#mads mikkelsen headcanons

[calummss]

Mads Mikkelsen Headcanon: Dating A Younger Woman Would Include

masterlist

the age gap i'm thinking of is 20-35 years, so if it makes you uncomfortable do not read!

you would probably meet randomly at a park, both of you walking alone and bumping into each other

let’s add the cliché where one of you is holding a cup of coffee and it goes everywhere, staining the two of you

instead of glares or words of anger, you both chuckle at each other and laugh, apologising with grins on your face

he offers you some money for new clothes but you deny

you start to talk and realise similar interest and it all kind of comes naturally

both of you had intentions of frienly acquaintances but slowly evolved into friends that went out for dinner or drink every couple of months

i feel like you would be the first to fall for him

you knew that he was significantly older than you but your heart saw right past that

mads never brought up the topic because he thought it would be weird and didn’t want to destroy the newly friendship

but one day you were bold enough to ask him if he thought of you more as a friend

he stumbled over his words a few times but ultimately admitted his affection for you

you kissed him to let him know you felt the same way

secretly knowing that mads was an actor, you approached the relationship carefully, always making sure that you were alone or not as seen to avoid paparazzi

which did not work because 5 months into the relationship a famous paparazzi released the pictures because he knew the age difference would cause a scandal

and you were right

newsites, twitter, every social media app was talking about it; his fans especially where halved. some backing up the relationship, others not

the two of you pulled away even more and stayed in his home in denmark

your parents contacted you after seeing you on the internet

they were weirded out who am i kidding?

they met him and talked

realised that you are in love and couldn’t really disagree because you’re both consenting adults but it took them a while to get adjusted

you spent the next couple of months doings various things:

baking (your mother’s blueberry and raspberry chocolate muffins)

walks in the park

snuggling up on the couch watching throwback movies

dancing to songs

your favourite being i wanna be yours by arctic monkey

and your favourite activity was mads bringing you breakfast to bed…

when everything died around your dating scandal, you slowly started to go out into the world again

mads bringing you as a date to an award show where he mentioned you in his winning speech

your relationship faces ups and downs but you know that it was meant to be

[imninahchan]

Nina ainda tá escrevendo com o Mads? Se sim, poderia escrever algo com ele sendo seu professor?

Ps: amo sua escrita e a naturalidade que sai as suas palavras juntas 🫶

Acho que o MADS seria aquele tipo de professor mais velho que só lê os materias dentro de sala, não se importa em preparar slides ou ser o mínimo atrativo pra geração mais nova. Mas ele tem bom humor e acaba sendo o preferido mesmo assim, sempre convidado pros barzinhos depois da aula;

E �� por isso que você se atrai, porque ele parece mil vezes inacessível, totalmente fora do seu nível, mais inteligente, mais culto, porém magicamente próximo o suficiente pra não te inibir por inteiro;

De imediato, ele não vai notar as suas segundas intenções, acha que você só está interessada na linha de pesquisa dele quando pede pra fazer parte do grupo de estudos que ele comanda. Logo, porém, fica mais que óbvio a sua preferência absurda por estar perto dele;

A consciência pesa, especialmente ao se lembrar que tem um filho da sua idade, mas não acha que só uma vez possa ser tão nocivo assim;

Então, vai te foder uma vez só, única, deixa bem claro. Te pega dentro do carro dele mesmo, depois de te dar uma carona pra casa. Não tem pressa, por mais que o ambiente não seja o mais adequado. Já que é por uma vez, precisa aproveitar cada parte sua e fazer valer a pena o risco pra ti também;

No outro dia, vai te cumprimentar com cortesia, como se não tivesse acontecido nada, como se nem tivesse ouvido da sua boca o termo sujo que ouviu ───── papai.

