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cece693 · 1 month ago

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I really loved the silent but angry reader with hannigram!! would it be possible to request a part 2? Maybe something where the reader finally snaps and like- beats someone up or something? idk lol Thank you for your time and your writing!

On The Tip of Your Tongue Pt. 2

pairing: hannigram x male reader tags: reader doesn't care about what's said about him but when it comes to his lovers, phew, just phew, guard dog, altercation, hannigram finding it unnecessary but sweet, you showing people they're wrong

A week after that peaceful evening at Hannibal's home, you found yourself back in the maze of FBI corridors—late at night, subdued fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. It should have been a routine debrief, but Agent Lange had a knack for turning even mundane situations into confrontations. His favorite pastime: picking at your silence.

By now, you’d grown skilled at blocking his barbed comments about you—he never seemed worth the trouble. But the moment he made Hannibal or Will the targets, every fiber in your body tensed like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

The trouble started in the break room, of all places. You were rinsing out a coffee mug while Will stood nearby, silently reading through case files. Hannibal was down the hall, finishing an impromptu consultation. Agent Lange sidled in, a smug half-smile plastered on his face. He began with a low mutter, obviously wanting you to overhear. “Doesn’t say much, does he?” Lange said to no one in particular, though his eyes never left you. “Probably thinks he’s too good for the rest of us.”

Will glanced up, brow furrowing. “Cut it out, Lange,” he warned, voice quiet but firm.

Lange scoffed. “Oh, look, Graham is here to defend his little buddy.” He rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, then smirked. “What, you guys have some kind of arrangement with that doctor of yours? Must be real cozy, you three. Freak show if you ask me—Doctor Lecter with his fancy dinners and you, Graham, with your messed-up head. Not sure what he—” Lange shot you an assessing look “—sees in a pair of psychos.”

Your grip on the mug tightened until your knuckles turned white. You could handle insults directed at you alone. But calling Hannibal a freak—calling Will messed up—that was a line no one should ever cross.

Will started to step forward, frustration rippling in the set of his jaw. “I’m warning you, Lange—”

But Lange just kept on. “Warner from Accounting told me the three of you even share a place sometimes,” he sneered, letting out a low, mocking laugh. “That’s a real nice arrangement. Guess all the weirdos have to stick together, huh?”

In that moment, your heart pounded so loudly in your ears that you barely registered Will reaching for your arm or Hannibal appearing in the doorway. All you knew was that Lange had just gone after the two people you loved most, spat insults that made your blood boil. Before Will could hold you back, you lunged at Lange, slamming him against the countertop before grabbing him by the collar.

“Don't you ever talk about them like that,” you growled, voice trembling with fury.

Lange’s hand shot up to shove you away. Big mistake. You seized his wrist, twisting just enough to yank him off balance. Then your fist crashed into his jaw, the impact ringing through your arm. Lange staggered, barely staying on his feet. There was a collective gasp from the few agents who’d been unlucky enough to witness the altercation. Hannibal’s calm, cool voice cut through the air—firm, yet oddly soothing. “(Y/N). Enough.”

But Lange, spitting blood from a split lip, couldn’t let it go. “They’re both messed up in the head,” he snarled, glaring at you. “They deserve—” You lost all sense of caution. With a furious snarl, you shoved Lange so hard he stumbled into the table, sending files and coffee cups flying. He tried swinging at you, but you easily dodged, landing a swift, punishing blow to his ribs.

Will’s arms locked around your torso, hauling you backward. “(Y/N), stop!” he ordered, breath tight.

Still seething, you struggled for a second, your gaze locked on Lange’s crumpled form. Hannibal stepped in front of Lange, effectively blocking him from view, placing himself between you both. For a heartbeat, you saw a flash of something like approval in Hannibal’s eyes—gone in an instant, replaced by measured concern.

A tense hush fell over the break room. Lange groaned, pressing a hand to his side, shooting you a hateful glare. Will released you slowly, scanning your face for any sign of lingering rage. “Hey,” he whispered, “breathe.”

You inhaled shakily, your fury still smoldering beneath the surface. “He insulted you,” you spat, voice hoarse. You glared over Will’s shoulder toward Lange. “Both of you. He had no right.”

Hannibal stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. You could feel the gentle pressure, calming like a steady pulse. “That’s quite enough for tonight,” he said in that refined, even tone. Then, turning a cold gaze on Lange, he added softly, “You would do well to keep further opinions to yourself.”

Lange, nursing his bruised jaw, spat out an obscenity but didn’t press his luck. One look at Will, still standing protectively in front of you, made him think twice. He shoved a chair aside and stumbled out of the room, muttering threats about filing a report.

The ride back to Hannibal’s home was drowned in thick, static tension. You sat in the back seat, staring out the window with your jaw tight, chest still heaving from residual anger. Will occupied the passenger seat, arms folded, gaze flicking every so often to the rearview mirror where Hannibal’s impassive face reflected back. No one spoke a word. The hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of tires on wet pavement were the only sounds.

By the time the car pulled up to the stately brick home, the air felt electric. Hannibal parked with his usual precision, and you exited wordlessly, your lovers flanking you on either side. You stepped into the foyer, your breath still shallow from the surge of adrenaline. Hannibal immediately ushered you toward the kitchen with gentle but insistent pressure on your lower back.

“Sit,” he instructed, voice low and calm in that familiar, cultured way. “Let me see your hands.”

Will leaned against the marble island, arms crossed, watching as Hannibal carefully took hold of your bruised knuckles. You winced when he turned on the faucet, letting cool water run across torn skin. For a moment, Hannibal focused solely on rinsing away dried blood. Once satisfied, he turned off the tap and reached for antiseptic and gauze. His eyebrows knit in that slight, discerning frown he wore when studying a patient—or a lover, in need of care.

“You truly did a number on him,” Will commented quietly, pushing off the counter. He walked over, eyes flicking between your injured hands and your tense expression. “Not that he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a slow, shaky breath, finally speaking for the first time since leaving the FBI. “He insulted you,” you said, voice hoarse with lingering fury. “I could’ve handled the things he said about me. But about you two? I couldn’t just stand there.”

Will’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “We’re not exactly fragile, you know. We didn’t need you to defend us.”

Hannibal cast Will a knowing glance but addressed you. “However, that does not mean we didn’t appreciate it,” he said, carefully affixing the final piece of gauze. His eyes flicked up to yours, a subtle heat behind them. “Or find it intriguing.”

“Hot, actually,” Will added, stepping closer. The corners of his mouth lifted in a hint of a grin that bordered on playful. “Watching you lose your temper like that…seeing you go from silent to lethal in a heartbeat. I can’t pretend it wasn’t a little—” he cleared his throat, “arousing.”

You felt your face flush at Will’s admission. His candor took some of the edge off your anger, replacing it with a wave of self-conscious heat. Hannibal’s expression betrayed no surprise—if anything, a knowing gleam lit his dark eyes. He folded your freshly bandaged hand into both of his, pressing a light kiss to your wrist.

“That flash of violence,” he said quietly, “while I don’t endorse needless brutality, I do find it befitting of you. That anger in your eyes, the way you allowed for it to consume you was beautiful."

You swallowed hard, letting your gaze flick from Hannibal to Will. “But I— I nearly lost control.”

Will’s voice dropped lower, tinged with empathy and something else. “He had it coming. Besides, we would've stopped you before it really became a problem."

Despite the swirling emotions—anger, relief, lingering adrenaline—warmth spread through your chest. You exhaled the breath you’d been holding. The raw edges of your temper began to soften, replaced by a comforting sense of belonging. “Next time,” you said, voice low, “I’ll try to give you a little warning before I snap.”

Will’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Sure,” he teased. “Even if it’s just a look—anything to let us know you’re about to unleash hell, so we can pull up a chair and enjoy.”

A gentle chuckle rumbled in Hannibal’s chest. He raised your bandaged hand to his lips again, pressing a second kiss to the gauze, an oddly chivalrous gesture. “If there is a next time,” he said, his dark eyes glinting with sincerity, “we’ll be right at your side. Not because we need the defense but because we relish your fervor.”

That final declaration, spoken in Hannibal’s cultured tone, cradled in Will’s soft laugh, was enough to steal the last vestiges of your anger. You let yourself sink into the moment—the quiet acceptance, the shared heat, and the unwavering knowledge that, here, you were safe to be exactly as you were.

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cartierre · 2 years ago

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SINCE WAY BACK | ln4

SOCIAL MEDIA!AU lando norris x fem!black!producer!reader (fc: alexis carrington)

side note: drake is aged up in this because i want y/n to be born around 2000/2001 but that would mean drake was 14/15 when he became a dad... so he's just a few years older here to make it more believable okay? great. side note pt2: there are so many long twitter threads used to explain the whole backstory. like, really really long. i didn't know how else to explain everything, i'm sorry.

♡ liked by champagnepapi, mclaren, octobersveryown and 829,938 others

tagged: mclaren, octobersveryown

f1 BREAKING: October's Very Own (OVO) joins the McLaren team as their new primary sponsor for the 2023 season.

#F1 #Formula1 #McLaren

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user1 what the fuck is drake doing here

user2 i'm actually so gagged like what is happening why is drake invested in f1 all of a sudden

user3 this is such an odd pairing? drake and zak brown together feels like a fever dream

user4 drake joining f1 as a sponsor was definitely not on my 2023 bingo card

user5 caitlyn jenner buying a whole w series team is less surprising than whatever this is

♡ liked by yourusername, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 187,385 others

lando.jpg adonis is teaching me how to play basketball because otherwise he "cannot accept me" i've been humbled by a 5 year old

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user6 is that the girl he might or might not be dating ⤷ user7 i need to know otherwise i might die (i won't but the suspense is killing me)

user8 WHO IS THAT GIRL LANDO

user9 is this you trying to soft launch or is she just a platonic friend?

user10 "fans" going insane because they can't handle the thought of lando having female friends as well

user11 he's not even tagging anyone omg now i have to scroll through all the people he follows. lando is not making my job easy

(private account)

♡ liked by centralcee, jorjasmith_, landonorris and 637 others

y/n_graham why am i trending on twitter and why is everyone uncovering my childhood

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landonorris i think this is my fault ⤷ y/n_graham you and your jpg ⤷ landonorris my camera lense is just so mesmerised by your beauty ⤷ y/n_graham your compliments won't get you out of trouble

centralcee i'm literally getting dms asking about you ⤷ y/n_graham i woke up to 15,000 people trying to follow me

jorjasmith_ lando's fans are literally fbi agents ⤷ y/n_graham i'm making so many backup files of my music projects because i'm scared someone will hack into my laptop now

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f1wags Y/N Graham, daughter of Canadian rapper Drake, was photographed by a fan outside the venue in Greece where Lando Norris, her rumoured boyfriend, was playing this weekend. None of the two have confirmed nor deniend the relationship allegations that have been going around for a few months now. An inside source, which attended the party, revealed how the two behaved very intimate with each other.

