#will graham x child!reader

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

Stalking

Hannigram x teen!reader

Summary: On their walk home, Y/N decides to help a cute couple with directions to a nearby hotel. However, this act of kindness is proof that what goes around does not come back around.

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

The bus screeched to a halt on an empty back road less than a mile away from your house. Your shift was finally done and you could relax until the cycle repeated tomorrow. A meek ‘thank you’ slipped from your mouth as you walked off the bus, a small smile on your lips as you turned your music up.

Gently bopping your head to the tune, you made your way across the road, lifting a hand to silently thank the car that had stopped to let you cross. The clouds slowly drifted across the navy sky, small specks of light tucked themselves behind the clouds then peeked back out as the obstructions moved along. The moon shone down and illuminated the wide road and dusty trail you stood on, the outlines of trees cast onto the ground below you.

God, it was beautiful.

Despite how eerie it was, it was beautiful.

The road seemed calm tonight, usually it was busy because it was a way to get to the city you just came from. Not tonight.

Thank god.

As you continued to walk down the path, cars whizzing past you at a million miles per hour, you couldn’t help but feel a small creeping sensation that something was wrong.

Something was going to be wrong.

But, for some strange reason, you ignored it. Why you ignored, you had no idea why you did, but you did.

You kicked up dirt as you walked, loving the way it looked on the ground, dancing in the gentle breeze. That gut feeling plagued you, growing more and more until-

“Hi, excuse me?”

A soft voice made you peel off your headphones, letting them fall to your neck, and look over to the road. You planted your feet and settled your eyes on the man who was still rolling down his car window.

You stepped slightly closer and put your hands in your pockets. “Can I help you, sir?”

The man was thin and pale, his features hardly in the poor light of the car. The man wore a flannel shirt and dark jeans, a brown belt holding them up. He had brown, curly hair that draped over his forehead, he had a button nose and slightly stubble. The man cleared his throat and gave a small smile, “Me and my husband were wondering if you could give us directions to hotel…hotel…Hannibal, what was the hotels name again?” The man turned to the man sat beside him.

“Cecilia. Hotel Cecilia.” The man’s husband, Hannibal, gave a thin lipped smile as he spoke to his partner. His husband looked older than him, not by a lot but enough to see the difference. He had mostly grey hair with spots of brown sprinkled about, his eyes were a hazel colour, his nose arched up in the middle but it suited him. He wore a clearly rich and tailored suit; red with a black pattern stitched into it, a black shirt and a red tie.

You listened as the man thanked his husband and turned back to you. Thinking as fast as you could, you tried to remember the way there. Then it clicked. A gentle grin slipped onto your lips as you spoke, watching the man in the drivers seat take a mental note of everything you had said. As you stopped, you looked back at the road, the headlights were the only thing stopping the inky blackness from enveloping the car and you. It was going to be such a trek and your parents wanted you home by ten.

“Thank you so so much.” The man said, “We would’ve used our phones but they’ve both gone and died, thanks to our luck.”

You chuckled along with the man’s slight attempt at a joke. “It’s no problem, I’m happy to help.”

A few thoughts ran through the man’s mind before he stopped thinking and said the first thing we could think of:

“Do you want a ride?”

That feeling crept up your spine, making you feel queasy. As nice as it was for him to ask it was still odd. You didn’t know them, they didn’t know you. “It’s fine, my house isn’t too far-“

“We insist. We would be lost without you.” The husband chimed in. “And, it is getting late, your parents would want you home, wouldn’t they?”

That feeling in your stomach reached the back of your throat, urging you to turn and run. For once, you decided to trust your gut feeling-

“Thank you but I’m alright.” Politely, you stepped away from the car and turned to keep walking. The men shared a look then looked back at you as you began to walk away.

