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drewsbuzzcut · 4 months

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Standing On The Sun And I Don’t Feel A Thing

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: hospitals, miscarriages, mentions pain, nausea, and blood, mentions abortion, mentions panic attacks, grief, anger, some angst, and mat being kind of mean, also mentions trying for a baby and I think that’s all (pls let me know if I missed any)

this takes place september 2030

“Where are the kids?” You ask, voice hoarse and eyes puffy.

“Shhh shhh. The kids are with Bev. Baby, what happened? I got a call from the hospital and I went straight to drop the kids off, thank god Beverly was home,” Mat takes a seat next to the side of the hospital bed. He brings your hand into his and you can tell he’s been crying.

“I-“ you start but stop as you start coughing.

“You need some water,” he presses the call button that alerts the nurse.

After a few sips of water, you close your eyes to try to gather your thoughts about all that you could remember.

“This morning, after I got to the photo shoot, I started feeling nauseous and my lower back was in a lot of pain. I just thought I was about to start my period. I don’t really remember anything after that. I think I remember seeing blood and then everyone started freaking out. Eventually everything went black,” you recall the foggy events that led you here.

“Do you know what happened? Did the doctor come to talk to you?” He asks but tries to hide his frantic state.

“I just woke up. I’m still in pain. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared, Maty,” you grip his hand really tight, bringing his palm up to your cheek for warmth and comfort.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. I love you. I’m here and you’re going to be okay,” he whispers against your forehead, willing his tears to go away.

A knock sounds on the door and Mat tells them that they can come in. The look on the doctor’s face makes you go pale.

“Is everything okay? Am I okay?” You ask warily.

“It’s nothing too serious, but I regret to inform you that you’re miscarrying at the moment,” the words fade out, your head fuzzy and heart pounding.

“I’m sorry what?” Mat says in shock.

You try to take deep breaths but everything feels shallow.

“Mrs. Barzal, you’re going through a miscarriage which is why you are experiencing severe pain and were bleeding earlier. We do, however, want to perform an ultrasound to confirm,” the doctor says in an eerie tone.

Tears spring to your eyes and you shake your head. This cannot be happening. The nausea returns and twists at your abdomen.

“That’s not possible,” you whisper.

“It’s what your blood test is telling us. We’re going to take you to a different room for your ultrasound,” the doctor says along with some other information before they leave the room.

“Oh my god,” you cover your face with your hands and throw your head back.

“I love you,” Mat kisses your forehead.

“This can’t be happening,” is the only thing you say.

An hour later it’s confirmed that your body is going through a miscarriage, and you feel like everything beneath your feet has been taken from you. You feel so empty and you didn’t even know you were pregnant.

You close your eyes and force yourself to fall asleep, but even then your mind still reels at the events of the day. Not even Mat’s hesitant touch can help you feel better.

“Y/n, wake up,” you hear Mat whisper softly in your ear a couple hours later.

You blink your eyes, the blinding light of the room making your head hurt.

“The doctor said that you will be discharged in about an hour,” he informs you, but you honestly just hear static.

Everything from that point on is a blur of unshed tears and horrific thoughts. The shrill sound of your babies wanting to be in your arms when you get home momentarily distracts you, but that emptiness lingers. You try to distract yourself with being a mom and setting up dates with your close friends. You move throughout the house, cleaning every surface over and over again to keep you sane. You go through about 4 wooden pencils as you write and write until you’re snapping each pencil in half with your strong grip. You take extra long showers to wash away each trace of grief that may be left on your body.

After a week of feeling like a robot, you start to feel every emotion you’ve been trying to push down come back up. It doesn’t help that Mat pulled himself away from you. You don’t remember the last time you had a full conversation that didn’t revolve around your kids or random topics that warranted a 30 second talk. You cancel all plans and lock yourself in the guest bedroom.

The empty feeling spreads from your stomach all over your entire body. How could you not know you were pregnant? Why wasn’t your body strong enough to keep them alive? Why did you feel so alone despite Mat being a father and a mother all while he’s trying to help you?

You sob your eyes out and twist in agony, because each time you feel like you might be okay, you’re reminded that your body failed you. No one prepares you for what it feels like to lose something you didn’t even know you could lose. You hate yourself for feeling this way, because it��s selfish when you already have kids and a husband. A family that’s already felt complete, but now it just feels broken.

It takes several phone calls to your therapist before you feel like you can function without your heart aching every second. You realized that you need your babies’ hugs and kisses. You needed to feel some kind of love.

You attempt to put back all of your broken pieces by playing with your children or napping with them. Simply just being around them puts a smile on your face. You start to feel yourself come around more. You start hanging out with friends again and laughing and feeling anything but sadness. You try to be more positive in situations you’d automatically become upset with.

The only thing that’s keeping you down is Mat. He’s become really good at being just a roommate. He’ll work with you when it comes to the kids, but other than that the space between you both feels like miles rather than inches. You’ve let him keep to himself, because you’re not sure how he’s coping with what happened- especially because you’ve locked yourself away for the past week or so.

Eventually you get tired of his silence and pressure him into talking to you.

“What’s going on?” You ask one night when he’s just getting out of the shower.

“What are you talking about?”

You stay silent for a minute and just watch him. His face conveys nonchalance, but his body is rigid.

“You know what I’m talking about, babe. Why have you been so distant with me? Is it because I’ve been sad? I’m better now and even if I wasn’t, you can still talk to me,” you say, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

His body stiffens and he slowly moves away from your touch.

That really hurts.

“It’s not about that, Y/n. Believe it or not, I’m not feeling this way because you were or are sad,” he blurts out.

He continues to move around the room, getting dressed and putting on lotion.

“Okay. So what’s wrong? Why are you being pissy with me?”

“Like you don’t know,” he says.

“Obviously I don’t. Why do you think I’m asking?” He’s really starting to make you mad.

“How could you not tell me?” He finally asks.

“Not tell you what? I’m so confused right now,” you tug on your hair and shut your eyes, trying to come up with the missing details.

“How could you not tell me that you were pregnant? I had to find out by seeing you in the hospital because you were having a miscarriage,” he just about shouts and it makes you flinch.

“I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I was just as in the dark as you were. I would’ve told you if I was pregnant. I can’t believe you’d think that I’d keep something like that from you,” you explain with your voice and head low.

“Shit. I- I’m sorry. I just assumed that you knew and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I love you,” he gathers you in his arms and just holds you.

“I’m sorry I pushed everyone away. I just needed some time to think about things and to be sad,” you say through tears.

“It’s okay. I love you,” he kisses your temple.

“I love you.”

Later that night you’re both in bed, cuddling and basking in the comfortable silence.

“Mat?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I think you should get snipped,” you voice your most recent thought.

“What?” He questions because he’s not sure if he’s hearing things.

“I really think you should get a vasectomy,” you reiterate.

“Wait… why?”

You adjust in his grip so you can fully face him. Your hand goes to rest on his cheek and you thumb at his skin.

“I think I’m done with having babies. We have 3 and I think that’s enough,” you say.

“No. That’s not what I meant. I mean why do I have to be the one to get the procedure done?”

“Well why not?” You ask back.

“I can’t get that because I have to be sharp for hockey. I can’t spend weeks just lazing around during a recovery period, you know that. You should get your tubes tied,” he explains and you let out a scoff.

You move away from him and get off the bed in favor of pacing around the room.

“I’ve held each of our babies inside of me for 9 months. I breastfed all of them. I just had a miscarriage for a baby I didn’t even know existed. My body is constantly changing. That’s not always an ideal situation for my career, especially because my body is an important aspect of my job. Hell, I’m practically art! So, no, I’m not going to be the one to get my tubes tied,” you rant, eyes squinted and a frown wrinkling your forehead.

“I thought that’s why you started taking classes at Pratt, so modeling wouldn’t be the only thing you have going for you?” He replies, subtly putting words in your mouth.

Your every feature turns down in a sad and disappointed pout. You honestly didn’t see this conversation going in this direction. The whiplash is unreal.

“That’s not what I was aiming for when I decided to take some classes. You’re being a real ass right now,” you bite.

“I’m being an ass? What about you? You just assumed that I don’t want any more kids. You know, I want you to at least want one of them, because if you haven’t noticed you really didn’t want either of them,” he spits out, face red as a tomato.

That makes you cry. That assumption that you never wanted your kids makes you die on the inside.

“At first, you wanted to get an abortion with Nolan,” he says when you stay silent.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock up an eyebrow, daring him to continue.

“You didn’t really want Angel. I remember you saying that you didn’t want any more kids after Nolan,” he adds.

You glare at him in return.

“Lastly, you said you didn’t really like the timing of Sloane and I can’t blame you, because you went and broke up with me and then hid it from me. No wonder I thought you hid this one, too,” Mat rips into you, voice laced with venom.

“You listen to me, Mathew Barzal, if I really didn’t want to have our kids, I wouldn’t have had them. Believe me when I say that. Of course I wanted our kids. Was I scared out of my mind each pregnancy? Yes! Would I take them back? Hell no. I love our babies, so for you to say that really sucks,” you respond, wiping away your tears.

He just shakes his head in return.

“I’m scared of pregnancy. I just lost a baby and you expect me to want to try for another one? I don’t know if I can do that for you, for us,” you correct your last couple of words before he can turn them into something else.

He watches you, staying silent as you fall apart at his feet.