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user12 girl it's been nearly four months since the rumours started... can one of them just please either confirm or deny them?

user13 at this point i'm just over the whole drama. let them have their privacy i guess

user14 this drama is juicier than when the whole oscar-alpine-mclaren fiasco happened

user15 i'm this close to ripping my hair out why is this rumour been going on for AGES i just want a simple statement already

♡ liked by y/n_graham, champagnepapi, danielricciardo and 374,947 others

tagged: y/n_graham, champagnepapi

lando.jpg bonding family time, got to support the father in law ;)

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user16 EXCUSE ME WDYM FATHER IN LAW? is this a joke or real ⤷ y/n_graham we're not married, don't worry ⤷ user17 OMG Y/N MADE HER ACCOUNT PUBLIC JUST NOW

champagnepapi i like the sound of "father in law" ⤷ lando.jpeg i know you would ⤷ y/n_graham no no no

user18 okay from what i've gathered drake and lando are on good terms ⤷ user19 bet that's why drake sponsored mclaren lmao ⤷ y/n_graham no but deadass

user20 y/n fighting for her life in the comments lmaoooo ⤷ y/n_graham in the trenches

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 10 months ago

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Back of the classroom (Will Graham)

Description: Y/N and Will are seeing each other but her father and Jack don’t know. When they are having a discussion in Will’s classroom he decides to tease her.

Warning: Fingering

Word Count: 1,178k

Request: Can you can do a imagine with Will Graham, where Y/N is an FBI agent too and her father is a great FBI agent (like Crawford, but he's from another department, New York or whatever) Jack invites her father to a talk, she and Will are alone in the back row and maybe his hand is in the middle of her legs… caressing her 🫦😏😏

She’s 20 and he’s 38. He could be her dad but that didn’t stop them from doing what they were doing. Y/N’s dad worked in a different department than Jack Crawford but Y/N was in Will’s class to be an FBI agent. Y/N’s dad didn’t know about the relationship, thankfully. Or he would have had her pulled from the class. Will was a real man compared to her other relationships she’s had. He knows how to please a woman and not just sexually. Y/N doesn’t live with her dad so sneaking to Will’s house isn’t sneaking.

The first time she went to his house she had an odd feeling given how his house was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and nature but nonetheless. He had so many dogs, which Y/N found cute. Winston was her favorite and he seemed to feel the same. “Winston really likes you.” Will tells her as they sit on the couch. “Well I really like him too.” She said and scratched the dog’s head. The sex was great, fantastic even. He had the hottest whimpers and whines. She always teased him about it after but reassured him that it was hot. Now they are in the back row of the class as her father and Jack talked.

They listened to the conversation and Jack wanted to work with her father. Will had told her about the cases they’ve had and Will was positive he knew who was doing it. Some guy named Hannibal Lecter. Y/N knew about Will’s “powers” and thought it was cool. As her dad and Jack were talking Will decided that it would be a great time to put his hand on her upper thigh. She looked, no glared at the man who kept his eye at the front of the class like someone was teaching them.

His hand being on her thigh made her breathing pick up. “Why are you so tense?” He asked as if he wasn’t the one causing it. He still wasn’t looking at her. “Are you teasing me, with my father in the room?” She asked him. “What if I was?” He asked with a smirk. “Then I’d say you’re playing a dangerous game, Graham.” “That’s Mr. Graham to you.” If she wasn’t wet by then she was definitely wet now. His hands slowly traveled to the button on her jeans and undid it. He pulled the zipper down not once moving his eyes from the front. He slipped his hand into her jeans and felt the wet spot coding her panties. “Damn you’re so wet. All because I put my hand on your thigh?” He asked, teasing her.

She huffed out a please and he started rubbing the wet spot on her panties making it bigger. She bit her lip to hold back the moan building in her chest. He felt the spot getting wetter and wetter and decided to stop. She glared at him and he could see from the corner of his eye. His hand stayed there for a few minutes before slipping under her panties making her let out a gasp. Jack and her father look up at her. “You okay?” He asked her. This time Will’s eyes were on her with fake concern. “Yeah I stubbed my toe.” She lied. They went back to talking and Will went back to rubbing his fingers on her clit. His bare fingers felt so good on her, like they always did. He wanted to watch her but knew that it would make things obvious if they looked back at the pair.

She tried to keep her face straight and not show any signs of pleasure. What made things worse was when Will moved a finger to her slimy hole. She bit back another gasp feeling his finger play with her hole. “Will, please.” She whispered trying not to moan. He chuckled and pushed his finger in her hole. Her hips lifted from the seat trying to make his finger go deeper. “Be careful. They might see you trying to fuck yourself on my finger.” He whispered to her. His finger was inside her but he didn’t move it. “Will.” She growled. He smiled and began moving his finger in and out.

Y/N hated that he wouldn’t just give her what she needs but the idea of her father knowing what they were doing and killing Will was not great. Her breathing was already uneven and she was holding back moans. Will was already getting hard at how tightly her pussy was squeezing his finger. He decided to add another. Y/N bit the back of her hand to hold back the gasp. She closed her eyes feeling the way his fingers were fucking her. “We are leaving.” Jack announced to the two. She opened her eyes and nodded.

They both watched as the two men left the room. The second the door shut they were on each other. She was in his lap as he fingers were fucking into her, their lips clashed together in a messy kiss. His other hand held her hip trying to move her hips. She got the idea and started rocking her hips. She moaned into the kiss, finally being able to make noise. His fingers moved faster and they could hear just how wet she was. She pulled away from the kiss to hide her face in his neck. “You’re so beautiful.” He told her as he curled his fingers. She nearly screamed as he did so. The knot in her stomach tightening. “Look at me baby.” He said and with the strength she had left she pulled back and looked at him.

He smirked at how fucked out she looked. Her eyes clouded with pleasure and her mouth wide opened. His name left her lips in a prayer. He cupped her face and pulled her closer. “Cum for me.” He said in her mouth. She felt her orgasm hit her hard and she moaned loudly. He watched her intensely as she fell apart. His fingers riding out her orgasm. His name comes out of her in pathetic whines. The sight was to die for and he was glad that he was looking at her now to see it. He pulled out his fingers once she had calmed down. He smirked at how wet and gooey they looked.

He looked at her as she stared back curious. He lifted his fingers to his mouth without breaking eye contact and sucked on them until her juices were gone. Her jaw dropped as he did this feeling herself wanting more. “You my dear taste amazing.” He told her. Before she could reply there was a knock at the door. It was her dad wondering if she was ready to go. “Fuck.” She got up from his lap. She forgot about dinner. She quickly zipped up her jeans and made herself look okay again. “Love you. Bye.” She said as she ran to the door. He smiled as she walked out of the door. He loved her too.

#hannibal #mads mikkelsen #hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hugh dancy #will graham #will graham x reader #will graham smut #will graham imagine #will graham x you

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literaticat · 4 months ago

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Hi Jenn. Can I ask you some info about “cozy” mysteries? I’m part of a writers group and recently shared some details about the plot of my novel and others in the group keep throwing around this term in relation to my book. Thing is I’m not sure if what I’ve written is a cozy mystery. I mean, it sort of is but also not. It’s a murder mystery and it’s set in a cozy UK village but it’s also kind of dark, with themes dealing with grief and thriller elements. I’m also querying UK agents to start with before I query US ones and while it looks like the term is maybe international I’m also wondering if it’s more US than UK? My comps are Agatha Christie, esp her Poirot novels which I see some saying online are cozy and others saying aren’t cozy, plus modern authors like Graham Norton and Tom Hindle. I know I can ask some of this in my group but I’m embarrassed to as I don’t know if I’ve written a cozy or not or given it’s kind of darker, if I’ve just written a murder mystery. I know this isn’t your area but if you could help me I’d really appreciate it, thank you.

With the caveats that I don't rep adult mysteries, I don't really read adult mysteries, I don't know anything about the market for adult mysteries in the US *or* the UK, nor what terminology is in use for the UK since I am not in the UK? Uh. Sure.

In my opinion, there are four main attributes for a proper cozy.

A cozy mystery must:

Feature an amateur sleuth. In other words -- the main character's JOB is not to solve crimes -- they are not a cop or P.I. or FBI agent or forensic pathologist or whatever. They may be a reporter or a novelist or a little old lady who happens to have a passion for puzzles -- they may be a kooky barista or bookstore owner or chef or something totally not-crime related!

Have a charming setting. By that I mean, warm, cute, safe-feeling -- say, a village/hamlet/vicarage called Button-on-Twee with a delightfully quirky cast of characters. The kind of place you want to take a weekend vacation to. (Not all villages/small towns are like that. Plenty of REAL small towns are in fact impoverished and bleak -- that wouldn't be the case in a cozy small town). It doesn't HAVE to be a village, it could be something like a hotel, vacation resort, or on a large yacht or something -- as long as it's charming/lovely. If it is set in a city, it would be like a pocket-neighborhood within a city. Like, maybe there's a darling B&B and a brownstone full of chatty neighbors and pets on a street that has a kindly greengrocer and a bookstore etc -- and we stay in that little corner of town, far away from skyscrapers and dangerous bits. It would be much harder, IMO, for a cozy to be set on like, a remote and isolated desert planet or farm in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors or something -- those things are not cozy!

Be "clean" -- ie, no explicit sex or grisly violence on page. Obvs there may be romance/relationships, love/kissing, etc if you want, but it will be closed-door, ie, the actual uh... graphic bonking stuff may be implied but will not be shown. Obvs there may be murders, but think, like, the level of violence on Murder She Wrote -- MAYBE we see an assailant whack somebody on the head or something like that -- but when bodies are shown, they are rather discreetly presented, or are discovered off-screen. They aren't showing twisted bodies or guts and gore and maggots in eyes and whatnot, yanno?

Be comforting and satisfying. Like, idk, it's just a vibe. Though there may be murder and light mayhem and delving into some of the darker parts of the human psyche (after all, MURDER, hello!) -- and the reader may certainly experience SUSPENSE (how will our hero get out of this jam?!) -- they will not experience TERROR. The reader knows they are in good hands and that the problems will be satisfyingly resolved and the main character will be OK at the end. They should come away from the book feeling satisfied, with a smile, not upset or stressed out.

If your book ticks ALL of those boxes, you can deffo call it a cozy.

If it ticks 3/4, like, it's sorta borderline 4, as long as the vibe is still comforting, it still could potentially be a cozy, but at the end of the day: If you don't think it's cozy, that's fine. Just... don't call it cozy then! Call it a mystery and then describe it and put the comps and let people come to their own conclusions.