You heard the engine stall before starting, then they took off down the road and that was the last you saw of them.

~~~

Around twenty minutes later, your trail lead you in front of a gas station. The neon lights from each sign shone onto the bleak road, painting it in hues of orange, green and white. The pale light reflected off of car windows and side view mirrors, hitting your eyes sharply.

You hadn’t drank anything in a while, plus you would have to wait an extra ten minutes to heat up your dinner when you got back home so what’s the big deal with a quick snack stop?Glancing away, you tried to check for oncoming cars and, luckily, there was nothing. Then you crossed the gravel, eventually reaching entrance to the gas station.

A satisfying ding announced your arrival to the pimply clerk behind the counter who gave you a less than enthusiastic look. Ignoring him, you browsed the aisles, trying to find anything that would be easy to eat and drink on the go. You swore to yourself; no sandwiches, no fiddly wrappers or bottle caps, just easy to open things.

Needing to keep yourself awake, you bought yourself an energy drink then you made your way over to the snack aisle which stood in front of the main entrance. As you scanned over your options, the bright, white headlights outside blinded you. Although it was a minor inconvenience, you scowled at the car, still unable to see who was driving, and internally swore at them for their accidental action.

After finally deciding on a snack, you walked over to the counter and placed your things down. You slipped your headphones down and around your neck, music paused, casting an odd silence which was subtly interrupted by the radio station which echoed from the broken speakers.

The cashier huffed and scanned the items slowly, as if even the thought of doing his job was strenuous. Your eyes wandered back out the window, tuning out the cashier slightly as your eyes scanned over the few cars that were refuelling, one was the car those two men had driven earlier.

That’s odd.

Didn’t they go flying up the road? How were they here at the same time as you if they did?

The clicking of the cashier’s fingers snapped you back to reality. “Sorry.” You mumbled halfheartedly, scrambling to grab the money from your pocket. In the midst of the scramble, you tried to pick up your drink, only for it to fall and burst on the floor. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, d’you want me to-“

The cashier sighed loudly, “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it.” Then he walked to the back, returning with a wet floor sign in hand. You listened subtly as an array of swears left his lips as he slammed the sign onto the floor and trudged over to the drink aisle, grabbing another of the same drink for you.

As this happened, and while your mind was distant from your body, the same satisfying ding rung out again. When your mind finally snapped back, you registered that someone had walked in and you glanced over your shoulder.

Then you saw them.

The two men were tall, taller than you thought and taller than you by a mile.

When you realised you were staring, your head whipped back around to the counter, fingers rhythmically tapped against the cool, grey countertop.

As the cashier you had walked back over, another from the back room walked out to help the two men. The moved to the counter beside you, only paying for a bottle of water and their gas. The cashier helping you handed the new drink to you, a forced smile plastered on their face. A small thank you left your lips as you turned and left, avoiding the men at the counter.

The cold night air enveloped you, an unwelcome sensation slivering up your spine. You glanced over your shoulder and watched as the two men walked out the gas station, their silhouettes ominously still, the light from the gas station surrounding them entirely, making them appear ethereal.

That sinking feeling slipped down your throat once again, making you start walking faster. The headlights from the car slowly trailed behind you before catching up and going just fast enough to keep you in the rear view mirror.

Maybe you were just paranoid? Who knows. At this point you were not willing to see if your gut feeling was true.

~

Your feet carried you for another fifteen minutes, leaving you with only fifteen more until you reached the safe warmth of your home and the welcoming embrace of your parents.

The turn for your road came eventually, just a small dirt path off the side of the road with pine trees boxing in each side of the road. Quickly, you made the turn, gazing over your shoulder to see if the car had kept driving.

It did.

Despite the relief you felt, that underlying tone of worry had settled in the pit of your stomach. This refused to let you calm, keeping you in a horrible fight or flight state.

As you walked down the road wearily. Your headphones stayed on, helping you tune out some fear you had. Although this worked for a while, the feeling of being watched slipped into the back of your mind. You pushed that thought down, reminding yourself you had ten minutes left until you were home, until you were safe. As hard as you tried, nothing could keep this feeling down.

Suddenly, as if out of your control, you whipped your head around. Your face dropped.

There, following you from behind, was that car, it’s headlights turned off. You hadn’t heard the engine over your music. Then the car stopped, your heart sank. Their doors opened and the men stepped out, slowly making their way over to you cautiously, as if trying to keep an animal calm. Every step the men took was calculated, deciding what would keep you from freaking out and doing something drastic.

Nothing could at this point.

You took off down the road, leaping over potholes and racing through puddles. Your clothes were ruined and you were freezing.

With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, your legs moving as fast as they could. The sound of the men’s footsteps grew louder amongst the sounds of the forest which, despite being a few feet away, sounded so distant over the sound of your heart. Your eyes moved down to your phone screen, hands racing to dial your parents or 911.

In a blur, your phone flew from your hand as your shoe caught on a rock in the road, sending you flying onto your front. You lay there for a minute, your head spinning as you thought about everything. In an instant, you snapped back, getting to your feet, ignoring the stinging pain from your knee.

From then on, you staggered down the road, your injured knee making it neatly impossible to run. That would be your demise.

The heavy weight of a blunt object, you assumed to be a crowbar, smacked against the side of your head, knocking you to the floor and leaving you partially unconscious. The immense feeling of dread spilled up and went out your eyes. Tears flowed down your flushed cheeks as the man got up and flung you into his arms, holding you against his chest, his firm hands cracking your head as if it were fine china.

“Will,” the man spoke, his voice smooth due to his prominent accent, “do you believe they will suffice?”

The other man, Will, paused and walked over, tracing a gentle hand over your face, his palm lingering on your chin as he began to brush away stray tears. “Certainly more flighty than the last one but we can deal with that later, wouldn’t want our child escaping us first thing.”

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

Finished Saturday October 5th 2024, 03:14.

5/10/24

[a-small-safe-place]

New Addition

Platonic!Yandere Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham w/ Child!Reader

You knocked on the door of the large house Hannibal had picked out for him and Will to live in. It was out of the way from the town, so it was odd to receive a knock. Luckily, it was Will that answered rather than Hannibal. The other kids in town said the men who lived in this house liked to kidnap badly behaving girls and boys and eat them up like the witch in Hansel and Gretel. But this man didn’t seem scary. He seemed nice as he scolded their dogs for running out of the house.

“Hello, mister, I’m selling chocolate-covered pretzel sticks for my school and wanted to see if you would like to buy one?” You asked, trying to sound confident but sounding shaky instead. He didn’t seem to mind; he seemed happy you were there. “I happen to love chocolate-covered pretzels, but my husband thinks they are too simple to be a good treat. Let’s see what flavors you have.” He begins looking through the flavors you brought when his husband, Hannibal, silently walks up behind the other man. “Who is this?” He asks Will.

“Oh, this is… uh…” You stop him and introduce yourself and again explain why you are there. “This is quite a ways away from the town; surely you did not walk all the way here.” Hannibal questions. “No, sir, I rode my bike. I knew there were a few houses out this way, and I was determined to visit.”

Your determination pleases Hannibal but slightly concerns him. You’re an innocent child. You can’t be out riding your bike on these secluded roads. Will quits digging in the pretzel box, “I have to go get dog food anyway; I could bring you back to town. We will take the whole box of your pretzels since you came all this way out here.” Hannibal seems mildly annoyed by this. You remember that Will said Hannibal thinks they are too simple. Will leaves you alone with Hannibal to grab some cash. “Would you like to step inside? You’ll get sick out there.” Hannibal asks. You gratefully step in. “Your home is pretty.” You observe, earning a soft approving smile from Hannibal.

“Thank you, not many people your age appreciate style. Though you don’t seem like many people your age.” After he finishes talking, you try to stay quiet, and finally, Will returns, giving you the money for your entire box of pretzels. “Now I’m heading into town; would you like a ride?” Will offers. “Yes, please.” You tell him.

The ride back is quiet until he begins to talk. “Most kids avoid our house for their fundraisers. Do you know why?” You glance nervously, “I think it’s just too far.” It’s an obvious lie. “You don’t have to worry about being polite. I know there’s probably a crazy rumor about Hannibal and me.” You stay silent, but the silence is too loud to handle, “All the kids think you and Dr. Lecter like to kidnap and girls and boys and eat them up like the witch in Hansel and Gretel.”

“Well, maybe that’s why I needed all those sweet pretzels, so Dr. Lecter and I could finish building our cottage made of candy.” He seems a little sad at the revelation of this rumor. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said anything.” He smiles and says, “Don’t worry about it. You could make it up to me by telling me how this rumor got started.”

“One of the boys that graduated high school last year told his little brother that he broke into your home on a dare and found human meat in the freezer, but he couldn’t go to the police because he was trespassing and he was high.” You finish explaining. Will smiles a bit, but it has a nervous edge this time, “Do you think we eat bad girls and boys?” You think about it, “no, because you had a bunch of times where you could have killed and eaten me.”

“Are you a bad kid?” Will asks teasingly. “I don’t know. I get in trouble sometimes. My house is in town away, in a trailer park.” Will knew which trailer park. It was “the bad part of town” he knew because he saw the crime statistics for that area and the number of times the cops are called out there. He had seen them the few times he and Hannibal helped with the local law. Hannibal had gotten close with the town’s political figures, and Will had basically been made into an honorary detective with the law enforcement. This town was corrupt to its core, but it was away from the prying eyes of the FBI, and it’s the only place Hannibal and Will could agree on geographically. Will’s only stipulation was that there were good places to fish.

Eventually, you make it to the trailer. Will waits until you make it inside. He cannot help but think about Abigail. He could have had a potential family with Hannibal if things had gone correctly. He was happy with Hannibal and the dogs, but something about you made him want more.

Weeks pass, and he does not bring the topic up to Hannibal. Little did he know Hannibal had been keeping an extra close eye on you. He did it under the guise of getting more pretzels for Will and then special ordering one of the unique flavors that you did not have so he could come back around to "check on the order." Will finds this all out when you see him in the store and give him the order Hannibal had placed.

"That kid from the other day gave me the order you placed," Will says placing the box on the table. "I thought you hated junk food."

"I do; they were a surprise for you. You seem to have taken a liking to the child." Hannibal observes. "They're a good kid. They kind of remind me of Abigail." The room becomes silent for a second too long. Hannibal hates it when Will brings up Abigail. "You seem to like the kid too. You went out of your way to find them to order the pretzels when there were plenty of easier options to order from." Hannibal knows he has been caught.

"They're a well-behaved child, very polite. Like Abigail." Hannibal says somewhat pointedly. "Have you thought about us expanding our family? Not with another dog, but with a human?" Hannibal asks before Will has time to respond to the first statement.

"I hadn't, and then that kid came knocking at the door, and since then, it is all I can think about. But I don't want any kid. Our kid from the trailer park seems to be the best fit; it has to be them." Will explains, hoping that Hannibal will understand.

"Then so be it; they will be our child for us to protect," Hannibal says as if this is a normal conversation.

As the two men begin to work on a plan to add you to their family, their fatherly love for you grows more into fatherly obsession. You're their kid; no one gets to hurt you. Once you're safe and comfortable in their home, no one but them will get to be around you until they know you love them just as much. Hannibal wastes no time putting your room together with all of your favorite things. They were going to make your room the same way it is in the trailer until Hannibal saw the state of your room and became disgusted by the idea of that kind of room being in his expensive house.

Will tries to make a plan to make your transition to their house easier. He finds all kinds of games and activities you are sure to love, even the ones that Hannibal is convinced are bad for your growing brain.

[semiweirdshipper]

Slashers as fathers with a child/reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile. (If you wanna ship Hannibal and Will together or view them as just friends, it's completely up to you).

Summary: The slasher fathers comforting their child/reader after they just got home from surgery.

Some of you are probably thinking "really, Weirdo? This is gonna be a thing now?" And my answer is absolutely! Hey, when you grow up in a rough environment, some times you just wanna immerse yourself into a reality where you're innocent, happy, safe, accepted and loved. And so thus I present these fatherly slasher drabbles. I hope they bring you peace and happiness.

Freddy

After you got home from your surgery, Freddy hadn't been prepared for just how emotional and clingy you would become, but he didn't mind, and he learned how to adjust straight away. He had already called into work to report a few days off so that he could provide you with extensive care.

Not once had you left his side. All day you had been attached to him, whimpering and groaning in small remnants of pain. It tugged at his heart and made him feel even more protective than what he already was. If only he could take your pain and fear away.

He had been tending to your needs all day. Fixing you sippy cups filled with broth since you couldn't eat whole foods yet. Holding you against his chest so that he could kiss your forehead and rub your back while mumbling loving reassurances to you. Coloring pictures and watching cartoons with you.

"Daddy... Do you love me?" You asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

Freddy, helping to make a wall of pillows around the edge of the bed, looked to you and said, "More than anything, sweetie. You are my world. You know that."

You whimpered, hugging a pillow against your chest. You were hurting, and you couldn't help but to seek reassurance from him. "You won't leave me... right?" You look to him sadly.

Freddy walked over to you and knelt down, cupping your cheeks and leaning in to kiss your head. "Never. Daddy will always be here for you no matter what. You hear me?"

Nodding, you frown a bit and stare down at the floor, "Yes, but I... I'm so scared, daddy, I-I don't wanna go back there again."

"I know," He spoke softly, gently squeezing your shoulder, "And you're not going to, alright? It's over. You don't have to go back. You're here with daddy now. Everything's gonna be alright, ok?"

"Ok," You whisper.

Freddy coaxed the pillow from your arms and pulled you in for a hug, "I love you, baby. More than anything. You know that, right?"

"I love you more, daddy," You smile big, soaking up his loving attention like a sponge.

Freddy pulled away and made a goofy thinking face, his eyes squinting at you, "Mm... Couldn't possibly. Now, let's get you in bed."

Smiling in joy at your giggles, Freddy made sure to be extra gentle with you while helping you to climb onto the bed. After shutting the lights off, he climbed in with you, barely laying on his back before you were snuggling right into his side.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, wrapping an arm around you, his fingers massaging through your hair against your head.

It felt nice and had you whimpering in soothing relaxation, "Hurts..."

"It'll feel better soon, sweetie," Freddy kissed your temple and pulled a blanket over both of you.

"Please don't let those scary people take me again," You mumble into his chest, your hands shaking a bit as you fought against crying, "Please."

"No one's going to take you, (y/n)," Freddy smiled a bit, fond of your adorable little fears. "You're home now and you're with me, and I'm gonna take good care of you until you feel better, alright?"

"Ok, daddy," You say softly, seeking comfort and safety by snuggling into his chest.

Freddy covered you up and cradled you against him. It broke his heart knowing that you were in pain, but he would always be there to comfort and love you no matter what.

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

Throughout the whole day after your dad brought you home from the hospital, you had taken turns latching onto him and your two uncles. You were very clingy and emotional, endlessly seeking their comfort, security and reassurance.

At work, Lester and Bo took turns running the gas station. Right now Lester sat in the bed of his truck, reclined against the side with you curled up in his lap, a blanket covering you as you both peacefully snoozed.

"Hey, Les? Hey, wake up," Someone demanded in a whisper tone, a hand nudging his shoulder.

Lester woke up with a groan, his arms tightening around you as he creaked open his eyes. When he saw who had interrupted his beauty sleep, he pouted and shook his head, whispering, "Aw, c'mon now. Don't ya got nothin' better to do?"

"If by 'better' ya mean spendin' some time with my child? Then yeah, I most certainly do," Bo reached in to pry his brother's arms off of you, "Now get your ass in there. Mans waitin' on his transmission."

"Lester do this, Lester do that," Lester mocked quietly, sticking his tongue out and glaring at his older sibling, "'I'm a killjoy who thinks he can boss everyone 'round jus' 'cause I got cool lookin' hair'"

"You don't shut your trap, an' I'm gonna-"

"Mm, daddy?" You roused from Lester's lap, your body immediately tensing as you practically jumped upwards in fear, "Daddy? Wh-what's going on? What's happening? Y-you're not taking me back, are you? Oww..."

"Whoa, hey now," Both Bo and Lester nearly bumped heads trying to hug you.

Lester was the one who won, sitting up straight with his legs hanging over the tailgate, "Hey now, critter bug, ya can't be movin' 'round like that. You'll hurt yourself."

"That's right," Bo stood in front of you and Lester, one hand reaching out to cup your reddened face, "An' quit thinkin' we're gonna take ya back. We ain't. Your surgery is over with. Ya don't needa' be worrying yourself no more, alright?"

You were teary eyed, one hand holding your stitched up, bandaged wound as you nod. "It was jus' so scary... And it hurts."

The little crackle of sadness in your voice broke both Lester and Bo's hearts. "I know, critter, I know. But you're gonna feel better soon, ok?" Bo went to pry Lester's hands away so that he could gently hold you against his chest, "Jus' focus on daddy's heartbeat, remember? It'll make everything better."

"My heartbeat could'a worked..." Lester grumbled, crossing his arms.

You whimpered while doing as he said, your little hands holding onto his neck as your head rested against his chest. You breathed in his comforting, familiar scent and listened to his heartbeat, feeling it thud against your upper body. It felt nice. You were safe and cozy. The pain from your surgery subsided.

"I... I wanna feel Uncle Les' heartbeat too," You say.

"Awww, thought ya'd never ask," Lester grinned and went to hug you from behind, his hands going to rest on Bo's waist.

"Eh-eh, wh-whoa-wait jus' a minute-I..." Bo's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he growled in frustration, but hearing the laughter it roused from you put a small smile on his face. He loves you more than anything, (y/n), and he'll always, always be there for you.

Michael + Aunt Laurie

Ever since you got out of the hospital, you had been attached to him like velcro. Off and on you would have emotional spells, complaining about pain and how scary the experience was. Michael knew that the doctors had technically helped you, but he still kind of just wanted to, you know... Throttle them. Just a little?

Right now he was sitting on the couch with you sitting sideways on his lap. You were reclined back against his arm, your head tilted forward a bit as he held your sippy-cup to your mouth like a mother would hold a bottle of milk out for her baby. Laurie had explained to him how some children who had surgery often acted younger than what they were due to the trauma of the experience.

But Michael didn't mind babying you. In fact he really enjoyed it. It comforted you and it was extremely endearing to him- reminding him of when you were younger. So helpless, small and vulnerable. He would do anything to protect you and keep you safe.

"Mm?" You tap on your dad's hand.

Michael pulled the sippy cup away and blinked at you, wondering what was wrong.

"I'm sleepy. Can we do the jacket thing again, please?" You ask, nuzzling against his chest and mumbling, "It's been forever."

Oh yes. The 'jacket thing'. Michael nodded, setting your sippy-cup aside and going to coax you off his lap. Because of your stitches, he didn't want to carry you around too much despite every overprotective cell in his body screaming at him to keep you as close to him as possible, and he held your hand on the way to his bedroom.

Fetching the very large jacket from the closet, Michael put it on and went to lay back on the bed after helping you climb aboard. Then you went to lay on top of him, your hands looping underneath his upper arms as your face lay comfortably against his chest. Once you were situated, Michael stretched the jacket over the top of you and zipped it up most of the way, clasping you both securely together.

This was a habit Michael had started ever since you were an infant. He would use jackets to hold you close to his chest, obsessed with keeping you safe and secure at all times. He couldn't help it. He had experience with so many bad people. The thought of leaving you unguarded for even a second drove him crazy with anxiety.

"Daddy?" You murmur against his chest, "Did I do something bad? Is that why I have to hurt?"

Michael shook his head. His hands quickly went to cup your face, his fingers brushing through your hair. No. Of course not. Why would you ask something like that?

"Then why? Why did I have to-" You hiccuped, pushing yourself against him as much as you could as if he were a safety fort of pillows.

"Because you had a blockage, honey," Laurie explained as she brought you your freshly made sippy-cup and Michael a glass of water, "And some times stuff like that happens to people. It doesn't mean that you did anything bad."

Michael looked to his sister with gratitude. Gratitude that fell into irritation when she pulled her over-stuffed camera out and quickly took a picture of the two of you. "Yep, that one's going on the fridge."

Rolling his eyes, Michael brushed your face before lifting his hands to explain to you through sign-language how he was sorry that you had to go through this, but him and Laurie were right here beside you and they were going to do their best to make sure that you were taken care of.

Hannibal + Will

Will knocked on the door. Whenever it opened he was met with a sight that had his mouth gaping. Hannibal stood there, his hair messy, his tie uneven, his vest crooked, and his shoes gone. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, but even then his expression was calm and full of understanding.

"Good evening, Will. Thank you for coming," He whispered, inviting him in.

"So... It's that bad, huh?" Will whispered back, eying your sleeping figure from where it was being held against Hannibal's waist, "They okay? And-uh... Are 'you' okay?"

"The surgery went well. (y/n) was released earlier this afternoon. Aside from some discomfort and pain, they have been... 'Attached'," Hannibal chuckled fondly, turning to give your snoozing self a loving stare, "As for me? Well, I haven't used the restroom in over eight hours, give or take."

"Wow, ok," Will nodded and went to lift his arms out, "Yeah. You go use the restroom and shower if you want- probably throw in a glass or two of wine while you're at it, and I'll just-yeah, I'll just take them for a bit."

"Thank you, Will," Hannibal said gratefully, carefully transporting you over to his best friend, "Be gentle with them."

"I will," Will nodded, gently holding you against his chest and rocking you softly, "We'll be waiting for you on the couch."

"Thank you," Hannibal bowed slightly in tremendous appreciation and politely dismissed himself to go use the restroom, shower and change. Thank goodness he had Will. Will was your second favorite person besides him, and he figured that if you were to wake up then you might not mind being not-attached to him for a bit.

And it's not that Hannibal minded you being attached. Not at all. He just needed some time to get himself cleaned up properly. He couldn't do that when you refused to let go of his arm.

This whole day had been a fiasco. You were unbelievably emotional after the surgery, constantly fearing being taken back, and complaining about the pain. You were so afraid and uncomfortable that you even apologized to him and promised to never do anything bad- even though you hadn't done anything bad in the first place- just as long as he never took you back there again.

And that's why you clung to him so strongly. You sought his constant praise, reassurance and security, and he had supplied it in generous amounts. All day he had tended to your needs; feeding you, reading to you, holding you close and watching movies. Anything to make you happy.

By the time Hannibal had showered, downed some beverage and changed into something more comfortable, he walked into his living room and felt his heart get struck with warmth by what he saw.

You were sitting in Will's lap, your tired eyes calmly watching the TV as you sucked your thumb. On the table sat some take-out from one of Hannibal's favorite restaurants- obviously ordered by Will. Buh-bye midnight cooking.

Will locked eyes with him before you did, and Hannibal took the chance to quickly mouth something to him.

When you noticed him, you gasped happily and reached out for him, "Daddy!"

"Hello my little lamb, how are you feeling?" He asked, sitting in the space beside Will. He was humbled that you didn't try to get out of his lap straight away.

"Okay," You say softly, looking up at Will who leaned down and peppered playful kisses against your head, "Will said you were stinky and that you needed to potty."

"Did he?" Hannibal cocked his head at his best friend.