“Is this going to be the end of us?” You ask.

“Why is it always a breakup with you? Is that what you really want? Deep down, do you really not want to be with me?” He accuses.

“No! I just feel like you don’t love me, so I’m not going to beg you to stay if that’s not what you want. I can’t even give you a baby, so there’s that,” you admit.

“I lost the baby, too,” Mat points out.

“I know that, Mathew. I know, but you don’t understand what it’s like as a mother to go through a loss like that. My body should be capable of growing a life. Then you go and say that I didn’t even want my kids. You don’t know what it feels like to feel so utterly empty and alone. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know that they existed, because as a mother, I should’ve known,” you whisper as your voice starts to become strained.

You feel your chest start to cave in on you and the lack of support makes your knees buckle. You go straight to the floor, tucking your knees into your chest for some kind of stability. You’ve never seen Mat so upset. You’ve never been on the receiving end of it. Part of you is mad at him for the way he’s talking to you, but another part of you understands. This whole miscarriage has turned your world upside down. You’d be naive to think that it wouldn’t affect him too.

“Baby, don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault. I love you, always. I promise it’s going to be okay,” he wraps you in his arms and squeezes you to his chest. He beats himself up for the way his words caused you to crumble. Seeing you break after already being broken down snaps him out of his anger. His word vomit just spewed out, but maybe it was a good thing because everything was out on the table.

You don’t blame him, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

He doesn’t know it, but the beat of his heart does wonders to calm you down before you can have a panic attack.

“Do you hate me?” You lock your hands behind his neck, desperate to have him pressed to you in any way possible.

“Never. I’m sorry I made you feel like I did. I swear I would never hate you,” he rubs your back.

“You said I didn’t want our babies,” you get out through the remnants of your cries.

“Do you really feel that way? Be honest,” you speak again.

“Part of me used to feel that way, but every time I see you with our babies, I see how much you love them. You’re the best mama bear to our little loves. I wouldn’t have had kids with you, if I felt certain that you didn’t want them. I was just being an asshole,” he whispers into your temple.

You sniffle at his response, feeling another bout of tears ready to fall because you never knew he felt that way.

“Are you sad about the miscarriage?” You need his feelings to be transparent.

“Yeah. A lot more than I thought I would be. I’m also angry, because you shouldn’t have had to go through that. I should’ve known you were pregnant, maybe things would be different,” he answers honestly.

“It’s not your fault either. This is just a really sucky thing,” you try to comfort him, but you can see the tears in his eyes and the way his bottom lip wobbles.

“I’m sorry for being mean. I can’t take it back, but just know that I love you so much,” he finally cries.

You pull him closer, hand caressing his neck and back and you kiss his cheeks.

“We’ll work through it. We always do. Do you really want another baby?” You look into his eyes.

“I do. One more baby barzal, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to because I made you feel bad about an insecurity I have,” he admits, thumb wiping away your tears. His forehead leans against yours and for the first time in a couple of weeks, you feel whole.

“Insecurity?” It’s the first you’re ever hearing about it and it shocks you to your core. For as long as you’ve known Mat he’s always been the secure and stable one.

“I sometimes thought you were just having kids to please me and not because you were ready to have them. I guess I was feeling insecure about our age gap. I finally got somewhat of an understanding of what you used to feel like,” he explains and you feel guilty for never realizing.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I could’ve soothed your worries a long time ago. Like I said, I had our babies because I wanted to.”

“I thought I could get away with it, but I guess it just bubbled up until I couldn't hold it in anymore. I promise to come to you whenever I get an insecurity, or just any little problem really. You’re my wife, I need you all the time,” he pulls you in for a kiss. You try to kiss every single one of his worries away.

“I would like to purposely try to make a baby, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready. Just have some patience with me,” you say into his mouth.

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to pressure you into having another baby if that’s not something you want to do.”

“Mat, baby, you’re not pressuring me into anything. I’ve been having some baby fever lately. Miss Sloane is getting older, so it’d be nice to have another baby,” you assure him.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready,” he says, pulling you into a kiss.

“I love you. We’re going to get through this,” you promise him. And you will,, no doubt about it.

Being riddled with grief and guilt- that can only come from the way you both acted towards each other- will make you both stronger in the end. Stronger as individuals, as a couple, and as parents. You’re just glad you’re going through it all with your husband by your side. It’s Mathew or no one, and it’s safe to say that he feels the same way.

a/n: Looks like mat and model!reader have some therapy and lots of talking to do before they fix everything. As always, hope y’all enjoy!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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madisonwritesstuff · 8 months

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Hi hi 🤧 how about a little Hannibal AND Will with reader where they’re both pining over her (maybe she’s been with the FBI for a while too and is an agent and teacher) and readers kinda oblivious to it and everyone’s all like 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽🤦🏽 with those three until one day Hannibal and Will are like “???why can’t we both have her?? Polyamory is a thing” and then reader is all 😦😦 because she can’t believe these two men like her LMAOO I think it would be pretty funny to see written, especially by a talented writer like you 🫶🏽

★ ; sharing is caring. -------------------

Hannibal Lecter x Fem! Reader x Will Graham.

I LOVE THIS IDEA SM, HOPE YOU ENJOY MY CONCOCTION 😍😘

Tags; stupid oblivious! reader, hannibal and will rivalry, alana being readers friend, polyamory, ooc jack(?).

It started off small, unnoticeable actions.

“Y/N! I got you coffee.” Will spoke, a smile smile on his face. “Oh I'm sorry, I don't drink plain coffee, its” You apologized, feeling bad for rejecting his offer. His smile faded. “Oh? Then what drink do you like?”

“She likes milk coffee.” Hannibal spoke from behind and walked up to the two of you, handing the coffee cup to you. “Here, I made sure it has the right amount of sugar.” He smiled proudly. “Aw! Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you.” You smiled, happily walking away to go sit down somewhere and drink your coffee peacefully.

Will stared at Hannibal, dumbfounded. “What was that?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “That was the sound of me winning.” Hannibal spoke back before walking off. “You little-”

Jack was just watching all this happen while sipping on his own coffee. “Love triangles are my favorite trope.” He whispered over to Beverly, who was just as intrigued as him. “Didn't take you for a romance drama lover, Jack.”

------

Then it was Wills turn for payback.

“Cake?! No way! Aw Will you really didn't have to!” You excitedly hugged Will. He came to your house specifially to give you a congratulatory cake for solving your first case in the FBI as an agent.

Hannibal watched the whole scene unfold as he held his own cake, watching as Will hugged you before turning and smirking at Hannibal, mouthing the words “I win.”

Hannibal glared at Will, gripping the cake box in his hand as he watched you all cheerful with Will. “Come inside! Let's share the cake, after all you did come all the way here to deliver it.” You smiled, letting him into your house.

------

And then again.

Hannibal invited you, Will and Jack to dinner at his house. You brought along Alana because she was one of your close friends.

“Is my makeup fine?” You asked the hundredth time, Alana laughing and pushing you forward to the front door. “You're fine, now hurry up before they start dinner without us.” You laughed with her and walked to Hannibal's house.

After a while of sitting around and chatting while Hannibal finished preparing the dish. The food finally came out and you were surprised to know Hannibal unknowingly! had cooked your favourite food!

Will was giving Hannibal side eyes the whole time, knowing what he was up to. All the while Hannibal was smiling proudly while sitting down, enjoying the happy smile on your face as you happily ate the meal.

And to top it off, you were the only one who got to take some food home.

------

“Alright, I'm making a peace offering with you.” Will spoke as he gave Hannibal a marble ball. “What is this supposed to be?” Hannibal looked at Will in confusion.

“A peace offering. I spent my money on that cake for Y/N so that's all you're getting.” He crossed his arms. “Appreciated.” Hannibal said sarcastically, putting the marble ball into his pocket. “What did you really come here for?”

“I had an idea.” Will stated proudly. “I hope you're not plotting against me with that idea.” He joked, yet he was partially serious.

“No, even better. I was thinking... What if we shared Y/N?” Will said, expecting a round of applause. Yet Hannibal was more so just staring into his soul while thinking.

“Not a bad idea. At least we won't have cake baking competitions.” He shrugged, seemingly okay with the idea. “Alright, then from tomorrow on I better not see you plotting against me.”

------

You stared at the bouquet of your favorite flowers at your desk. The note on it reading ‘Most love from Will and Hannibal.’ that was odd, you could've sworn those two had some kind of unresolved argument going on or something.

But you didn't mind. Instead you happily placed the flowers in the empty vase you had in your office. Now you don't have to buy the flowers yourself!

Meanwhile Hannibal and Will were for some reason watching out the window of your office and giving each other a high five.

------

“We both thought you'd like this, this one's from me and this ones from him.” Hannibal said proudly, showing you a set of earrings and necklace. “No way- Really? For me? Are you sure you two aren't bribing me?” You said excitedly, surprised as you admired the beautiful jewelry. “Pretty gifts for a pretty lady.” Will spoke up, smiling a little.

“Thank you so much! Both of you! But really.. What's the occasion?” You asked, genuinely curious.

Hannibal and Will slowly stared at each other, silently communicating as they both practically just said ‘How the hell does this woman not know why we're giving her gifts and being nice to her?’

“Um, I think you should explain.” Will looked at Hannibal, raising his eyebrows and motioning him to speak to you.