(FWIW, Miss Marple is an amateur sleuth whose books are mostly set in a small town or vacation destinations -- Hercule Poirot is a former cop and professional detective whose books are set all over the map, literally. So by my definition, Poirot books are not cozies. Marple books might be -- but I haven't read them, so IDK about the vibe!)

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eleadore · 4 months ago

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rec list: hannibal/will 10-30k

none of my recs contain mcd or unhappy endings. everything else is fair game & may not be tagged for.

hannibal/will <5k | hannibal/will 5-10k

rise up with the dew by lickrish (nc-17, 10k) getting together, domestic, post-fall

Will learns to relax. Hannibal yearns.

pure shores by halotolerant (nc-17, 13k) getting together, first time, post-fall

All kinds of impossible things have become real, but Will is pretty sure that this can’t be; Hannibal Lecter in blue silk pajamas, on a bed made up of sheets covered in a jaunty penguin design, on his back and spreading his legs, raising a questioning eyebrow in Will’s direction.

where you can always find me by northern (nc-17, 13k) ♥️ puppy play, D/s, post-fall

"I will do what you ask of me, to the best of my ability," Hannibal tells Will, and if it sounds more like a threat than a promise, he doesn't especially care.

suffer does the wolf by cedarbranch (nc-17, 13k) werewolves, D/s, s2 AU, post-fall

Under extreme physical duress, a werewolf's transformation cycles may fall out of phase with the moon. Will has experienced it once before. He'd hoped he never would again. But the fall was not kind to him, and when two full moons pass afterwards with no sign of a change, something has to give. The solution: a tight leather collar, woven through with pure silver chain to prevent unwanted transformation. Will hates the collar. But it might be different when Hannibal's the one putting it on him.

half moon by undecimber (m, 19k) co-habitation, post-fall

It was so sweet sometimes, it ached, the way all things we believe not meant for us ache.

let me sinful be by darlingred1 (nc-17, 20k) first time, painplay, post-fall

“I always plan for an array of possible outcomes,” Hannibal says. “It’s easier that way to adapt when circumstances change suddenly.” “So, what, you thought, ‘Just in case I decide to keep him around, I better make sure he has his butt plugs’?” (Will likes his collection of sex toys, but he comes to like the effect they have on Hannibal even more.)

on entirely scientific methods for the relief of dull aches by halotolerant (nc-17, 21k) getting together, doctor/patient, victorian AU

In which in Victorian London, Hannibal is a specialist in 'nervous disorders' and Will is a patient looking for just that kind of therapy...

no hope of falling down by fahye (nc-17, 22k) getting together, circus AU (open ending) ♥️

A circus should be a series of miracles, barely scraped into existence. Will Graham is the celebrated aerialist of Cirque Dalmau; Hannibal Lecter is a new arrival with dangerous hands and more than a few secrets.

staccato by longwhitecoats (nc-17, 22k) ♥️ D/s, kink negotiation, food play, knife play, s1 AU

Will lets something slip to Dr. Lecter in one of their conversations. Dr. Lecter isn't about to let it go.

the way a knife loves a heart by lynpatootie (nc-17, 23k) getting together, s1-s3 AU

“I miss my dogs. I’m not going to miss you. I’m not going to find you. I’m not going to look for you. I don’t want to know where you are or what you do. I don’t want to think about you anymore.” But dreams are another matter. Will and Hannibal’s relationship plays out in a world where people can send each other dreams. Mid-Season 3 AU.

ecstacies by roundthedecay (nc-17, 26k) D/s, gothic, post-fall

After the fall finds Will and Hannibal back at Castle Lecter. There is a renegotiating of power and a reopening of old wounds.

carmen sygni by slq (nc-17, 28k) fake dating, AU

Will Graham and Beverly Katz are partners running a Private Investigator bureau. Will Graham's reputation brings Agent Jack Crawford of the FBI to his door, seeking his professional touch in proving that Dr. Hannibal Lecter is the notorious Chesapeake Ripper. Apparently, that involves Will dating the man. Will is not thrilled, until he is. Then everything goes to hell in a handbasket.

#fic rec #hannigram #hannigram fic rec #my notes for staccato were 'will gets ATE. not like that. but kind of like that.'#i have one more list to go the >30ks hooooooo

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nekoannie-chan · 7 months ago

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Admirer

Title: Admirer.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Darkish!Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader.

Word count: 537 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: You have an admirer.

Major Tags: Attempt of kidnapping, stalker.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @the-slumberparty Navy & Roo’s Sundae Bar with the prompts:

"Flavour: Chocolate & Birthday cake."

"Topping: Graham crackers & Peanuts."

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

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At your apartment door, a package was outside again. This was the tenth time in two weeks that you had received an anonymous gift, from flowers to small souvenirs of places you had always wanted to visit, yet there was not a single clue as to the sender.

Upon opening today's package, you found a beautiful silver pendant, with a small blue crystal, along with a note:

To brighten your darkest days, with love your admirer.

You sat on the couch, holding the pendant in your hand. It wasn't just the mystery of the sender, but the feeling that someone was watching you, someone who knew too much about you.

You began to remember, until you got to that day 5 years ago, Steve was hanging out in your office, yet something about him had made you feel uncomfortable, despite all the signals you sent, he didn't seem to understand until you had to reject him outright.

After that, Steve disappeared from your life, or so you thought, you never had any mission with him again. But there was no way it was him; it just wasn't his style.

That night, as you were getting ready for bed when you received a message from an unknown number.

Enjoy the pendant. Tomorrow there will be more.

”Who was this person?

Who was this person? What did he want from you?

The next morning, as you left your apartment, a new package was waiting for you. This time, inside the box was a picture where you were in your favorite spot in the park, reading a book along with a note.

I've always been watching. I have always been waiting.

That night, when you got home, you found your door ajar. Everything seemed to be in its place until you saw an envelope on the kitchen table. Inside, a handwritten letter.

Dear T/N, I know this must be confusing. But everything I do is for love. A love you never returned. I remember the day you rejected me like it was yesterday. To prove to you that I'm the only one who really knows you, the only one who really loves you. I know a secret of yours. Something you've never told anyone. Something that could destroy your life if it got out. You remember that night, three years ago, when you were at that party....

You remembered that night, the party where you lost control and made a terrible mistake.

Tears began to roll down your cheeks.

One night, as you were getting ready to go to bed, you received another text.

See you in the park, where I took the picture. This time, face to face.

You knew you couldn't run away forever so you went to the park. There was no one there so you walked until under the dim light of a street lamp, there was Steve.

“Steve,” you said, you tried not to make your voice sound shaky. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” he replied, ”Because you rejected me. Because you were the only one who didn't want me.”

Suddenly it seemed that other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were approaching the scene.

“I'm not done with you,” he growled before disappearing into the darkness.

#sundae bar #navy and roo's sleepover #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader

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dbmars · 7 months ago

Text

New Fic Alert!

Excerpt:

If Jack notices that Will makes eye contact with me – an anomaly for an alleged first meeting, to be sure – he makes no indication. If he notices my smile is laced with a petty sort of satisfaction — one that says, perhaps, this is what happens when you refuse to acknowledge what we mean to one another — he again masks any sign. I’m surprised at myself. Up until this moment I hadn’t realized I was harboring resentment regarding Will’s insistence on discretion. Keeping our affair a secret has benefited me in several ways, the least of which is ensuring I wouldn’t be a suspect, should Will disappear or be found in another of the Ripper’s tableaus.

But I do resent it, with a strength that borders on fury.

I slam that particular door in my mind and force my heartrate back into a comfortable zone, chastising myself. This meeting is the culmination of what began a year ago on this day. I am now a friend of the FBI and privy to its secrets. Jack already said he’d show me the Chesapeake Ripper’s file, a scrapbook of my treasured memories.

“Will Graham. Meet Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He’s a friend of Alana Bloom’s. I asked him to join us today to look at this case – add another layer of insight.”

Will strips off his jacket, tossing it on one of Jack’s office chairs near the door. He fiddles with the collar of his shirt, deliberately not looking at me. How I long to see him in something that fits him well and wasn’t selected from Lands’ End or Eddie Bauer. His figure would be devastating in tailored trousers. Jack glances at me apologetically with a miniscule shrug. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Jack’s administrative assistant pops his head in. “Mr. Graham, can I get you a coffee?”

Black, with two sugar packets.

“Black,” Will says over his shoulder as he pauses in front of the board Jack’s assembled, surveying the bland faces of the victims. I’m sure they all would have made lovely real estate agents or business majors. “Sugar. Two of ‘em.”

The assistant returns with an ebony mug, placing it on the front of Jack’s desk in reaching distance from the empty chair that Will must soon occupy. Across from Jack and right next to me. As Jack begins the meeting, he takes the seat reluctantly after a time, unable to avoid proximity any longer. “I’ve filled Dr. Lecter in on the details, and your observations at the Nichols house. We were just getting to all the false confessions coming into the tip lines.”

“Maladjusted teens and the mentally ill,” Will grunts, emptying sugar packets into his mug and stirring them with the red plastic stick provided. “Influenced by the media coverage.”

I get to my feet just to pass behind him, get a lungful of his scent, clean and crisp like the woods around his home, carrying soft traces of his dogs and the remnants of engine grease under his fingernails. Delicious, now that I’ve gotten him to stop wearing that abominable aftershave. I lean toward the board, Jack at my side; I pretend to study the map and its connecting lines. I can feel Will’s eyes on me, burning into me with the heat of agonized betrayal. I’ve certainly knocked him off balance – good. “Tell me then, how many confessions?”

“Twelve dozen, last time I checked. None of them knew the details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew the details.” Jack resumes his seat. I stand at the board, looking at him, feeling the waves of irritation as they roll off Will like smoke. “Some genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nichols’ body with their phone and shared it with their friends. Then Freddie Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com.”

“Tasteless,” Will mutters half under his breath. He might mean Ms. Lounds’ journalism practices, but I think he’s referring to my surprise appearance at his place of work. Again, I feel the base satisfaction of having rattled him. Forcing him to reap what he’s sown, give him a taste of what I’ve endured — his own shame and discomfort transferring to me by proxy when he insisted we keep our affections secret, hiding them like our relationship was something rotten that needed to be buried, decomposing out of sight, out of mind.

“Do you have trouble with taste?” I ask, softly benign. My therapy voice. Will hates it.

“My thoughts are often not tasty.” I do love watching him squirm. But my enjoyment is clouded by sudden images of comforting Will in the wake of his bloody investigations, holding him through his suffering, waking him when I knew he was having nightmares so vivid they dampened our sheets with terror sweat.

“Nor mine. No effective barriers.” He knows this. I told him about Mischa. He’s the first person I’ve told, save Bedelia du Maurier. He doesn’t know that I ate her but understands how she was taken from me.

“I make forts.”