[suchawrathfullamb]

we're always yapping about Will's motivation for the cliff but we don't talk about Hannibal's motivation for allowing that to happen. He knew. From the moment they got there, he saw it in Will's eyes, how he was looking at the water. "Suicide is the enemy" to Francis WHILE looking at Will. He knew. He let Will pull him. We talk about it but not nearly as much as we meta and theorize and essay about Will. But Hannibal's thought process in this episode? Man slice my throat and eat me whole already

[ssaseaprince]

My Hannibal presentation for school

Why NBCs Hannibal is a comedy instead of a horror show...

[kuroshika]

country boy will graham with the southern drawl and the freckles on his shoulders and chest

country boy will graham… country boy will graham save me

[dolicekiss]

Hello there,

If ur still taking Hannibal requests, could you potentially do a yandete Hannibal x reader (one-shot or headcanon it doesn't really matter) where the reader is an author who recently just came put with a new novel that got alot of popularity.

The reason it intrigued Hannibal so much is that the antagonist of the novel is based off the Chesapeake Ripper. Feeling flattered, Hannibal goes to one of her book signings, where he finds her absolutely captivating in person. What extents would this man do to get her attention?

♡: can i just say how descriptive some of y'all are with this.. this is literally book worthy 😭 also let me know if you want another part :[

Blood Ink

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal Lecter X Author!reader

CONTENT WARNING: dark hannibal, implied stalking, murder, mention of dead body, yandere behavior, unhinged hannibal, breaking in, leaving creepy little notes, obsessed hannibal

SYNOPSIS: Your book had gained immense popularity and you were quite the talk of the city, showing up in every article and news but capturing Hannibal Lecter’s attention was the worst thing ever, especially when you'd written an antagonist based off the Chesapeake ripper. Hannibal was flattered and in awe of how to I described him and his curiosity grew but so did his infatuation with you when he saw you.

Hannibal was flattered.

Completely amused by how you wrote depiction of him, how well you understood him despite never crossing paths.

Your abundance of understanding when it came to the mind of the killer was not only something he swooned over but how beautifully you wrote down all his murders impressed him, like they were pieces of art. It nearly worked to arouse him in a sense he craved to see you.

They were art, indeed.

Hannibal saw it that way, he saw beauty where most people saw something monstrous, something atrocious. You understood that and Hannibal had to meet you.

You'd written a book about him, a well written — descriptive book, showing off your skills of a true writer. A fan of literature he was and you had caught yourself the worst kind of attention.

The Chesapeake Ripper’s.

He had to meet you, had to see who this woman was who'd written such gruesome details about his murders. The book also included some fictional content, such as the Chesapeake Ripper committing crimes he'd never committed in the real world.

But Hannibal knew you'd included that only to add depth to him, to help the readers understand the beautiful cruelty of Hannibal Lecter.

After spending multiple hours on the internet and reading tabloids about you, watching your interviews, reading articles regarding your personal life and your work life, Hannibal finally made the decision to visit you at one of your book signings.

Your book was controversial, as many people accused you of using a serial killer as an antagonist in your book, giving him a rise in fame but it was never mentioned the book was about the Chesapeake Ripper at all. Only the antagonist had been based off him.

Hannibal was restless, so he grabbed his coat and left for your book signing which took place at a well known book store, in Baltimore too.

You were so close to him.

This had to be fate playing its game.

When Hannibal entered into the crowded book store, there you were. A huge smile decorated your features as you moved your lips to engage in a conversation with one of your fans. Hair up in a neat french bun, only a few strands framing your face — nails freshly done and sharp, resting against your soft beautifully sculpted face.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

Hannibal had seen your picture but the electronic devices did no justice to your beauty.

Hannibal felt his heart give birth to a foreign sensation, spreading through his chest and mixing in with the veins in his body. The copper and the darkness becoming one. He was completely captivated by the mere sight of you and he hadn't even introduced himself yet.

You let out a cheery laugh, nodding your head at the person in front of you before lowering your gaze, fingers holding a marker tightly to sign on the first page of your book. Hannibal analyzed closely, how swiftly your fingers moved and how beautiful they were.

He, for a split moment, imagined them decorated on a plate with vegetables.