“What's happening? Am I dying in three days?” You said with a nervous laugh, a little bit concerned at this point.

“Y/N, we both like you. And we have for a while now.” Hannibal explained, upfront. Will silently nodded to what he said.

Your face was blank, the cogs in your head slowly turning. “Wait... WHAT.”

“This whole time you've been nice to me is because... You two had a crush on me?” You spoke up in surprise and embarrassment, your cheeks turning into a shade of blush.

“That and we were kinda hoping you'd date both of us..” Will quietly said, feeling a little embarrassed himself to say that out loud.

“Dating two hot men? What makes you think I'd say no?” You said a little too happily.

“Oh my god I thought you'd hit me and call me an asshole-” Will said with a nervous laugh. “I wasn't worried at all.” Hannibal said smugly.

In reality he was deathly terrified.

------

“Beverly.... you won..” Jack said in devastation, as he and Beverly were hidden behind a bush, both wearing binoculars. “Give me my money Jack.” Beverly said proudly.

“Dammit.. I really thought she'd pick Hannibal.” Jack said sadly as he gave Beverly 20 dollars.

“I already knew she'd pick both, girl senses, ya know?” Beverly said with a smug smirk, taking the money and shoving it into her back pocket.

#hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x fem reader #hannibal lecter x reader #will graham #fem reader #headcannons #female reader #hannibal #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #polyamory

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precious-little-scoundrel · 4 months

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Dear John || Pt.1

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Requested: ☑️ My sweet Bri begged for a love-letter-centric Egan fic and with her wonderfully infectious ideas this was produced, the first part of many.

Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters, he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

It was specified in the request to use or create some of those old WWII dirty acronyms, so in here you have Bucky making up his own for his starlet crush (acorn). I’m ripping off a few ladies here, Lana Turner, Betty Grable, Hedy Lamarr to name a few -the moodbaord is for general aesthetics, I try to keep my fem!readers and oc’s as ambiguous physically as possible. (Besides the fact Johnny Egan finds you mouthwatering, which -be honest with yourself here sweet thing!!- he would.

Rating: 18+ this is the letter writing, vintage form of sexting. i kid you not, this man swings wildly from sweet as pie to downright filthy and vintage slang for anatomical parts is used freely. This would make a better shameful diary entry than a letter but he’s a rogue and he’s in a war, cut him some slack.

Fun game: how many times can Major Egan manage to mention Buck in a horny fan letter to his crush?

Dear A.C.O.R.N.

It is highly unlikely that you remember me, but, all the same, we have met. Now, hear me out, I’m sure fellas say that to you all the time but my point still stands and to match them I’ll do you one better, seeing as how I am not buttering you up for something in return -I have met you, yes, but I have also sung to you.

There. Said it.

Not that you’d recall that either, but then again maybe you would, but either way it doesn’t matter as the entire reason I am writing to you is because it is entirely unlikely you will ever open this god-awful endeavor made of pen and ink.

I am quite drunk, you see.

A necessary medicine. And they do make good whiskey here, one of the few joys they haven’t rationed yet. It’s got me wondering what’s your poison of choice. Something fruity? Or are you an olive sucker? Like that salt on the rim? Or maybe you go for somethin’ silky and warm goin’ down your throat? Which-ever it is, I bet you’d be a surprise, sweet ACORN, I just know it. You were a surprise at the canteen. Back in Jersey? Before shipping out? I know you were on a whole tour and kisses were goin’ for dollars but still, you were a surprise.

A lovely one, really. And that’s the point of this letter. To tell you that you're lovely and while I’m not the pen-pal sort, I’ve written home 80 letters tonight to families whose boys I was supposed to bring home. It got me thinking: Bucky, why the hell don’t you write nice letters? Whyd you only write ‘em now that you gotta? And it occurred to me then that the one silver lining in this whole Air Exec job is the desk, the lamp and the office.

I could write anybody from here. I could write you.

And you wouldn't read it so I could write anything. And it could be a nice letter. ‘Cause I don’t know anybody of yours to tell you anythin’ sad about them and you don’t know me except that I’m alive and drunk. Which is better than those poor eighty two bastards. Which reminds me, I’ve still got two more but maybe Buck will take those, he took seventeen off to his bunk to write from there. Buck doesn't have a desk because he’s not as important as me and he has all the luck.

You’ve met Buck, too, Acorn. He was the appalled pretty one with the straw colored hair pulling me off you after we had our duet. He objects to your nickname, see, even though you didn’t seem to mind. You were lovely, A.C.O.R.N. And I’d not wanna ruin this letter by telling you what it means, not now that I’m actually writing to you and determined to be nice but Buck knows and while he agrees with me as much as any man in the nation that you’ve got the most robust rack on the silver screen -he has objections, you see. So it wasn’t the song or the canoodling he didn’t like, and I still say, he broke up a little love affair that night. Bastard. So I’m writing to you now because as the acronym suggests, I’ve got a goal in my mind in regards to you. I tell myself -Bucky, there’s reasons to make it back.

Reasons, Bucky, reasons. Like Acorn and her halo of gorgeous hair that smelled like coconuts and the way she thought my new lyrics were pretty clever. That’s what you said, acorn, you said they were pretty clever. Now I may have been a little drunk then, too, but I think you might’ve been tipsy, that coke smelled too strong to be straight. I still have the straw you gave me, it’s bent to hell but I’ve taken it up each mission. I’m not counting on it for luck so much as a reminder of the aforementioned reasons. To come back. Your lipstick has mostly worn off but I figure it’s still the same.

You had your precious lips around it. That’s what matters.

And that’s the sorta sentence that makes Buck think I shouldn’t write letters.

But what he can’t accuse me of is being dishonest or vague. I’m being straight with you. You deserve that much, you were lovely and very straight shootin’ yourself, dear little girl. I could pinch your cheeks right now, you’re so sweet. And don’t think me a coward for sayin’ all this under assumption that you won’t read it. I hope you don’t since it’s not worth your time and if you do I wish I’d written less about me and more about you but I need you to know if we were face to face I’d say the same:

You were lovely, you ARE lovely!!!! and I think all your work for us boys is swell and you’ve got the bestest set of knockers any of us have ever seen and I’m stayin’ alive in hopes to see ‘em again some day and while the girls here are swell and sweet they aren’t zippy like you. At least not the ones who’ve put out so far. And if I had you face to face, I’d find a way to make you laugh again and I’d tell you to your face you’re lovely and if I’d been David Nivin in Love Trap with you, I’d have stayed in that little kitchen with you and ate all your burnt flapjacks and watched you in your apron and made babies with you till we were old.

Anyway. It needed saying. And maybe I’ll say it to your face given the chance again. I was working my way up to a proposition for burgers and milkshakes when Buck ruined it. But maybe you’ll tour? Here!! Over here. In England or maybe in Europe once we kick the Nazis bastards out.

Now that’s motivation. That’s a reason! -clear out a nice little swath of land through fortress europe so Miss Lana Tierney can sing in the city of lights surrounded by nothin’ but wine and good food and a buncha boys who love and appreciate her.

Because we do, ma’am. We do.

And make no mistake, I do this to keep the country safe and try to bring as many boys home as I can but every second I also think - it’s where you are too, and so I must continue keeping it safe.

If you, by some godawful chance, do read this letter, please don’t feel pressed to respond or pull out a restraining order. Think of it this way, it’d just be one more “Dear John” letter and the system is clogged as it is. You just deserve a nice letter and my wrist is past sore, one more doesn't matter. And being unable to deliver nice, I’ve written this.

~ I am ever your respectful (and hammered) admirer, Maj. John Egan

P.S. if you do happen to read this I’m sorry. Buck told me not to do this but I just had to Acorn. You’re just too swell and I really have got to get myself to a theater before long, I miss your Angel face.

Masterlist

Thank you for reading! This was entirely out of my usual comfort zone but I’ve had fun writing it and I’m trying to tune my ear to pick up his voice, that’s been stretching. This series will have many letters in it but there will also be fic, so fear not. I’ve got some plans already figured out for this series but I do love a suggestion or ten so have at the inbox with what you’d like to see play out.

Hope you enjoyed, if you’d like to be tagged in future MOTA fics, drop a note below.

#masters of the air #callum turner #john egan #Major John Egan #Bucky Egan x reader #callum turner x reader #masters of the air fanfiction #mota fanfic #hbo war fanfic #Bucky Egan #mine #archive

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iamselfmade · 2 years

Note

"It's too late. There's nothing we can do."

Hugh's face fell. "No," he said quietly. "No, it can't be too late!"

His friend would come back. Transporter accidents were rare, this was rare, it couldn't be happening. It couldn't be happening! Geordi was going to be fine, they just had to keep trying to find him! He wasn't gone!

"He can't be gone. He can't be gone!"

His eyes burned with tears.

This wasn't happening.

Geordi was fine.

Ro was fine.

They were fine.

They just had to keep trying with the transporter.

They were fine!

Geordi wasn't dead!!

This wasn't happening!!!