“Associations come quickly,” I say. This may appear to Jack like some brilliant on-the-spot psychoanalysis, but I know because Will’s told me his traumas in return.

“So do forts,” he insists, looking down into the sweet blackness of his coffee cup with a petulant little turn to his lip.

I continue to twist the knife. “Not fond of eye contact, are you?

Will turns to me. “Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don’t see enough.” As in, he’s scolding himself for not anticipating I’d do something like this. He looks directly at me now. “And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein?” Cheeky, yes, but also a jab – I did burst a vein in my left eye during our time at the cabin on the ranch in West Virginia due to a particularly powerful orgasm. He chided me then for my vanity as I lamented the bloody speck marring my sclera.

#hannigram #hannibal #fannibals #hannibal nbc #fannibal family #murder husbands #will graham #hannibal lecter

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mitzvahmelting · 11 months ago

Note

assuming that will's glasses aren't for correcting his eyesight, where do you think he got them from and when did he start wearing them?

Assuming that the glasses aren't for correcting his vision, then we have to consider why he's wearing them. One reason that's generally accepted in fandom is that he wears them like a shield between himself and others, to give himself some distance from their gazes. That's a vaild reason, but I would argue that it doesn't explain why he started wearing the glasses. Because it would be pretty strange to make the leap directly from "i'm uncomfortable looking into people's eyes" to "i should wear glasses!" Maybe he started wearing sunglasses to help with avoiding people's gazes and then, though the sunglasses weren't appropriate for a professional environment, he found that clear glasses served the same purpose?

But honestly, a more natural origin for the glasses would be that he was trying to lean into tropes about glasses-wearing people. In particular, he was aiming to look 1. more intelligent, and 2. less proximate to violence. (This is particularly relevant to him as a cis man. I don't think people would make the same unconscious judgement about a cis woman in the same situation. There's something about putting a man in glasses, and the stereotypes associated with glasses, that would subconsciously distance Will from the concept of violence in the minds of the people around him. It makes him seem less dangerous.) If changing the way people perceive him was the original purpose of the glasses, then the question becomes: when in the timeline did he start using them? Two major options come to mind.

One: he started wearing glasses when he went back to school. So after he got fired from the police force in New Orleans, he went back to school to study criminology, presumably getting a Master's degree in forensic entomology (which, after a quick google search, is a real thing that you can actually get a master's degree in! neat!) Either that, or he started wearing the glasses after he was out of school and had already been rejected from the FBI as a field agent. Like, once he knew that he would be teaching at Quantico, maybe he started wearing glasses (and neckties) to make him seem older and more specifically bookish, so that people wouldn't confuse him for a trainee. Two, and the option which appeals the most to me, is the possibility that he's been wearing non-prescription glasses on-and-off since grade school. Because picture this: you're Beau Graham (for the purposes of this tumblr post we will be going with the name Beau for Will's father.) It's the 80s. You're a single father and you're working crazy hours in the boatyard and you're barely putting food on the table. You travel seasonally to various lakes in the eastern US for work, and your poor kid is shuffled from public school to public school, all underpaid guidance counselors and administrative staff working to get Will situated in his new class in the middle of the school year. Meanwhile, Will isn't a perfect student. And with the amount of instability he's experiencing at home, it's no surprise that he's got some behavior issues. But you're Beau Graham, and you know how smart your son is, and you know that this brilliant, sensitive, unusual kid (who you already suspect is probably going to turn out gay, neurodivergent, feminine, or some combination of the three) will be torn apart by the world if a subpar school transcript keeps him out of college and stuck in the boatyards.

If these teachers look at Will, and they only see his secondhand clothes, his attention issues, his behavioral issues, his attitude issues.... they're gonna write him off. They're not going to be willing to put in the work to help him, and they're going to bring their preconceived notions about him when they grade his schoolwork. So Beau Graham puts his son in glasses. And that alone would make the comments on the report cards change: "Will still struggles with paying attention in class and showing respect to adults, but I can tell he's a bright kid and, when he's engaged in learning, he's a pleasure to have in class." or shit like that. Anything, anything to give him a boost. Those teachers would see that Will was a brilliant kid if they only gave him a chance, Beau thought, so he used the glasses to make sure they actually gave him that chance.

#hannibal meta #will graham #hannibal tv #long post #stereotypes #hannibal nbc

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dinner-and-a-show · 1 year ago

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I’m writing up a list of Hannibal fic aus, and adding another one-

Abigail Hobbs is the adopted daughter of Hannibal Lecter. Since she was five years old, and her dad, a patient of Lecter, dropped her off at his office then got caught by the FBI killing little girls that look just like her. She knows who her adopted father is, and has been asking to go on hunts for a few years now, but he says she still a little young. He’s a good parent, and they’re happy, but she can see Hannibal is lonely still, for an equal and not a ward.

So when she meets Will Graham for the first time, she’s excited. Her father is obviously smitten, although Will can’t see that. Then she hears his occupation, and it takes five minutes alone before she starts ribbing Hannibal for falling for an FBI agent. She scared, but she trusts him.

It works out, with Will keeping secrets and slotting into their family easily. Abigail is too old to see his as another dad, but he parents her pretty well, and helps her through some parts of her becoming that Hannibal is unprepared for, being so set in his way. It becomes an inside joke, a serial killer falling for an FBI agent, and she gives them both so much shit for it.

Until she goes away for university at 18, and comes back home with a new friend, Clarice Starling, who has no real family and wakes up crying in their shared room. She thinks Clarice might do well with a session from her adopted father.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannigram #will graham #hannibal nbc #abigail hobbs #clarice starling

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queen-of-deans-booty · 9 months ago

Text

Hibbing 911: Part Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: A case brings you all the way to South Dakota where Jody Mills and Donna Hanscum are. Jody has to remember not to mention that your kids are with her in fear of what you might do with that information.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

Donna walks over with two coffees in her hands.

"Agent Frehley? Agent Criss?"

"Hey, Sheriff Hanscum."

"I thought that was you! Well, ain't this a kick in the pants? What dragged you in?" she smiles.

"I'm gonna barf," you groan.

Sam and Dean put you behind them so they can deal with her.

"We can't really talk about it."

"Yeah. I hear ya. Anything I can help with?"

"No, nothing I can think of."

"Actually, Sheriff, I was thinking you and I could go check out the gear expo," Jody says.

"What about the morgue?"

"Like you said, animal control will handle that."

"Well, if it's cool with you, it's cool with me," she says reluctantly. "I did hear they're packing some pretty serious heat in there."

Donna and Jody leave your side, and you peek your head around Sam's shoulders.

"Don't hurt yourself while you're in there," you say sarcastically. Sam and Dean turn to you with bitch-face looks. "What?"

"One day. All we ask for is one day without smart-ass comments and jabs."

"What do I get if I behave?"

"I won't lock your ass up in the dungeon. How about that?" Dean asks.

"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time."

"I mean it. I will keep you in there like a caged animal."

"Fine," you roll your eyes, "but if someone comes at me, I'm coming at them."

Sam and Dean walk over to a group of cops by the coffee machine.

"Hey, there. Agents Criss, Frehley, and Dobson. We're looking for the sheriff of Hibbing."

"That'd be me," Sheriff Len Cuse says.

"We're here investigating the attacks over the last couple of nights. We're just wondering where you're at on that."

"The animal attacks?"

Len has a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead and you cross your arms to make yourself look intimidating.

"Wait, wait, wait. You're telling me the FBI's got nothing better to do?" Deputy Brice Graham chuckles.

"We go where the boss tells us to."

"To what, arrest a bobcat from Hibbing?"

You step past the brothers and practically get into this young man's face.

"Is there a problem?"

"No, there's no problem. You ain't the first Feds to roll through here and come up with nothing. Sure is cute to watch you try, though."

"Little boy with a big gun. What are you going to do with that?"

"Arrest real criminals unlike you who is going to arrest Bambi."

You take out your gun and make sure he sees the threat.

"It'd be such a shame if this went off with you standing in front of it," you threaten.

Dean pulls you back by your shoulders immediately while Sam steps forward to take over.

"Uh, Sheriff Cuse, we are just hoping there might be some surveillance footage of the attacks. Maybe a traffic camera caught something?"

"Right. No, sorry, I don't have a record of it," he stutters. "Speaking of, can you keep an eye on the expo for me, deputy? I got to check in with the guys at animal control. Agents, good to meet you. Uh, help yourself to a bear claw."

"Do you think the Sheriff is lying?" Sam asks once they're gone.

"Deputy Douche seems to think so," you roll your eyes.

"Alright, I'll go try and crack the police server. Maybe something showed up on surveillance."

"Sure, I'll go crack the deputy."

Sam leaves you and Dean alone, and you turn to your husband.

"I'm going to check out the weapons expo."

"Behave."

"Yes, mom," you roll your eyes.

You walk into the expo and admire all the weapons they have on display. Donna and Jody are looking at some of the guns on the opposite side of the room, and a very tall man approaches them from behind. His name tag says Doug, and you remember Donna saying she had an ex-husband named Doug who was a douchebag to her. You walk to a table a few down from them and listen in on their conversation.

"If you're trying to pull the wool over this one, you got the wrong girl. Sheriff Hanscum here is a wolf in sheepskin, right?" Doug chuckles.

"Thank you. Wolves are majestic creatures, but save your flattery for other female people."

You can tell she is uncomfortable with him.

"Right, Sheriff Goodhill. No. I mean, yeah, but we just met on Cufflinks. You know how that is."

"Cuff what?" Jody asks.

"Cufflinks! It's a dating site for cops. Are you on it, Donna?" Doug asks.

"Me? No. Not quite there yet."

"Oh, you still getting in date shape, huh?"

She frowns at his insult but tries to play it off.

"It's more like trying to get through the stuff on my DVR first."

Okay, you've heard enough. You walk over to Doug and tap him on the shoulder. He turns to you but you give him a deadly slap to the cheek. He is shocked at your behavior and staggers back from the impact. Donna and Jody are shocked into silence.

"You are a fucking lowlife and a shitty person if you treat Donna like that. No wonder she divorced you because I can't stand to be in the same room as you much less spend my life with you. Get the hell out of here."

"O-Oh, okay," Doug stutters.

"What the h-e-double hockey sticks, Y/N? Calling my ex a lowlife? Slapping him in the face?"

"What, like you were gonna do it?"

"What would be the point? We're divorced! Do you really think I'm gonna change him now?"

"Let me get this straight. You're going to let everyone walk over you like a fucking doormat forever? Is that it?"

"How about this? Until you've actually lost a husband, you keep your mouth zipped about mine."

You chuckle slightly and look down at the ground. Donna takes this as a sign that you're sad about losing your husband.

"My husband died."

"Oh. I'm sorry if--"

"Oh, don't worry about it. He came back as a dick."

"Okay? I'm going to get some air."