Will laughed in fondness. Hannibal joined him, so very appreciative of him and his support. And he was also appreciative of you for listening to him and understanding. All three of you loved each other so much. It was such a beautiful family circle.

...

I doubt anyone will answer, but it's just a fun question... Are there any other slashers that you would like to see be written as a father figure?

[willsworldsstuff]

dad!Hanninal and Will x child!reader who just watched my neighbor totoro

Comleteley platonic!! Not romantic at all

- Y/N had just finished watching my neighbor totoro and they wouldn’t stop opening their mouth widely and making noises like totoro;

- Hannibal was found it cute, after all, he loved the movie, but he wasn’t really fond of it when you started jumping on your bed late at night and making noises like your favorite character;

- Will found it extremely adorable, he would always try to make up excuses for you, trying to be accepting towards your interest;

- Whenever it was raining you and will woulf always grab your umbrellas and jump on the puddles of rain on the street, you always made noises like totoro and smiled happily as you made an impression of Totoro receiving the umbrella from the girls at the bus station;

- After you watched my neighbor totoro you literally fell in love with studio ghibli, you would always try to watch at least a little bit of their movies at night;

- whenever you were could or tired hannibal (or will) would ask you if you wanted to lay your head on their chest and fall asleep (like in the movie where the girl found totoro);

[liennka]

Mizumono

Hannibal Lecter x Will's daughter X Will Graham

Summary: Will was supposed to help Jack with killing Hannibal, but he arrived too late and with him, his daughter, Y/n.... (s2e13)

-> This one is filled with angst, but i realised that's just what i am good at :) I am open to any criticism (be nice pls).

I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.

When Alana called about the warrant, Will didn't panic. He told Y/n to go downstairs, urging her to turn off the lights and grab a jacket. And as the police headlights came through the windows, they ducked and crawled on all fours to the back door, Will grabbing his gun. Outside, hidden in the darkness, they ran across their property, stopping on a road. The rain soaked their clothes, though at least the ground wasn't muddy, otherwise they'd be easy to track. A taxi pulled up and Will gave him an address. 

"Hannibal Lecter's house? Why are we going from one danger to another?" Y/n asked, much rather preferring a McDonald's or a cinema. 

"Because Jack will be there, and right now nowhere is safe," her father whispered, looking out the window, "and maybe it's the only address I know."

"That's probably it. What are we going to do then? Have a cup of tea with him and chat with Hannibal?" she sarcastically teased. 

"I gave him time to leave, nothing should happen".

Y/N wasn't so sure.

----●----●----●----

When they got off, her father couldn't have been more wrong. Alana laid there, glass broken, rain rinsing blood from her hair. She seemed dead, just the twitching from shock making her shoulders move up and down. 

"Alana!" Will rushed to her and wrapped her in his coat.

Y/n made note of her surroundings. The front door opened, all sorts of wet footsteps on the carpet, the second floor window busted. And a bloody burgundy dahlia looking at her from a pot near the entrance. 

"Betrayal," she hummed, crouching down beside Alana.

Will looked at her as if she was crazy. He had just called the ambulance and left Alana his phone. 

"The flowers," Y/n pointed out, "I guess he's inside.” 

"Jack's there too," Alana choked out.

Y/N was surprised, she thought Alana's rib cage was too damaged to speak, but Alana proved her wrong. Will nodded and stood up, his gun in both hands. Y/n stayed a little longer, not caring that her hair was now sticking to her ears and causing her to feel cold.

----●----●----●----

As she opened the door to the kitchen, the smell of blood hit her. There were knives, plates and glass everywhere, two pairs of shoes standing in the midst of it all. As she looked up, Hannibal's silhouette greeted her.  

"You were supposed to leave!" Will was standing in front of him.

"I couldn't leave without you two," Hannibal said affectionately. 

Y/n did not know who 'you two' meant, but had a hunch that it included her. Strangely, Hannibal didn't even spare her a look, placing his palm on Will's cheek as if to caress it. They both had such an intense gaze, the sexual tension almost making Y/n turn around to give them some privacy. The scenery looked like a theater piece, a tragedy at that. They dove into their world, where she didn't exist and where they spoke in a different language, or maybe she just lost her hearing from how loud her heart was beating.  Either way, Y/n wanted to separate them, to drag her dad back to their house, back to their dogs. 

She did not see the knife coming from her point of view. Her father simply yelped and took a step forward, crashing into Hannibal's arms. This wasn't real, no. Hannibal would never hurt Will, he was like the other half of his soul, she lied to herself. But there was a red stain on his shirt and when Hannibal embraced him, the weapon remained in his hand, as if to mock them. Y/n stood motionless, no sound could break through her frozen vocal chords. She never thought this would happen, her chest tightening and her eyes filling with tears of pure terror.

The impact of Will's body aligned with her first fallen tear. His body fell directly into a pool of Jack's blood, his pants soaking it up. A few droplets of their mixed blood landed on her shoe, ruining her white trainers. Y/n swallowed nauseously, not daring to look into her fathers eyes. 

Hannibal leaned forward, his crescent-shaped blade back on the counter. 

"I have let you know me, see me," Hannibal paused as Will struggled to breathe, "I gave you a rare gift, but you didn't want it.”

"Didn't I?" Will insisted heartbroken, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. He seemed distressed, but more than anything, he was furious. 

Y/n shut herself off, not wanting to remember her father so frail, choosing to merely listen. And when she heard Hannibal mention the shattered teacup again, something in her snapped. She opened her pocket knife behind her back, using it for the first time since she bought it after the encounter with Tobias. Her fight-or-flight instinct flipped a coin and settled on fight. In a blink of an eye, she was standing behind Hannibal, her knife placed just under his jaw.

Y/n had no idea what she was doing. Her mind told her to end it, to be free at last. But her heart knew that was not possible, not in this life. She couldn't stop shaking, so she applied more force, making him bleed a little.  Will sucked in his breath, not quite understanding what was going on as this was out of character for her. 

"We are not a shattered teacup. You can't glue us back together and pretend like nothing happened," Y/n croaked in his ear, her voice high-pitched.

The blade suddenly twitched as a chuckle erupted from Hannibal’s chest.

"No, you certainly are not just a piece of pottery, but you are indeed fragile."

“You should have left when Will told you to. Instead you slaughtered them all, rightfully or not, whether you believe in God or not. There is no excuse for that,” Y/n hissed, her disappointment in him turning her words bitter. 

"I should have seen it coming…you made us so blind," her disappointment in herself turning her words sour.

Alana's happy face when she gave her a handmade sweater, or Jack and Bella's Christmas party, it was all over. Her bright future turned dim.

"I just wanted us to be a family. Why," she sobbed, a big droplet falling on the floor, "why can't I have a genuine family for once?"

----●----●----●----

Taking advantage of her state of mind, Hannibal grabbed her hand, pulling the knife away from his throat and spinning her around. He took her face in his palms, making her look at him. Y/n had teardrops on her chin, red spots on her irritated skin, her lips chapped and her eyelashes littered with fresh tears. He wiped them away so she had a clear view of him. However, he was no better, his normally perfectly sleek bangs were now messy, blood on his collar and some drying under his nose. He was bruised and in pain, yet he still looked like the most charismatic man she had ever seen. A charismatic man that attempted to erase her father's existence. 

"You don't get to start over after what you've just done, that's not fair!” she tried to wriggle out of his grip, “You hurt Will and you broke my trust. What do you expect us to do?" 

"Nothing, such is life. Don't fight it, let it all go."

Y/n raised her eyebrows in disbelief, a single tear running down her cheek. By now she could care less about having a weapon on her side, she felt she had already lost. 

"'And what if I don't want to let it go, to forget or forgive?" 

"Then you lose yourself," Hannibal directed his gaze back to Will, "I forgive Will. Will he forgive me?"

"'Don't. No, no, no!" Will uttered for the first time after his collapse.

It broke his heart, but there was nothing to be done, his design was meant to be finished and everything had to go according to plan. He pried her knife from her slack hold, unbeknown to her. 

"What are you tal-" Y/n's question couldn't be finished as she was silenced.

Her own knife, now in Hannibal's possession, was plunged blade deep into her side, almost identically to her father's. She yelped as she felt her muscles being torn apart, the stinging as Hannibal yanked it out causing her to choke. Her eyes opened wide as if trying to comprehend what was happening. The searing pain in her torso sent her to the ground, but it was the pain in her heart that made her burst out crying again, only this time it would not stop. Hannibal slowly lowered her down beside Will, splattering the tiles with her blood and tears like the rain would.

 She shook, struggling to catch her breath. With one hand she pressed against her wound, with the other she found her father's hand and weakly squeezed it. She felt his cold fingers, the energy draining from his body. 

"Dad," Y/n muffled her cries. 

Will wanted to help her, to hold her and console her, but he'd been bleeding for so long he couldn't even open his mouth. He had no choice but to watch with half-closed eyes as the entire room bathed in red.  

"You can make it all go away. Put your head back, close your eyes," Hannibal reached for Will's shoulder and met his eyes. "Wade into the quiet of the stream".

Y/n blinked at Hannibal for a second, but instead of a man, she saw a red horned monster with black dahlias sprouting from its eye sockets. So this was his true self, she realised.

“We were never meant to work, were we?” she clutched at Hannibal's trousers with her bloodied fingers. 

There was a silence for a while, Will's labored breathing slowing and her own sniffles fading to silent tears. Hannibal knelt down and ruffled her wet hair. 

And as her father closed his eyes, Hannibal asked her: "Will you forgive me?"

Y/n wanted to say no. She wanted to send him into the pond of burgundy ink as well, but her own mind said otherwise. 

"'Maybe, if you promise to make us work."

He smiled and stood up, not looking at her again. As his footsteps faded away, Y/n's warm blood grew chilly and her eyes heavy. With her last strength she kissed her father's knuckles, her last tears streaming down her face.  

----●----●----●----

She shed tears for how pitiful her ending was. And as her vision got blurrier, she bid farewell to her life.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: GATEAU

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon/rape, abuse, past child abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, death mentions (including of a young people), Stockholm Syndrome

Read after the cut

---

As the night goes on, made odd by the truths held above your head, Hannibal sends you into the kitchen for the wine Will has forgotten there as though you are his little maid to be so imperiously commanded. Grumbling under your breath you slope into that other room, thinking to spit down the neck of the bottle to lend it the flavour of your displeasure.

Your gaze falls first upon a vast chocolate gateau resting on the sideboard, its rich aroma stirring awake your appetite, the pangs of which you now rarely know.

At this you feel an acute disgust at your body’s failing. No doubt some human matter has found its way into this creation, likely by blood to bring salt to its flavour, but even if by a rare chance it hasn’t you cannot stand that you desire it after all the years you’ve abstained from dessert.

Still, even as you scorn yourself you reach with one finger across to the cake and scoop from it a curl of icing, shuddering as it glazes the roof of your tongue with its silken sin.

Guilt rides over you at once: the totting up of numbers, the phantasmic sense of weight already building on your bones. In a panic you smooth over the gap in the cake left from your burrowing finger with a nearby clod of icing, hoping it won’t be noticed when Hannibal comes to cut a slice for supper.

The kitchen door opens behind you, making you jump and wipe your guilty hands together as Will appears in the frame.

“You were taking a while,” he says. “Thought I’d check on you.”

“What do you care?” you reply with a haughty toss of your head. “You’re barely here anymore. Don’t pretend to give a damn now you’re back.”

Will shuts the door behind him and leans against it, his arms folded.

“I thought you wanted me to put my full efforts into this case.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should just abandon me.”

With an unpleasant laugh Will says, “I’m sure you and Hannibal get along just fine on your own.”

You think cynically of your elder captor assaulting you against his front door, biting at your flesh. A lean coyote in a gentleman’s clothes.

“You don’t like the idea of him fucking me when you’re not there, do you?” you ask, and Will shrugs, refusing you an honest reaction.

“I’m just aware of what I’m missing, that’s all.”

It occurs to you to question how often he thinks of rutting you in those elongated hours apart, or if it is only Hannibal that inhabits his mind in ire and yearning alike. Will may not have forgiven him the harm he’s done, but he certainly cares for him still.

Perhaps it is the homosexual angle of the romance that prevents him from viewing it as such; if only women have otherwise enchanted him what sense can he make of this new lust?

“Well,” you say, “if you want we can swap places. You stay home with Hannibal and I’ll play detective with the FBI.”

“Funny,” says Will. “I like our arrangement the way it is.”

You look at him doubtfully.

“So you’ve really never considered it? You and him together, the way I am with him?”

“I consider you and me together,” says Will, and he steps towards you, driving you against the kitchen island until its edge impresses a horizontal groove into your back. “How I’m starting to forget what you taste like.”

Your breath jars in your throat, and you’re ashamed by the airless, claustrophobic sensation of desire that his words elicit.

“What would Uncle Jack think hearing you talk like that?” you ask.

Will smirks.

“Not everything I do is for Jack’s approval.”

He loops an arm around your waist, his palm grazing your skin through the smoke of your dress.

“Maybe you should be thinking about him,” you say, wriggling against the hammerhead of Will’s forceful want. “I don’t think he’d put you and dear, dear Daddy onto the Lover case if he knew that you were raping me.”

“Are we?” asks Will, and there is laughter of such an easy cruelty in his eyes that you wonder how you ever thought him good.

“Yes,” you say. “You are raping me, even though you love me. Maybe even because you do.”

Your voice is frail with emotion, no longer teasing. Will touches your cheek, and even that light touch is something evil, knowing of your weakness for him.

“I never thought I’d hear you say that,” he says. “Not about me.”

You shake him with both hands, unhinged with a sudden desperation.

“It’s messed up, but I’m right, aren’t? You love me. Say it. Just say it. I need to hear it.”

With an abrupt motion Will hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, your unmoored limbs flailing around him.

“How about I show you?” he says, and reaching up under the gauzy skirt he pulls your underwear down to your ankles.

How often he disappoints you, refusing to free you, refusing you the words you beg of him.

Will kisses you from your hardened mouth down your clothed body to your unclothed cunt, and his lips are like a roaming spark beneath which you flinch in revulsion and response.

Your hands weave through the thick of his hair, and you kick at his shoulders briefly before the motion of his tongue makes you still.

The sight of Will glancing up at you between your thighs, the stirring of his mouth against the bead on which he strings you out—

You moan, yet through you, as always, is the disgust of having your flesh expressed of its need like juice from a persimmon, that he to whom you’ve grown close engages in this incest, and has you indulge in it, as well.

No longer can you envision an existence with him where that element were not part of it, nor one absent of his envy.

Even as Will devours you it is Hannibal whose taste he seeks, hunting the remnant he’d left in you that morning against the shower wall, hoping there is some trace not rinsed down the drain.

Against Will’s claims you know there is some sleeping shred of him that thinks of the hand, the mouth, the carefully trained form under the designer suits, and resents that you—his subordinate, and unwilling at that—have experienced all in place of him.

You muse upon how it will be if ever Will gives in to the cravings of man, envision him shunting you off into some corner to observe as they make violent love like the dispute of brother gods.

This, in conjunction with the roll of Will’s fingers and tongue-tip upon you, conducts a new music of pleasure, and afterwards an anger that he has transformed you so utterly as to be this easily aroused.

Scuttling your hand across the kitchen island you feel for the wine bottle, toying with the notion of striking Will over the head with it, and wonder if you’ve gone as bad as him to feel joy at the thought of his red brains and the red wine of his warm blood across you.

You’d never do it, yet the thought comes back and back unbidden. Hannibal has beckoned it in with his talk of killing, the resurrection of the poorly buried dead.

It’s as your fingers wrap around the glass that Will says darkly, “Don’t you dare.”

His face is turned against your thigh, its expression stern, though not entirely serious.

“I wasn’t doing anything” you protest.

“You were thinking it,” says Will. “That’s enough.”

Then his jaws are on you again, and pleasure crushes you flat as though between the earth and a stone.

He loves you, you think, in the midst of it. The only man outside your family that ever has, and he has treated you with greater cruelty even than Leland Frost. Yet you cannot resist affection of any kind, and so as Hannibal rightly guessed it is no longer entirely unrequited.

Self-loathing takes over in your orgasm’s decline, and you push Will away with the soles of your feet, not wanting to sully your hands with him.

“I’m bored now,” you snap. “Take your wine in yourself.”

You thump down onto the kitchen floor, swerving Will as he reaches for you with a testy jerk of your shoulder.

“Little One,” he says, and then he corrects himself with your real name, so rarely heard from him now that you are touched that he thinks of its use.

Still you leave the room, finding yourself on the bitter verge of tears.

*

In sleep you have one of those particular dreams that read more of latent prophecy, a canon yet to give itself birth. In a scrub of forest you crouch over the nude body of a woman, pulling from the open mouth of her gut glittering organs upon which you feast with a scavenger’s appetite.

Will and Hannibal oversee this feast in approving silence, their figures a second darkness in the night.

Why they do not share in that meal you do not know; perhaps they have eaten already of their own kills, observing with full bellies as you follow suit.

It does not strike you in this dream to loathe the thing you do, for to eat is to survive, and so to meet the approval of your masters. With eagerness you crawl up the cool length of the cadaver, ripping up carpets of meat as you go.

Only when you reach the face, upturned to the dish of the moon, that you recoil with a spasm of horror and recognition of it. You know this woman, yet cannot in sleep recall her name, nor conjure the place from which you remember her.

“Did I kill her?” you ask, for this, too, you do not know.

“No,” says Will. “Not with your own hands.”

“Your proximity to her was enough,” says Hannibal. “All those who have been even in passive orbit of you may fall foul of death. We have told you this, Little One.”

You stare into the dead woman’s sunken eyes which appear in their stillness like replicas of glass.

“But if I didn’t kill her, and you didn’t either, then why am I eating her?” you ask.

“I fear you will go mad in losing those you love,” says Hannibal. “So you must consume and accept the dead as part of you, as I have. That way both mind and memory will last, if not intact then transformed as you are by the sating of your hunger.”

“It won’t work,” you say. “I don’t believe that. That’s your religion, not mine.”

“You’ll learn to embrace your madness, then. After all, each of us three would be consigned to an asylum for our habits by those that don’t understand us. But I would always understand you, Little One, no matter what condition your broken mind was reduced to, in the end.”

Then your captor’s hand presses down on the base of your skull until you're forced to lap at the dead woman’s blood.

You awake half hanging off the side of your bed, your body having mimicked the acts of your dreaming self as it has not done since you were young. In those years you’d often jarred yourself awake by attempting to speak aloud or to gesticulate to some ephemeral figure.

That you’ve resumed this abandoned habit disturbs you far more than the content of your dream, and in a panicked rush you start out of your bedroom into the hallway, turning not into Will’s chamber—which tonight is occupied by his sleeping form—but into Hannibal’s.

The door swings open under your frantic touch, and a startled figure sits upright in the shadows, as disbelieving of you having come to him as you are yourself.

“What’s happened?” asks Hannibal. “Are you feeling alright?

“I had another dream,” you say. “I’m scared.”

You find yourself sitting on the end of Hannibal’s bed, the first time you have done so willingly. His face is an amazed blank, unable to translate the meaning of this new and impulsive action.

“Your nightmares are likely a side effect of reducing your medication,” he says, at last. “I should have warned you. I apologise; it’s my mistake.”

With a hoarse laugh you say, “What do you have to be sorry about? Everything that ever goes wrong... you know exactly what to do. You take care of me even if I don’t want you to. You’re always so sure of yourself.”

Hannibal switches on the bedside lamp, his face solemn in the belt of its light.

“That is untrue. I have many flaws and failures; you’ve seen for yourself that I’m not always as in control as I’d like to be.”

The attack with the knife, he means, or his tampering with Will’s mind, both grave mistakes, so few of which have occurred throughout your stay that only they, of all, occur to you. That Hannibal is a killer, a defiler of flesh living and dead does not present itself despite its obvious nature, for even in this he is unerring, cunning and clean.

“I’m going to let you down,” you say. “You think you can fix me, and I know how hard you’re trying, but I’m not okay. It’s going to get worse.”

Hannibal runs your cold fingers between his own until they warm.

“You say this because recent developments are frightening you. Because you assume the good that will come of submitting to mutual love will not last. You would rather propel yourself into a fit of anxiety than permit yourself the slightest happiness.”

You turn him a look of reproach.

“You know why I can’t.”

“Because we are killers.”

“Yes.”

“But you love us still.”

Tugging your hands from Hannibal’s own you say, “If I did I’d be a terrible person.”

“We can’t help who we care for in this life. That you are able to love against the bounds of your morality isn’t evidence of personal failure.”

Yet surely it must be, you think, is in fact a marker of how greatly you’ve given in to him.

You say nothing of this aloud, however, only inch across the bed into Hannibal’s arms, kissing him in the hope of ridding your mouth of the taste of blood from your dream.

“There’s time for this tomorrow,” he says, gently, drawing away; clearly he thinks you’re seeking sex, an invitation you’re amazed to see him decline. “It’s very late, and I have patients to see in the morning. Rest now. You’ll feel better for it.”

You sleep nestled against him, his palm on your belly, which for once you neither mind nor think much of, merely consoled by his presence there with you.

*

The following week you are suspended between shame and self-pity, aware that you have fallen by a missing rung on the ladder of pious restraint into collusion with the men that you’re unsure you can arise from.

Will becomes as present in the household as work and commitment to his dogs will allow, the continued, quiet feud with Hannibal still complicating the evident need to remain at his side.

With you Will is tactile, sensual, smothering you with the weight of his covetous desire.

"You need to talk to him about what happened between you," you say to Hannibal one night, your head in his lap as he draws another portrait of Will as some tragic hero. "He's driving me crazy. I wish you'd just hash it out together or something."

"He's lost trust in me," says Hannibal in a tone of martyred sadness. "That can't be rebuilt inorganically. In time I hope his anger will pass."

It's on the tip of your tongue to suggest that he unburden all of his wrongs in one grand gesture, but thinking the better of it you return to placid silence.

This new method of survival you have taken on, though considered wise even in your early days of imprisonment, is so indistinguishable from genuine attachment that you could not confidently distinguish the two from one another.

Amy would be disgusted with the woman you've become, pining for the approval of predators, one of which has struck up a friendship with her own attacker. It is a dark blessing that through hypnosis she has forgotten this, will read of you in Tattle Crime and frown at the strange pang she feels at the notion of you shared by the named men.

In this way you become your own accuser, sparing no empathy for the difficulty of your plight. As others would judge you so you judge yourself, are brutal in the manner your keepers have sought to discourage.

Rebellion comes in strange forms, as of late.

You while away your days in windows frosted with the turning of autumn into its pale sibling, writing the first coherent entries of the journal you've long been unable to manifest. Your prose is clumsy, your handwriting without any particular art, but in this alone you gain some tangible accomplishment and distraction from your conflict.

Knowing Hannibal surely reads your diary you consider caution, but upon realising there are few secrets left between you both you write honestly and without fear of being bent across his lap.

“WEDNESDAY—

I haven’t been allowed to talk to my parents in so long that I can’t even hear their voices in my head anymore. I guess I’m realising that I’ve been picturing strangers ever since I came here, and I don’t know how I feel about that.

Do I even miss them anymore, or is it other, made up people I just tell myself I miss? Were they ever real to begin with?

They call it solipsism, the theory that nothing actually exists outside your perception. I read that it one of Hannibal’s books— George Berkeley was the name of the philosopher. I hope I spelled his name right.

Since I was little I had this fear that I was the only real person in the universe, that everyone else I ever met just vanished the second they weren’t in front of me. I still feel that way, I guess.

My bad memories are the only proof that I’m not alone, as much as I’m afraid—or sometimes find myself wishing—that I am.