#(I always think about how 'the next phase' would have been if Hugh stayed on the enterprise)#ic; to be me #verse; acting ensign #dannsadotair #beverly; has my back #(he's not having a nice time)

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hotvintagepoll · 3 months

Text

Propaganda

Madhubala (Mughal-e-Azam, Barsaat Ki Raat, Mr. & Mrs. '55)—The Venus of India; heart-throb of all who saw her; responsible for the sexual awakening of every single desi lesbian I know (including me!) And my god, she is breathtakingly beautiful. Look at the subtle grace with which she moves, and that smile - the kind of radiant smile that can make you laugh with sheer delight, or cry because of its hidden pain. Those wild curls! That Cupid's bow! The way she tilts back her head and smiles at you with mischief dancing in her eyes! She has a way of looking at the camera that makes you feel she's sharing a private joke just with you; it's something about that quizzical twist of the lips and eyebrows. As an actress, she is inimitable; she seems to effortlessly inhabit roles ranging from a heart-broken courtesan to a laughter-loving socialite. Fun fact : she's had quite the fan following in Greece! Stelios Kazantidis even wrote a song as a tribute to her.

Yvette Vickers (Sunset Boulevard)—She’s a beautiful woman who was in small roles in good movies and bigger roles in terrible movies with bad management who died alone in her home in Beverly Hills and is known more for her lonely decline than the movie she starred in.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

Madhubala:

An icon of Bollywood, who was well known for her beauty and has continued to inspire performances and songs into the 21st century. She was at times described as "the number one beauty of the Indian screen" and "the biggest star in the world".

SHE IS EVERYTHING AHHH. JUST LOOK AT HER SMILE-

She's been nicknamed the Marilyn Monroe of India and was one of the highest paid actresses in the Hindi film industry (the term Bollywood did not exist yet) during the 1950s. Also an extremely talented dancer and singer

SHE'S JUST SO STUNNING, like seeing her eyes IMMEDIATELY CAPTIVATES YOU, THE DANCING, THE BEAUTY!!!!!!!!! She worked in Bollywood for over 20 years and passed away at a sad early age of 36, BUT THE IMPACT SHE HAD WAS UNMATCHED!!!!!

That sassy sideways glance she does always has me WEAK AT THE KNEES. And when she's making silly faces at the camera to mimic someone ahhhh my gay little heart <3

#yvette vickers #madhubala #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1 #the propaganda some of you submit i s2g—yvette honey i'm so sorry that's Not Good

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monzabee · 11 months

Text

kiss it better – ls18

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where a crazy idea turns out to be the best possible thing for you and Lance.

Pairing: lance stroll x reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: fluff, kissing and other than that none? might have a few curse words but otherwise very tame

Request: “okay so i’m obsessed with the lance stroll fake dating to lovers/friends to lovers but it’s always the reader asking. would you write lance asking reader to attend gala/wedding or something as his date and then the feels start to come up from both sides? smut, fluff, angst, wherever your imagination takes you x”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did not expect to get this excited for a certain canadian man, but here we are!! now that i had the pleasure of writing about lance, i hope you guys know that more is to come, and thank you anon for the request!! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

You love slow afternoons, is what you realise as your fingers move out of their own volition on your keyboard as you try your best to finish your draft on time so that you can send it to your agent. Lance is on the couch next to you, his focus on his phone, rather than the show he has on your TV – which he ignores as he continuously texts with the person on the other end and lets out lengthy sighs every few seconds.

After what it must be the hundredth sigh of the evening, you give him a pointed look over the glasses resting on your face, “Okay, this is getting ridiculous.”

“What?” Lance asks, his shoulders rising in a half-hearted shrug. He glances up from his phone, his brows furrowing slightly as he registers your statement.

“You've been sighing and moping around for the past hour,” you say, your tone a mix of annoyance and concern. “What's going on? Is something wrong with the ‘Real Housewives of Beverly Hills’?”

Lance sighs again, louder this time, as if to emphasize his frustration. He puts his phone down on the coffee table and runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further. "It's nothing," he mutters, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance, “and the housewives are fine, not Kim, though. I think Lisa Rinna is about to break the wine glass, again.”

“You’ve watched the Amsterdam trip how many times, now?” You ask him as you get up from your place at the dinner table and grab your wine glass before making your way over to him on the couch and settle next to him. “Forget it, just tell me what’s wrong so that we can get your breathing back to normal.”

“Chloe is what’s wrong,” Lance mutters, turning his phone screen towards you to give you a better look at the messages between him and his sister, “she is bugging me to bring someone to the wedding.”

You tilt your head to the side, “I thought you were going to take Sandra.”

“It was Sarah.” He returns your look with a pointed one of his own, “We kind of broke up, but now she want me to find another date.”

“So? Just find someone, Lance.” You give him a funny look as you fix the way your glasses are situated on your face and read the texts between the two siblings as you slightly lean over your best friend sitting next to you.

He sneakily places his arm around your shoulder in almost a reflex kind of way, as he argues, “I can’t just bring someone to my sister’s wedding, Y/N, she’s going to have the pictures up on her wall for the rest of her life or something.” He swats your hand away with a weak slap as you try to coo over his response, claiming that he is too sweet for this world when he asks, “Who are you bringing to the wedding, anyway?”

“No one,” you shrug, earning yourself a look from the man sitting next to you, “I’m not a Stroll, Lance, I don’t need to bring a date – ergo, I won’t.”

His eyes narrow on the edge as his voice comes off doubtful, “So I have to find someone to bring to the wedding but you can choose not to?” The nod you give him makes him let out a loud groan, making you giggle as he adds, “Is it too late to ask your parents to adopt me?”

“How more dramatic can you be?” You laugh into the edge of your wine glass as you take a small sip, and then think for a moment as you roll your lips together. “Just ask someone you know to come with you, they’ll get a nice weekend out of it and you won’t disappoint Chloe.”

“You say as if it’s easy,” Lance sighs, but his eyes take on a mischievous glint as you realise he’s had one of his bright ideas and the next words prove that it’s, in fact, one of them. “Be my date.”

Your voice is squeaky as you get out, “Excuse me?”

“I need a date,” he point to himself, and then points the same finger to you, “you don’t have a date. I don’t want to take some random girl off my contacts list to my sister’s wedding, so it makes sense.”

“I- I can’t be your date, Lance!” You exclaim, jumping back slightly to shoot him a full on glare. “You’re my friend,” you emphasise the word, “my best friend.”

“Why not? It’s better than going with a random date.” He argues, “Plus, we’ll tell everyone that we’re trying to work things out and after the wedding we’ll tell them it didn’t work out – problem solved.”

“Problem not solved,” you contend. “I don’t want to lie to everyone, Lance, especially not to our families.”

“You’re not saying no.” He sings, a small smirk playing on his lips.

You give him a light shove as you mumble, “Shut up, I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N.” He sighs as he takes your free hand into his, which makes you involuntarily drag your index finger towards his palm, something you used to do to help him calm down when he was dealing with his wrists at the start of the season. It makes him smile softly at you when he realises it’s a thing that calms you down as much as it calms him down. “It’s not lying, it’s us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your voice is lower than before, but you can’t put your finger as to whether it’s because you’re confused or something about the nature of this whole arrangement is scary to you – you pray that it’s the first, but something in your gut tells you it’s the latter.

The smile he gives you in return to your question can only be described as ‘warm’ – it’s soft, and it makes his eyes crinkle, and it’s just so him. “It means that people won’t question how we ended up together, especially our families.”

What he’s saying and suggesting makes sense, you realise. He needs a date and you can help your friend out – plus, it would be good not to hear your mother complain about how you’re single in your twenties for a change. You try to think whether you’d even think about actually accepting to fake date someone if the person asking wasn’t your best friend in the whole world. But with Lance giving you an expectant look and looking so cosy on your couch, coupled with the two glasses of wine you’ve had as an incentive to write, you find yourself giving the man sitting beside you a nod of your approval.

“Fine,” you sigh, “but if this blows up all in our face, I’m blaming you and telling everyone you forced me.”

“Pfft,” he scoffs, pulling you into a side hug as the fighting noises from your TV blends into the background, “it’s going to be great, you just wait and see.”

Weddings are epitome of romance in every conceivable way. And Chloe Stroll’s wedding? It is safe to say that her wedding is the level of magical that fairy tales aspire to achieve. Ever since you’ve stepped foot in Italy, you’re captivated by the views and the atmosphere of having all the people there for such a special occasion. The wedding venue is a stunning villa nestled in the rolling hills of Tuscany, with lush gardens and a breathtaking view of the countryside. Soft music floats through the air as guests mingle and soak in the romantic ambiance. Turns out Lance was right, after all, and both of your parents are ecstatic that you showed up together – and no one bats an eye when he wraps his arm around you to help you onto the boat, or how his hand linger a bit longer on your hip.

Another thing people don’t seem to focus? How his eyes seem to focus on your every move as you dance with one of Scotty’s cousins, or is he one of his friends? Frankly, Lance doesn’t care about the specifics. He is more focused on the way the man you’re dancing with makes you throw your head back in laughter and the genuine smile that lights up your face. Lance watches from a distance, his heart swelling with a mixture of happiness because of how happy you look, and a touch of jealousy because it is not with him. But seeing you so carefree and radiant in someone else's arms stirs up emotions he can't quite ignore. But all of that is thrown right out the metaphorical window once you excuse yourself from your new friend, and find yourself back to him – basically throwing yourself into his arms and asking him to dance with you.

“I don’t know sweetheart, weren’t you just dancing with your new friend?” He asks, and though he immediately regrets the snarky words leaving his mouth, which reflect all his jealousy at the moment, you just smile up at him with the softest smile he’s ever seen.