Donna leaves and you turn to Jody who can't believe the attitude you have.

"You had a husband, right?" you smirk. Jody's face hardens as she glares at you but she doesn't answer. "Didn't you have a son? Man, losing two people in one night. That's gotta hurt." Jody opens her mouth to say something but decides against it. "Cat got your tongue? Don't worry, I'm sure your son ate it along with your husband."

Dean picks the perfect time to walk inside the weapons expo where Deputy Douche is. You wink at Jody and leave her to cry on her own. He approaches Deputy Douche just as you join both their sides.

"Agents. Are you looking for some teenie-weenie handcuffs to slap on some paws?" he smirks.

"Are you looking for some teenie-weenie guns to stuff in your pockets or is that just your tiny dick?"

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot here, don't you, agent?" Dean asks and looks at you.

"No problem over here," you shrug.

"Listen, Deputy, this investigation that my partners and I are on is big. We're looking for some local help, someone who's not afraid to talk shop with the big boys back in D.C. Think that might be something you'd be interested in?"

"Might be," he smirks. "What can I do?"

"First of all, I'm gonna need you to be totally straight with me. Is there any footage of the attack? Anything?

"Sheriff Cuse changed the password on the server yesterday. It's got the live feed from the traffic camera across the street from where that first vic got attacked. When I went to go check the footage, the sheriff said he'd do it himself."

"Did he say why?"

"No. The sheriff's a straight shooter. I'm sure he had his reasons."

"I'm sure he did," Dean nods. "Alright, I appreciate the cooperation, Deputy, and when I need you, I'll come find you."

"Okay."

You leave the expo with Dean and head to the coffee station to grab yourself a cup. Jody is off on her own trying to calm herself down so Dean walks over to her.

"Animal attack, my ass. Have you seen Sheriff Cuse around?"

"No. How are you doing?"

"Me? Apart from some martial issues, I'm fantastic. Why?"

"The word around the campfire is you went off the rez a couple of months back."

"Is that right? Have you and Sam been passing notes during class? It's nothing I can't handle."

Jody looks past Dean at you who is stirring creamer into your coffee.

"She's gonna be back to normal, right?" Jody remembers what you said to her. "You'll get her back?"

"I'm working on it," Dean sighs.

"The Y/N I know would do anything to protect those around her. It's like that part of her is gone."

"That's because it is. Everything good about her is gone. She's walking around with all the bad parts. Sam was bad but not this bad, and I think it has something to do with the Mark. God, I should have never let her take it. I will pay for that, but you shouldn't have to. Jody, whatever she says to you, ignore it. It's only going to get worse so if you let her know that what what she says is affecting you, she's only going to do it more. Do not give her a reaction. Don't jab back because that will only piss her off and you're going to be the one that's hurt, not her."

"Okay," she nods.

Sam returns from looking at the cameras just as you finish with your coffee.

"I got something, I think. I hacked into the surveillance server but the files had been deleted."

"I thought you said that Sheriff Cuse was the only one who had access to those files," Jody says.

Donna comes rushing back inside with a fearful look in her eyes. She sees you and the brothers and tries to calm herself down.

"Jody, can we talk for a sec? Alone?"

"We'll go look around."

Donna takes Jody off to the side. Sam and Dean do their own thing but you follow after the two women because Donna is acting very suspicious. You're curious why. You pretend like you're looking at your phone but really, you're listening in.

"Listen, I want to apologize for what Y/N did. It was wrong. She's going through something right now but she shouldn't have done that."

"What? Oh. Yah. 'Quit being a doormat.' Yah. I hear ya, Jody. It's okay. We're okay. There's something else I can't quite wrap my head around. Do you ever think there are things out there that don't end up on the police blotter?"

"Can you give me some specifics?" Jody asks.

"I was kinda far away so maybe I didn't see it right, but what I think I saw... were teeth. It was Sheriff Cuse. I saw him standing over Sheriff Goodhill's body, and his mouth was full of shark teeth like some kind of..."

"Monster?" Jody finishes for her.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

"Not at all. Did he see you?"

"No. I hid like a chump. Do you really believe me?"

"Yeah. So, will those guys from the FBI."

"If you say so. Yesterday, I saw Cuse taking his stuff into a room down the hall from mine. Must have been 304."

Jody looks up and locks eyes with you. You smirk and leave the area to go find Sam and Dean. She knows you've overheard and will tell Sam and Dean so she doesn't have to. You find the brothers whispering to each other that stops when you show up.

"Donna saw a vampire. Sheriff Cuse is a vampire," you grin. "We need to check room 304."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester angst #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural angst #spn #supernatural series rewrite #supernatural season 10

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hayleythecannibal · 1 year ago

Text

Twisted Minds: Chapter Thirteen Savouruex

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Implied Death, Malpractice, Lying, Realization, Injuries, Gun Violence, Betrayal.

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 under the name @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

Taglist: @punkin-time @miaowkitty @gabriella-aesthetic @urlocalfanficwriter

Twisted Minds Masterlist

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

Will is in his bed, dawn light streaking through the windows. He looks drawn, ill, groggy.

The dogs are barking and he throws back the covers. To REVEAL his feet and legs are covered in dried mud which smears the bedclothes. The light hurts his eyes. Will is immediately concerned. A beautiful winter morning. Will shields his eyes on the porch as the dogs rush out barking. WINSTON stays by Will’s side. He looks down at him. Winston pushes his head under his hand. The others bark and mill. Something has them thrown, agitated. Will turns back inside.

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

The dogs fuss around Will as he heads for the SINK, and runs the tap good and cold. He drinks from the faucet. GRABS a bottle of aspirin and weighs four in his palm before swallowing them and then bending back to the faucet, feeling bad. He glugs water, sighing breathes between each swallow.

He straightens, wipes his mouth. AND THEN, with sudden violence, he RETCHES and HURLS into the sink. AND STARES. Lying in the sink, spotted with ASPIRIN is a grey, perfectly intact HUMAN EAR... Will STARES at it...

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

Will explodes off the porch and drops to his knees in the

yard. Retching and retching but nothing more comes.

He looks up. Around. Nothing. Whirls around. Woods all

Around. Will, his anxiety, his anguish, his fear...

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY -

Will sits on the porch. Shivering. Staring. Hannibal’s car pulls up and Hannibal gets out. Comes to Will. “I went to Minnesota. I took Abigail. We went to Minnesota. She didn’t come back with me.” Will says with this eerily calm and shaken voice. Hannibal is effectively feigning shock and concern.

“Show me.” He holds out as hand. Will looks at it, looks up at Hannibal and then takes it and stands. Hannibal ushers him inside.

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - DAY-

Hannibal wraps a blanket around Will. Sits him down. Through the KITCHEN DOORWAY, Hannibal stares at what is in the sink with stunned silence. Will sits in the living room, looking into middle-distance.

“I don’t remember going to bed last night. But I must have. Maybe I got up to let the dogs out and I…” Will says his face looking stressed and distraught. He knew he could so something like this. But he never thought he would, especially to someone he cares about. What will Y/N think? What will she Do? Will she still love me? “When did you last see Abigail?” Hannibal snaps Will out of his thought process but Will is still zoning out. “I woke up and my feet were muddy.” Will says softly and almost monotone.

“Will….When did you last see Abigail?” Hannibal says while slowly walking towards Will. “Yesterday. At her father’s cabin. I had an episode. She said something was wrong with me. She

was afraid of me. She ran away.” Will says softly. “What happened? Why was she afraid?”

“I hallucinated. I hallucinated that I killed her. But it wasn’t real. I know it wasn’t real.” He looks at Hannibal, desperate, terrified. Hannibal is saddened, concerned. He kneels next to Will

“Will, we have to call Jack Crawford. You can’t run from this. It will only make things worse. Get dressed.” Hannibal says reasonably and Will nods slowly.

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - ENCLOSED PATIO - DAY-

Hannibal stands patiently next to the door observing the PERIMETER FBI AGENTS and LOCAL POLICE have established. Among the FBI and ANIMAL SERVICES VEHICLES, we can see BRIAN ZELLER, BEVERLY KATZ and JIMMY PRICE patiently waiting.

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY-

JACK CRAWFORD stands with TWO FBI AGENTS, surrounded by the dogs. Will sits, still stunned, in his overstuffed chair. “What are we going to find when we go to Minnesota, Will?” Jack asks Will as he searches for an answer he doesn’t have, then admits: “I don’t know.”

Jack studies Will, his broken pony, then turns to an AGENT:

“Process him.”

WILL GRAHAM’S HOUSE - SLOWER MOTION - DAY -

as the door swings open revealing Hannibal Lecter still standing on the porch, a sadly stoic expression on his face. WILL GRAHAM He is in HANDCUFFS, the TWO FBI AGENTS at his side. Jack Crawford follows Will out, but stops on the porch with Hannibal Lecter. Jack nods to his team and the ANIMAL CONTROL OFFICERS and FBI AGENTS, including Zeller, Price and

Katz, get to work, picking up their gear.

WILL’S P.O.V.

Zeller, Price and Katz move into his home with EVIDENCE COLLECTION KITS, their expressions dour. They look at Will, then look away. Beverly looks back, making eye contact.

Will holds her gaze for a moment then has to look away. Will is marched across the front yard by the TWO FBI AGENTS. They lead him to an FBI VEHICLE. One of the Agents opens the

back door while the other Agent tucks Will’s head and pushes him into the back seat and shuts the door.

FBI AGENTS are removing EVIDENCE BOXES from his home. Two ANIMAL HANDLERS are leading the dogs out of the house on leashes. WINSTON breaks free and runs toward Will.

A HANDLER grabs Winston’s collar and drags him away towards the DOG VAN. Winston barks and whines, looking back at Will.

He watches in anguish as Winston is dragged off. And as the S.U.V. he’s in pulls away from his home, JACK CRAWFORD AND HANNIBAL LECTER Inside Will’s house behind them, FLASHBULBS going off as Will’s living room is turned into a CRIME SCENE.

F.B.I. S.U.V. - DAY-

Being driven away, Will leans his head against the window,

his home and dogs and life receding into the distance.

B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-

In t-shirt and boxers, WILL GRAHAM stands in the brightly-lit, sterile space on a white paper mat. Staring straight ahead. He hands his pants to Jimmy Price who bags them. His shirt and his right and left shoes are stacked on a nearby table in three separate, appropriately labelled evidence bags. His eyeglasses and watch are also bagged and tagged. Jimmy Price holds Will’s khakis with one gloved-hand and digs through the pockets with another. Zeller logs the evidence

next to an operational video camera. It is painfully awkward for them all. Will stares in silence.

“Right rear pocket. One leather wallet containing 17 dollars cash.”

“Right rear pocket. One leather wallet 17 dollars cash.” Jimmy dips a hand into another pants pocket. Removes KEYS. “Front left pocket. Key ring. Two keys. House and car.”

