into hundred-mile-speeds from a standstill. Her tires screech loudly on the pavement and she leaves a giant plume of smoke and dirt behind as everyone careens over a drop straight onto the Deluxian Supply Pipes.

"Miiikkee-eeyyyy!!! We just ate!" Chuck screeches, horrified. He clings onto the car seat with both hands as Mike laughs.

Chuck's screams and Mike's loud, joyous shouting and whooping can be heard far and wide throughout Motorcity as they race all the way back home.

[saltygilmores]

@frazzledsoul shared an absolutely baffling take that she spotted on Instagram . Someone claimed "People are so distracted by Jess' looks that they overlook the fact he is a calculator (calculated?) person only at the age of 16 it's alarming and SICK that Jess knew how to manipulate Dean and Rory's relationship to make them feel uncomfortable with each other! Jess did this to make Dean feel insecure and paranoid so Rory got progressively more distant and Jess can take Rory away from him!" Dean wasn't insecure and paranoid until Jess showed up? I smell a trash take! Lessgo! I notice Dean's supporters who blame Jess for being a big ol Ruiner seem to gloss over Dean's jealousy over TRISTAN (who was nothing more than a bully and a harrasser that Rory wasn't dating or even interested in). If everything was so dang hunky dory for Dean and Rory (Lol, that rhymed) before Jess shows up, what is Dean's excuse for being insecure, paranoid, and making Rory uncomfortable for the entire first season of the show, another 5 episodes of season 2 until Jess shows up, then another some odd epsiodes into season 2 until Dean and Jess even just meet each other or are simply aware of each other's existence? The first time we truly see the rivalry between Dean and Jess start brewing on screen isn't until Bracebridge Dinner (2x10), and then it heats up for realsies in A Tisket a Tasket (2x13). So before 2x,10, who was using their psychic abilities on Dean to "make him" treat Rory like crap for 30 some odd episodes? He treated Tristan with the same jealous contempt as he did Jess, and I would argue it was even worse. in fact in Love, Daisies, and Troubadors, Tristan grabs Rory's books without her consent while Dean is in the Chilton parking lot. All he has to do is see Tristan with Rory's books (that she didn't want him to take and was trying to get back from him) and he doesn't ask Rory any questions. His temper is instantly set off and he becomes scarily jealous in the school parking lot and starts raising his voice at Rory in front of hundreds of other students.

Not to excuse Tristan for being a bully. Poor Rory is exhausted and she should probably just give up on boys, run away and join a nunnery. But we're talking about Dean The Butt Forrester here. Just seeing another boy carrying Rory's books was enough to set him off.

Just a very select few examples of Dean being insecure, paranoid jealous, and just a garden variety asshole, and Rory's "comfort" with him, long before Liz stuck Jess on that bus to hell:

See, he's more than capable of being a butt clown all on his own! Sorry Dean Lovers, ya'll get five seasons worth of your lover boy and we only get 1 and a half of Jess. You can't use Jess as a "get out of jail free card" for every shitty thing Dean does.

[mystic-writings]

almost perfect | jess mariano

PAIRING — jess mariano x fem!gilmore!reader

REQUEST — Anon - Where Emily and Richard have a kid a year older than Rory (they had her before Lorelai got pregnant with her) and she’s sent to love with Lorelai around the same the same time jess moves to town? And they meet all cutesy and shit 🤭

SUMMARY — you move to stars hollow to live with your sister, lorelai, and end up falling for the one person who understands you - and the one person your sister doesn't like

WARNINGS — angst, familiy arguments, odd family dynamics, confessions, fluff

WORD COUNT — 3,461

NOTES — this idea has had me in a chokehold fr thank you anon

masterlist | navigation

Moving to a new town and starting your life at a new high school with only two years left before graduation was difficult. But moving into your sister’s town, and going to a school where her daughter was a former student, and everyone already knows who you are, is infinitely worse. 

You supposed that being semi-close to Rory as kids was a good thing, because if it weren’t for knowing her and, by extension, knowing Lane, you’d be wandering these halls completely alone, and doubly more confused. 