Instead of lingering on his words, you let out a small giggle, “I can’t slow dance with him, Lance, he is not my date!”

“Oh,” he murmurs, “right.”

“So, will you dance with me?” You ask him again, your voice filled with more excitement than before. Your lips form a small pout as you add, “Please?”

His eyes linger on your expression for a moment, and he links his fingers through yours as he leads you onto the dance floor to join the couples who already started dancing. “Let’s go,” as soon as the words leave his mouth, a small smile is quick to overtake his face as you let out a small squeal and a giggle.

As the two of you find your place on the dance floor, Lance pulls you closer, his hand resting gently on your waist. The soft melody of a romantic song fills the air, setting the perfect mood for a slow dance. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his embrace and suddenly you realise it’s much easier to focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat rather than the song which is playing on the background.

Lost in the moment, Lance whispers softly into your ear, "You look absolutely stunning tonight, you know that?" You can tell his words are filled with sincerity, and he makes you feel all the admiration he feels for you at that moment.

You give him a playful smile as you do the one thing Lance absolutely hates and answer his question with a question of your own, “Yeah? You like my dress?”

“You know I do,” he shakes his head, lips unable to stop themselves from forming a smile.

Sighing out a satisfied sound, you let fingers occupy themselves with the short strand of hairs on this nape. “Well good, Chloe said you’d appreciate the colour

– through jealousy is not a good colour on you.”

Lance chuckles, the sound rumbling against your cheek as you continue to sway together. "Chloe knows me too well," he replies, his voice filled with warmth, "I��ll just have to thank her for the dress."

“You better,” you scoff, your breath hitting his neck in the process, “it was an absolute pain to put it on.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” his fingers smooth over a crease near your hip, “I’ll help you get it off.”

You pause for a moment, the playful banter fading into a charged silence as his words hang in the air. The intensity of his gaze meets yours, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together. Your heart skips a beat, and you find yourself lost in the colour of his eyes. There's an undeniable chemistry between you, one that the two of you have been ignoring for a while, and one that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

With a playful smile that eventually finds its way on your lips, you raise your head slightly to get a better look at him, “You’re drunk, Lance,” you announce.

Lance's grip on you tightens ever so slightly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your back. “What is it they say? Drunk words, sober thoughts.” Another squeal leaves your lips as he slowly dips you down, but you know he won’t let you fall.

As he pulls you up again and presses his forehead against yours, and as his nose nudge against yours which causes both of you to release breathy laughs, your voice is almost pleading, “Lance, I–”

“I know, sweetheart,” his voice is soft as he mumbles, and he repeats himself after dragging out a deep breath, “I know “I know but you deserve something better.”

But the question of what something better might be lingers in your mind.

It’s almost the morning when the wedding celebrations come to a pause, and you quickly find yourself on your way back to the hotel with Lance. Hand in hand, you walk along the dimly lit streets, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the night. The city is calm and peaceful, its beauty enhanced by the memories you've created during the wedding festivities. Lance steals occasional glances at you, a gentle smile playing on his lips, as if trying to etch this moment into his memory – you try to act as if you don’t notice, but the same gentle smile finds itself onto your lips every time you catch his eyes on you. As a true gentleman, he lets you lean against him in the elevator, knowing that you’re probably more tired than him because of your choice of shoes.

The soft hum of the elevator and the comforting embrace of Lance lull you into a sense of tranquillity. But all of that calmness is gone once the elevator stops at your floor and Lance pulls you closer as he walks you to your room. With each step, you become more aware of Lance's presence beside you. His warmth radiates, providing a comforting reassurance amidst the late-night stillness. The soft light from the hallway casts a warm glow on his face, highlighting the gentle curves and lines that make him uniquely him. You think the anticipation might actually kill you in the moment, but like a true gentleman, Lance takes out your room key and hands it to you – but even in that simple moment, you feel your entire body lighting up with something more for your best friend.

Your breath hitches once again that evening when Lance’s hands gently cup your face, but he lets you go once he presses his lips lightly on your forehead and gently rests your forehead against yours. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You feel your heart drop as he pulls away from you, all the adrenaline you’ve been feeling slowly dissipates. A mix of emotions washes over you as Lance pulls away and leaves you standing there, your heart feeling heavy in your chest. The brief moment of intimacy between you leaves you longing for more, and you find yourself mumbling, “I thought I deserve ‘something better’.”

“Y/N,” Lance’s voice is soft, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I- I just thought you might’ve been talking about yourself, you know?” You let out a nervous chuckle as you shake your head, “It doesn’t matter, it’s presumptuous – oh my god I am an egomaniac.” Taking a small step towards him, you give him the world’s most awkward hug, and slowly start to pull away.

Without you knowing behind his horrified look, Lance has the opportunity to put his quick decision-making skills to test. He knows that he can either let you go, which means the two of you will stay friends, or he can actually do what he wanted to do for a very long time – which has the potential to blow up in his face. So, this time he takes a step towards you, and manages to grab your wrist in time to pull you against himself. Pressing his lips onto yours in a haste kiss, he manages to take your breath away for the second time that night, and you realise what’s actually happening after a small brain malfunction. For a moment, you're both suspended in that kiss, your hearts pounding in sync. It's a moment of pure vulnerability and undeniable passion, a culmination of unspoken desires and the unravelling of emotions that have been building between you for far too long. But you can feel him smiling into the kiss as your lips start to move against his. He tries to pull away, but you chase his lips in what you can only describe as hunger, and both of you let out breathy chuckles as you manage to capture his lips in a kiss once again.

When you finally break apart, gasping for air, your eyes meet Lance's. His grip on your wrist tightens, as if he’s afraid to let you go, and in an attempt to calm his worries, you snake your hand into his and drag your index finger towards the center of his palm. “I meant what I said,” he says, breathily, “you deserve something better.”

“Lance,” you almost seem to grumble his name, “you are the ‘something better’.”

“Well I hoped you’d say that.” He nods his head, and throws you over his shoulder to walk towards his own hotel door.

A mixture of surprise and laughter escaping your lips, you playfully swat at his back as you try to urge him to put you down, but he just chuckles and continues on his mission. As the door to Lance's room closes behind you, the world outside fades away, and you find yourself enveloped in a bubble of anticipation and excitement. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lance gently sets you down on your feet. The room is dimly lit, casting a romantic glow that accentuates the chemistry between you. The air is charged with unspoken desires and a magnetic pull that draws you closer together. Lance takes a step towards you, his gaze filled with longing and affection. Without a word, he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender and passionate kiss.

In that moment, all doubts and uncertainties melt away, replaced by the overwhelming certainty that you've found something truly special. It's a love that has been quietly brewing beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself. As your lips move together in a dance of shared desire, time seems to stand still. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this intimate and electrifying connection. Every touch, every caress, ignites a fire within you, and you find yourself getting lost in the depths of Lance's embrace.

When you finally break apart, your eyes lock, and a shared understanding passes between you. It's a silent promise, a mutual agreement to explore this newfound love and see where it leads. With a smile that speaks volumes, Lance intertwines his fingers with yours, pulling you closer as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “I promised you I’d take your dress off, didn’t I?”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #lance stroll #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #lance stroll smut #lance stroll fluff

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pesky--dust · 3 days

Text

We all laugh (or get annoyed) at Jack for being stupid. I do it myself, but let me stand up for him right now.

Let me start quite obviously: Jack had no ill intentions when he brought Will Graham into the FBI's work. He was convinced that Will could save lives and was ready to support him in that — he wanted Alana Bloom to be his psychological support, and when she refused, he went to the psychiatrist she recommended — Hannibal Lecter.

Yes, I'm annoyed myself with how he keep putting pressure on Will (e.g. episode Coquilles: "You go back to your classroom and there’s more killing that you could have prevented, it will sour that classroom forever") and his way of thinking, which he admitted to Hannibal Lecter in Buffet froid, which I will show with a fragment of the script of the said episode:

(that feeling when you agree with cannibalistic serial killer)

It was after Coquilles in which Will said that he want to quit because it is bad for him, so no Jack, I don't think Will feels the same way.

But this post was supposed to be a defense of Jack Crawford, so let's get back on topic.

Jack didn't know the truth about Hannibal, he didn't know that Will had autoimmune encephalitis, and he had no reason not to believe Hannibal that what was wrong with Will was psychological. After all, Dr. Lecter was the psychiatrist recommended to him! And Jack had every right to believe that Hannibal was giving Will the psychological help he needed in his work with the FBI.

And Hannibal prepared the ground for the version that Will has a mental disorder. The story that Hannibal presented made sense: due to his empathy disorder, Will began to believe that he was G.J. Hobbs and continued his work, ultimately taking the life of his daughter.

Jack recruited Will to work with the FBI, believing in his abilities, but Hannibal made him believe that the job had broken Graham mentally. And it's not unusual for disappointed patients to blame their therapists, so it would be quite a natural turn of events for Will to start claiming that Hannibal is the copycat killer, just to avoid being the one to blame. And there was no evidence against Hannibal, because he took care of it.

And now let me focus on the episode titled Yakimono.

Miriam Lass turned out to be alive. Hannibal's partial fingerprint was found at the place where she was held! And on top of that, Dr. Chilton referenced a cannibalistic joke he heard from Hannibal! And Jack ignored it all!!!