“Front left pocket. Key ring. Two keys. House and car.” Jimmy checks the other pocket. Finds a POCKET KNIFE. “Front right pocket. Folding knife.” He handles the small folded knife carefully, examining the knife handle, a smudged fingerprint in what might be blood.

“Front right pocket. Folding knife.” Zeller grabs a new evidence bag, drops the knife inside.

WILL is staring straight ahead under this. RED FALLING PARTICLES come into focus. Falling through the air like snow --

B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - LATER-

Will stands in his underwear alone with Beverly Katz, who is SCRAPING under his nails with a small tool. A dull red RESIDUE falls onto the white paper. They’ve both seen it often enough to know what it is. BLOOD. The file slides under his nail and the red flakes fall onto

the paper...He watches the dusting of blood fall from under his nail. Beverly is looking at Will. Struggling with the situation.

“I can’t do the silent treatment. I can’t pretend I don’t know you and I can’t pretend we don’t both know what I’m finding under your nails.” Beverly says as Will remains silent, in numb shock.

“You called me once because you didn’t trust yourself to know what was real. This blood is real, Will.” Beverly says with concern for her friend, she never thought he would do this. “I know.”

“Do you know how it got there?”

“Not with certainty, no.”

“Certainty comes from the evidence. I didn’t want to find any evidence on you. I wanted to be certain about who you are. But you can’t even be certain about yourself.” Beverly says with solace. “Not anymore.” Will says almost emotionless, Numb even, but really all he can think about is how this happened and what Y/N will do.

“If you weren’t certain about yourself, then you shouldn’t have been here. This is the FBI.” Beverly says very promptly. “I thought I would get better.”

“How long have you been lying about what’s going on with you?”

“I wasn’t lying –”

“You knew your state of mind. You should have recused yourself from any investigation. You were irresponsible and a girl is dead.” Beverly steps back from him. Angry with him. “However far over the edge you were leaning, I was hoping that you wouldn’t fall.” Will looks at her, hating this. Not wanting to face it. “You always said all you do is interpret the evidence. So do it,

Will. Interpret the evidence.”

“According to the evidence…” Will fights what he wants versus what he thinks. Finally --

a whispered, horrible realization.

“I killed Abigail Hobbs.” Will’s horrible admission… Tears forming and his voice shakes……. F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - DAY- Y/N on closer and closer onto her growing horror as she listens to Jack Crawford --“We analyzed the tissue. It matched Abigail Hobbs. It was her ear. Her blood was under Will’s fingernails. Scratches on his arms look like defensive wounds. She fought back –” Jack says.

“No. No. No. Shut up.” Y/N is struggling with this information, tears welling. She pushes them back. Finally she can’t hear another word. “Just stop talking.” It comes out more of as a plea as opposed to anything hostile. A long beat of silence, both of them stressed, neither of them above succumbing to the pressure of it.

““He won’t. Get too close.” You Told Alana you would cover him. You could see he was breaking.” Y/N says loudly, she just found out her surrogate daughter is dead, and her partner and Lover killed her. You would be upset as well. Well if you believed it. “Yes, I could. And I kept pushing him because he was saving lives.” Jack says Feeling for the woman in front of him. “Not Abigail Hobbs’ life.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you couldn’t see he was breaking.”

“Of course I could see it! Alana even told you not to put him out there.”

“Every decision I made about Will Graham’s mental health was under the advisement of a respected psychiatrist, who Alana Recommended.” Jack says as he glares at her pointedly.

“Hannibal had to know. He had to see something was wrong.” Y/N knew, she knew Hannibal saw something was wrong, he very clearly wasnt stupid, and he definetly wasnt one to shy away from something he could study.

“Not until it was too late. Just like the rest of us. Hannibal said Will was exhibiting signs of dementia.”

“Dementia isn’t a disease, it’s a symptom of disease. We have to find out what’s causing it and treat it.”Y/N exclaims, its an act, Will doesnt have dementia, this is something Y/N knows, she knows so much and speculates so much more but who can you trust when you know too much.

“The concern is that there may not be anything to treat. Will had a brain scan. They found nothing.” Did they? Did they find nothing or is that just what Hannibal told Will? “This started with Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

“Maybe Will did what Garret Jacob Hobbs couldn’t do. Kill his daughter.”

“Abigail’s blood is on all of us. And so is Will’s.” the weight of that responsibility hangs in the way...

FBI PARKING LOT - Y/N L/N’S CAR - DAY-

We HEAR a MUFFLED SCREAM coming from the inside of the vehicle until it FINDS Dr. Y/N L/N behind the wheel of her car, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles as

she lets out her frustration and anger and sadness.

B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY-

Will sits at a table in his jump suit. Y/N L/N ENTERS. She can’t hide her distress at seeing him this way. And he can’t hide his relief at seeing her walk through the door. “Hi.” he akwardly smiles, he hopes she still loves him. “Hi.” I say as i look at him, i dont believe he could have killed her, nor anyone else besides Garret Jacob Hobbs.

“You’re flushed. You been yelling?” Will notices, it makes me smirk. “Screaming is more like it.” I say with a raised eyebrow as I lean on the wall. “I could use a good scream. I can feel one. Perched under my chin.” Will says honestly, he would probably benefit from a good scream to be honest. “Let it out.” I say softly.

“I’m afraid if I started, I...wouldn’t be able to stop. I’m surprised Jack let you in here.

Given our romantic relationship.” Will says softly as his eyes traces my features as if he would forget them. “Jack doesn’t know about our romantic relationship. Didn’t know.” I sit down across from him and self-consciously glances at the two-way mirror. He slides his hand out, but catches himself and withdraws. Will glances selfconsciously at the two-way mirror.

“Been in touch with Animal Services. I’m going to pick up your dogs in a couple of hours. I’ll bring them back home with me and take care of them until... whenever.” I say softly and kindly, Of course i still love him, but i cant tell him that now, especially with Jack on the otherside of the mirror. “Are you sure? Whenever could be a long time from now.” Will says with suprise, “I’ll take care of them until then.”

“Thank you.”

“We have to do some tests. They’ll be the standard psychopathology tests. Thematic Apperception. Minnesota Multiphasic.” I explain, Im torn between wanting to be the one who does this and not the one. Because its hard to act like i do not care nor that i dont love the person that i have been through the most with.

“Suppose you’re going to ask me to draw a clock while you’re at it.” Will says with a amused chuckle, i meet his eyes with a confused expression. “Hannibal ask you to draw a clock?” I ask confused, if He has what i think he does, Hannibal’s gonna get an ear full. “Said it was an exercise to help ground me in a present moment. A handle to reality to hold onto.”

“Was the clock normal?”

“Would I be here if it wasn’t?” Now My interest is raised. My antenna humming. I pull out pen and paper and slides it across the table. I swear to god. “Draw me a clock please.” I ask nicely and i watch his hands. Will takes the pen and paper and starts to draw a CLOCK.

My anger and horror grows as i watch Will draw a clock with all of the numbers and hands stacked on one side. Dahli-esque. Just like he did before with Hannibal. Will turns the picture and slides it to me. “See. Just a normal clock. Telling the time isn’t my problem.” I look at Will with growing dread.

“It’s the least of your problems.” I knew it, just need a brain scan to confirm it. The truth of that weighs on us both.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - DAY-

We are TRACKING along the dark, empty hallway towards where light shines through from a window by the door. CLOSE and CLOSER to the FRONT DOOR. It OPENS to reveal two LOCAL COPS, guns at the ready. they make their way down the hall. One tries the LIGHT SWITCH but the power is dead. They move to the Kitchen doorway. They flash their flashlights, SCANNING the room. And the beams pick up splashes and sprays of BLOOD, slick black in

the shuttered gloom, turning red in the beams....The floor is covered in a pool of blood.

The TWO COPS hold on the charnel scene and stare...

B.A.U. - EVIDENCE PROCESSING - DAY-

Jack, Me, and Alana are with Zeller, Price and Katz. “Will was a fisherman. He tied all of his own lures.” Jack says to them. “Most anglers use feathers, twine, fur, bits of shell. Designing their flies to catch specific fish.” Jimmy says as he anaylzes the lure in his tweezers. Beverly displays a LURE --

“This one caught my eye. I noticed the hair color. Took me a few to accept what I was seeing. I ran a chem-set to confirm the connection.” Bev says as she looks at me with sadness, i can feel all of the deep emotions in the room. Its almost Overstimulating but i need to know everything to prove Will innocent, I know for a fact he didnt do this.

“What connection?” Alana asks confusedly, she was Just as angry with Jack as i am.

“Four of the lures are made from materials including human remains.” Bev says, well this keeps getting interesting. Alana is stunned. Jack Crawford has heard many strange things in his career, but this requires a beat to process.

“We have DNA matches on all of them.” Jimmy says grimmly, As Beverly explains, she displays her grisly discoveries – “This one is Cassie Boyle. Bits of bone fragments and pieces of lung. Marissa Schuur. Antler velvet, a fingernail, wound with her hair. Doctor Sutcliffe. Crushed teeth, soft tissue from inside his mouth, bound with cartilage from his jaw.” Bev says as she displays the different lures.

“All victims of the Copy Cat?”

“Other lure was made with hair and fiber matched to Georgia Madchen.”

“He kept trophies from his victims.”

“Trophies. Now Will Graham is a serial killer taking trophies?” Jack say incredously, he was in disbelief that any of this is happening. “Something is wrong with Will, physically, neurologically. He’s not a serial killer.” Alana says, she was also upset after i showed her the clock.

“Abigail’s just his latest victim. Must’ve been working together. She was probably going to expose him.” Zeller says in a tone that i do not like but i just stay leaned on the wall and watch and feel the comotion. Jimmy and Beverly glare at him but is unrepentant. “We let the fox into the chicken coop. And he played us all.” Zeller says and i glare at him.

Jack Crawford winces at that horrible possibility...

B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - DAY-

Will sits alone. A MUFFLED CLICKING SOUND can be heard. Faint, but getting LOUDER. Will looks to the TWO WAY MIRROR. The MUFFLED HOOF STEPS draw closer and closer. Will stands from the table and crosses to the MIRROR, cupping his hands to see through it. nothing. Just the dark reflection of his eyes. Then a SILHOUETTE rises from the darkness behind the mirror, as if made from it. The ANTLERED MAN, Will’s personal Devil. As Will shudders with horror...

B.A.U. - INTERROGATION ROOM - REALITY-

Will is sitting back at the table, staring absently at the TWO WAY MIRROR. He realizes not only did he not get up and cross to the mirror because of his shackles, but now…JACK CRAWFORD...is sitting opposite him, his face slack with worry. A tiny startle from Will. He was off in a nightmare when Jack walked into the room and sat opposite him. “You’re sick, Will.”