I just remembered a day my parents took me shopping around Christmas one year. We went to this huge shopping center, and it was so busy and noisy that my Mom got really worked up and started snapping at everybody as if it was our fault the whole city picked that day to buy presents too.

I guess I did something wrong— maybe I wandered off, or I said something she didn’t like. But suddenly she yelled so loud everybody around us turned to stare at us except my Dad, who looked away just like he always did. Messed with his glasses. Pretended he saw something interesting in a store window when we all knew he hated shopping and was just dying to get out of there and go home to the TV.

Five minutes later Mom tried to hold my hand like nothing ever happened. Like she forgot what she just did, or didn’t realise that it upset me. Then when I wouldn’t let her take my hand she got mad all over again, and I could tell it hurt her feelings.

I’ve always wondered how she justifies those moments to herself, or if she shoves them down so far that she can just pretend she’s never in the wrong.

If I did imagine my mother, why would I make her that way?

Anyway, I think this whole solipsism thing is why I don’t buy Hannibal’s idea of absorbing life, even if it’s just a symbolic gesture. If I can’t see you then you might as well be dead, so really the thought that something would be left of that person after their heart stops beating makes no sense to me.

Only my dreams are real. Realer than I am. But if they’re repeating what Hannibal keeps telling me then what does that mean?”

"FRIDAY —

“I spat out some of breakfast into a napkin today. Daddy Hannibal took me upstairs and hit me with some kind of leather flogger till I said I was sorry. I wasn’t, though, and he knew it. He told me I’d never get to go to nice places with him if I kept behaving in that way, and that would be the real punishment.

I keep forgetting that’s what he and Daddy Will want at the end of all this. To take me out of the shadows of this house into their light.

Haven’t they thought about how weird it’s going to look to everybody? What will they tell people? That I’m their daughter? Their inappropriately young girlfriend?

They’ll have to take me somewhere nobody knows us and no one really cares. Places we can be different people except to ourselves. But maybe we’ll become the people we pretend to be. I’d like that to be true.”

It’s as you’re finishing this particular entry that you overhear voices in one of the many hallways— Hannibal’s, and that of Jack Crawford, who’s been invited to dinner again. Perceiving a hushed secrecy to their dialogue you return to your talent of eavesdropping and sidle up to the nearest door.

It’s Jack you hear first, partway through some muttered sentence.

“—Heard about the fibre sample Beverly picked up on in Lillian Greyflower’s file.”

“A thread from a hospital gown,” says Hannibal. “Yes. She had Turner Syndrome and was undergoing frequent medical checks to monitor her health.”

“She wasn’t the only one,” says Jack. “Bryce Mulligan was struggling with Kidney Disease, Anaïs Foreau was a premature birth— all the Mask Murder victims had conditions that affected their weight and height in some way. None of them were much over five foot tall.”

So these are the details Will did not wish you to know, cautious of spooking you with the implications of the discovery. Your illness is the reason for the Lover’s interest in you: as many differences as there are between you and his first set of victims this is the one great likeness to have drawn him in.

“The killer’s first muse herself was in poor health,” says Hannibal, “and with stunted development for her age. I suggest you search missing persons records for a white, blonde female under the age of eighteen, last seen accompanying an older male family member; I believe she disappeared around the time the Mask Murders began. Look specifically for girls with growth disorders, genetic, and chronic conditions.”

“We need to narrow down a state,” says Jack. “The murderer is clearly a travelling man.”

Then, clearing his throat, he adds, “Speaking of the Lover, have you—”

Hannibal intercepts the question briskly.

“Not yet. As things are now I couldn’t possibly disturb the peace by announcing such unpleasant news. I will attempt it as soon as I can.”

Lost as to the meaning of this abrupt turn in the conversation you strain your ears, frustrated when the men’s voices lower so far as to become incoherent. Only Will’s footsteps approaching behind you compel you away from the door.

“Stop it,” he says. “You want them to catch you like that?”

Turning around, you stick out an irreverent tongue at him.

“Who says they were going to catch me?”

Will scoffs, scarcely masking his amusement.

“Quit screwing around. Go sit at the table. We’ll be eating soon.”

The dinner you find awkward in the deliberate avoidance of the Lover case, small talk expanded into impossible complexity across the courses. Having seen death in its multiples you are both angered and entertained by the senselessness of your fathers thinking you too delicate to endure what you have learned.

Jack’s hesitation you understand, being that of the three men only he thinks you wholly innocent. Your keepers, however, are purely concerned with avoiding the resulting unseemly outburst, and in this you are reminded that no matter what affections you’ve developed to protect yourself from a prisoner’s despair a prisoner you still are.

Glowering at them both under your lashes you crush a slice of ‘fish’ under your fork, watching it take the shape of the tines. It’s as you’re observing this process that an idea occurs to you, brought on by the visitor in the room. A chance to communicate to Jack that he dines with a cannibal, that he has eaten of the same people for whom his officers seek justice—

Stuffing the morsel of fish into your cheek you say, “I’m full. Can I be excused?”

Jack glances at Hannibal, his brows angled, and you realise that he discerns something overfamiliar in your tone or body language he isn’t sure enough of to interrogate.

“You’re free to leave whenever you like,” says Hannibal. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Thanks for joining us,” says Jack, and you offer him a weak smile before rushing out into the living room where your journal and ball point pen remain.

Tearing a leaf out of the back you write

‘TEST THE MEAT!!! IT’S HUMAN!” in a hasty scrawl and spit the fish you’d kept from dinner into your hand.

Your heart clatters in your chest like a train across some treacherous road as you dart through to the hallway. On a rack hangs Jack Crawford’s overcoat, the pocket of which you intend to deliver your grim parcel to.

This is the answer to the question of your freedom, the sole proof required to unlock the criminal mystery of the Copycat.

Upon reading your note Jack will take this meat to the lab where all forensic discoveries are founded, and in the makings of its DNA will realise what creature he has dined with, and what he has been tricked to eat at his table.

He will get you out of this house, give you back to your parents and end this horror you’ve been bent to fit by moulding hands. Hannibal will be imprisoned or institutionalised, perhaps Will too, if he’s discovered to know more than he suggests of his companion, or if your relations are found out.

There will be no more men and women eaten in the grand house of death, and no more will you be abused and infantilised, or forced to take your fill.

Things will be as they were before your abduction, a known unhappiness which from having lived before you know that you can bear.

Yet even as you reach into Jack’s pocket the negative aspects of this plan suggest themselves to discourage you from this rash and unplanned act.

You think of the Lover’s crimes going unsolved and continuing around you, closing in until you too are taken and locked into a doll. Even if the killer does not dare to capture you in your infamy there are the choking attentions of the press to think of, the humiliating questions as to what you have been made to do as concubine to your insatiable men.

Leland Frost would likely make some comment on it, as thoroughly as you’d attempt to avoid him, his eyes bright with a jilted humour.

“Guess you’re not my girl anymore, cher.”

“Shut up,” you whisper aloud. “I never was.”

The cold grease from the meat soaks the skin of your fingers, and your stomach turns over at the smell of it.

All your doubts have surely been injected by Hannibal’s hypnosis to dissuade you from escape, for even as you dismiss those that have already come to mind more follow, each more unpleasant than the last.

After all, these previous concerns assume the success of your attempt to rally Jack to your side. He has been groomed by Hannibal to think you mad, and a conniving lunatic at that, one poised to invent scandal and atrocities abound if it means you’ll be released from treatment.

Upon discovering the note and meat making filthy his beautiful coat Jack is unlikely to follow the command you’d penned there; rather, with a pitying look, he’ll deliver it to Dr Lecter, bringing down, unwitting, another brutal lesson from your keepers upon you.

But even should Jack believe or humour you and process the sample as is your design there is no likelihood of Hannibal submitting quietly to arrest. He is a killer, and as such will fight every man against him until none stand.

Then he will turn upon you in whatever fashion he decides, and the attempt will be for nothing, one you may not even live to regret.

The risk of failure is not worth the pursuit, you decide, and resign yourself to retreat from the hallway and from the temptation of hopeless escape.

As you turn into another room you collide with Will, who has followed you from the table.

“Sorry,” you mumble, and attempt to sidestep him, your full hand held partially behind your back.

Will takes you by the shoulders, pushing you lightly up against the nearest wall.

“Wait,” he says. “I know you’re up to something. You’d better admit it now before you’re in even more trouble. Don’t bother to lie; there’s no reason for you to be loitering out here unless you were doing something you’re not supposed to.”

When you don’t answer his gaze falls to the fist tightened upon your shame, and the set of his mouth steels.

“You’d better show me what you’re holding,” he says. “Let’s hope Hannibal’s feeling more forgiving than I am.”

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

W: yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, disturbing actions such as kidnapping, stabbing, abuse, ooc etc+

Sorry there wasn't much "be their little girl" thing. And i just pulled whatever i could out of my ass because i absolutely did not know how to write this. I might make a better version of this in the future.

Yan! Hannibal & yan! Will x fem! Reader

What will you do?

You awokened sitting across the room as the two men who you thought you knew are talking so lovingly to each other as if they didn't have someone bound to a chair by ropes.

Your most logical instinct is to try to pry away the ropes but you knew better than that when they're right there in front of you. that would be stupid. Now the most logical thing you could do is just sit there and look pretty in order not to anger the two men considering what they're capable of.

As terrifying as it was it was quite funny as they had set up a small tea party for the three of you, although the cups were wine glasses. Calling you pet names and discussing small talk almost like acting as a family.

And looking down you realised a disturbing change of clothes. Your clothes looked similar to that of a little girl.

"Will and I have discussed our opinions of this but never thought of asking about yours, what colour of wallpaper would you like your new bedroom to be?" hannibal turned to look at you.

"I wished I would've asked you before hand so it could be a surprise but Will thought it would be rather be a peculiar question for you."

You glanced at Will who has a smile on his face and waits for your answer.

"... Uhm.. (C/N-"

"(C/N)?"

"see I told you!" Will's small laughter almost makes you forget the whole situation. Hannibal takes a sip from his glass, he has a slight look of defeat but smiles.

"well then, (C/N) it is."

You don't know why you were so calm, was it because the whole situation seemed so light hearted? But you didn't want to be here atleast you knew that and they did too.

You don't even know where to begin to start planning for an escape, you subtly positioned yourself in a way you'll feel the items in your pockets but you felt none in either of them. They kept asking questions in order to keep the awkward silence at bay, you didn't find the energy to answer them.

"Y/n, you haven't taken a bite out of your food, why's that?" hannibal asked you, almost tauntingly. Where would you find the need to eat in a time like this? Will looks a bit guilty.

They both know what you're thinking, that look on your face says it all. They're not delusional and you're not sure if it's bad or good, but they'll try anyway.

"try it, it's gonna get cold." Will smiles one more time to convince you.

You weren't in the mood nor have an appetite for this but you certainly didn't want an upset Hannibal near you. Forcing yourself to chew down the piece of food Will has fed you, it wasn't dry. It had flavor and juice but it didn't quench the dryness of the inside of your throat.

Despite the piece of meat having a soft texture, you found it difficult to swallow.

Just as Will was about to ask a question to break the silence, you found yourself unconsciously building up the courage to go and ask a question.

"why am I here?"

The already thick tension now doubled now suffocating probably all three of you at the same time. Should they just say it? Would it be a good idea to tell you it's basically a forced adoption? You looked at them. Cautiously but swiftly grabbing one of the sharp silverware placed near your plate of food with your free forearm. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, terrified they were going to hear it.

Hannibal proceeded to look at you and ask, "why are you so scared y/n?"

He probably smelt the fear and sweat in your body. At this Will stood up "can we talk privately?" Hannibal complied and moved to the kitchen.

It was a stupid decision but all you were more concerned about was getting the fuck out of here. You used this opportunity to cut the ropes around your elbows, and the ones on your ankles. It was cliché but you were glad it was.

You were about to burst tears of joy when you successfully sliced off the last rope. Your wrist was hurting from the constantly pressure and movement but you couldn't care less. Your heart dropped down to the floor when you heard their voices getting closer, you wasted not a single second and went sprinting straight to the front door.

Will and Hannibal became highly alert when they heard the dashing of footsteps. And to their horror, finding your seat empty.

Will ran after you but Hannibal stayed behind. Looking calmly at your seat and the missing utensil. Then he started walking to where you were.

You were running as fast as you could've but your body started feeling heavy and light at the same time. At the worst possible time. Until you couldn't even stand straight anymore. And you felt the frightening hands of Will.

"Y/n what were you thinking!?"

Will tried to drag you away and out of panic you pulled the knife from your pocket and rammed it into his hand. As Will yelled out in pain you heard Hannibal call out Will's name in concern.

You were absolutely scared shitless now. If you get caught you know they are not going to go easy. Adrenaline was rushing inside you but your body couldn't keep up for some reason. You were right in front of the door when a hand wrapped around your mouth and arm, ultimately stopping you so. This was it, you couldn't help but let a tear drop fall down.

"I don't like rude people. And i definitely do not like a rude brat."

You were struggling to pry yourself off of the man's grip, the hand on your mouth was removed but before you could make a noise, your vision blacked out.

When you awoke, you were greeted with the sight of an angry Hannibal and Will. That was the day and night you were the most emotionally and psychologically fucked up. Hannibal only held back because Will told him if was enough.

You never even thought of escaping again. That's okay, just behave like a good daughter and maybe Hannibal might be even nice enough to remove that memory from you.

[murderhusbands4life]

Okay so I've been meaning to do this for ever but here we are decided to make this so I can start writing oneshots for Hannigram!

So you can request ideas, I will only be doing Hannibal x child / teen readers no Romance only platonic oneshots.

[leqonsluv3r]

husband!leon kennedy

—re!4 husband leon x pregnant!wife!reader, a headcanon list

based on this one-shot request

masterlist taglist

an: decided to give you guys this hc list since you guys liked the oneshot so much, giving you guys a little peek of what happens after the oneshot. i’m finally moved and currently unpacking at my new place, i’ll be working on requests and opening them back up soon. hope you guys enjoy, pls reblog and like if you do <3

husband!leon who buys you all the food your body deserves. anything for his wife and his growing baby inside of you.

husband!leon who helps you plan and decorate the nursery for your child. he’s just happy he gets to be a dad, especially with you involved.

husband!leon who drives you to all of your doctors appointments, always having tears pool in his eyes whenever he sees your guys growing child on the ultrasound.

husband!leon who always lets you pick whatever you want for dinner, even if it’s not something he wants. as long as your happy and you get what you want.

husband!leon who massages your swollen feet after you complain how much they hurt. rubbing your calves and legs just to make sure your comfy. he wants what’s best for you.

husband!leon who rubs your belly when you both are laying in bed together, pressing kisses to it and talking to the unborn baby. he knows the baby can’t fully hear him yet but he’s too excited.

husband!leon who helps you pick out stuff for the baby to wear after you find out the gender. cute little onesies and footies, stuffed animals and whatever else your heart desires. only the best for his wife and his baby.

husband!leon who hangs up all the ultrasounds up on the fridge like a kid displaying artwork, he likes watching his baby grow. he’s still having a hard time believing he’s a father even if the evidence is right in front of him.

husband!leon who will go down on you because you can’t even touch yourself, making you moan and whimper. he knows the hormones make you more susceptible and more horny, he doesn’t mind one bit. knowing he’s the one that gets to ravish you when you’ve been pent up.

husband!leon who loves the fact that he can still fuck you like your not carrying his kid, practically crying on his cock as he pounds into you, rubbing your swollen tits and pressing kisses all over your body, caressing your belly. he knows you love it, giving each other what you want.

husband!leon who is the king of aftercare, especially when your pregnant. he helps you take a bath afterwards. giving you bubbles and even going so far as to getting in with you and massaging your back.

husband!leon who watches you struggle with the simple tasks you used to do before you were pregnant. if you need something from a shelf because it hurts for you to reach, he grabs it for you. if you can’t stop crying over the most simplest things, he hands you some tissues and holds your hand. he’s supporting you the whole way through this because you need it.

husband!leon who lets you lay on the couch on days your not feeling the best, letting you watch whatever your heart desires. even if it’s something he can’t even stand like the bachelorette or some bad reality tv show.

husband!leon who watches you open presents for the baby shower. your happy, opening little onesies and gifts from your guys friends and family. watching your mom cry happy tears when you open her gift; your stuffed bear from when you were a baby.

husband!leon who watches you hug your mom, stuffed bear still in your hand and tears pouring out of your eyes. he knows that you have been dealing with a lot going through this pregnancy and he’s just happy that your getting some joy out of it.

husband!leon who lets you have whatever weird craving your wanting. even if it’s pickles and frosting or peanut butter and graham crackers. he lets you have whatever you want, within reason, letting you have the cravings that make you and the baby happy.

husband!leon who when your doing the dishes, your water breaks. he doesn’t think first, he acts. he gets the bag that he’d packed and grabs you. he’s nervous but he’s doing his best to push his own nerves aside and get you and the baby to the hospital.

husband!leon who practically speeds down the interstate to get you to the hospital on time. weaving through a couple cars and speeding, all the while your hand is squeezing his in death grip as he just tells you to breathe through the contractions.

husband!leon who gets you to the hospital in one piece, your hand almost breaking his where he holds it. letting the nurse guide you into the delivery room to get you prepped for labor. your eyes are wide with pain and nerves, leon just keeps standing next to you, holding onto your hand and pressing kisses to your head the entire time.

husband!leon who watches as you push, push, and push over and over again. your doing so great and he’s so proud of you, being able to bring a life into this world, he’s never seen anything like it. he just rubs your back, the doctor kneeling in between your legs and helping the baby come out.

husband!leon who watches as the doctor tells you the babies almost here, your exhausted frame trying to push the baby out the rest of the way. he mumbles praises into your hair and ear, telling you that you can do it. you can push the baby out, you can get through this.

husband!leon who watches you do the final two pushes, the doctor helping the baby come out. leon hears the small cries before seeing the small baby being cradled in the doctors hands, his eyes watering at the sight. he looks over at you and sees how exhausted but happy you are, your eyes watering just like his.

husband!leon who watches as the nurse cleans and swaddles your guys baby, bringing it over to you. your eyes crying big tears. the baby looks just like the both of you combined, having your eyes and his cheeks. he sits gently next to you on the bed, rubbing your head. he admires you and your guys baby, how beautiful it is. how you did it, despite you thinking you couldn’t, he knew you could.

husband!leon who gets to hold the baby for the first time while you rest, talking to the baby in soft whispers, the babies only soft coos in response. “i’m your daddy, yeah…yeah, i’m your daddy…” he murmurs and watches as the baby wraps the tiny hand around his finger. “so cute…so cute…” he smiles as tears leak down his face.

husband!leon who days after you’ve healed from having the baby, you all three get to go home. leon goes from room to room with the baby, showing it its nursery and giving it a tour, even if his child isn’t going to remember this. he does it all the same.

husband!leon who changes his first diaper in the days following, who does it with pride. knowing that all his practice of learning the past nine months are going to use. he lets you rest and sleep whenever you have time in between feeding and bonding with the baby.

husband!leon who loves that he’s a husband and a father, he gets to watch his child grow. he gets to have that luxury and it wasn’t something he always thought was possible. and with you, it’s more achievable and he loves you even more for that if it’s even possible.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Daisychains III

Marta Torrejón x Caroline Graham Hansen x Child!Reader

Summary: You miss Caro

It's unusual to see you in kit.

You usually end up in your school uniform or your gardening overalls or the soft linen clothes Caro buys at home in Norway that are perfect for the hot Barcelona weather.

You've never had any big interest in football, at least not enough to wear jerseys outside of watching Marta and Barcelona play.

But this is your special Norway shirt.

It's not even yours, not really.

It was Caro's, straight from her side of Marta's wardrobe.

It hangs over your knees as you sit in the swinging chair with your reading book with all the little flowers in separate pots. You'd been reading to them a lot lately.

"I've got snacks," Marta says, approaching you with a little plate of homegrown celery and carrots.

She slots into the little space next to you, an arm over your shoulder as you lean into her.

"I miss Caro," You say," When is Caro coming home?"

"She'll be home soon," Marta says," She's still playing for Norway right now."

"But I want her home!"

You're whining now. Like wearing a jersey, this is unusual for you. Your bottom lips wobbles dangerously until you're burying your head in Marta's chest and clutching at her shirt.

"I want Caro!"

"Conejita, Caro is-"

"Caro!"

Tears fall from your cheeks as you curl around Marta, your snacks forgotten as she gently rests her hand on the back of your head.

She should have expected this really. You had grown attached to Caro now that she's around more. You crawl into Caro's side of the bed in the morning before school for extra cuddles. You let Caro do up your school shoes and give you the last kiss before heading into the school building.

You adore Caro and Marta should have really known that this separation wouldn't do you much good.

You crawl into Marta's bed that night, fast asleep and holding Caro's pillow.

"I didn't mean to make her sad," Caro says, wincing slightly as she gazes at you through the video call.

"I think she just got used to having you around," Marta replies," It's not your fault. She hasn't dealt with me going away to camp for a while now. I think she's forgotten what it's like."

"I..." Suddenly, Caro feels choked up. She hadn't expected seeing you like this with your sad, little scrunched up sleeping face would affect her like that. "Give her a kiss for me?"

"Of course. I'll tell her you wanted her to have lots from you."

"Thank you."

It's amazing how expressive a child's face is. Caro hadn't ever really thought of that before. Of course, there's Skatt who had always worn her heart on her sleeve and Estrella who always looked like she was halfway between judgement and pure boredom.

Caro has known Skatt for years now but she hadn't even considered the little faces she made. She knew, in theory, that everything Skatt thought was on her face but she'd never paid attention to it.

But now that you're in her life, Caro can't help but notice.

The image of your sad face with your downturned lips and the frown that stayed on your features even as you slept.

It's an image that stays with her through all the training and gym work and even as Caro eats, stubbornly stabbing the food on her plate with a fork.

It's an image that stays with her as she prepares to walk out for the match as well.

Little feet pitter-patter around as Caro weaves through her teammates and their mascots, shuffling through the line to get to her place.

She nearly falls straight over as something unexpected crashes into her legs and Caro whips her head downwards.

To tell off or to yell.

She hasn't quite decided yet.

But her words stick in her throat.

"Caro!" You say, hugging her legs and looking up at her.

"I...What are you doing here?"

You let go of her, taking a step back. "Do you not want me here?"

Caro shakes her head, getting down on her knee to pull you into a proper hug. "Of course I want you here. I've missed you."

"I missed you too, Caro. That's why we came. I'm even wearing your shirt."

Marta stands a little way away, a fond smile on her face as she sees Caro litter kisses over your face.

"You're not going over?" Mapi asks, Skatt hanging off her arm dressed like a happy little ladybug.

"I'm letting them have this moment. I've had Conejita cuddles every day for years. Caro's got a lot of catching up to do."

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

Be our guest~

Hannigram/ Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Teen!reader

Summary: Hannibal and Will host a small dinner party between themselves, a work friend and her family. But with Will and Hannibal, there’s no such thing as a happy ending.

TW! Drugging, Delulu Hannibal, mention of blood, mention of vomit(not detailed)