Dean and Lane were angels, helping you with every piece of much needed information on what teachers were good or bad, who to avoid at every chance, and where to not sit during lunch. They promised to do their best to help, but Lane’s mother was as strict as a dictator, and Dean often worked after school, so beyond sitting with them in the classes you happened to share, there wasn’t much they could do. 

Still, Rory walked you to the doors before heading off to catch the bus to Chilton, taking extra care to make sure you were okay before leaving. It was nice, the relationship you had with her despite everything. 

Lorelai wasn’t too happy that you were staying at theirs, but she understood why you had to leave your parents behind. Or, more realistically, why you were forced to walk out. It’s why she left them 17 years ago. 

Despite the age gap between you and your sister, Lorelai was all too aware of why you were born. Of how your parents treated the both of you, and the fact that no child should’ve been raised under the Gilmore name. She was never really close with you, considering you were only a few months older than Rory, but you understood. No 16 year old should be raising a kid while her parents are raising a baby themselves. 

But, she was kind enough to open her arms, and redecorate her spare bedroom, to fit you in. She got you a place at Stars Hollow High, settled you in with the townspeople, and did anything in her power to help. 

However, there was no helping the bundle of anxiety in your chest as you headed from your locker to homeroom. The school was small, of course. Not small enough to have a graduating class size of under 70 kids, but small enough that people knew who was attached to your last name. Small enough for people to start asking questions. 

Homeroom itself was fine. Lane and Dean had different homeroom classes, and people whispered when your name was called during attendance, but everything else was fine. The boy you sat next to seemed entirely unbothered by the environment around him, clutching a pen as he wrote in the margins of the book he carried - On The Road, by Jack Kerouac. Rory had lent the book to you not even two weeks ago, and you mentally appraised him for his literary taste. 

Of course, you should’ve known that trouble would’ve found you not long after your first day. 

Between second and third period, you’d been standing at your locker, supposedly the one Rory used to inhabit - and one you’d already decorated with stickers of bands and movie references - switching out your books when three girls approached you. You were already not prepared for any unexpected interactions, but these girls spelled trouble, just from the way they were all blonde, pretty and primped at 9am, in a small town high school. You expected it from the Chilton girls, sure, but not here. 

“You’re Y/n Gilmore, right?” The one in the middle said, her mouth upturned in something like a grimace. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Well we saw you during homeroom and we were wondering,” the girl on the left spoke, her gum popping annoyingly as she chewed on it. “If you’re, like, a Gilmore, does that make you Rory’s sister?”

“Yeah, we didn’t know Rory had a sister.” 

“How come we’ve never seen you before? I mean, you both should’ve gone to the same school, right?”

“Oh, my God, are you not her sister? Or were you just like, in rehab or something?”

“Oh my God, are you a drug addict?”

The girls continued to chirp at you, and among themselves, endlessly thinking up possibilities of how you could be Rory’s sister and still not go to Stars Hollow High until now. You didn’t even know they had that much brain power, let alone that they could jump to that far of a conclusion so fast. 

Suddenly, from behind you, someone spoke. “Why don’t you girls leave her alone, huh?” 

They stopped, almost freakishly in sync, and grimaced at the person behind you. 

“Seriously, Barbie, why don’t you go fix your makeup or something.” He scoffed, stepping up to stand beside you. “And honestly, if she was a tweaker, do you really think she’d even be allowed in the school?”

“I-”

“Just go away,” he complained, and the girl in the middle scoffed. 

“Whatever, Jess. Just trying to get to know the new girl.” She rolled her eyes.

You didn’t stop yourself from looking at the trio in disbelief. “You sure have a funny way of doing it, then. Why don’t you make up rumours about someone else and leave me the hell out of it. Or have you gotten bored of doing it to everyone else?”

It was amusing, watching the shock make their jaws drop before they managed to saunter away. When you turned to look at the boy who helped save you from that awful experience, you found the person who sat next to you in homeroom. 

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” he shrugged, a slight smirk playing on his lips, and you noticed that his hands were shoved in his front pockets. “Trust me, those girls do that to everyone. Y/n, right?”

“That’s me. And you’re Jess.” 

“Yep.” 

You stood silently for a few moments, staring awkwardly at one another. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, the warning bell rang, and the noise level around you picked up as students rushed to their next classes. 