Hannibal inhaled a deep breath, a futile attempt to regain his composure that he was beginning to lose control over at the mere sight of you.

You were a sweetheart, from how you interacted with your fans and how full of life you seemed. Deep inside his heart he hoped that you were just the same on the inside too.

Hand clasped around your book, he walked into the line. Awaiting for the people in front of him to get their books signed. He was a patient man but right now, his restlessness almost made him want to crush through the people and get to you.

Finally when his turn arrived, Hannibal slid the book over to you on the beige table. You greeted him with that gleaming smile of yours, bright enough to light up the whole room and the darkness which had bloomed in his chest when he was only a little boy.

Hannibal wasn't aware that catching a whiff of you would consume him like this but here he was, struggling to keep himself from tipping over the edge. Your scent reminded him of flowers, a fluorescent garden with bright sun rays cascading down upon it. Giving it light and life. Growing drunk on it.

His nostrils flared, inhaling more of the sweet perfume you'd adorned yourself with like some obsessed puppy. God, he was fucking dizzy over how sugary you smelled and the man couldn't get enough of it. Like old restored wine, he craved to drown you down and savor you against his tongue.

“Beautiful writing skills you've got.” Hannibal complimented with a gentle smile. Your cheeks heated up, switching to a shade of rosette.

Your eyes sparkled. “Thank you. I guess you could say I put my soul into writing this book.”

Well you just dug yourself a deeper hole than you were in before by saying that. Hannibal’s heart fluttered at your words. You'd invested your soul into writing about him, him only and that fact made him feel like he was on cloud nine.

His smile lines deepened, watching as you reached for the book and flipped it open. Fingers tightly enveloping the marker between them, you scribbled your signature on the white paper along with your initials.

“You must have a really beautiful soul then.” Hannibal said and you swallowed. His politeness and his charm worked in mysterious ways to pull you towards him but Hannibal knew just by approaching you as a fan — which he was, wouldn't really work.

He had to do more to gain your attention, your full focus.

You slid his book back over to him and Hannibal nodded, picking it up. “It was a pleasure seeing you in person. Do you mind if I ask you a question, miss?”

You raised a brow but then slowly nodded.

Hannibal’s lips curved up. “Do you believe that the Chesapeake Ripper might read this book one day?”

Your brows furrowed. Hannibal’s question was peculiarly interesting, different than the questions others had for you. Fans excited to know about the inspiration behind the book, some aching to know where you'd come up with the sinister plot. But none like this.

Hannibal’s question had crossed your mind on multiple occasions.

“Maybe but if he does, I would be interested in knowing his opinion on the book.” You responded truthfully.

That was all Hannibal needed. He stared at you, with a longing foreign to you and then he nodded. You watched him walk out of the book store as your gaze clung to him. Something inside you told you this wouldn't be the first time you'd see this man.

You shook your head and signed the rest of the books, answering all the curious questions about your books and then leaving when the event had ended. It had gotten late and you swung your leather bag over your shoulder, heels clicking against the road when you crossed it to head to your car.

The night was dark and quiet — peace tainting spreading to corner, only the sound of crickets chatting could be heard along with the clicking of your pencil heels echoing in the vast space.

Before you could enter your car, a piece of paper stuck to the front glass of your car caught your attention. With a bemused expression on your face, you reached for it and ripped the sticky note off the glass.

As your gaze ran over the content of it, your hands began to tremble.

An absolute beauty you are. You have captured my mind, heart and soul with your enthralling words. Be careful, my Dearest.

You blinked, head immediately snapping up and gaze flickering all over the area you were in. Hoping you'd find someone who left this note but you were all alone, a deep silence greeting you. Panic filled you but your brain provided you with some reassurance.

A note left by a fan.

Maybe an admirer of your writing.

That had to be it.

Of course that was it. You released a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Calm down, it's probably nothing.”

You took the note in your hand and got into your car, twisting the key into ignition and driving off to your house. On your way home, your mind kept repeating the words written in beautiful calligraphy over the paper. The twists of each letter — as if love had been poured into it.