~~~~~~

“Do we have to eat with them?” Your father groaned to your mother as he parked the car next to the house.

“Yes. They’re my friends and it’s not everyday we get to eat out.” Your mother snapped back. She opened her car door and stepped out slowly, brushing down the creases in her dress.

With a heavy sigh, you opened your car door and followed your mother to the small, metal gate at the front of the garden. The silky darkness of night preventing any greenery to show over the bars, causing the grey stone path ahead to be hard to navigate.

You held onto your mother’s arm as she stumbled forward in her heels. “It would be great to have my husband walk me to the front door. Not my child.” She scoffed bluntly.

“Walk yourself. You’d nag at me the whole way anyways.” Your father retorted, trailing behind. He passed your mum a bottle of wine, practically shoving it into her arms.

Your mother fixed her hair before pressing the doorbell. A pleasant ring echoed behind the tall door and soon after the door creaked open.

“Y/M/N, Hannibal and I are so happy you could make it.” The man smiled as he stepped aside to allow your family to enter, taking the bottle of wine from your mum with a small thank you. He shook your fathers hand before guiding you all to the lounge. They’re house was big. Bigger than yours or any house you had been in before. It had room after room all the way down the hall, with a big staircase at the end. Each wall had something on it, either art or a clock. No family photos or honeymoon pictures. Just rich art or an old clock.

The man sat down beside your dad, although while speaking to your parents his eyes were tracked on you. Eventually he looked away to address all of you, “Hannibal’s in the kitchen at the moment, hopefully he’ll be through in a second to greet you.”

And, as if it were rehearsed, who you assumed was Hannibal waltzed through the doorway. He dried his hands off with a towel before throwing it over his shoulder. “Y/M/N, I’m so glad you could come. Good to see you as well, Y/F/N, have you been doing better since our last appointment?”

Your father rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on a leather sofa before answering, “Yeah yeah, I’ve been doing great.”

You looked towards your mother, noticing how her gaze lingered on Hannibal, her eyes taking in every inch of him. She never looked at your dad like that.

Yikes.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes and stared at your father for a moment too long, as if he was analysing him, before reverting his gaze to you. “You must be Y/N. Your father speaks of you often.”

“All bad, I assume.” You joked, offering the man a small smile.

He hummed at your joke, returning the smile. “Well, I’m sorry to cut this short but I have to get back to work. Y/F/N, would you care to help me?” His gaze darted back to your dad.

Begrudgingly, your father stood up and sauntered over to Hannibal, presumably to follow him into the kitchen.

“So, Y/N,” the other man began, “your mother tells me you’re heading down the same path as her. Studying to be a criminal psychologist too?”

You gently nodded, “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

A somber silence fell between the three of you until your mother spoke up and sparked a conversation which you had no interest in. Something about Abel Gideon’s attack or whatever.

After half an hour of boring conversation and staring at the ceiling, Dr Lecter called all of you through to the dining room. That’s how you found out the other man’s name, Will.

You took your seat between Will and Dr Lecter, letting your parents sit together. The adults began chatting about work and life and God knows what else. All of it was boring.

While you were poking and prodding at the fish on your plate you heard your name be muttered by Dr Lecter. Your head shot up in his direction.

“What do you think?”

A soft blush burned your cheeks as you bashfully stated, “I’m really sorry but I haven’t been paying attention.”

He chuckled softly before asking what you thought of the food. To which you only gave compliments, not wanting to upset him. Dr Lecter smiled softly, thanking you, before turning back to speaking with your parents.

Throughout the numerous courses Dr Lecter brought out, you slowly began to feel more and more sick and tired, to the point where you felt your eyes rolls back in your head and your stomach churn and ache.

You gently placed your fork on your plate and leaned back in your chair, immediately gaining attention from Will who nudged you.

“You okay, kid?” His face strewn with worry.

Sweat dripped down your brow as you nodded sharply, “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“Well, we have a guest bedroom upstairs that we would be more than happy to let you borrow.” Dr Lecter chimed in.

“No it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“We insist.”

After that you had no say in wether you went or not. Will slowly guided you up the stairs and down the hall, at points he was pausing to make sure you were fine.

You always said you were fine despite your migraine making your vision blurry and your feet feeling numb. Once you reached the top of the stairs, you fell into Will and luckily he caught you, picking you up before you could try to stand again. You would have been so embarrassed if you hadn’t been feeling this bad.

The walk to the spare bedroom was tedious. Time felt as if it had slowed down to taunt you- to make sure you felt every second of pain.

Finally, Will reached the room. The door creaked open and the light flickered on. Through your blurry vision you almost thought it was your room at home. Same bed frame, wardrobe, vanity, dresser- all of it was identical. Maybe you were just being crazy. Maybe this was your brain trying to comfort you and make you see a place that makes you feel safe.

He gently placed you down on the bed, making you sit up to the best of your ability while he took off your shoes so the sheets didn’t get muddy. He then pulled back the duvet and let you fall onto the pillow, immediately falling asleep. He smiled, softly brushing hair out of your face before stepping out of the room and turning off the lights.

~

A loud crash abruptly woke you up, jolting you upright. A sense of dread washed over you as you peeled back the covers and slowly navigated your way to the thin line of light emerging from the frame of the door.

A shiver racked down your spine as the cold, hard wooden floors touched your feet.

Each step on the floor creaked under the weight of you. The loudness made you worried that the wrong person could hear and come to get you.

They were probably just watching a movie, you reasoned with yourself, trying to think of any logical explanation while feeling like something was watching you.

The abyss like darkness which awaited you at the bottom of the steps was the worst. That feeling of dread set in faster and harder as you stepped into the nothingness that called out for you.

Trying to find a way around this house felt impossible. You felt like a rat trapped in a maze trying to find its reward, and your rat race reward could only be freedom.

You crept into the kitchen, then the dining room, then the lounge, flicking on the lights as you did. Each one you were wary about entering, that dread in your stomach building up more and more.

And when a hand clasped your shoulder, you felt like crying out. You spun around, pushing the hand away and stumbling to the plush, carpeted floor. Looking up, you saw the slim and shadowed figure of one of your hosts for the evening,

Will.

Your eyes widened as you heard him call out for Hannibal. Quickly, you scrambled to your feet and made a mad dash for the closest exit, accidentally bumping into something.

Something whose chest rose and fell with each heavy heaving breath, something which grabbed you and pulled you close, something that glistened with sweat and blood in the bright white moonlight from out the old windows.