“See you around, Y/n.” And just like that, Jess disappeared into the crowd of students, leaving you to gather your things and head to calculus, one of the few classes you shared with Lane. 

It’s been almost two months since you moved to Stars Hollow, and you found that adjusting was a lot easier than you first thought it would be. Despite having Lane and Dean at your side, you also seemed to be one of the lucky few to catch and retain Jess Mariano’s attention. He was, to everyone else, the loner who barely came to class and had no interest in being in the town in the first place; but he seemed to take a liking to you, the reason for which was still unknown to everyone but him. 

He was quick to become your best friend, and the only person in town who you gave a detailed description of your family background to. Somehow, the rumours that the girls who forced you into conversation never made it outside of their circle, but at some point the truth about your relationship with the Gilmore girls was spread around town, as you assumed would happen at some point. 

Still, no one minded that much, and found that your closeness to Rory and Lorelai meant that you were close to everyone in Stars Hollow. The welcoming warmth and sense of community was something that you had never felt in Hartford. 

Jess, of course, found it annoying, but you liked to tease him about it, and you knew he meant well. No one else seemed to want to care about him like you did, like Luke did. Including Lorelai, who was less than pleased that you chose to befriend him out of all the other supposedly stand-up kids in town. 

It wasn’t uncommon for you to have Jess over while Lorelai and Rory went to Hartford for Friday night dinners. In fact, it was what you had in mind for your plans as you watched the mother-daughter duo scramble around the house to get ready. 

Rory was, as usual, ready to leave exceptionally early, and had bid you a cheerful goodbye as she headed out to the car to wait for her mom, who was marching her way down the stairs while struggling to put in earrings. 

Lorelai caught sight of you on the couch, curled up and channel surfing, and smiled. “So, what are your plans for tonight? Partying hard, I hope. Remember my rule, no bikers and no drugs past 8pm.”

“Funny, Lorelai,” you smiled, craning your neck to look at her as she shoved items from the side table into her purse. “I’ll probably just order in and call Jess. He’s never doing anything on Fridays, and it’s better than being alone all night.” 

Your sister paused in the hallway, fidgeting movements indicating that she was contemplating something. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Lorelai turned fully, and took a few tentative steps toward you. Her iconic awkwardly polite smile stretched across her features, and you looked her up and down. “Why do you hang out with Jess so much? Sweetie, I mean, you’ve gotta see how bad of an influence he is.” 

“He’s not a bad influence, Lor. If anything, I’m being a good influence on him.” You said, sitting up straighter, leaning on the arm of the couch to properly face your sister. “Besides, he’s nice. He just doesn’t like a lot of other people in town.” 

“So you’re trying to tell me that he’s nice to everyone but you?”

“Yes, and I don’t exactly see what’s wrong with that.” 

“Well, hon, I mean, don’t you think that maybe that’s a little, I dunno, odd?” Lorelai suggested, her fluster clearly underlining her tone. 

You shrugged. “I don’t think so, no. He’s my best friend.” 

“Yes, I know that, but-” Lorelai tapped her foot, trying to find the right words to say. “I think you’re spending too much time with him, Y/n, and I just think it’s gonna end up with you getting hurt somehow.” 

“Hurt?” You scoffed. “Lorelai, how in the world would Jess be able to hurt me?”

Lorelai sighed, stepping closer to you. “I think you like him, Y/n. I think you have a crush on him, and I don’t think he likes you back. I just don’t want you to do anything and then end up being heartbroken and losing Jess as a friend.” 

You? Having feelings for Jess? It was something you could barely wrap your mind around. Lorelai’s accusations, even if out of some sort of motherly-type concern, were out of line. There was no way you liked Jess like that, right? And besides, even if you did, she didn’t have the right to try to stop you from doing or not doing anything about it. 

“Why are you so concerned about this all of a sudden?” You asked, furrowing your brow. “I mean, I’ve been hanging out with Jess one on one for a while, it’s not like all of a sudden I’ll catch feelings for him or something.”