You let out a breath, hoping that along with the run rising tomorrow you'd forget about this.

You preferred solitude and peace, not fond of the city so the area you lived in was quitw distant and overall stayed underneath complete silence. Cold breeze caressed your face as you drove by and when you finally reached home, you stepped out of the car with the intention to hit the bed.

Your arm throbbed from the amount of books you'd signed but you loved it. You loved writing down your thoughts, different plot lines. Invention of different characters was your coping mechanism.

You didn't know that when the next day you'd wake up, a horrible news would be awaiting you.

— ♡ —

Morning came by a flash.

You weren't typically cheerful but you weren't also grumpy either. An optimist was what you called yourself. You always looked forward to new days, trying to carry a positive mindset with you in life.

Coffee and pancakes was your go to breakfast.

Once you'd prepared it, you sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels while sipping onto your delicious, hot piping coffee which eased the prickling sensation caused by the shivering cold.

But then you stopped.

Eyes widening in horror over the news that flashed before you.

“The Chesapeake Ripper strikes again, taking another victim under his hold. This time it is an unidentified man in his thirties who was found dead last night in a forest. The FBI claims it was the Chesapeake Ripper who put up quite the show of the body.”

You blinked profusely.

The Ripper had stopped killing, quite for some time now. So why was he killing again? You were bemused but you didn't let it get to your head. A disturbing emotion seeped into your chest, anxiety spreading and you lost your appetite.

You decided it'd be best to go under the radar for now, as you'd written about the man.

There was a knock on the door and your panicked gaze switched to it. Placing your mug down, you stood up and walked to unlock the door. It revealed an FBI agent, also known as Will Graham. You'd come across tabloids about the compassionate empath who often helped with catching the murderers.

“Yes?”

Will raised his hand and you noticed he was holding your book. “You wrote this book?”

You nodded your head, an apprehensive feeling being born. “I did. Why?”

Will Graham invited himself in, gaze analyzing your home in scrutiny. You were taken aback by his behavior but still didn't say a word, as he was an FBI agent, a murder had been committed by the Chesapeake Ripper and he was holding your book.

“I'm sure you're aware of the murder that took place last night.” You couldn't understand what that had to do with you but you still heard him out, waiting for him to continue.

“Let's say our killer was heavily inspired by your book. Do you have anything to say about that?”

Your lips parted in confusion, brows furrowed as you were left flummoxed by the man's words. It's true you'd taken inspiration from the Chesapeake Ripper but that was all there was to it. There was no way someone had taken what you'd written to heart.

You took a step back. “I don't get this, agent Graham. What do you exactly mean by inspired?”

“I've read the book, miss. There are a few murder scenes which are fictional, never committed by the Chesapeake Ripper.” He explained, holding out printed parts of your own book. You slowly took them and then you were handed the photographs from the murder scene.

As your gaze swiped over it, your jaw dropped.

No way.

There was no way.

“No.” You whispered.

Exactly what you'd written, what you'd described, how you described it and even imagined it when you wrote it down. It was the same, a carbon copy like you yourself had committed the crime. You yourself had decorated the fucking set up.

You pressed a hand over your chest, feeling nauseous.

“Since they were fictional, the killer took it upon himself to bring them to life. Manifest them into reality, miss.” Your breathing grew uneven. A pang of guilt blossoming in your ribcage when your eyes glided over the dead body wrapped in dreadful vines, decorated with flowers.

Lily of the valley and Belladona.

Poisonous but beautiful flowers they were.

Your chest tightened.

Will noticed the raw fear and uncomfort spread on your face. It was exactly the same as what you'd written. Every detail, every touch, every little item was perfectly presented in the way you'd imagined it to be when you wrote it down. When you took hint of the body, your face became more flustered.

Exactly from the description of your book.

Blonde, male, short height and lean frame.

Just exactly the way you'd written him down and you looked at Will. “O-Organs. Is he missing a liver?”

Will nodded and that made you sick to your damn stomach.