But are you sure? In my opinion, he was already planning to use Will again. I think Jack started to suspect something when Beverly Katz was murdered. In Futamono, he tested the food served at Hannibal's party. No human flesh was found there. With Yakimono though, Will's honey pot act in regards of Hannibal begins.

And my theory may seem to make no sense to you, but let me dig into it.

Let me show you a deleted scene from Kaiseki which I find particularly important, crucial one, here:

Tl;dr: Hannibal is social anti social, Will can shape him somehow, because Hannibal believes that Will is as unique as him himself.

Which leads to the conclusion that…

To catch Hannibal, the FBI must take advantage of his weakness towards Will.

And during his honey pot act, Will was still working with Jack, so why wouldn't Jack trust him? However, in Mizumono, Will called Hannibal, warning him, which led to the bloodbath, so why, even after hearing in Aperitivo that Will wanted to run away with Hannibal and a part of him would always want to (Dolce), did Jack continue to trust him? I think it was because Jack thought Will blamed himself for Abigail's death and since he was trying so hard to be a parent to her, he thought that if he ran away with Hannibal, Abigail would be still alive. And in the end, Will "got" Hannibal arrested, right?

Why did Jack allow Hannibal's fake escape in The Wrath of the Lamb and involved Will in that?

In my opinion it connects with the paragraph from earlier. Three years had passed, Will had gotten married, adopted his wife's son, so he had mentally recovered from the bloodbath and the death of his surrogate daughter, right? He told Jack he was really happy, right?

Will may have warned Hannibal and wanted to run away with him, but he was the reason Hannibal was caught. Three years have passed and Will has gotten himself together. In front of Jack he was playing (at least partially) about how he doesn't want to be drawn into the "game" he was playing with Hannibal again, he warned Molly that when he came back he would be different (he didn't come back), he said Alana that seeing Hanniabal for the first time in three years made him feel like Hannibal was looking through to the back of his skull; felt like a fly flitting around in there (... and the Woman Clothed with the Sun), he assured her that he wouldn't let Hannibal into his head again. Will seemed to be traumatized by all this. Up until...

This is the scene where Will is in Jack's office watching what the Dragon has done to Chilton (The Number of the Beast is 666). He looks terrified, panicked, and then suddenly… he becomes sort of relaxed, calm? Would you agree with that? I guess so. But have you ever noticed that there is a transition between these two reactions? It is in front of Jack and Alana that he is terrified, in front of Bedelia he is calm and admits to her that maybe he exposed Chilton to the Dragon on purpose because he actually hates him (just like in the book, although in the book he set Freddy Lounds up to the Dragon).

Will played in front of Jack until the end. Even when suggesting using Hannibal as bait, Will pretends he's not 100% sure it will work, even though he already had a deal with Francis Dolarhyde (The Wrath of the Lamb). It was us as the audience who knew this, not Jack.

I think that Jack believed Will, because he wanted to; it was his way of trying to rehabilitate himself after what Will had to go through because of him because Jack didn't believe him from the beginning that Hannibal was the Copycat. I think that after it turned out that Hannibal was not only the Copycat Killer, but also the Chesapeake Ripper, Jack decided to never doubt Will's abilities again. And that doomed him, just as Kade Prunnell and Alana Bloom predicted.

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cowgirlcherrie · 11 months

Text

totally clueless! ❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: 90s! house-sitter! Abby x college! bratty! bimbo! fem reader

synopsis: The year is 1995, California, Beverly Hills. You were in your sophomore year of college, starting adulthood when your dad decides to leave the mansion in the hands of a house sitter who you thought was a buzzkill and in return, she thought you were a brat. You were totally and indefinitely clueless.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, hyper femme black coded reader, making out, heavy body touching,tad bit of smut, mostly supposed to be comedic and funny, strict-ish parents(if you squint), partying, alcohol mention, slight manhandling, mutual pinning, teasing, closeted reader (also if you squint), wet daydreaming, enemies-ish to lovers,

a/n: if you watched the movie then you would know that it naturally has this comedic bubbly, unserious aura to it, which I tried to emulate here (the ones that get it, get it)considering that it does take place in the 90s as the fic does too, there is heaaavy usage of 90s slang, so if the some of the dialogue seems cring-ish or theres phrases where you’re like who says thattt??? 90s slang. A lot of the scenes mirror ones directly from the movie! just a heads up, but this is a treat to all of you so I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it ! <3

POP!

The bubble of your bubblegum collapsed into your glossed lips as you chewed vastly out of irritation. Here you stood at your 10am debate class, uninterested in today’s flash debates but it was part of your final grade —the thought of an ugly red F on your grade report frightened you, it was nothing that white out or your pink decoration tape could possibly fix. Some would say that you were overdressed for school, wearing a matching pink set and platform heels that sparkled on your ankles making you look flashy as you walked. All you could do was tap your hands at the side of the podium as you moved your hips from side to side, watching as your professor paced around the classroom giving his warm-up speech. Your debate opponent was a girl named Cheryl, her outfit visibly lackluster compared to you which you found to be too grey, matching the bleak wall of the classroom. Now you didn’t know Cheryl well, besides the fact that the girl had been a walking airhead and a terrible debater. This should be an easy A.

“Okay y/n…Cheryl, your topic is— should public schools require uniforms?” Your professor stated, making his way to his desk to be out of the way of the students. You widened your eyes in excitement, sending a smirk and wink to Cheryl who only rolled her eyes back at you.

“Cheryl will take pro position, Y/n you will be con, 5 minutes”

“So,” You begun, taking the gum out of your mouth, throwing it into the trashcan behind you.

“Hypothetically, wearing uniforms is the equivalent of being unimportant, and that’s what the school system doesn’t want us to be—correct? Uniforms signify unity thus why it's called uniforms...duh! But it creates a false sense of security. Because if we all look the same then that means we all think the same which is totally buggin’, I mean- think about it this way. At my 5th birthday party, my daddy got all of my friends the exact same pink outfit, how would they know it was my birthday if we were all wearing the same thing? I was going postal, and he didn’t put my name on the cake! All I’m saying is, if maybe the school system ditched wearing the same outfits, maybe we would know how to separate a wolf from a pack of sheep” You finished your speech, sending a bright smile to the audience who clapped and cheered as you flipped your hair behind your shoulders in response. Your professor, staring at you furrowing his eyebrows at your response.

“Uhh— right, and Cheryl?”

“How am I supposed to answer that professor? The question was: should public schools require uniforms and her response has nothing to do with uniforms” Cheryl combatted, staring at your professor displeased. You simply shrugged which earned a laugh from your best friend Dina in the front row.

“Hello…Would you want someone to wear the same thing to your big day,” You claim in a know-it-all tone making Cheryl roll her eyes shouting, “Whatever!”

As if an angel had been ringing a bell, class was dismissed. If you were being honest, you thought your response should have earned you an A in the class, perhaps a gold star with a “Good Job” underneath. Oh- you could dream. Your heels clinked across the tile as you reached into your bag to pull out a fresh stick of gum. Popping the tough pink goodness into your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as the flavors liquified on your tongue.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

“Oh snap! Williams on your six, her outfit is hella fly” You whispered to Dina as the two of you trotted down the hall. The both of you let out a fit of giggles as you sneakily turned your head to catch a glimpse of Ellie Williams who was walking right past you. She was a part of the skater clique, with baggy jeans and a tank top decorating her body as she kept a roughened-up skateboard tucked under her arm. The sight of her was enough to make anyone drool, even you who was the campus’ unattainable girl.

“Oh my!— JNCO jeans and guess what underneath?” You challenged Dina, smacking your gum in your mouth. The two of you made eye contact, rushing to look at Ellie’s waistband.

“Holy cow”

“Calvin Klein!” The two of you shouted in sync, followed by a shriek. Any outsider who had seen the two of you would have thought that you were fangirls, the way you giggled and twirled your hair. Eyeing people up and down the hall as if they were hunks of meat. It was all a girl could desire. It got even better when you got home. Dina dropped you off, considering you didn’t have your license and the two of you went to the mall directly after the debate class had ended. This meant the weekend was slowly approaching, as the bright California sun beamed on you.

Your heels walked up the steps to the mansion, swinging the bag in your hand as you hummed material girl by Madonna. Putting your pink keys into the door, walking in feeling as if the house no longer felt warm. The air must have cut off, making you frown as you close the door behind you.

“Daddy, I’m home!” You shouted, making your way into your dad's office to see what he had been up to. Ever since your dad started working from home more often, it seemed as though he occupied himself more with work than spending time with you. Frequently you wondered if he even actually remembered your name.

“Daddy?” You question, peaked your head into his office only to be met with silence again.

“I’m not your daddy, but let me know when you find him” A voice comforted you from behind. Shocking you at the softness, getting ready to pepper spray the intruder that was in your home.

“Oh, Snap! You almost killed me,” you exaggerated holding your hand over your heart as you looked at the woman in front of you. Your eyes transitioned from startled to lustful gaze as you looked the woman up and down. She was giving you a similar look. You liked what you were seeing, a hot shot. The woman in front of you wearing a blue polo crewneck which you could moan at the sight of. There was nothing like good fashion that turned you on quicker. Her hair was long, a piece tucked behind her ear exposing her ear that was decorated in piercings.

“And who are you?” you questioned defensively, now crossing your arms across your chest.