“I understand that, but I’m saying that it seems like you caught feelings a while ago, Y/n.” Lorelai said, exasperation clear in the speed at which she was talking. 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Why won’t she just drop it? “I’ve got it handled, Lorelai, please, just leave it be and go to dinner. You’re gonna be late, and you know how much mom hates that. Especially when you’re late.”

Lorelai scoffed. “I have plenty of time before we have to go. Now will you please tell me why you have such an attitude about this? I’m just trying to look out for you. Jess isn’t good for you, and I just want to-” 

“I get that Lorelai but I don’t need you to.” You snapped, swiftly getting to your feet. “I don’t need you to protect me, or look out for my best interest, or be motherly toward me. I get that you’re trying to make up for the fact that you couldn’t protect me as a kid and I ended up getting kicked out or whatever, but you’re not my mother.” Your blood was boiling. You didn’t know why, but it seemed that something within you just… snapped. “I don’t need you, Lorelai.” Your words pierced Lorelai’s heart with every bit of enunciation you placed on them. 

“And it doesn’t matter what kind of influence Jess is on me, because our mother made sure to ruin me beforehand. You of all people should understand that.” 

Lorelai stood, shocked at your outburst. She’d never seen more of herself in someone before, and still, she was heartbroken. Tears brimmed her eyes as she realized that, despite what you just said was more than likely teenage hormones kicking into gear, it was the truth. She tried, as hard as she could, to protect you as a kid. Harder than she tried to get herself out of that house. But she failed, because Rory came first, always. You didn’t need her anymore, not to raise or protect you. 

“You’re right,” Lorelai nodded, clearing her throat before blinking away her tears. “You’re too grown up to need me anymore. I just… wanted to make sure you knew I cared. That I was worried. But you don’t need me, so go ahead and make whatever decisions you want to. It’s not on me.” 

You watched Lorelai turn and walk out of the house, the door rattling the house as it swung shut. And suddenly, the silence pressed in on you, weighted with the realization of what you’d just done. Months of trying desperately to repair your relationship with Lorelai, of further building your relationship with Rory, only to have it torn down in seconds by your stupid teenage denial and anger. 

The weight of your actions came crashing down, and soon you were sitting back on the couch, sobbing into your hands. 

You don’t know how long you spent stuck in that spot until the house rattled again, and Jess was calling out to you, telling you what he forced Luke to make for the both of you to eat during your hangout tonight. 

Jess barely heard you crying on the couch until the food was on the table and he turned to find you there, back to him, curled into yourself as you sobbed. His voice faded instantly, his legs making long, quick strides in order to reach you as fast as he could. Jess’ mind was a flurry of confusion and worry - you sounded fine when he called you an hour ago. 

As soon as you were within reach, Jess’ hand gripped your shoulder, refusing to let himself lose the grasp he had on you even after he manoeuvred himself to sit next to you. He shuffled as close as he could get, and it was those movements that forced your head up from where it rested on your knees, enclosed by your arms wrapping around your legs. 

“Hey,” he said, trying his best to soothe you, but Jess wasn’t one to do that sort of thing often. “What’s wrong?”

“I am,” you croaked, followed by a sniffle and a shaking breath. “I’m so stupid, Jess.” 

Jess’ hand moved down your shoulder, until it squeezed your forearm comfortingly. “No, you’re not. And you’re obviously not okay. Tell me what happened.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, you shook your head. Telling Jess that you argued with Lorelai over him would just make things worse with her, and telling him it was about your feelings for him would ruin things altogether.

“I can’t.” You said quietly. “It’s nothing you need to worry about, okay, Jess? I was just stupid and it’s my fault, I don’t wanna drag you into this.”

“No, I do have to worry about it, Y/n.” Jess said, his words firm. You could see his brows furrowing, eyes darkening. His emotions were brewing, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to stop it. “You’re my best friend. Hell, you’re my only friend, and I don’t know how you managed to do it, but I care about you. I actually care about someone for once in my life, and it’s you. So tell me what happened, drag me into it, because I… I care.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little bit. Sniffling once again, you moved yourself to wipe some tears from your cheeks and put your hand on top of the hand Jess laid on your forearm. You stared at your hands and soaked in his warmth as you spoke. “It was Lorelai, we fought and-”

“Of course it was,” Jess scoffed.