“It’s alright, Mischa..” Hannibal sighed, holding you against him, “You’re safe now.”

~~~~~~~

02:03 Saturday, 10th of August 2024

10/8/24

AN- this is low-key shit, but I kinda like the idea. I just don’t think I could write it well.

Also, three hours ago it was my birthday 🥳🥳🦅

Love you all :3

[dolicekiss]

Bittersweet Belladona

PAIRING: Dark!Will Graham x Yandere!Reader x Dark!Hanninal Lecter

CONTENT WARNING: SMUT (18+ only, mdni) very dark Will Graham. age gap (reader is twenty two) mention of mental instability, unhinged behavior by all parties, dubcon, stalking, slight blood, choking, hair pulling, manhandling (reader gets her shit clapped) degradation and praise, mention of cannibalism, scratching, slight fluff at the end.

SYNOPSIS: Following along the bloody trail left behind renowned Psychiatrist Dr. Lecter and his kin, Will Graham, your sick obsession had made you somewhat better than the FBI at tracking down the two. In the shadows, you lingered and stalked them both like a new born shadow, oblivious to the fact that you were also captured in their sight. Your twisted infatuation with the two had you cornered soon enough, trapped in an empty museum with them.

You were lured in.

You should've known.

Just why would they commit a crime in the open museum if not to lure you in and trap you?

The two men circled you around like you were their prey, like the man they had killed and formed into a firefly with its wings spread out, hanging in the air. Wings that were made out of the man's skin — red flesh exposed. The sight was spectacular and you wanted nothing more than to click photos of it, capture it in the deepest darkest parts of your mind and savor it forever.

You stared at it in pure awe, not registering the fact that you were trapped.

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

It was Will’s deep voice.

Strained and dry, it made you feel something dark inside your chest. You flinched at his voice, retreating a step back but all you felt against your back was Hannibal’s hard chest, as you crashed into him. His tall figure towered over you and you moved forward, in an attempt to get away from him.

“Beautiful like her.” Hannibal spoke, voice cutting the silence like butter. “But too bad she lacks manners, don't you think?”

All you wanted to do was stalk them, learn more about how their minds worked and get to know them. You had never found their acts of violence disgusting, no. It was simply human, their flaws and the gruesome darkness concealed behind their beautiful faces. It was all too fascinating for you but you knew all too well what the two men were capable of.

The proof was levitating right up in the air.

“Following us around, stalking us. Even going as far as to hacking our phones to eavesdrop on our conversations, how fucking impolite and ill mannered.” It was Will, as he snapped at you. Your face set ablaze underneath his searing gaze, feeling terrified as he stared at you.

A look of disgust in his eyes.

“She might as well be the next Freddie Lounds.” You wanted to hide away from the way Will was glaring at you. Glasses long gone, curly strands slicked back as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Your lips trembled. “I—”

Your throat was parched, running dry in an instant as you attempted to speak and come up with some sort of excuse to your bad behavior. You felt like a child trapped between two adults, anticipating a very bad scolding, maybe even a beating too.

“You're scared, hm?” Hannibal reached for your face, squeezing it between his hand. Your lips forming a forced pout. You were trembling in his hold, as resilient as you were.

You'd decided to follow them, in a way, finding solace in them. The cannibalistic murderers of Baltimore, murder husbands, the FBI profiler who eloped with his cannibalistic psychiatrist. Everytime you saw them on the news, you felt a connection form between you and them and tug you towards them. It was profound, what you felt for them and how the people to whom you were an unknown person comforted you.

Without their own acknowledgement.

You didn't want to die.

As much as you had nothing to live for, other than the delusions that you were meant to join the two— you were an empty shell. An unstable mind wandering the world with nowhere to go. You attempted to make a run for it as soon as you felt Hannibal’s grip loosen. Bolting for the large door, your hand nearly grasped onto the golden knob and pulled at the door but Will was quick to run after you, grabbing your hand and pushing you up against the wall next to the door.

His palm laid straight on your cheek, forcing the side of your head along the wall. Holding you firmly in place all while you struggled and became a sobbing, sputtering mess. Pain blossomed in the side of your head, throbbing and roaring through your skull. Like it could grow two large heads more. The rough manhandling caused tears to pool in your waterline, threatening to drop.

You felt horrible, didn't know what was so wrong about wanting to get to know them on a deeper level as they provided you with comfort. Feeling a bit dumbfounded and stupid.

“Please—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Will nearly growled in your ear, a shiver of terror dancing up your spine.

You watched, in your blurred peripheral vision, a figure moving in next to you. It was obviously Hannibal and you stared at him with a plea clear in your eyes.

“She looks so afraid.” He commented, moving his gaze from your face to Will’s. The man still locking you in place. “She's pretty too.”

“I hate to agree.” Will sternly said, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

You struggled and squirmed, all futile and not enough to help you get your freedom. Will’s hand tangled in your hair, fingers grabbing a bunch of your hair and fisting them. He dragged you from the door and tossed you right across the vast space on the floor, watching as your body collided with the hard marble.

You didn't waste a single second in scurrying away from them both. Now you were the prey and they were the predator, stalking upto you like you were their food. Which, you were pretty sure you were going to become. You didn't mind but you couldn't die with a heart aching to be understood, to be seen.

“She deserves a punishment, no?” Hannibal said to will, voice laced with mischief.

You shook your head. “Sorry—so sorry.”

Your tears and apologies were falling upon deaf ears. Will reveled in the feeling of seeing you this helpless, at this mercy and he knew he could crush you beneath his shoe like a dying little bird. Hannibal was more interested in Will and your dynamic, how you craved to be in his presence yet were terrified of him.

He found it endearing, even.

“Oh no, apologies won't cut it, pretty girl.” He said, in a hoarse voice. “I'm gonna make sure you never ever do something so silly like this ever again.”

Fear had consumed your whole being. Fingers trembling and breath hitching. Heart beat pattering like wild raindrops against a glass window. You could feel it thumping in your ears, as nausea took over you. The urge to throw up all over the floor fought to dominate you but you didn't allow it.

“What were you thinking?” Hannibal asked, squatting down next to where you were on the floor, back pressed into an old viking artifact. “Following dangerous men like us around. Just what did you believe you would achieve from it, if not your demise?”

You gulped, staring between the two men.

Glancing at Will and cowering under Hannibal’s gaze.

You didn't dare speak a word. The letters of the word ‘comfort’ burning the tip of your tongue but you didn't say it. The fear that wafted off you was almost arousing for Hannibal Lecter. His strong ability to smell emotions and feelings helping him smell your fear and anxiety.

“Answer him.” Will ordered, reaching forward and squatting down next to Hannibal in front of you. His hand extended out and collected the hair straight from your roots, tugging onto them. It hurt, the burning sensation spreading along your scalp as your neck was craned up.

You stared at him, a lone tear sliding down.

“J-Just wanted to see, w-wanted to see how you both do it.” Broken words uttered by your broken self.

Hanninal and Will looked at each other, seemingly communicating through their minds as their eyes spoke. Hannibal nodded and Will’s attention shifted back to you, this time staring at you with a different type of void behind those blue eyes of his. His grip tightened and you whimpered, fueling your tears.

Then he leaned down and in a rough kiss, captured your lips. Teeth clashing against your skin, tugging and biting on it. Your little fists tried to push him away from you, banging on the expanse of his chest. He didn't budge at all. Will had newfound determination to break you, to break you in order to put your pieces back together.

In a way he'd liked.

Hannibal knew as manipulative as he was, Will Graham was a cunning boy.

You felt him sink his teeth into your lower lip, piercing the skin enough to evoke blood. A trail dripping down, accumulating at the round of your chin. Vision blurry and eyes squeezed tightly, you cried and cried while struggling. It only worsened your situation as you felt someone behind you— taking a hold of your small fists and restraining them behind your back.

Hannibal held you in place tightly, giving full access to Will to have his way with you.

Your lungs expanded, in desperate attempts to suck in air but all you felt was Will’s tongue slipping past the entrance of your mouth. Colliding with yours, like snake, wrapping around it and in a way, the man was fucking your mouth.

Plunging his tongue in an out of your mouth.

Saliva, blood, tears. All of these liquids proved your demise, though not forever. You knew after Will or both the men are done with you, you'd be different. You'd be dead and you'll be reborn.

“Will, do you intend to end her life with a kiss?” Hannibal called out and the man finally, finally retrieved his tongue and broke apart from you.

Terrified to open your eyes, you let them stay shut. You could feel the hot breath of Will mingling with your own, chest moving vertically up and down. Lungs dragging in as much oxygen as the organs could, unaware of when they'll be allowed to breathe ever again.

“Open your eyes.” Hannibal’s hands caressed your wrists as he whispered in your ear.

You didn't listen and that was a grave mistake. That somehow managed to piss Will off more than you invading their privacy. Your disobedience towards Hannibal and as he walloped his hand across your cheek, a ringing sound entered your ears.

It was loud, everything becoming a blur to you.

Just how hard had he hit you?

Your eyes were opened and you blinked profusely, now finally capturing the man in front of you. You noticed the swell of his lips, as well as the blood that was smeared all over it. His slicked back hair now messed up in a few strands dancing over his forehead. You didn't stop your cries this much, soft little sobs echoing in the spacious museum.

“Will,” Hannibal warned. “She's fragile, you shouldn't be this aggressive.”

“She's strong and she knows it. A fragile little girl wouldn't stalk two men all the way from the US to Italy, would she now, princess?” You shook your head.

The obedience you had shown by responding immediately was satisfying for both of them. The slap had worked, and Hannibal took a hold of your chin, moving your face towards him. His scrutinizing gaze hovered over your busted lip. “It's bleeding, poor you. Will is really cruel, isn't he?”

The sheer rudeness and strictness Will Graham expressed and showcased was in complete contrast to Hannibal’s sweet, gentle demeanor. Its like one was meant to leave bruises while the other bandaged those same wounds.

“Please.” You pleaded, completely unaware of what you were actually pleading for. You knew that even if they were to let you go, you would still continue to stalk the men. You couldn't survive separation and it wasn't like you wanted to live with the two or be roommates, no.

You were more than okay with striving in the shadows, only admiring them from afar.

How did they catch you?

Were you that obvious? That obsessed and infatuated that you hadn't realized these men could outsmart you?

Will stared at you, the scared look on your face stirring something primal within his chest. You looked so beautiful, so broken and he saw himself in you. He saw who he was before meeting Hannibal and this — what he was about to do to you — could be your breakthrough.

They could be your pillars.

Hannibal was in absolute awe of the beauty you possessed and were. Just the raw vulnerability you exposed and how dedicated you were to stalking them, it was all endearing to him. To him it felt like you harbored romantic feelings for him, for them both. Like a puppy following its owners.

“Tie her up.” Will said to Hannibal and he nodded — immediately getting to work. Despite the amount of tears you shed, the struggling and the pleadings, it didn't bother them one bit. Hannibal had found a rope, magically and it made you realize all the more of how deep you had fallen into the well.

They came prepared.

Oh they had thought everything out.

They were looking forward to this.

“No, n-no, please. Listen to me.”

Didn't matter. You were nothing but a lifeless little doll, a plaything to keep them entertained. Hannibal tied you up, hands behind your back. Each knot tightened to the point of purple bruising, his hands skilfully moving across your body. It wasn't just your hands he tied, he'd restrained your arms too and the pain begun in your shoulders.

Both of them looked at you, sitting on the floor, tied up. Your dress had riled up to your thighs in the endeavor and it exposed your soft flesh, which seemed to be an invitation for the two men. Hannibal could only think how you'd taste, drenched in honey and garlic, sizzled on a barbeque. The flesh roasted and sprinkled with diced coriander.

Meanwhile Will could feel his cock becoming hard at how fucking hopeless you seemed. Just sitting on the floor, soft little sniffles falling from your lips. Even a few hiccups here and there too. A red handprint on your cheek a clear indication of your disobedience. It was a sight he wouldn't mind if he were to witness it for the rest of his life with Hannibal.

Will leaned down to you, sitting next to you as his hand reached for the exposed flesh of your thighs. When his soothing fingertips touched your skin, you flinched. That act of yours and how unwilling you still were made him tighten his grip on your thighs, nails leaving crescent moons all over the skin.

“You could've chosen a different path. A different life, different interests than the ones you have right now.” There was almost a heavy sadness to his words. Like he missed the person who he was, somewhere deep inside his mind. “Yet you got yourself into such a mess. Trapped with two men. Do you have any idea what we'll do to you, pretty girl?”

You shook your head.

“If you knew coming here would have you end up like this, would you still go through with it?” He stared at you, in anticipation, searching for the answer in your blurry gaze but he didn't need to.

As you nodded your head. Proving the unstable state of your mind. Despite knowing things would end this way, you'd come to this place over and over again. They had noticed you, they'd seen you, felt you. How could it get any better? Yes, you were hurt but did it really matter? It was worth seeing the two perform their art in all its glory.

Hannibal stared at Will and the man scoffed — shaking his head. “You're such a braindead little thing, aren't you?”

You lifted your eyes up from the floor you were on, confused. The confusion gave you the look of a lost puppy, who had no idea just what was even happening to it. Puzzled and all over the place, terrified and lost.

“She's a peculiar one.” Hannibal commented, one hand slipped inside his pocket. “Should we take her?”

“We'll decide that when she's proven to be worthy of it.” His hand inched closer and closer, riding further up your thigh and between them. Your breath hitched, body shivering as you felt his fingers brush against your clothed cunt.

You were already soaked, as confused as you were about it. They had humiliated you, disrespected you, hurt you yet your panties were saturated. Upon feeling the slick coating your inner thighs, Will let out a dark chuckle and showed his fingers to Hannibal.

The slick glistening against the bright lights.

“She's not some innocent little girl. Her cunt is drenched, Hannibal. All because of how we treated her, like some whore.”

You squeezed your thighs together, not wanting Will to pry more but he did. Both hands at both knees, he parted your thighs open fully and exposed you to the lascivious gaze of himself and Hannibal. The wet spot on your beige panties the perfect innuendo that you were aroused, like some fucking animal and it grossed you out.

Why were you feeling this way?

Will’s hand lowered to your cunt, his thumb flat against your covered clit. He moved it in slow, circular motions, watching you in exciting anticipation. Your body twitched, hips immediately beginning to writhe and he scoffed. Your reactions were fucking adorable, both the men in complete awe.

You still wanted out — as good as this felt.

You struggled, squirming your hips and trying to stray further from him but Will grabbed your leg, putting his own over it to refrain you from moving. You whimpered at his heavy weight on your leg, as he continued his ministrations on your cunt. He then finally peeled the panties off you, sliding them down yout ankles and tossing them to the aside.

“Fuck, such a pretty pussy.” He whispered, Hannibal also joining him on the floor.

Both of them stared at your cunt like it was a meal they both had craved for a very, very long time. A fresh set of tears fell as Will parted your pussy open with his thumbs, pink flesh coated with creamy arousal.

Hannibal shifted behind you, pulling you between his own legs. Both his hands caressed your sides, slowly riding upto your breasts. Fingers kneading into the plush of your tits and dragging your dress down, watching the fat mounds bounce out. His own cock hardened at the sight.

Hannibal loved the female body, how beautiful and different it was than a man's. Innocence seeped into it, like a fresh drop from the sun and a tear of the moon.

You looked up at him and shook your head, squirming. “Stop —no. Not right, not right.”

At your resistance, Will delivered a sharp smack across the stripe of your cunt. Watching as the pink deepened. He slid a finger inside you and you whimpered, gaze fixated on Hannibal. The men simultaneously toyed with your body, having their way with it and you could only sit there helplessly and sob.

“She's tight, even around my finger. I wonder how she'll take both of our cocks.” Will’s comment made Hannibal’s concealed cock throb. A low rumble escaping his chest, vibrating against your back. “Don't tempt me, Will.” Hannibal warned, his fingers pinching and tugging at your hardened peaks.

Will soon inserted another finger, staring up at you. He found you disrespectful and downright rude. Somewhere you reminded him of a certain redhead, with how you lurked everywhere in the shadows wherever they were. But he knew you were nothing like Freddie Lounds. You did not possess the same greed she did, the same lust for fame and content.

Instead he saw darkness. The type of darkness that matched his own — a reflection of his own self. He plunged his fingers in and out of you, curving them and gaining access to that sensitive spot. As he hit it, your gummy walls tightened around his digits, greedy cunt sucking them in.

Meanwhile Hannibal forced you to look at him, one hand still toying with your perky tits. He stared down at you, finding you endearing. How you cried, every movement of your little body. The tears pooling in your waterline, the way your lips shivered and produced small sobs, how the fear flashed in your gaze once in awhile. You were so broken and so damaged, he wanted to fix you right up.

By breaking you apart.

“You should've expected this to happen. Stalking dangerous men like us, while being so frail and fragile yourself. Just what did you expect to happen, hm?” His grip tightened on your wrist, as he stared at you.

You had no words. There was nothing on your mind, other than the realization that you were trapped and had nowhere to go. There was no one coming to your salvation and the thought terrified you more than anything. The complexities of your own emotions and thoughts warring together only left you further braindead.

Hannibal captured your lips. At first the kiss was sweet, gentle even but soon you realized it was only to swallow your little sounds. Every time Will bruised your sensitive spot, Hannibal swallowed a gulp of your whimper. These two were like wolves, consuming and sucking the blood out of their prey.

He continued kissing you, prying your mouth open and mingling his tongue with yours. The fact that you still had Will’s saliva in your mouth, also dribbling down your chin and Hannibal kissed the same mouth. It was all too taboo to not turn you on. Your hips shuffling a little only for Will to press his own leg harder down on yours.

Will stared at you both, watching with a burning gaze as Hannibal practically sucked the soul out of you. He scoffed a little, remembering Hannibal’s words from earlier at how he almost ended you with a kiss. The man was doing the same now, just with a much gentle tone.

He didn't even allow you to inhale or breathe, lips locked against yours in a tight firm kiss. You struggled, attempting to move here and there but it didn't work at all. He continued devouring you like you were his last meal. He kissed differently than Will. He kissed with the intention to eat you, with the intention to savor you for the rest of his life.

It was too passionate for you to ignore. Tears sliding down your face. “You can't eat her now, Hannibal. Don't end up biting her tongue off.”

Will’s words made Hannibal stall for a moment, registering what the man had said. He was right, Hannibal couldn't actually eat you now and from how sweet you tasted, he wanted to bite your fucking tongue off and decorate it with your white teeth.

He backed out, after relishing in the taste you had to offer. Hannibal almost flinched at how fucked out you appeared, from a mere kiss. Your vision had blurred, your mind hazy and your cheeks red. You stared at him, partially lost and numb and then more tears slid across your face.

“Let's take her over to the table.” Will passed an order and Hannibal complied, picking you up within seconds. Your legs resting on his waist, as he carried you to the table.

It was somewhere in the back, concealed in a dark corner. Hannibal laid you down against it on your stomach, and you kicked. Your little kicks delivering to his leg but it didn't affect him at all. Your act of disobedience was like drops of fuel against a fire and it angered both of them. Hannibal’s fingers circled around your ankles, holding them in place.

Will walked over to the two of you, and his fingers drowned in your locks. Grabbing a fistful of it, he craned your neck up and made you look at him. “You fucking brat.” Will slapped you across the side of your face, watching you with a burning stare.

Incinerating pain grew on your right cheek as you slowly regained your senses back and registered the slap. Blood trickled down your chin, the source being your busted lip. The trail cold and dark. “S-Sorry.”