Someone was out there — probably the Chesapeake Ripper and he had read your book.

This was a message.

To tell you he'd read your book.

Your fingers trembled and their grasp loosened over the pieces of paper, as well as the photographs. Falling to the floor.

Will kneeled down to gather them and then stood back on his feet.

“I-I don't know. I h-have no idea why he's doing this.” You stumbled over your words, palm pressing into your chest as your forehead became sweaty.

You were a mess.

“Calm down, please.” Will said, to reassure you. You could sense a panic attack knocking at the doors of your brain, struggling to breathe.

But you tried to calm yourself down. You weren't responsible for this as much as you felt like it. The fucking crime scene looked like you'd committed it, no wonder the FBI had come knocking on your damn door. This was going to sabotage you but at least they were aware someone else was doing the kills.

That calmed you down a little.

But you were still on edge. Taken aback from the abrupt change brought in one night.

“Am I a suspect?” You asked and Will shook his head. That relieved you a little.

After Will was done asking you some questions regarding the book and if there was anyone who you had shared the contents of it before the book was released, he left and you were all alone.

The scenes where the antagonist committed the fictional murders were completely out of your imagination. All thought about under the dark night and the glimmering stars.

You went to the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water and the cold water worked sufficiently to hydrate your parched mouth and throat.

You went into your room to grab your laptop, in hopes that you might find something on the internet. Leaning down, you tried to pick it up from your bed but stalled. A piece of paper capturing your attention. Folded neatly underneath your pillow.

Your breath hitched.

It was eerily similar to the paper that was stuck to your glass.

Heart beat picking up and hands beginning to shake, you reached for the paper and picked it up. As you unfolded it with bated breaths, your eyes widened.

Same hand writing, different words.

No amount of words were capable enough to describe the fear that you felt in that very moment when your gaze captured and read each and every word.

I hope you like what I prepared for you, my Dearest. There is more to come, please cherish and appreciate my gifts for you.

Tears stung your eyes vision blurry. You thought that was it but no. There was more, in the lower corner of the paper. You squinted your eyes and what you read next made you drop the note.

I must say, you are a gorgeous sight when you sleep.

[rose-lunaire]

music box | hannibal with a musician!S/O

dedicated to all the beautiful artistic souls reading this, i hope you like it!

pairing: hannibal x gn!reader

warnings: yandere behaviour, unspecified age gap, my lack of knowledge of musical terms

you met in the backstage of your first recital

hannibal was mesmerised by your craft, such mature and fresh interpretation of his favourite piece

“that was an excellent performance you gave us”

you nearly dropped your music sheets from shock

“o, oh, thank you so much, sir. to be honest, i was worried the nerves came through too much and ruined it…”

“i assure you, the concerto was flawless. mahler requires this uncertainty and you portrayed that beautifully.”

the way he said it seemed to lift all the weight from your shoulder; there was no room for question in his voice, just pure respect

“pardon me, where are my manners. my name is hannibal lecter and i would like to become your patron”

and that’s how it started: your relationship emerged from this contract and eventually evolved into friendship

in the end blossoming into something more

you always appreciate his remarks while practicing until late at night

he’s your biggest supporter!

always carrying your stuff from practice, saying he can’t allow you hurting yourself

he would massage your hands after long practices, kissing the tips of your fingers like the most delicate of flowers

don’t be shy about your callouses, hannibal sees them as a token of your hard work and dedication

they’re beautiful, just like your mind and heart

he would do anything to protect you from critique

once upon a time someone dared write an unpleasant review of your performance and it was the end of their career

their body was found in the trash behind the opera house the next day and on their blog posted an apology to you, saying they were paid and coerced to say those abhorrent things to you

you never found out about this case, hannibal took you on a retreat to a national park, free of any distractions to “gain inspiration”

he admires you as a connoisseur but also as an artist

he was a bit shy to showcase his work for the first time

but then he fell for you all over again when he heard you playing his pieces

they sound so different yet so familiar, he can’t focus on the notes and instead stares at your hands, mesmerised