You rolled your eyes. “Jess, just let me-” 

“No, she always has something to say about- about everything.” He said.

“Let me finish, please.” When Jess didn’t speak again, you continued. “I told her you and I were gonna hang out for the night and she sort of… well, she mentioned a few things and I got angry and we fought. I was an idiot and I yelled at her for trying to be my mother because she didn’t protect me as a kid and it just… it was a disaster.” 

Jess scoffed again, pulling his hand back and scrubbing his face, leaning into the couch. “Of course, she had to say something about you being with me. What, does she think we’re gonna rob a bank as a fun casual activity? I mean, seriously, she’s had it out for me since day one.”

You leaned forward, re-initiating the touch by resting your arm on his shoulder, your hand just barely grazing the back of his neck. “She doesn’t think we’re good for each other. At all. But she’s wrong, I know she is.” 

“Me too,” Jess sighed, looking over at you. 

The silence that filled the space between you, and your stomach was churning. Lorelai’s words came back to you, and as much as you didn’t want her in your head right now, you knew, deep down, that what she’d said about your feelings for Jess were true. 

Before you could stop yourself, you pulled away and the words came tumbling out, awkward and choppy and full of anxiety. “She was right about one thing, though.” 

Again, Jess scoffed an almost playful smirk lifting the corners of his lips. “Oh yeah, and what was that?”

“That I… have feelings for you.” You said, following it with an awkward and bashful smile. It was now or never, you supposed. “I mean, I didn’t even realize it until just now so don’t yell at me for keeping it a secret or something but she is right. You’re the only other person besides her and Rory and Luke that I care about and even then I care more about you than them and all I almost ever think or talk about is you and it sucks and I don’t want to keep it to myself. If you don’t want to be friends anymore I understand because it’s weird to have a friend who has feelings for you, trust me, so you can just leave now if you want-”

Jess’ lips crashing onto your own cut off the breathless ramble you had found yourself in. Your brain nearly completely shut down, complete peace silencing all the anxious thoughts in your head as you closed your eyes. By the time you registered that you needed to kiss back, Jess was pulling away, but you refused to let the moment end. He barely made it inches away before you were chasing his lips, placing a hand on his jaw to guide him back to you. 

The kiss was simple, but it was as if it sparked something within you, and every nerve in your body felt the emotion within you. You never imagined you’d be kissing a guy like Jess. Hell, you never imagined you’d find someone like him, someone so damn near perfect for you, in your lifetime. But you did, and he was kissing you, and you couldn’t give a damn about what anyone else would think when they found out. Because right now, it was just you and Jess, and no one else knew, and things were almost perfect, and that was what was important. 

You’d fix things with Lorelai tomorrow, and you weren’t sure you’d ever truly fix things with your parents; one day you’d try, just not yet. But for right now, all that mattered was yourself and Jess.

forever taglist: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @queen-asteria04 @heliads

jess mariano taglist: open!

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[misunderstood-m0nster]

{Clarice and Lecter finally get to talk! So sorry for the long wait between part 1 (which acts as a prologue for context, so read it first if you haven’t)and part 2, I was just a little nervous to post my writing. Anyway I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!!}

I DREAM OF YOU

Clarice stirred as a draft of wind chilled her room. She pulled her duvet closer around her. The hinges of her window creaked as if the blizzard tugged the glass back and forth. Slow, rhythmic, eerie. Each squeak was like a very faint scream. She forcefully shut her eyes, willing herself to go back to sleep. She’d moved past this, this wasn’t supposed to happen anymore. To detach from her primal fear she tried to numb herself, Clarice felt like a mannequin or an empty skin-suit as she resisted the urge to sit up and check every corner of her room, an impulse she was just as familiar with as drifting to sleep. Despite her instincts she did fall back to sleep. Albeit a disorientating, psychedelic sleep where a kaleidoscope of distorted faces and bodies contorted in her mind. A severed head in glass, a body still as a lake on an autopsy table. She remembered standing by Chilton’s grave, her apathy overshadowed by the sick feeling that his body ,or what remained of it, was just beneath her. Of course Lecter was suspected, it was a typical animalistic, cannibalistic attack. The only thing out of the ordinary was how perfectly intact the face was, eyes and all, like Lecter wanted him to be seen and recognised beside the indistinguishable amalgamation of the rest of his mangled remains. She imagined the thick coat of snow covering the graveyard now furthering the distance between Chilton and her. She shuddered as she took a deep breath and icy air filled her lungs, like she was really there. However her eyes fluttered open as she became alert to how unnaturally cold her room was and they darted to the window. To her horror she realised that each creak was really it being tugged open and shut by the wind. Why would it ever be open in winter? She moved to close it and as she yanked it shut, she stood in a cold puddle from the snowflakes which had blown into her room. 