“Abby,” She instantly put her hand out for you to shake, withdrawing it when she saw that you weren’t taking it instead you gave her a disgusted look, as your nose scrunched up.

“House sitting for your daddy, while he’s away, I go to college across town.” Abby teased as you smacked your teeth in response. Who did she think she is? Coming into your home and disrupting the safe space that you have created for yourself. She was the first person to try it. It did excite you. Typically people gave up talking to you at the slightest attitude you gave, but Abby didn’t wanna give up. Perhaps you met your match. Abby’s eyes glanced over your body looking at the outfit you wore. Slutty she thought, looking back up at your face, specifically your eyes admiring the soft makeup you had on and long lashes that made you glow.

“A little bit much for school don’t you think” Abby picked, tugging at the hem of your skirt making you swat her hand away.

“As if!— people don’t do enough” you snapped. Now you weren’t opposed to having a little bit of fun. With Abby? You were down to do all of it. But part of you felt guilty, your wishful thinking turning sour. What would your father say if he saw his house sitter and daughter eating each other’s faces off?

“You’re a buzzkill” you sassed Abby watching her reaction her body withdrawing away from yours, turning her head slightly in disbelief.

“And you’re a brat” she spat making your mouth go wide.

“I don’t like you” You confessed, finger jabbing into her chest, your body pushing forward, getting closer to her.

“Suck it up!” Abby snapped, pushing you back against the door with a loud thud as her hands resided against the office door, caging you in.

“Eat sh—”

With that Abby roughly grabbed your chin leaning her nose close to your neck. Her breath heated up your neck as her lips made a trail from your ear down to your neck, no pressure applied. "Say you don't want me," She whispered into your neck, and that’s when you smelled her. Ralph Lauren, a classic. Your nails scratching her arms in need, quickly clamping your thighs together feeling a sudden wetness pool beneath you.

"I don't.." you moaned out as Abby moved up to your lips this time, her hand still gripping your chin as she cast a chaste kiss on your glossed lips. She hummed at the taste of bubblegum. It was sticky, but it didn’t bother her. "You sure?" she questioned pulling apart quickly for air.

You pulled her back in, "No" Your hands entangled in her hair as she deepened the kiss, detaching her lips again, making you whimper in disappointment. Instead, her lips went to your neck, this time laying actual kisses across your brown skin as she swirled her tongue against your neck. Her hand was under your skirt as she played with the hem of your underwear before moving back to the outside of your skirt, her hands tugging them upward to bunch up the fabric in a fist. In return, you grabbed a fist full of her hair as broken moans escaped your lips. Your body slightly grinding into hers, lips parted as she redirected her hands back up to your chest, groping, slightly squeezing, making you moan again.

“hey!”

Abby’s fingers snapped in front of your face as you blinked rapidly. There was no lipstick marks on Abby’s lips, your skirt was still intact and untouched, of course none of that was real! your body felt warm, like the heater suddenly started to work within the mansion. You wonder how long you were in that day dream as it felt authentic, wayyyy to real to be something that didn’t happen. did Abby feel it too? Abby gave you a confused look wondering why your bambi eyes suddenly turned into a startled doe stuck in the headlights.

The house phone started ringing. You pushed Abby off, fixing your skirt as you bolted into the kitchen to get the phone. Picking up the phone off of the stand hitting the green button in a hurry, hands shaking.

“Hello, l/n residence, y/n speaking” you answered, leaning against the marble kitchen counter trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to fix your appearance swiftly. Even though no one else was in the house besides yourself and Abby, you grew conscious that someone was watching you through the phone. You ran your hair through your curls, twirling some strands for the sake of definition.

“Y/n, its Dina! I got deets,”

You let out a sigh of relief, you were just glad it wasn’t your father. The man would have asked you everything under the sun. Like what you were wearing? Why you were breathing so hard, and how was…Abby. Right, Abby. As if she had been called, Abby promptly walked into the kitchen adjusting her crewneck, her lips a saturated shade of pink from the peppermint chapstick she owned that slightly numbed her lips with a plumping, tingling sensation. Abby was now shoulder to shoulder with you. The fabric of her crewneck rubbing against your short sleeve shirt as she reached into the microwave to grab the bowl of popcorn, which has likely fallen cold at the exchange the two of you had.

‘Spill!” You gushed as you bent down to take off your heels to which you felt your hands being slapped away as Abby was now on her knees to assist you seeing that your hands were doing nothing for the straps on your shoes. Your mouth was agape watching as Abby was on her knees for you, her hands softly grazing your bare legs which made you close your mouth quickly. She was lucky you didn’t kick her in the face.

“Ellie just asked me on a date! She’s takin’ me to the skatepark, and then we are gonna meet you in the valley, at the house party on Friday” Dina confessed, making you gasp. For two reasons 1. Because Dina finally got the date with Ellie 2. Abby had been toying with you. This time you did kick her sending a gentle jab to her chest which resulted in her throwing her hands up, snatching your heels up in one hand before grabbing the popcorn bowl to walk away.

“Sweet” you dragged leaning against the kitchen counter as you tapped your pink nails against the marble. You paused for a minute before a light bulb went off above your head, and a good idea plagued your thoughts.

“You should come over! Check out my stylin’ new closet, I have the perfect outfit that you would totally rock!” You jumped, twirling your hair as you danced in the kitchen.

“Daddy said no company and no parties” Abby shouted, still teasing you about the first impression you made on the girl, making you throw up a hand before walking into another room.

“It’s no biggie, one problem though, I got a house sitter, and she’s kind of a downer?” You whisper lowly into the phone, hoping that Abby wouldn’t hear you from where she sat on the couch.

“Is she hot?”

You groaned rather loud not bothering to answer Dina’s question. Yes, Abby was hot. You were already starting to cool down but the dirty thoughts of Abby absolutely wrecking you clouded your brain tremendously.

“Just come over, D” you finished, hitting the red— end call button, making your way back into the kitchen to put the phone back up on the stand.

“Where you goin’ ?” Abby questioned, her curiosity getting the best of her. She sat on the couch with her legs kicked up as she watched a movie on the television. Her eyes not breaking contact with the screen in front of her.

“To go play dress up while I plan how to save my best friend ” You whined, and there it was again. That fucking attitude sent Abby into a spiral. You loved exaggerating your tone, the way Abby’s eyes would go dark before giving you the most raunchy response made your legs buckle underneath you. Slowly you picked your heels up that Abby had gracefully taken off, her eyes finally looking at you, she blinked fast letting out a sigh, redirecting her eyes back to the tv screen.

“Whatever,” Abby snickered as you shrugged, bolting up the stares. You were totally clueless. The moment you shared with Abby rather fast but you couldn’t get the thought of the girls hands all over you of your head. But you had better things to worry about, right? Like the valley party and playing cupid for Dina.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

“Does this look hot?” You implored, running your hands up and down the form-fitting baby pink dress. Your curly hair, freshly washed, moisturized with curl-defining cream. It was free with the front twisted back in rows of 4, secured by white butterfly clips to match the cropped white cardigan resided in your hands. Today was Friday, and you swore you had nothing to wear. Your room looked like a tornado ran through and shook the room— clothes covering the beige carpet, but you couldn’t be bothered to fix it. You wanted something hot, something that screams I came here for a good time. Due to Dina’s absence, there was no one to tell you if you looked okay or if the outfit was so last year. So narrowing down your options, you ask Abby. Walking over to where she sat on the couch, one arm up resting behind her head, as her legs were crossed on the coffee table. You pushed your body in front of the tv screen, standing dead center to Abby.

“Dude seriously?” Abby growled, moving her head in different directions to see around you.

“—Move”

“Abby, don’t be a loser… just help me,” You whined, begging the girl to look at you just once. Abby didn’t budge, so instead you moved closer standing in front of her on the couch, it was as if she was trying to ignore you. That only made you more frustrated begging the girl some more. “— Please Abs, just look” and that’s when she did, her blue orbs aligning with yours, flickering down to your body.

“Nice dress, who are you all dolled up for?” Abby’s voice was low, turning down the volume of the tv to hear your voice,

“Party, remember? I was on the phone with Dina about it yesterday,” yes, yesterday, how could Abby forget about yesterday. Truth is she couldn’t, spending her night in the guest bedroom thinking about all the possibilities that could have happened if the phone just didn’t ring. Abby nodded simply, wearing a stoic expression on her face.

“Right, Dina” her name rolled off her tongue, dragging out the ‘a’ and emphasizing the ’n’ in your best friends name.

“Yeah she’s my friend, and she has a date, so you’re helping me”

“What about yours?” Abby wondered tilting her head at you, causing you to throw your sweater at her face instead, collapsing next to her on the coach with a loud huff.

“My what?”

“Your date?’

“I don’t have one because I don’t want one— chill out!” You declared sinking into the couch as Abby snatched the sweater you threw at her off her face, throwing it back at you. Shifting her body to look at you next to her.

“Jeez, no need to be tight, get loose” Abby assured, putting her hand on your shoulder. Your body tensing, feeling a sudden burst, like a recharge, as Abby’s hands touched your exposed skin.

“I need to go…” You mumble, suddenly feeling small again, the way you felt when Abby had your back against the office door with her head tucked into your neck.