you’re his porcelain doll, the most precious treasure he will cherish until the end of his days

displayed only for his deserving eyes, inside a beautiful box, dancing to his tune, twirling around laughing, his applause is the only thing you can hear

too beautiful for others to truly appreciate, you’re hidden away in his study

bound to be perfect

[lovegrahams]

i know plenty of people hc that hannibal doesn’t like animals for… some reason??? but a big thing that disproves that hc (outside of the swans & the horse seen in hannibal rising. iykyk.) is this scene. he had no reason to pet the sheep other than him simply wanting to. i think he’s very fond of animals actually and that’s precious :(

[noneofusarefree]

i just know hannibal was rock hard when shoving that ear down will's throat, hearing him gagging and imagining things

[fa1ryyz]

my mason verger headcanons! ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

he has bum worms

[tendergore]

I’m so in love with how quickly Will makes himself at home in Hannibal’s quarters. Show up without notice, no greeting, shuck your coat and tell him how you fucked up your day, lead the way to his dining table because you don’t need him to tell you where it is, sit at his desk at leisure, pick through his collection of books and flip through pages listlessly, wander around while you speak with him, at him. So unable to sit still, at the first session Hannibal must’ve been so amused to watch him pace around his office chasing his thoughts, running away from them.

Will saw him as an intellectual equal so quickly he seemed to skip the step where they actually became acquainted, not discerning Hannibal’s space from what he would his own office, we are the same, you are like me, you can trust me in your space, and Hannibal gave the impression of lending that trust. Will allowed himself to make Hannibal’s place his second home, where he ran when he wouldn’t go home, where he sought refuge when he couldn’t face himself—but he could face Hannibal. Hannibal could reflect Will back to himself without all the self-hatred that Will couldn’t bear, with a kindness that Will couldn’t afford to give himself.

[deerainy]

I think my favourite headcanon is that hannibal would not own a pet but if he were to own one it would be a snake, not any snake either it would be a blood python

Like this is what I think I would see in a massive vivarium when entering Hannibal's living room. I know little about snakes but I've held an albinos ball python once as a kid and I loved it sm. I think Hannibal would find snakes fascinating.

[abigailhobbsmissingear]

HEADCANON

When Will calls out Hannibal for smelling him Hannibal exaggerates about how bad the aftershave is to make the situation less awkward and from then on it was Hannibal’s own personal bit to talk abt how bad his aftershave is.

[suchawrathfullamb]

Hannibal finding Will's first gray hair and getting emotional because he got to grow old with his soulmate STOP IT RIGHT NOW I CAN'T DEAL

[ssaseaprince]

I think with all the self-awareness Hannibal has, he doesn't actually know himself very well. That is a big reason why he is so obsessed with Will's view of him because he's never had someone who could give him an accurate reading of himself. There are things we all are unaware of that we do, and most of us can rely on others around us to point it out. But Hannibal has never had that. Even with Bedelia, she responds to what he tells her and what she guesses, but she is not able to truly read Hannibal either. Will is the only one who can. Hannibal is curious about himself, and Will is the only one who can tell him the things he does that he doesn't realize. He is the only one who can give him a genuine perspective. When the average person is discovering/questioning themselves and their identity, they can go to therapy, they could talk to their friends, Hell, they can go get drunk at a bar and talk to the bartender. Hannibal has no one who knows him and nobody who could give him any kind of self insight. Except Will Graham.

[addicted-to-the-knife]

I finally had the chance to watch the Boston panel.

and I'm starting to think that a lot of you either haven't watched it yourselves, or were so set on specific opinions you personally have, while also having clear expectations of what their answers will be, that with their answers (or what are talked about as their answers) made you so unhappy that now you're just bashing them; especially Hugh.

why, though? none of the things I've seen people complain about were actually said like that or fully implied. so... what? doesn't make sense to me why some of you are so upset about this panel. it was so much fun and just lighthearted entertainment. panels like that are the reason these things exist and are usually so much fun in the first place.