‘Hello Clarice’

She froze. Maybe if she didn’t turn around it wouldn’t be real.

‘Dr Lecter?’ she said breathlessly, finally plucking up the courage to face him.

He stood blocking her doorway, there was nowhere for her to go and nothing for her to defend herself in her narrow bedroom. 

‘What are you doing here?’ Clarice took a cautious step towards him, she tried to sound accusatory but her voice was low and soft, brimming with all the pent up emotion of the last five years. 

‘I thought you might have wanted to see me’ he cooed patronisingly and his maroon eyes glinted as they reflected the moon. All she could make out in the dim lighting was the outline of his sinewy figure and a slither of his ghostly face which looked like a waning crescent against a pitch black sky. He stepped forward elegantly and intentionally like a shakespearean actor, hands clasped behind his back.

‘Was I correct?’ Lecter teased as his gaze savoured the torn, contorted expressions which flashed across her face.  

‘Why would I want to see you?’ She spat, balling her hands into fists. Her question was as useless a defence as the fists she made at her side neither were going to impact him and he knew it.

‘Is it not your job? To find me?’ He tilted his head and his eyebrows slanted with a pitying look which could be passed off as empathy if you didn’t know the mind behind it.

Clarice was seething ‘Get the fuck out of here.’

He chuckled, dismissing her. She lunged at him knocking him to her bed, his surprising strength kept the force from winding him and he sprang back up clutching both her wrists in his cold hands so she couldn’t run through the door. His fingers securely curled around her like vines but never aggressively. Reluctantly she looked into his eyes, they were only inches apart. She realised this was the first time they had been together with no barrier between them. Clarice wasn’t sure how to feel about this.

‘Please, sit’ Lecter led her gently until she was sitting on the bed. He didn’t release his clammy grasp on her wrists until she tugged away, he didn’t resist and let her go. 

Clarice didn’t know what else to do but hear him out. She sat like a child, with her legs crossed while Lecter reclined against her wall. 

‘I can’t believe you would show up here today’ she muttered dryly. 

‘Well why not?’ he huffed sarcastically ‘by my law I’m as free a man as any, I go where I want… and I so desperately wanted to see you’ 

He laughed at himself, it wasn’t a loud laugh but it was certainly abrasive. His laughter faded and melded with the roar of the storm outside. She let out a breathy huff at his oh so humorous statement. 

‘Why now Dr?’ 

‘Convenience, coincidence perhaps’

‘Why a coincidence?’

‘It seems like you would benefit from my presence tonight’

‘Hah!’ Clarice’s jaw dropped, sometimes she forgot Lecter’s sheer nerve and ego ‘what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I only mean that it seems you are bothered?’ 

‘Not at all, Dr’ 

‘Conflicted?’

She shook her head.

‘Confused?’

‘Confused as to why you’re in my goddamn house maybe!’ it came out louder than she had anticipated. Lecter only chuckled at her exclamation. 

‘So you mean to tell me that my little Starling is doing just fine and I had no need to check up on her’ he sat straighter, no longer using the wall for support. As he moved the springs of her mattress creaked giving her a jolt of terror as she realised Hannibal Lecter was on her bed. 

‘I am not ‘your little Starling’, I’m older now Dr, I’m not the ‘rube’ you thought I was’

‘I know that Clarice, you’re no less country than I believed but far more brilliant than even I expected’

‘Shut up, I don’t care what you think of me, I’m just trying-’

‘Of course I know you can never be mine’ his statement chilled her to the bones more than the winter draft that refused to dissipate ‘I had to let you fly free and look what you’ve done!’