“Oh you'll be fucking sorry when we're done with you, whore.” Will turned to Hannibal. “You take her cunt, I take her mouth. She'll know just how easy we were being on her.”

“Don't end up damaging her.” Hannibal responded, grip tightening on your ankles. “I have taken a liking to her, she'll be good entertainment.”

“Fine.” Will replied with a groan.

Then you caught his attention, again. How unlucky you were. You watched as he unzippes his pants and your eyes widened in horror, hearing another zip being pulled down right after Will’s. You shook your head but it caused Will’s grip to tighten.

As he pulled out his cock, you heard shuffling behind you as well. Will tapped his fat tip against your cheek, then slowly running it along your sealed lips. “Are you going to open up or do I have to force you?”

You contemplated. You really contemplated and the slap made you more pliant, as you parted open your lips. On the other hand, Hannibal had pushed your legs apart, his own cock in his hand. He slowly guided it inside you and when you felt his thick head enter you, a high pitched moan echoed within the walls of the museum.

Will pulled your hair. “Stick your fucking tongue out.”

And you obliged. Ashamed and embarrassed, you stuck your tongue out and Will slapped his fat cock flat against it a few times before driving it inside the wetness of your mouth. Feeling them both enter you at the same time, one inside your cunt and the other dominating your mouth. You cried out in pain.

Hannibal looked down at how your pussy hugged his cock, barely halfway through and a low growl rumbled from his chest upon seeing the ring of blood around his cock.

You were a virgin.

“She's a virgin Will.” Hannibal called out, pushing himself deeper inside you. To a point where no one else has been. “Poor girl probably wanted something sweet, something gentle for her first time.”

Will practically melted at the fact that you were a virgin. Completely untouched. He wondered how could that be possible with the way you appeared and how your body was carved by the gods them selves? But he didn't care. It was perfect. You were perfect.

Made for them.

Crafted for them by the same god they both resented.

Will’s gaze dropped down at you, watching you as your lips squeezed around his cock and sucked him in. “Ever sucked a cock before, princess?”

The term which was usually used for endearment sounded so ironic when it came from Will. Like he was mocking you, using it to taunt you. He didn't mean it when he called you that. He was only using it to make you feel horrible, calling you a princess while treating you worse than a peasant.

You shook your head. You were foreign to the idea of such explicit activities before this very night but now, you were stuffed two cocks. One in your mouth and one in your cunt.

You felt Hannibal’s cock grow thicker inside you at the information, its veins throbbing against your gummy walls. A muffled cry of despair left you as Will continued sliding his cock further into your mouth. “If I feel one tooth, I will punch them right out of your mouth. Got it?”

You inhaled through your nose, nodding.

“Good.” Will released your hair as both his hands settled against your face. He held your face, the head of his cock pushing past your palate and uvula as a loud groan mixed in with your muffled whimpers. He snapped his hips, not caring that you were choking all over his cock.

Saliva trailing down your chin, making a mess around your mouth. You moved your shoulders, all the while Hannibal held you tightly against the table by your hips and fucked you like some wild beast. Both men used their full strength, snapping their cock inside you and it left you light headed.

“She's squeezing me in so much, almost as if she likes this.” You heard Hannibal grunt, his cock slamming against your cervix. From how hard his fingernails dug into your flesh, you knew your skin was bloodied by now.

Hannibal’s gentle demeanor was out the fucking window, replaced with the monster he truly was.

As Will’s cock slid along the surface of your tongue, his hips bucked and he fully bottomed out in your mouth. You could feel his head at the back of your throat and gagged all over it, tears splattering out of your eyes. It was all a mess. You couldn't even breathe anymore and let out little screams — which were muffled and only worked as vibrations against Will’s throbbing length, nearing him to his orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. I bet her little cunt is as tight as her mouth. It's like I'm fucking a pussy.” Will whimpered, slurring out soft little pants.

Hannibal groaned in respond. “Show me her face, Will. Right now.”

Will nodded, pulling out of your mouth only for a few seconds as he flipped you on your back and pushed your head up, holding it for Hannibal to witness the mess he'd created out of you. A mirror with broken shards, showing Hannibal a reflection of himself.

He almost came at the sight of you.

Looking so fucked up. Hair a mess. Lips bruised, bloody and swollen. Tears and saliva running down in rivulets. You were a fucking sight for sore eyes and Hannibal wanted this every single day. He needed to witness this every single day.

And he never needed anything.

“So beautiful. So fucking—” He snapped inside you, his pace becoming rough and animal like thrusts founding their way against your bruised spot. “beautiful but such an impolite little girl.”

He spat as the sound of skin against skin echoed in the room. Bouncing off the walls of the museum, reaching the carved out ancient ceiling. The cupids listening to each and every noise made in sin.

Will dropped your head down, your neck bending slightly as he shoved his cock back inside your mouth. This new position gave him all the power to fuck your mouth thoroughly, watching as the imprint of his cock inside your throat formed against your skin. Bulging and moving along the skin.

It turned him on like nothing else.

He glared at you, eyebrows furrowed in pure pleasure, lips parted to allow heavy pants escape it. Will Graham looked fucking breathtaking when the sweat trickled down his forehead. You were wondering if this was that bad, if them taking you against your will was anything bad.

But it was the pleasure getting to your head.

Of course this was morally wrong and fucked up.

But who had morals in this room?

One was a cannibal, the other was an accomplice and murderer and you were an unhinged stalker.

“Fuck you looking at huh?” He asked you, abruptly slapping your chest. Your back arched and you let out a whimpered cry, almost tempted to use your teeth.

But you were well aware what that act would cost you.

Will gasped out, feeling his orgasm nearing while Hannibal looked at Will. He could only admire the view before him and as he fucked your cunt, his own orgasm came knocking at his door. Both of them imitated each other's pace, fucking you like wild animals during mating season.

They came soon and the intimacy of them cumming together was so intense. Hannibal’s load shot out, coating your gummy walls and filling you up to the brim. Will’s thrusted, and as you subconsciously tightened your mouth around him, the man also released into your mouth.

His moans had evolved into whimpers and gasps, breathing ragged as he emptied himself inside you. Balls throbbing and hips bucking. It was fucking intense, for both Hannibal and Will. His fingernails dug into the wood for support, fucking your mouth leisurely to ride out his orgasm. Hannibal had left marks on your thighs and hips from how roughly he'd gripped them, as well as blood trails from his nails.

Coated in your own blood, your once untouched and unclaimed skin was now drenched in sin — purity long snatched by the hands of the devil himself. In your case, both Hannibal and Will relresented the Devil. Falling angels they were.

As Will pulled out from your mouth, he caught a glimpse of all his load sitting there in your mouth. It's taste salty and texture thick. Something you'd never ever experienced in your mouth.

“Swallow it.” He ordered and you shut your mouth, swallowing it all. It felt gross and weird against your throat but you didn't complain, only a look of grimace crossed your face.

You still hadn't cum.

Your body twitching and aching. Your cunt screaming for its own release, knots building up in your stomach and thighs convulsing. You were close too but Hannibal stopping made you let out a whimper of frustration.

“Look at her, Hannibal. Twitching and whimpering for a release, huh.” Will scoffed, lips shuddering as he inhaled long chains of oxygen.

Hannibal pried open your hole with his thumbs, watching as his cum oozed out of you and pooled on the table. Your gaping hole sputtered, more cum leaking out and Hannibal licked his lips at the sight. “Although she has not been an obedient girl, I think she deserves her release too for taking us so well. Don't you, Darling?”

You nodded.

You needed this feeling of intense desire and wanton to disappear. This frustration that bit at your stomach, nipped away little pieces of flesh.

Will walked over to Hannibal as the man took you into his arms, sliding his cock back inside you. This time Will sat on top of the table, his half soft cock fully hardening at the evil idea that cooked in his mind. He held your ass, opening it with both his hands and slowly pressing his tip against your rim.

Your eyes widened. “N—No.”

“Still resisting us? Knowing we've claimed you, all of you? How naive.” Hannibal commented, face only a few inches apart from yours. He slid his cock inside your cunt as Will lowered you onto his. The two men were gonna tear you apart, you knew that.

Their girth and length were both something you couldn't handle, not at once at least. But Will didn't care — and Hannibal shared that. Feeling the burning stretch in your ass, you shrieked as Will entered you. A tear slid down your face, disappearing into your parted lips as Hannibal held you for Will.

“It hurts— hurts please.” You cried, like a broken doll and Hannibal pressed a kiss against the corner of your lips. “It'll feel better soon. You shouldn't feel pain. You're only a set of holes for our pleasure, aren't you?”

You didn't answer, too lost in the searing pain in your bottom. Will wasn't even half way through, you could feel it and yet it felt like you were being ripped apart. Hannibal’s cock stayed inside you, not movinf at all. Allowing Will to first adjust himself inside you.

“Answer me.” Hannibal held you with one hand, as he lightly smack you with the other.

You nodded. “Yeah, only a set of holes for your pleasure.”

Hearing you accept it like this, so vocally and out loud. Will lost it and slammed you down onto his cock, bottoming out. Pain bloomed in your ass and you screamed but before it could reach the ears of people somewhere outside the museum, Hannibal captured your lips in a rough kiss.

He licked at your tongue, teeth against teeth while fucking into you slowly. Will sat there as Hannibal moved you up and down on his cock and the burning sensation only grew with each thrust. “Stupid fucking whore. Just what was going through your head, this young and dedicating your life to stalking men twice your fucking age. It's like you wanted this to happen to you, yeah? Two cocks in you at once.”

Will’s filthy words was like alcohol, and blitzed you were. Guilt consumed you and somewhere their manipulation was seeming to work on you in this vulnerable moment. You should've know better. This was bound to happen. Just what were you expecting? That they would invite you into their lives with an open, warm embrace?

You were so fucking stupid.

Hannibal parted from you, his forehead pressed against you as he settled you down against Will’s thighs. You sniffled, feeling his cock all the way inside your ass as Hannibal used your cunt. You felt nothing more than some whore that was here for their pleasure, their sake.

Your stomach flipped and churned, a disclaimer that your release was near. Your thighs shook terribly and when Will pushed upward, you surged forward and leaned against Hannibal’s chest. You tightened around them both, toes curling and eyes squeezing shut.

“Oh she's close. I can feel her. She's gonna snap my fucking dick in half.” Will grunted, as you twitched. Then it came. That strong, bone chilling feeling of pleasure, consuming your whole being. Eyes witnessing white and lips agape, high pitched moans slurring out and tainting the purity of the museum.

You felt the potent need of release take over you ans you gushed out, squirting all over the men. Your body going limp and losing all its strength, falling over to Hannibal. All you saw was darkness, as your eyes stayed closed and your chest moved up and down. Frame suffering from convulsions.

For a moment you thought they'd stop but what a mistake it was.

“She's made quite the mess, Will.” Hannibal commented, his button up soaked in your release.

Will released a hoarse chuckle, his chest rumbling. The man started fucking into your ass, watching as it revived you back but this time you had no resistance left in you. One orgasm had sent you over the edge, overestimated and sensitive. You whined into Hannibal’s chest, tears staining his shirt as Will continued fucking into you.

Hannibal was also in pursuit of Will, his cock carrying its assault on your cunt. Encouraging broken whines out of you. The two were also stimulated enough and after fucking you for awhile, they too came.

Feeling Will’s load in your ass was a weird feeling. It was uncomfortable but what made it even more uncomfortable was Hannibal’s cum leaking out of your cunt, as he fucked it back into you.

You fell against Will’s chest, head resting on his shoulder. Face drained and numb, no energy left in you whatsoever. You were so fucked out and numb — no expression on your face as you stared at Hannibal.

“She's fucked.” Will said, with a laugh as he stared at the worried expression on Hannibal’s face.

He tapped his fingers over your cheek. “Hey, can you hear me?”

You didn't respond. Completely broken and tired. You craved solace in that moment, absurdly from the two men who were the sole cause of all this. How fucked up could this situation get?

“Hey.” His taps on your cheek grew harder but you didn't respond. Will sat up straight, arm wrapped around your waist as he held you against him. “Fuck, I think we damaged her.”

“We?” Hannibal raised a brow.

Will narrowed his eyes at him. “Don't pretend as if you weren't manipulating her into thinking this was all her fault, all the while fucking her.”

Hannibal looked at you, also tapping at your face but to no avail. You were completely speechless and devoid of any human emotion. Like some fucking statue.

“All the fucking left her braindead huh.” Will whispered and then he leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss against you cheek. He shook your body lightly and there you were.

Staring at him, with your innocent eyes and his heart clenched. You still had remnants of who you were, just like all of them but he knew this would change you.

“There you are.” Hannibal said, a wave of relief washing over him. You stared between the two men and finally gathered the courage to reply to their question.

“Comfort.” Both their gazes narrowed in on you when you spoke, voice strained and almost gone from all the moaning you did. “You a-asked me what I believed I would ac—” You coughed out before continuing, “achieve from this. Comfort.”

Will’s jaw tightened.

Hannibal found you even more endearing than before. How foolish yet adorable of you to think being with them could bring you comfort. He caressed away the drop of nearly dried blood from your chin, watching it taint your skin further.

“Let's go, we're going home.” The blonde said — as Will nodded his head. He liked the idea of taking a broken person like you home, especially when you had chased them only as a means to seek comfort. He didn't know whether to think of it as something sad or something sweet.

But both of them had plenty of time to decide that, as they were taking you home.

[atlasscrumpit]

Doctor Hannibal x Patient Reader

"So, why exactly are you taking me into a criminal psychiatric ward to visit one of your patients?" Will asked as he walked beside Hannibal.

"Well, you've been a criminal profiler for quite some time now. Y/N is a...unique case, I thought it might be good for you to expand that knowledge of criminals you have." Hannibal explained as they stopped in front of a door with your name labelled on the front.

A guard walked over and unlocked the cell door before stepping inside with Will and Hannibal.

As soon as you laid eyes on the doctor your face lit up.

"Doctor!" You shouted happily as you ran up to him and danced on your feet like an excited puppy.

"Is that you asking for a hug, my dear?" He asked opening his arms as you leapt forward and gave him a big hug.

He wrapped his arms around your smaller frame and held you tightly.

"There's someone I would like you to meet." He said, pulling away as you looked at Will, a slight scowl forming on your face.

"I'm Will, you must be Y/N." He said holding out his hand as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"I need you to play nice, my dear. Will here is a very good friend of mine and he works with me." Hannibal explained as you reluctantly shook Will's hand.

"Nice to meet you." You grumbled.

"Where would you like to have our session today, my dear? Outside in the gardens again?" Hannibal asked, your face changing immediately as you looked at him.

"Yes, please!" You shouted enthusiastically making Hannibal chuckle softly.

"Alright, put your coat on, my dear." He said grabbing your cardigan and helping you put it on before you followed the three men out of your cell.

The guard was following closely behind you, ready to subdue you if it came to it.

You made it outside and breathed in the fresh air, after all the only time you were allowed outside was when Doctor Lecter was here.

You skipped around the gardens as Will observed you.

"So, you're telling me this is the girl that killed four people and two guards?" Will asked in disbelief as he watched you dance around like a child.

"That is her, yes. Which is why she is a unique case. What do you read from her, Mr. Graham?" Hannibal asked as they followed after you.

"Innocence... But, an underlying terror of everything around her. She was cold to me but, I could see how afraid she was." He replied before they took a seat and watched you run around the garden like an excited dog.

"Her mind works in odd ways, something we see as innocent her mind will tell her it's evil and needs to be erased from this world. Paranoia, delusions and a split personality...amongst a lot of other things." Hannibal explained before you ran over and sat down between them both.

"Have you been behaving since I last saw you?" Hannibal asked as you chewed the inside of your lip.

"Kind of." You muttered as he chuckled softly.

"Kind of means no, my dear." He retorted as you sighed.

"Some of the guards are just mean to me." You grumbled as he sighed.

"Have any of them been...inappropriate with you again?" He asked as you smiled and shook your head.

"Nope! Not after you dealt with the last guy." You replied as Will looked between you and Hannibal.

"What do you mean dealt with?" Will asked, narrowing his eyes at Hannibal.

"Oh, relax my dear friend. I simply got that man fired for what he was doing." Hannibal explained.

Will didn't really believe him.

While Hannibal spoke with you, Will followed a guard back inside to take a look at your profile.

He examined it, he couldn't believe the innocent looking girl he just met had committed so many atrocities.

Once you came back inside Will caught up with Hannibal.

"I suppose you were right to want me here, she's a unique case, that's for sure. So, I'm guessing it was her other personality that committed the crimes?" Will asked, still glancing over your file.

"We aren't sure, she never says. She also denies that she even has anything wrong with her, she claims that it's all to do with demons and such." Hannibal explained as Will nodded.

"Why do you treat her like she's a kid that's done nothing wrong?" Will asked.

"Because she is a child who has done nothing wrong...at least to her. She understands she needs to be punished but she doesn't understand the extent of what she's done."

"She killed people! Children, even!"

"Contain yourself, Will."

They stood in your cell looking at you sitting on the ground and humming to yourself.

"I must go now, my dear. Our session is over." Hannibal said as you looked up and pouted.

"Do you have to go?" You muttered like an upset child.

This happened everytime.

"Yes, my dear. But, I'll be back next week. Would you like me to bring Mr. Graham again?" He asked as you looked at Will.

"I guess..." You grumbled making the doctor chuckle.

"Then we will both see you next week, my dear. Behave for me." He said as he knelt down and ran a hand through your hair.

"I'll behave." You muttered sadly making him smile, he leant forward and kissed your forehead.

"That's a good girl, I'll see you next week." He said as you smiled sadly and nodded.

"Bye, Doctor... Bye, Will."

[pitchsidestories]

the three musketeers II Caroline Graham Hansen x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2227

a/n: hi, it's based off this request here, we hope you enjoy it.

It was an important match day for Caroline Graham Hansen’s club but for now you and your lover lay peacefully asleep in your bed. Considering your last relationship with the father of your child ended in disaster being together with her felt like a save haven.

The Norwegian and you were completely opposite characters but because the love you had for each other it worked out great. Light steps signalled that your daughter Maya was in your bedroom now.

“Wake up mamis, today’s game day!”, she yelled excitedly into your and your girlfriend’s ear.

With a glance at your phone clock, you turned around to her, muttering softly: “Love, it’s way too early. You’ve to let Caro sleep.”

“But the sun is already out.”, your child pouted while pointing at the window.

Meanwhile, Caroline started to speak, her voice still heavy with sleep:” Coffee.”

“I’ll make you some.”, you promised her.

Eyes still closed the forward hold you back smiling: ”Thanks, don’t forget Mayas hot chocolate, kjaerste.”

“I’d never.”, you grinned at her.

“Caro, you’re awake!”, Maya noticed happily, wrapping her arms around the tall woman for a hug.

“Yes, I am. Hard to keep sleeping with you jumping on the bed.”, Caroline groaned as she hid her face in the little girl’s hair.

She gave her an apologetic look:” Oh, sorry. I’m just so excited.”

“Excited to walk on the pitch with me later today?”, Caroline asked her, it warmed the Norwegians heart to see the child being so thrilled to go to a game because it reminded her that she was once just like her.

You returned with an amused smile on your lips as the hot beverages were waiting to be ready:” She’s. Maya told everyone in kindergarten about it.”

“Oh, she did?”, Caroline lifted her eyebrow in surprise.

Immediately Mayas cheeks turned red:” Yes.”

“They must all be jealous.”, the Barcelona player winked at her.

“They’re”, with a shy smile your daughter added, Caro, can I wear one of your scrunchies?”

“How about we get you dressed first and after that, you can pick out a scrunchie.”, the Norwegian suggested warmly.

“Okay.”

“Come on.”, with these words Caroline helped the little girl out of bed who was quickly running into the direction of your bathroom.

Only a few minutes later you announced:” She’s ready.”