“I wasn’t consistent with taking my antibiotics. My fever came back.” Will admits, he knows Y/N and Hannibal would scold him for doing so. “We’re going to move you to a secure medical ward where we will find out what’s wrong with you. And get you the treatment you need.” Jack says with distaste, how could he be so blind he thought to himself. How could he let any of this happen?

“And then what? Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane? Have Chilton fumbling at my head?” Jack analyzes Will, hoping for any confirmation of something. “This job doesn’t generally lend itself to optimism. I desperately want to be optimistic about an alternative to what every fiber of evidence is telling me you did.”

“I can’t confess to something I don’t remember.” Will says, and why would he? For a lighter sentence? No, the courts and media will rake him across the coals. “Question is, how much more is there that you don’t remember? We found your fishing lures.” Jack says with a look.

“I should hope so. They were on my desk next to the front door.” Will says oblivious to what they found entwined in them. “We found human remains in the materials you used to make them. Cassie Boyle. Marissa Schuur. Donald Sutcliffe. Georgia Madchen. Will’s mind reels, he shakes his head, unable to accept what Jack Crawford is telling him. “No. I wasn’t sick when Cassie

Boyle was murdered. I wasn’t sick when Marissa Schuur was murdered.”

“That’s not an argument you want to be making right now. Not to me.” Jack says with a warning look. “Because then I’d be a psychopath.” Will says and his jaw clenches, “My biggest fear is learning you knew what you were doing all along.” Jack says as he looks into Will’s eyes and for once he doesn't avoid it.

“Don’t have to be afraid of that, Jack. But there is something you should be afraid of and that’s whoever is doing this to me.” Will says leaning closer. “Someone is doing this to you? Is that what this is? A set up?” Jack asks confused because Will has made some crazy claims but this- this is insane.

“They’ll be close to you. It could be someone here. Working with you. They know the cases. They know forensics. They know I’m unstable.” Will says, who is doing this? Certainly not Y/N. “Do you hear how paranoid you sound?” Will allows himself a sad smile, not believing what he’s about to say, but also not knowing what to believe.

“Or it could just be you. Then I’m pretty much screwed, aren’t I?” Jack’s heart breaking at the state of Will of mind...

F.B.I. - DAY-

Will, now in IRONS, is being shuffle-walked to an AMBULANCE by a PARAMEDIC and a GUARD. Jack looks on, despairing. Will looks out at Jack as he is stepped up into the

AMBULANCE. Hold their look till the doors slam closed.

AMBULANCE - DAY-

The moving ambulance. Will Graham is sitting back on the GURNEY. His CUFFS round the gurney rail and fastened. Will is watching the solitary GUARD opposite him. He glances away with trepidation, he knows what he has to do, but doesn’t want to do it. He steels himself.

Will looks down, takes a deep breath and CRACKS his thumbs out of joint. A horrible SHRIEK/GROAN of pain as he slides his broken hand from the cuff in one move. The GUARD looks up. Will turns on him with a mixture of malice, pain and regret. And lunges.

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY-

Hannibal stands with Jack and Me, mid-conversation.

“Broke his thumb getting out of the restraints. Disarmed his guard, threw him and the driver out of the vehicle. They found the ambulance in an alley in Dumfries. These are not the actions of an innocent man.” Jack says, sounds like what Able Gideon did when he went around killing his psychiatrists.

“They’re the actions of a man who is impaired. I had Will draw a clock to test for cognitive dysfunction.” I place Will’s DALI-ESQUE drawing of a clock on the desk. Hannibal reacts, very concerned. Like he didn't already know.

“That’s extreme.” He reaches for his notebook and opens it REVEALING the drawing Will made in his office. “This is the clock Will drew for me two weeks ago. It’s normal.” Bullshit.

“What disease progresses gradually but plateaus for lengths of time?” I raise my eyebrow as I pretend to buy his Bullshit. “Will has periods of clarity. We’ve seen him lucid and aware one moment and then the next moment he’s not.” Hannibal says looking me in the eyes.

“It has to be some form of encephalitis.” I say with a deep breath, I crack my knuckles individually without breaking contact with Hannibal.

“Autoimmune encephalitis. Body’s immune system attacks the brain as if it is itself an infection.” Hannibal says as he searches my eyes for something, i'm not sure what he's looking for but i'm sure he won't find it. “It’s hard to diagnose. There are no tumors. No lesions. Wouldn’t show up on a brain scan unless you knew you were looking for it.” I say, I know this is whats wrong with Will. But I also know someone is setting him up. Jack Crawford puts the train back on the tracks:

“Just tell me if he could’ve killed five people and not known about it.” Jack asks us. Neither I nor Hannibal can bring themselves to answer. “It’s unlikely.” Hannibal answers finally.

“Doesn’t feel like dementia. Feels like an intelligent psychopath. This killer called the Hobbs house, warned Abigail’s father. Hobbs then hung up the phone, killed his wife and cut his daughter’s throat.” Jack says but I just look at him with a sad look. “I and Dr. L/N were with Will that entire time.” Hannibal says, and i nod my head.

“Did he have an opportunity to make a phone call?” Jack asks, my eyebrows furrow, No….He didn't but- Hannibal did.

“At the construction site. Before we went to interview Garret Jacob Hobbs. Will was in the office

while I was outside loading the car with files, but he was only in there a minute or two.” Hannibal says as he looks at Jack to my face that's contorted with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw.

“Dumb luck and bad bookkeeping. It’s how Will said you and him caught Hobbs.

How would you say you two caught Hobbs?” He glances at me, as if to prepare me for what’s coming.

“We were looking through the files and it was as if Will plucked his name out of a hat, based on little more than an incomplete address.” Hannibal says as he studies my face. I shake my head,

“That’s what Me and Will do. We make those kinds of leaps.” I say with a bewildered look.

“Allow me to play the devil, Dr. L/N. This clock test. Would Will Graham know how to fake it?”

After a long moment, I finally answered. “Yes. But i know Will and he-”

I’m fighting the sad apparent “truth” of it all and realizing there's someone in the room that likes to play god... Y/N’S HOUSE - DAY-

I come through the door after WILL’S DOGS, holding them all on two group leashes. The dogs pull until…“Tssst.” The dogs focus.

“Sit.” The dogs obey. Except for one. “Everyone.” The final dog sits. Alana allows herself a small, sad smile as she unfastens each of their collars from the lead.

“Okay.” She gives them each a small treat. Y/N shrugs off her coat and drops her bag on the counter as the pack of dogs mill. She crosses to the REFRIGERATOR. Y/N Pours a glass of bourbon. The dogs follow her. She takes a deep sip and sighs. She rests against the counter as Winston cuddles at her feet. She’s exhausted. Just as she’s noticed the dogs have all trailed away...

“Y/N.” I STARTLE, dropping My glass of Bourbon. Will Graham is now standing in the room with me, the dogs milling about, sniffing and greeting him with wagging tails.“Please don’t scream.” Even if he didnt ask, i wouldn’t’ve screamed.

“Will…You can’t be here, I can’t harbor you. No matter how much I want to.” I say with concern, “I know. Just got a little confused. I needed to get my bearings. It’s good to see the dogs. Thought I wasn’t going to see them again. Or you.” He says as he squats and pets the dogs.

“I know you didn't do this, I know it. You didn't kill anyone other than Garret Jacob Hobbs.” I say softly, I know this, Hannibal knows this. Will would never, even in hallucination, hurt Abigail. Let alone Kill her.

“If I don’t find out who is doing this to me, I’ll be going away. They already think I did it.

They’ll diagnose me with something and they’ll keep diagnosing me and they’ll keep being wrong.” Will says as he shakes his head, and I agree. What's happening to him isnt mental. It's physical. And I know Hannibal knows it.

“I’ll work from the inside. I’ll figure it out honey, I'll do whatever it takes.” I say softly as I look at him. I do mean it. I will figure a way out for Will. I won't let anyone put him away. I won't let anyone take away his freedom. I'll give him the help he needs and I'll make sure justice is served.

“I love you.” He walks towards me slowly, takes my face in his hands and kisses me softly. My breathing hitches as i kiss him back my hands going into his soft hair. I pull away. “I love you.” I say and I lean towards him, my mouth at his ear, “I’m gonna flash the lights of my car, I’m gonna pretend to be frightened. I’m not gonna stop til I figure out who did this to you.” I whisper in his ear and pull away, becoming the character I need to play. Will smiles at me and takes the car keys, sad and disappointed. He considers them a moment, then hands them back to me.

“You were pretty slick about that. You just unlocked your car doors, didn’t you? Flashed the lights? They’ll be waiting for me outside.” Will says in a dark tone, getting into the character he needs to play, though he plays it a little too well. “If there was somebody out there, wouldn’t they already be coming through the door?” I say shakily,taking a shaky step back. “No, they wouldn’t. Because they know I could kill you before they got up those stairs.”

The reality of that hangs in the air, then:

“Goodbye, Y/N.” He quietly moves toward the back door, disappearing down the hall. I wait there for a moment, afraid to move. I realize she stopped breathing and takes a jagged breath.

OFF that moment...

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - DAY-

Hannibal works at his desk in his darkened office. Then: “Hello, Will. How are you feeling?” REVEAL Will is up on the landing, tucked in the corner. “Self aware.”

“You frightened Y/N.” Hannibal says concerned for her. “She’s confused about who I am, which I can relate to. Are you confused about who I am?” Will asks as he stares off into space. “I’m not confused. I’m skeptical. Meaning I’m willing to change my mind should the evidence change.” Hannibal says as he stands from his desk.

“Do you believe I killed Abigail?” Will asks as he looks down into Hannibal's eyes.

“I believe it’s entirely possible, if not nearly indisputable based on how you discovered her ear.” Hannibal say as he maintains eye contact. “If it was just Abigail, I would have believed. I would have believed I got so far inside Hobbs’ head, I couldn’t get out.” Will says softly. “But it wasn’t just Abigail.”

“I know who I am.” Will says surely.

“All sense of who you are has been distorted by your illness. You know who you are in this moment. That isn’t always the case.” Hannibal says to him. “I didn’t kill any of them. Someone is making sure no one believes me.” Hannibal sighs, debating how to best help his friend.

“If we’re to prove you didn’t commit these murders, perhaps we should consider how you could have. And then disprove that.”

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - THERAPY - LATER-

Will sits opposite Hannibal, a session like any other save for the fact that Will is wearing a prison jumpsuit.

“If you are this killer, that identity runs through these events like a thread through pearls. Cassie Boyle would have been your first victim. You said her crime scene was practically gift wrapped.” the crime scene in the darkened shadows of the room as if in the recesses of Will’s mind: CASSIE BOYLE MOUNTED ON THE STAG HEAD, all of it PAINTED BLACK.