‘What exactly are you trying to say here?’ Clarice dropped her voice an octave as she sat up and leant closer to Lecter. She was done with his cat and mouse schtick, it was all fun and games when he was useful to her. She knew what she was doing now and didn’t want his ‘help’. 

‘I’m saying your career has been a glittering success, am I not correct?’ 

‘My progression is on track, yes’

‘I meant personally’ he leant even closer, he smelt of coldness if a feeling could have such a thing. 

‘Are you satisfied Clarice?’ his maroon eyes glimmered and his voice peaked in excitement ‘you’ve really helped so many peopl-’

‘I don’t want to hear it Lecter!’ Clarice snapped, she finally pulled away to place some distance between herself and the cannibal. 

‘Why I thought you would be just ecstatic to tell me all about your accomplishments, the buffalo bill case of course-’

Clarice buried her head in her hands, she pulled her legs up to her chest and let tears stain the worn knees of her pyjama trousers. How had she let herself cry in front of Lecter?

The usual images flashed across her mind. Gumb’s writhing limbs. That voice taunting her. The decaying bodies on autopsy tables. The chrysalis crudely jammed in the poor girl’s throat. 

‘They don’t give a shit do they, about the ones we didn’t save?’ 

‘Maybe some do, maybe superficially but generally no’ Lecter’s voice calmed her, to her surprise ‘an eye for an eye is how they see it-’

‘It’s hardly balanced’ she sniffed.

‘I guess not but does that matter as long as you get your raise and the FBI get to tie it up with a bow and forget all about it, at least the rich girl-’

‘Catherine’

‘At least she is alive, to them that’s all that matters’

Clarice let out a shaky breath, he confirmed with words what she felt deep down. He hadn’t said anything revolutionary, she’d always been resigned to ‘the way things were’ but god… did it have to be like this?

‘You see yourself in those mutilated women more than you see yourself in an FBI office’

‘That’s not true, they were innocent, victims. I asked for this, I got myself involved’ 

‘You were a victim of circumstance Clarice, you overcame advers-’

‘Just because I wasn’t made of money like you Dr, doesn’t mean I’m some helpless victim’ she looked him dead in the eyes and spoke with a snarl. She never imagined she could be so aggressive with him.

‘I know you’re not Clarice, just look at you’ he gazed at her with an expression she couldn’t place. 

‘You’re not like any of them my dear, you are so much more’

‘Why do you treat me like some oddity, Dr?’ Clarice covered her eyes once again as tears came ‘I’m just another person, I’m just trying to DO something.’

‘That’s what makes you so special, Clarice’ he reached out and brushed back her dark hair resting his hand where it ended, on the back of her neck ‘now do stop crying it is most-’

‘They just don’t see it all the way I do, they are more than individual cases’ she muttered through her tears, more to herself than to Lecter ‘it’s all the same, the lambs, Chilton, Gumb, everybody’

As she vented her feelings, Clarice leant into Lecter’s touch subconsciously. She found herself nestled between his arm and his chest still twittering away almost inaudibly. She didn’t notice Lecter stiffen as she buried her face in his side for a split second. He was unrecognisable from his collected, precise performance. Wide eyes flickered between Clarice’s face and his own hand which slowly and uncertainly moved to hold her tighter. 

‘I’ve never felt so alone’ she murmured, the isolation was staggering. None of her colleagues had experienced a case like hers. To them Lecter and Gumb were nothing more than monsters in the closet but to her they were so real, so vivid and most disturbingly so human.

Lecter held her in silence as the tears stopped. She hadn’t cried like this in years, definitely not in her adult years. It felt cleansing somehow. It was as if with each tear drop she had blessed herself and Lecter with holy water, momentarily washing away everything that had come before in one sacred second of serenity. Lecter brought it to an end as he pulled away and took her tear stained face in his right hand, if he used his left she might recoil from his ‘mutation’. He gently dried her ruddy cheeks with fingers absent of all warmth and colour. For a man capable of such violence he had a striking capacity for gentleness, his touch was so fragile it was as if she had imagined it. Was Clarice evil for wondering if his lips would be just as gentle?

Her eyes wandered in this direction but as he spoke he redirected her attention sharply.