“Go pick your scrunchie.”, the football player whispered. Watching that wholesome scene between them you could feel your heart melting.

Deeply concentrated Maya touched each hairband individually before lifting the one into the air which she chose to wear:” I like the purple one.”

“Want me to put it in your hair or do you want to wear it on your wrist?”, Caroline wanted to know from the girl.

For a second she thought about it before replying:” Hmm.. I want to wear it like you do.”

“Okay, come here.”, your girlfriend chuckled while she put Maya’s hair into a ponytail.

“It looks adorable.”, you mumbled in awe at the sight of them with their identical hairstyles in front of you.

Maya tilted her head from side to side, her tiny ponytail bobbing with every movement.

Caroline held out her hand to your daughter, who happily grabbed it: “Let’s go and get your hot chocolate. I really need some coffee.“

Your girlfriend flashed you a grin as they walked past you into the kitchen.

You followed with a smile on your lips: “It’s all ready.“

Caroline sat Maya onto her chair. A routine that has become established in the past few months.

You watched as Caroline measured the temperature of the hot chocolate with her finger before handing the colourful plastic cup to your daughter, making sure she would not burn herself while drinking. This small gesture made your heart flutter for a moment.

Caroline then grabbed her own cup of coffee and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek: “Thank you.“

“You’re welcome, mi amor.“, you replied cheerfully.

You girlfriends cheeks turned slightly red. She still had not gotten used to the pet names.

“Caro’s blushing!“, Maya yelled out, followed by a loud giggle.

The football player grimaced: “I’m not.“

“Oh, or did Miss Norway forget her sunscreen before training?“, you teased her.

“Oh, shut up!“, she laughed, shaking her head.

“No.“

“No?!“, she repeated with feigned offense.

You smirked at her: “Make me.“

“I’ll.“

“I’m waiting.“, you laughed as Caroline pulled you towards her. Just as your lips were about to meet, a tiny hand pushed your face away from your girlfriends.

“No, hurry. We don’t want to be late.“, Maya protested.

Caroline rolled her eyes: “Maya.“

You shrugged: “Well, you heard her…“

“Fine.“

With a wink, you leaned over to whisper so only Caroline could hear it: “You know she’ll be very tired after the game today. So I guess we can continue later.“

“We’ll see about that. Either she’s tired or she’s bouncing off the walls after the game.“, she replied, looking over at your daughter.

“Like this morning.“, you added with a laugh.

“Typical.“

“Time to go!“, Maya interrupted you again impatiently.

Caroline sighed before picking her up: “Yes, calm down.“

Arrived at the stadium at the same time as the other players. As Ingrid caught sight of your daughter, she dropped her bag and squatted down with her arms wide open: “Maya, min lille!“

Without hesitation she ran into her arms: “Ingrid, Mapi!“

“There’s our ice princess Caro.“, Mapi laughed.

Caroline shook her head: “Would you please leave my mascot alone.“

“But she’s so cute!“, Ingrid pouted.

“She’s not here for you.“

You smiled to yourself. Your daughter was obviously in good hands here.

Mapi gave you a wink before linking arms with you to walk together towards the stands.

Meanwhile Alexia smirked at the little girl:” Maya, who’s your favourite player?”

“Uhm..”, she started, clearly afraid to give a wrong answer to the captains question.

Seeing her this distressed the blonde reassured her:” It’s okay, you don’t to answer it.”

“Okay, I like you all.”, she replied in an honest tone.

“That’s a great reply, now we need to get in line though, the game is about to start.”, Ingrid intervened smiling.

“Caro?”, Maya pulled at the taller woman’s jacket.

With a warm smile Caroline looked down to her:” Yes?”

“Can I hold your hand?”, the girl asked nervously.

“Of course you can. Ready Maya?”, the Norwegian wanted to know from your daughter, while taking her small hand into hers.

“Ready. Are you?”, Maya nodded.

“Yes, I’m ready too.”, as they walked into the stadium, the Barcelona player pointed into the direction where you and Mapi were sitting in the stands, do you see, mami? She’s over there.”

Following Carolines Finger, the girls face lit up once she spotted you:” Yes!”

“Let’s wave at her so she knows that we’re seeing her.”, the Norwegian suggested before they waved at you together. Only a moment later it was time for Maya to leave the pitch but before she was doing that, your daughter gave the Barcelona player a quick hug.

With the help of one of the staff members, the girl quickly found Mapi and you, looking overjoyed:” Hi, mum.”

“Maya, hi, did you enjoy walking out with Caro?”, you questioned her.

“Mami, that was so cool, so many people and Caro wasn’t nervous at all.”, Maya answered enthusiastically.

Grinning Mapi commented on your daughter’s story:” Oh, she’s a bit nervous, trust me. Caro wants to perform well when her girls are watching.”

“Really?”, the girl glanced at the defender. She paused for a second before continuing:” Are Mami and I her girls?”

“Yes, you two are her girls.”, the Spanish woman confirmed.

Beaming Maya told her:” I like that.” You couldn’t be happier about such a declaration from your daughter, who was so welcoming toward your girlfriend.

After the match Carolina saw how Irene was getting her son to celebrate the glorious win, which made her want to do the same. Smiling she walked to the place you both were standing:” Maya, do you want to come down here.”

“Can I, mami?”, your daughter turned around to expectantly look at you.

“Sure.”, you responded encouragingly.

This was enough for Maya who ran quickly on to the pitch into the open arms of your girlfriend who was chuckling out loud:” Look at you, walking around here like a professional.”

“Mateo still needs a little practice.”, the girl observed laughing.

“He’s still small.”, Caroline reminded her.

“Yeah, tiny.”

“Yes, true.”, the Norwegian agreed.

“Maya, Mateo wants to say hi to you.”, Irene interrupted their talk in a kind voice.

“Mateo, hi.”, Maya greeted the smaller boy politely.

Watching this scene unfold, Ingrid chirmed:” Cuties.”

“Look at them hugging.”, Mateos mum hummed.

“That’s him telling you welcome to the Barca family.”, Mariona explained to your daughter.

Playfully Caroline wrinkled her nose:” This is disgustingly cute.”

Irene looked at her and slightly offended repeated: “Disgustingly?“

“You know Caro, Irene.“, Ingrid laughed.

“I thought things would get better now that she’s a mum too.“, Irene joked.

While you walked towards them to join them on the field, you recognized that the smile had disappeared from your girlfriends face.

You politely smiled at the other players and put a hand on Carolines arm: “She’s trying.“

“Mami?“ Mayas voice called.

You looked down at where she was pulling at the hem of your shirt: “Yes?“

“When can we go home?“ The toddler rubbed at her eyes, a clear sign that she was getting tired.

Before you could answer, Caroline scooped her up into her arms: “We can go now.“

“Okay.“, she mumbled into her chest.

Even though the car ride home was short, Maya barely managed to stay awake. You had watched her eyes close in the rearview mirror. As soon as you stopped the car, Caroline turned towards your daughter: “Tired, Maya?“

“No!“, she murmured, her eyes still closed.

Caroline chuckled: “I can tell.“

She got out of the car before picking up Maya from her seat and carrying her inside.

“No problem, she can have a nap while I’m starting to cook.“, you suggested while you walked inside the house together.

Caroline nodded once: “I’ll bring her to bed.“

“Thank you.“ You leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your daughters forehead. She was now fully asleep in your girlfriends arms.

You started cooking pasta while Caroline left with Maya. It was not the first time that she tucked your daughter in, but it still made you feel warm inside.

A sheet of paper on the kitchen table caught your attention, right as you were about to start with the sauce.

You wiped your hands on a dish towel and skimmed over the document.

The words on the first few lines made your heart skip a beat but you had to suppress a gasp as you saw Carolines signature on it.

Caroline returned into the kitchen in that exact moment, you held up the paper and whispered: “What is that?“

Your girlfriend bit her lip, nervous energy was radiating off of her.

She took a deep breath before answering with an unusually shaky voice: “I… uhm… I thought if we want this to be something longterm, we should be a family on paper too.“

There was nothing you could do. Your eyes immediately welled up with tears. You put the adoption papers back on the table and walked towards your girlfriend: “Caro, this means a lot… you know that?“

“You know, we can just throw this in the trash if you don’t want this.“, she started but you pulled her towards you into a hug.

“No, I want this.“, you sniffed. Tears ran down your cheeks, moved by this beautiful gesture.

“You do?“

You nodded, lifting your head to meet Carolines eyes: “Yes, I’m very sure and so is Maya. Her face lit up when Mapi called me and her your girls.“

“We still should ask if she wants that too.”, your girlfriend thought out loud.  

“Maybe after we had dinner?”, you suggested.

“Yes.”

Both of you were nervous when it came to finally asking your daughter the important question. Unlike Maya who looked serious between Caroline and you:” So, what did you want to ask me?”

“She sounds like she’s the mum and we’re the children.”, the Norwegian commented amused.

“She does.”, you admitted laughing, feeling the tension release a bit from your body.

The football player turned her head to your child, sounding earnest:” Maya, I have an important question for you, what would you think if I officially became your mum too?”

“Would you?”, Maya responded big eyed while she made her way to Caroline.

“I’d love to.”, your girlfriend replied seriously, feeling her eyes getting slightly wet by how moved the little girl and she herself was.

Your daughter went on to hug her:” Me too, mum.”

Overjoyed Caroline looked up to you, gesturing with her hands that you should join them:” Come here. I love you, my girls.”

“Are we still the three musketeers?”, Maya asked anxiously.

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, the football player reassured her:” Of course, we’re.”

“All for one.”, you and your girlfriend began beaming.

“And one for all.”, the little girl cheered, knowing deep inside that she could count on her two mums in whatever the future would hold for you three as a family.

[talaok]

Pedro Pascal

♡ = smut        ☆= fluff         ➹ = angst

PEDRO PASCAL

Will you kiss me? →You are a famous actress who Pedro has a crush on, and he finally gets to meet you once you get both invited to The Graham Norton Show (☆)

Very good friends → No one knows that you and your co-star Pedro are in a relationship, and as you get interviewed, it turns out you're both really bad at keeping it a secret (☆)

Marie → Pedro pascal x actress!reader (☆)

My hero → You and Pedro find out the Last of Us has won 3 MTV awards (☆)

The carpet → You and your husband Pedro prepare for a red carpet, but once you're there you have a wardrobe malfunction, luckily, he's there to help. (☆)

-Requests-

Hurt/comfort:

Sick day → Pedro pascal x sick!reader (☆)

All I need → comforting Pedro after a nightmare (☆)

You bled through on Pedro’s bed

Reader has a bad day (hurt/comfort)

You ask Pedro to practice a break-up scene and he gets in his head

Cuddling with Pedro after a bad day

Comforting Pedro

You're stressed because of an exam and Pedro takes care of you

Pedro x sick!reader (rushing to the er)

You start to cry because of mean comments about your relationship on the internet, but Pedro comforts you

Pedro takes care of you while you're sick and you end up having your first kiss

Reader has pots disease (☆)

jealousy:

At the Met → You and Pedro, Hollywood's hottest couple, attend the Met Gala together, but when you find out your ex was invited too, things start going sideways (☆+➹) pt. 2

Pedro is jealous of one of your co-stars

Pedro is jealous of your ex (pt.2)

Pedro’s jealous of one of your friends

Pedro’s jealous of your best friend

Pedro gets jealous at the Beyonce concert

jealous!reader

Pedro is jealous of how your friends talk about you and ends up confessing his feelings.

you open the door only wearing a shirt and panties and Pedro gets jealous

Pedro's jealous of another actor because he said in an interview he has a crush on you

Dad!Pedro:

Daddy! → You and your daughter visit Pedro on set (☆) [pt.2]

Pedro x pregnant!reader

Pedro with your daughter

You and Pedro have a child and are very famous

Pedro dresses up as mando for halloween for your daughter

Pedro falls in love with pregnant!reader

Pedro has the perfect day with his daughter and you

You and Pedro finding out you're having twins

Protective!Pedro:

Sick day → Pedro pascal x sick!reader (☆)

You and Pedro had a fight but he’s still very protective of you

Sexier ones:

Pool → A hot pool lesson with Pedro (☆)

You're mad at him, but you're trying for a baby and you're ovulating (bathtub scene from Queen charlotte inspired)

Pedro trying to wake you up in the morning with kisses

He kisses you while you’re fighting

Pedro being your first time

Others:

Mama → Pedro Pascal x interviewer!reader (☆)

First kiss with Pedro (☆)

Pedro is a bad flirt (☆)

Surprising Pedro for his Birthday (☆)

Random fluff (☆)

You wake up to find Pedro starting at you (☆)

Pedro wipes your make up off after you feel asleep (☆)

An Interview to Pedro about your marriage

You’re on face-time when the emmy nominations get announced

Groomzilla

The Diet → tw: eating disorder (☆+➹)

Pedro proposes to you

Waking up with Pedro while on vacation

Pedro takes care of you while you’re drunk

Watching a football match with Pedro but you’re on opposite teams

Making pasta with Pedro

Pedro helps you take a shower

You and Pedro get set up on a blind date

Pedro gets in his head and starts wondering if, after all, you actually want children

Reader doesn't believe in love, and is not sure if she wants to give Pedro a chance

Pedro and wife!reader get matching tattoos

Supporting Pedro at snl

You get insecure about you and Pedro's age gap, but he reassures you

Angry love confession in the rain

You and Pedro's first kiss (you're both actors and fall in love while filming a movie)

Pregnant!reader and Pedro at the SAG awards

You and Pedro (your co-star) get a little too drunk and have your first kiss

Pedro joins in on your skincare routine

[entitled-fangirl]

No pajama party for you, Mr. Graham.

Will Graham x fiancee! fem! reader

Summary: Will gets his fiancee drug along into his twisted games with Hannibal, leading to her now restrained body in the chair across from him at Mason Verger's dining room table.

Words: 1,513

Warnings: Mason is gross. Inappropriate comments about the reader from Mason.

Genre: angst?

Author's note: slightly boring, but I like it. Also, I don't own pretty much any of this, but my insertion of Y/N and some added lines. And not my GIF. Enjoy :)

Masterlist

...................................................................................................

Will’s greatest fear was coming true.

Here she was, his fiancee, tied up in the chair across from him. Her hair was seemingly done and her outfit was a decently revealing dress. Will lets out a deep breath as if holding himself in. He sneered at Mason, who sat in his chair at the head of the table happily. 

“Well, if Jezebel was right with the risen Jesus, the Riz would have provided her with a new face, as His has provided mine.”

Will’s eyes slowly moved over to look at Mason in confusion. Mason simply stared back at him, raising his eyebrows as if mocking him. Mason takes his silence as a sign to continue. 

“The transplants surgery is extremely skillful, which is why Cordell here will be performing the face-off.” 

As he says so, Cordell walks into the room with another plate of food, backing down to set it on the table, then swiftly standing back up. He turns and stares at Will with a happy expression, before his voice utters a simple, “hello,” as if we was talking to a child. And with that, he disappears into a back room. 

Y/N's eyes flicker between Hannibal, who sits at the foot of the table, and Will as if she’s trying to read their feelings, but like most things with Hannibal, he is unreadable. In fact, as of now, he seems rather happy. She tries to not let expressions show. 

“You boys remind me of that German cannibal who advertised for a friend and then ate him, and his penis before he died,” Mason said. Hannibal gives a grin at this as he continues to eat his food. “Tragedy being, the penis was overcooked. Go to all that trouble to eat a friend, and you overcook his penis!” Y/N at this point has a ruddy shade on her cheeks as she avoids eye contact with everyone. “They ate it anyway. They had to, they committed. But they didn’t enjoy it.”

Hannibal keeps a cheeky smile on his face throughout Mason’s entire monologue. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the doctor was thinking. Hannibal was often like this. Sometimes, that look could mean that he finds your company rather enjoyable, and other times he was wondering how you would taste over a side of rice. Perhaps now, he was thinking both. 

Will takes this time to look around the room and the table. A cooked pig sat at the center of the table, with various sides surrounding it. His eyes flicker up to his fiancee’s, but she’s looking at Hannibal with a confused expression. He wished he could get out of his restraints to let her go. God, she deserved anything but this. Two years of dating and this is what she gets. And Will has no idea why Mason wants her.

“I’m committed to enjoying every bit of you,” Mason continued as he stared harshly at Lecter. 

Will interrupts him, a tinge of anger and confusion in his tone, “You’re going to eat him… with my face?” He now stares at Mason, not knowing if he wants the answer.

Mason looked to Will, his eyes squinting, and his voice strong. “Yes. I got a taste for it after you two had me eat my nose.” Will looked down, contemplating the disfigured man’s words. He knew he was getting into the wrong crowd, but now, not only was he in danger, but he brought his beautiful girl into it as well, and for that, he couldn’t forgive himself. He also couldn’t help but blame Hannibal, but now was not the time to be pointing fingers. 

Mason continued, his eyes staring at Y/N, “and then I’ll eat her…” Y/N's head perks up to look at him in fear. He cheekily raises his eyebrows, “…in a different way, of course.” His gaze wanders up and down her body like a hungry lion looks at its prey. 

She looks down at the table, her cheeks a consistent shade of red throughout this entire dinner. But Will had heard too much, in his opinion. Of course, that's what he wants with her. It seems that the expression, 'you are what you eat,' is proving itself to Will now because he's looking at the pig on the table and the man sitting at the head of it. He pulled on his restraints harshly, his voice almost a growl, “Don’t fucking-"

Hannibal immediately cuts in, “You must be terribly proud that you could bring this off.” He eats his food as if he’s not in a dangerous situation with a man that wants to eat him, kill his friend, and mate with his friend’s fiancee. “It’s dangerous to get exactly what you want.” He looks up to meet Mason’s eyes, a confident glow in them, “What will you do after you’ve eaten me?”

Will stares at the table, his eyes slowly moving up towards Mason again. His voice was fairly confident and steady, but inside his blood had begun to boil. “You could wreck some foster homes and torment some children.”

Mason is now tormenting Will, “No, I’ll drink martinis made with tears.”

“But where, Mason, would the hard-core fun come from?” Hannibal chimed in. He didn’t like people messing with things that were his, such as Will and Y/N. But, of course, he would never let that show. 

Mason clicks his tongue at him. “It’s foolish to dilute such an ecstatic time as this with fears about the future,” he said as his eyes wandered back to Y/N's face. She was a pretty little thing, after all.

He smiles as much as his disfigured face allows him to at the sight of Y/N's fears. "Don't worry, girl. It'll be just like how it is now. Will's face will be the only one you'll see when making love. It's as if nothing will change."

Her face turns to one of disgust. Her voice finally chirps up quietly, though her eyes remain on the table, "I'd rather die."

Mason gives a quiet chuckle, "People will die today, but none of them are you, sweetie." He quickly scans the room before his gaze settles on Will. “Uh, Cordell, Mr. Graham is looking very dry. A little moisturizer, please.” Cordell nods and quickly leaves the room. 

Will stares at the table with multiple emotions going through him. Both Y/N and Hannibal know that look. They have seen it consistently. It usually means he’s going to do something rash, if he can come up with the plan for it. His eyes are beyond an angry glare as if he could murder someone in cold blood with a glance. If that were so, the fork on the table would be a puddle of melted metal.

The doctor pretends to take no notice, still seemingly enjoying himself. “I’m curious- what will be the first cuts of me you’ll serve?”

Cordell interrupts. “The first course, of course, will be your hands and feet,” he says as a matter of fact. Y/N feels a shiver go down her spine at his words, worried for the psychiatrist. He continues, “sizzling on a Promethean barbecue.” Will looks up in concern, staring at the two as Cordell describes how he’ll cook the man. “The coal is white and very hard. It makes a clear ringing sound when struck.” 

Y/N can’t recall a time she’s seen Lecter look so pleased. His gaze shifts back to Mason with a smile- a real smile, “You’ve thought of everything.”

Mason hums, “And after that, we’ll have a little pajama party, you and I. You can be in shorties by then.” At this point, Cordell is approaching Will with the moisturizer. “Cordell is going to keep you alive for a very long time.”

Cordell bends down slightly to study Will’s face before dipping his finger in the small tin of moisturizer. As if you’d miss it in a blink, Will moves his head toward Cordell’s face, biting into his cheek harshly. The cook lets out a scream of pain, and Hannibal lazily looks over, unfazed. Y/N grips the arms of her chair tightly, letting out a small shriek at the sight. The tin of moisturizer is dropped on the ground and Cordell steps back, letting out grunts as he holds a hand over the bleeding hole in his face. Will makes a disgusted look on his face and spits the chunk out on the table, blood now staining the tablecloth and Will’s face. He then leans back, slightly pleased with his handiwork. Mason looks at him with no emotion.

“Well, no pajama party for you, Mr. Graham.” Will takes long deep breaths. He looks up to see Y/N's horrified expression, then turns slightly to look at Hannibal, who is smiling proudly at him. “We’re gonna feed you to the pigs as soon as Cordell has removed your face- in a much more civilized fashion than you just tried to remove his.”

He looked back to Y/N, realizing he may have fucked up.

...........................................................................

I may continue with the storyline :)