WILL GRAHAM

“It told me and Y/N everything we needed to know to catch Garret Jacob Hobbs.” As Hannibal speaks, Will can see out of the corner of his eye, movement near the crime scene, A SEPARATE AND DISTINCT DARK SHAPE with ANTLERS, prowling near Cassie Boyle’s body.

“You’d seen one of Hobbs’ victims, you knew how he killed. You may have been exploring how he killed to better understand who he was.”

“I wasn’t in Minnesota when Cassie Boyle was murdered.”

“She disappeared on a Saturday. Found her on a Monday. You would’ve had the weekend to do your work.”

“I know I didn’t kill her.”

“How do you know?” Will’s mind spins for an answer. Hannibal doesn’t allow him to articulate it, continuing to draw a psychological picture

as another crime scene in the room: MARISSA SCHUUR MOUNTED ON ANTLERS, all of it PAINTED BLACK.

“What did you think when you first met Marissa Schuur? How much like Abigail she was? Same height, same weight, same hair color, same age.”

“How could I resist?” The BLACK ANTLERS around Marissa Schuur move REVEALING the INHUMAN SILHOUETTE of the DARK SHAPE, only now it becomes clear it is the MAN STAG that haunted Will’s nightmare. “So much like his daughter, you may have wondered why Garret Jacob Hobbs didn’t kill her himself.” Will fights the confusion, sickened by it. another crime scene behind Hannibal’s desk: DR. SUTCLIFFE NEARLY DECAPITATED AT THE JAW. PAINTED BLACK.

“Dr. Sutcliffe wasn’t killed how Garret Jacob Hobbs killed. He was murdered how you imagined yourself murdering a woman only days before.”

“How Georgia Madchen killed. She said she dreamt I killed Sutcliffe. But she couldn’t see my face. And then she was murdered.”

“You catch these killers, Will, by getting into their heads, but you also let them into yours.”

BLACK ANTLERS rise in the darkness behind Hannibal, the MAN STAG taking shape from the shadow. It has Hannibal’s face. Will winces at the image in his head, shaking it off. “I’m trying to help you, Will.”

“Then take me back to Minnesota. I want to see where Abigail died.” OFF Will’s determination...

HANNIBAL’S CAR - NIGHT-

Hannibal drives, windshield wipers thumping rhythmically as rolls RAIN off in sheets. He glances over at Will Graham who dozes fitfully in the passenger seat.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - DAY-

Hannibal’s BENTLEY pulls into the driveway, Hannibal behind the wheel. Will Graham in the passenger seat. Hannibal and Will get out of the car and head into the house. Even though the car has been turned off, the PURR OF THE BENTLEY’S ENGINE continues to haunt Will beneath the PICTURE and carry on into and throughout the next scene.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - FOYER - DAY-

Will ENTERS. He walks cautiously down the hall, Hannibal no longer behind him. He walks into:

THE KITCHEN Breakfast time. LOUISE HOBBS is cooking eggs, Garret Jacob Hobbs helping her prep. Abigail sets the table. It’s the moment before everything in Abigail Hobbs’ life changed.

Will Graham stands in the room, watching the scene. The phone RINGS. It startles Will. A sense of dread as Abigail crosses to the phone and answers it. “Hello? Just a second. Dad, it’s for you.”

“Who is it?”

“Caller i.d. said it was blocked.” She hands her father the phone and as he raises it to his

Ear, GARRET JACOB HOBBS is NOW WILL GRAHAM. Will puts the receiver to his ear. The pervasive purr of Hannibal’s Bently engine suddenly stops. “Hello?”

“Will?”

“Yes.”

“We’re here –”

He opens his eyes.

HANNIBAL’S CAR - NIGHT-

Hannibal sits in the driver’s seat; we can still hear the carCOOLING and PINGING. Will takes a deep breath and heaves a sigh as he OPENS HIS CAR DOOR and climbs out.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - BASEMENT - NIGHT-

The SLIDING GLASS DOOR slowly ROLLS OPEN and Will and Hannibal ENTER. They move cautiously through the room. Will turns and sees Hannibal standing behind him, a familiarity to

their placement in the room takes us to...

Will stands where he is now, Hannibal in the same position, only Y/N, Alana and Abigail are also present. Abigail asks: “Are we going to re-enact the crime? You be my dad. You be my mom. And you be the man on the phone.” Hannibal is caught off guard. More so by Abigail’s steely nonchalant stare that follows her comment.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - BASEMENT - RESUMING-

Realization dawning, Will dares to stare at Hannibal only briefly before averting his eyes and turning away. “Are we going to re-enact the crime?”

“If it would help you.”

“It may come to that.” Will shrinks into the shadows of the house. Hannibal follows.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - FOYER - NIGHT-

The house is cold. Will and Hannibal climb the stairs to the main floor. Will pauses, bracing himself, as he moves into: THE KITCHEN. the Kitchen is empty. Blood stains everywhere. A processed crime scene. Forensic markers etc.

Will STARES – Steps into the room. He bows his head, his face crumpled with emotion. He takes a breath and then looks up again. “It’s as if Abigail was supposed to die in this kitchen. Nothing we did was able to change that.” Hannibal is as horrified by the room as Will, feigning as though he is seeing it for the first time. Will looks at the ARTERIAL SPRAY on the wall, deeply saddened.

“Her throat was cut. She lost great gouts of blood and there’s an unmistakable arterial spray –”

He stops himself, unable to speak for a moment. “They haven’t found her body.”

“Just the one piece.”

“If you were in Garret Jacob Hobbs’ frame of mind when you killed her, they may never find her body.”

“Cause I honored every part of her?” Will says as he turns around and looks at him. “Perhaps you didn’t come here looking for a killer. Perhaps you came here to find yourself. You

killed a man in this very room.”

“I stared at Hobbs and the space opposite me assumed the shape of a man filled with dark and swarming flies. And then I scattered them.” Will says as he puts his hand into his jacket pocket. “At a time when other men first see and fear their isolation, yours has become understandable to you. You are alone because you are unique.”

“I’m as alone as you are.”

“If you followed the urges you kept down for so long, cultivated themas the inspirations they are, you’d become someone other than yourself.” Hannibal remarks as he gazes at the mural of blood spray.

“I know who I am. I’m not so sure I know who you are anymore. But I am certain one of us killed Abigail.” Will raises his gun and steadies it at Hannibal. “Are you a killer, Will? You. Right now. This man in front of me. Is this who you really are?”

“You called here that morning. Abigail knew. You kept her secrets until she found out some of yours.” Hannibal eyes the gun in Will’s hand. “You said it felt good to kill Garret Jacob Hobbs, Will. Would it feel good to kill me now?”

“Garret Jacob Hobbs was a murderer. Are you a murderer, Dr. Lecter?”

“What reason would I have?”

“You have no traceable motive, which is why you were so hard to see. You were just curious what I would do. What Y/N would do. Someone like me. Someone like Her. Someone who thinks how we think. Wind them up and watch them go. Apparently, Dr. Lecter, this is how I go.”

Betrayed and confused, Will’s finger tenses on the trigger.

Jack Crawford ENTERS, gun drawn, sees Will is preparing to shoot Hannibal, and in a terrible re-enactment, SHOOTS WILL. BLAM! A bullet slams into Will’s shoulder and he is knocked against the counter, slides down it. Right where Garret Jacob Hobbs died. Blood flecks Hannibal’s face and shirt. Jack comes forward, still holding his smoking weapon. He kicks the gun from Will’s loose fingers. Looks down at the bleeding Will with anguish. Will looks up at Jack and Hannibal. Will holds Jack’s gaze. “See? See?” His vision begins to dim and LOSE FOCUS, as it does HANNIBAL BLURS AND SHIFTS into the BLACKENED MAN STAG, and we...

HOBBS RESIDENCE - NIGHT-

The gurney is being moved to an ambulance by PARAMEDICS. Jack Crawford is moving behind it, concerned. They take us past - HANNIBAL LECTER, who watches Will being put in the ambulance. Flecks of blood still on his face... the gurney is rushed into the ambulance and the doors are pulled closed on Jack Crawford. The ambulance pulls away, lights flashing. Leaving Jack to watch it go and then he turns to Hannibal. Their eyes meet.

HOSPITAL - ER - NIGHT-

As an ER team work on Will, his clothes have been pulled away. A DOCTOR is cleaning the BULLET WOUND in his shoulder. The wound is ugly and red. a blood bag goes up on a stand. A needle is slid into the crook of Will’s elbow. Monitoring machines start to bleep. A bloom of BLOOD in the barrel of an I/V needle as Will is injected with drugs. Another I/V bag - antibiotics, slid into his other arm. from the foot of the bed. Will Graham, unconscious, drips and drugs and machines working on his behalf… Sleeps. In a hospital bed. Wired up to drips and monitors.

HOSPITAL - WILL GRAHAM’S ROOM - DAY-

Down the corridor and into Will’s room. Will Graham unconscious in the bed. Two chairs

pulled up by the bed. Hannibal sits in one, eyes on Will. He looks up as Jack enters. Jack takes the other seat. “Right hemisphere of his brain was inflamed. Been placed in an induced sleep. He’s being treated with antiviral and steroid therapies.”

“Is he responding?”

“More or less. He’s expected to make a substantial recovery. Over time.” Hannibal looks at Will in his comatose state, then asks: “Would you have gone to Minnesota if he didn’t have a gun on you?” Jack asks Hannibal as he gazes upon Will who has the feelings of Betrayal dripping from the very essence of his soul. “Even now I feel that I’ve failed to satisfy my obligation to Will.”

“Any regrets?”

“More than I would care to admit. Psychiatrists can have divided loyalties. We have to protect our patients from becoming victims of the pressures we face to help them.” Hannibal says as he sits with the fact that Will does not trust him anymore. “Will Graham isn’t your victim.”

“Nor is he yours.” Jack considers that, not so sure it’s the case. “In my life, I’ve seen some hideous and offhanded ways in which the world breaks people. This is worse than anything I’ve seen on the autopsy scales. What I experienced with Will Graham has caused in me a small tectonic shift. I am not the same man I was yesterday.” Jack says.

“No one in this room is.” Hannibal studies Jack Crawford’s regret as B.S.H.C.I. - CELL BLOCK - DAY-

The cave-like cell on the high security block. The security gate opens and Hannibal Lecter steps inside. He stops and takes in the surroundings. The smells. Straightens his tie. Hannibal walks down the block, aware of the inmates. He continues down the corridor until it finds the last cell on the block REVEALING WILL GRAHAM INSIDE. He wears a B.S.H.C.I. jumpsuit. His cell bare except for bed and table. They appraise each other through the safety barrier.

“Hello, Will.”

“Hello...Dr. Lecter.”

#hannigram #hannibal nbc #fem!reader #hannibal x reader #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader #twistedminds

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