‘Stop looking for me, Clarice’

He tightened his grip on her face.

‘Clarice, promise me you will stop looking for me’

Lecter’s heart beat unusually quickly as he stared down at Clarice’s unflinching reaction. They were silent for what felt like a minute. Lecter let out an uncharacteristic, startled breath as she interlocked her own five fingers with his six. 

‘No’ she answered bluntly.

‘Oh Clarice’ he smiled wryly ‘so naive’

She yanked him forward by his hand which she held against her pounding chest.

‘It’s time you stopped chasing the past, my dear’ he spat in her face, she left him really no other choice.

‘Oh Dr, now you’re the one being naive’ she inched closer to him and practically felt their lips brush as she spoke ‘don’t you know I’ve always been chasing the past’

‘Are you saying that I’m your new lamb, Clarice?’ he hissed.

‘What?’ she was taken aback by his response, any confidence and assertiveness she had built up was instantly knocked ‘No? What are you-’

Perhaps he was right, a figment of her past, haunting her dreams, motivating her in some sick and twisted way, fuelling her fire, mocking her when she failed. 

‘You need to stop looking, for your own good’ he was more serious than she’d seen, no teasing or sarcasm- just real, earnest concern.

‘I don’t want to’ she murmured ‘I just want-’

She was at a loss for words. Did she want a normal life or to keep hunting her past until she died? Did she want to forget all of this or cling to the events that had shaped her? 

‘Maybe I just want to kiss you’ she asked but it wasn’t so much a question as an admission. Sure she’d wondered what they might be, whether there had been any genuinity to their interactions, whether what she felt for Lecter was lust or something even more horrific- like love. 

Before she knew it her desire was fulfilled. For an instant they were intertwined in a cold, frantic lapse in restraint. His hand on her back sent shivers down her spine and she could almost pretend that what was happening was beautiful rather than inconceivable, irrational and downright awful. 

‘Why did you leave me?’ Clarice cried in a small, solemn voice as they pulled apart. She clung around Lecter’s neck with a feverish desperation, even in such a surreal moment she laughed at her own vulnerability.

‘Please don’t leave me’ she dug her fingers into his face like talons into prey as she felt him stir. 

‘Stop looking for me’

Lecter pried away her fingers with a gentle motion of his hand. He took her trembling hands between his own.  

‘Don’t do this job, Clarice’ 

He stood up, leaving her bed looking too empty.

‘Don’t-’ she whispered.

‘Just forget about me, it’s better this way’ he looked at her with a tender affection more delicate than a drop of snow. 

‘No, I’m not afraid of you, I want to, I don’t know BE WITH YOU’ Clarice found herself springing from the mattress in a fit of seeming madness ‘we can run away, whatever, I don’t- how can I stop looking for you?’

She reached out and held his face savouring each peculiar but beautiful detail. 

‘I mean you’re right here?’ she said breathily.

Lecter’s expression distorted to a menacing, mocking grin but he did not respond. 

Clarice blinked. She was back in bed. The window was still open? 

She pressed a hand to her cheek to feel frozen tears. Of course he hadn’t really been here. He was only a lamb, haunting her in her dreams.

————

{If you read all this I literally love you, thank you so much! Please let me know what you think and ask me any questions you still have (I will be more than happy to answer). Anyway I need to thank @whoeveniswren for the prompt, sorry I had to inflict Clarice with the same horrible feeling of waking up from a dream and wishing it was reality muhahaha. Seriously though I hope you enjoyed this even if it’s not exactly what you were looking for!}

[wannabepsychiatrist]

“i bit you before i knew you were prissy and rude” he grabs the hand chilton ran through his hair and holds it, squeezing it a little as a substitute for bites until he realizes that chilton might not appreciate that and lets go, still trying to be nice enough. “i don’t know what i want yet. you seemed interesting enough and i have nothing to do so i decided i’d see what you were about”

-🦈

They blinked at him, hand slipping out of their hair and reaching for their cane instead. "First time I've been called interesting without something backhanded added to it. You're...... a strange one." He was less irritated and more just disgruntled now, suit wrinkled from the altercation and hair mused. ".... am I allowed to get up or are you going to tackle me again?"