“Put that,” Abby pointed at your white sweater “on.” She finished, taking a sip of the glass of water that was in front of her on the coffee table. You were confused, under the impression that the outfit didn’t need any more redirection, it was simple and the cardigan would crowd the rest of the dress

“I thought the outfit was fine…” You argued, unbuttoning the buttons on the cardigan,

“Put it on,” Abby hissed “It’s cold out” she corrected herself, breaking eye contact to put the remote back in her hands. Abby turned the volume up on the tv, she was suddenly cold. It seemed like this was the game she played, giving you just enough attention to keep you going and then taking it all back like it was the biggest mistake she ever made. Now at this point in time, as you got to know the girl there was a solid 10 things you liked about her and another 10 that you absolutely despised. You’d consider her a friend, even though her snarky attitude made you think otherwise and the fact that she almost devoured you on the glass floor.

You walked off, headed for the front door — reaching onto the round table, at the entrance. Grabbing your purse which was naturally filled with lip gloss, pink gum, Nokia, and your wallet, swinging the small white bag over your shoulder. Preparing to twist the door knob, you paused releasing that there was no way for you to get there. Dina was with Ellie so that was a no and you couldn’t drive yourself, no license. You let out a sigh as you realized the inevitable was going to happen.

“…Abby!” You exclaimed from the door, as your body leaned against the front door, swinging the purse back and forth in your hands.

“Yes?” the girl shouted back from the other room.

“Can you give me a ride, I can’t drive” you exposed shyly. Now this was embarrassing, you thought. You were a college virgin that couldn’t drive. But your road test was tomorrow so at least you could eliminate one of those things. You were anticipating Abby saying no, which means you would have had to turn around and trot back up the stairs, watching the Breakfast at Tiffany’s vhs on repeat until your eyes closed.

“I-uh- Sure.” Abby hesitated. Not because she had second thoughts, but rather because she wasn’t expecting you to actually ask her let alone keep things friendly. It was typically common for you to ask for help but it didn’t seem like Abby was one of the people that you’d want it from. You let out a sigh of relief, the sunken feeling in your stomach going away as Abby made her out of the living room and to the door, jiggling her keys in her hand as she pushed you to the side to open the front door.

“Let's get you to that party, shall we?” Abby flashed you a smile while motioning for you to exit the house first making you smile back. Her kindness eased your heart considering she spent the 24 hours so far, treating your existence like a job. At times it felt like she was your babysitter, the next thing you know she would say no more shopping! and freeze your credit card in a block of ice. You wanted nothing more than to grab the girl by the face and give the most heated sloppiest kiss on her lips, but choosing to control your urges you gave Abby a swift kiss on the cheek instead. Running out the door and to the parking garage, failing to catch Abby holding her cheek where you left a glossed kiss mark

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

The party was a bust, an absolute disaster. You regretted going slowly after an hour of being there. Dancing on the dance floor with Dina as the two of you twirled around each other to the beat of the music, but this was interrupted when Ellie dragged your best friend away, leaving you alone and now at the alcohol table, looking to see if they had anything other than alcohol on the table. Somewhere along the night, you lost your white cardigan, but you weren’t mad about it considering it was your least favorite.

Reaching across the table to pour cola into the red solo cup, you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat from behind you. Jesse, a member of the skater clique was best friends with Ellie. Now you weren’t interested, yet Jesse had been pretty keen on hanging around you but you would rather not. There was rumors going around campus that he liked you, but you completely disregarded it, that was your good friend, and there’s no way he could of mistaken your kindness for flirting. The boy was nice, slightly ditzy but he wasn’t your type, and by type, you just didn’t like men. But you couldn’t outright shout, I’m gay and men are cute….NOT! At risk for being called every slur under the sun. In the past, you have tried countless times to set Jesse up with Dina, but that ship repeatedly crashed before it could sail. Instead, your face scrunched in disgust, as you turned around again pretending that the contents in your cup were more interesting.

“I like your dress,” Jesse spoke up from behind you, leaning his hand against the table, once again that skateboard of his tucked underneath his right arm. You looked at the boys outfit which made you cringe, a white tee with a flannel on top, with khaki shorts that didn’t even match.

“Thanks… I would love to compliment you but the khakis are clashing with the plaid…” You commented dryly, bringing the cup up to your lips, drowning in the fizzy soda. There was a pregnant silence, and suddenly everything was awkward. It’s not like you wanted to have the conversation instead your body rocked to the music as you lip-synced the lyrics.

“I love this song…” Jesse coughed out making you acknowledge his existence again.

“Rad!” You claimed, walking off to go find Dina, who was now next to Ellie at the dining table, you were glad she was having a good time, even though you were not. But you felt as though you were getting in good deeds which had been certainly better than nothing.

As you entered the room, another girl, who you have known to be Nora, did as well, with an old business card intertwined in her fingers. You squinted your eyes at the card when it clicked for you what was happening,

“Hey everyone! let’s play suck n’ blow” The girl exclaimed causing you to throw your head back in annoyance. Suck n’ blow was fun when you didn’t have someone who would fuck up the game and use it as an excuse to lip-lock with the girl that they found the most attractive. At the table stood, Nora, who was next to Ellie, followed by, Dina, Jesse, yourself, and other members of the skate clique completing the circle. As the game started everything was going well, Everyone was moving fast yet successfully transferring the card from one set of lips to another. Finally, it was your turn, Jesse holding onto the card, leaning into your face just enough promptly dropping the card and slamming his lips on yours. You shrieked as the crowd laughed and cheered making you push the boy off of you, rolling your eyes at the boy who was looking at you with a smirk,

“You can’t even play the game correctly, it’s called suck n’ blow for a reason, are you mad!” You shouted, playfully punching Jesse in the arm. Your hand hit the table picking the card back up and handing it to Nora who was going to restart the game.

“Excuse me,” you excused yourself from the table feeling your Nokia buzzing from your purse, rushing to the backyard which didn’t seem to get anymore quieter, picking the phone out of your bag and to your ears

“Hello~” you sang sweetly as you paced around the pool, watching the bodies slam into each other, laughter being heard from the individuals in the water.

“Sweetheart, where are you, I called the house and Abby picked up saying you were out, do you know what time it is” It was your father. You tried to think fast the quickest way to get out of the current situation that you were in.

“I went shopping, in the valley with Dina of course…” You lied bringing up your nails to your arm scratching your bare arms at the cool air that blew past you.

“The valley? Jesus- Y/n get home!” your dad yelled on the other side of the phone, ending the call promptly before you could argue. Despite being grown, you were still a little girl in your dad's eyes. His first and only daughter and after the absence of your mother, he was certain to not let you out of his sight. You rolled your eyes, typing the house number into the number pad, listening to the rings before the signal connected.

“Hello, l/n residence—”

“Abby! Glad you answered, can you pick me up, I’ve got to head out — Dad called, thanks for that by the way” You confessed, making your way out of the backyard gate and around to the front lawn which had been overly decorated for the occasion.

“Be there in 10,” Abby asserted, having no problem with picking you up.

“Did you know you are the best Abigail?” That was the first time you used her full name in a sentence, She wasn’t opposed to you calling her by her name, rightfully so, but the way it rolled off of your tongue brought a smile to her face. If it was anyone else she would have been quick to correct them, telling them not to call her that. You were pushing every nono she had, but she was too enamored to correct you.

“Don’t flatter me—” Abby assured, hanging up the phone without saying goodbye. You smiled to yourself, maybe it was all the good deeds that you have done, but you weren’t sure why you were continuously given kindness, especially from Abby who didn’t owe an ounce of it to you. your smile departed as you saw Dina and Ellie coming out of the front door of the house and meeting you at the front lawn.

"Y/n! Leaving so soon?" Dina shouted, letting go of Ellie's arm, running to you to give you a gentle hug to which you returned holding on just as tight.

"—Yeah, it's time for me to head out, road test tomorrow I have to be up at 9" You grumbled letting go of your best friend, eyeing Ellie who gave you a gentle smile. You thought Ellie was even prettier in person and you were glad that your best friend found someone just as cool and creative as her, even if you weren't a part of the same clique. Your eyes redirected to behind Elie seeing Jesse which made your smile drop instantly, turning back to facing Dina at your hip.

"Where are you headed?" You questioned seeing as it looked like the trio was preparing to leave as well

"Skate-park, I would ask if you wanted to join but it seemed like you were rather occupied" Ellie suggested, wiping her hand across her nose and sniffling slightly. "No biggie!" You claim as you put your phone back in your purse. Jesse opened his mouth to speak, tripping on a piece of gravel as his solo cup lunged forward spilling all over your dress. You let out a gasp at the sudden cold liquid traveling down your dress and your legs, leaving a wide wet spot on your dress.

"My fault! I'm-"

Before you could respond to his cries of apologies, A black car pulls up in front of you, honking the horn as you locked eyes with Abby in the driver's seat.

"Uhm...I gotta go, see ya" you stuttered, voice shakey as you waltzed to the passenger side of Abby's car slamming the door behind you as the trio watched you with a fearful expression. Abby began pulling out of the spot she temporarily parked in, making her way back to your house with ease. You were silent.

"Where's your sweater...shit what happened" Abby questioned finally seeing your appearance that was rather messed up. contrasting to your usual scent of vanilla and cake she smelled cheap vodka and fruit juice. Keeping her eyes on the road, Abby reached into her glove compartment handing you napkins which you took in silence. Abby was startled by your silence. You rubbed the napkins down your dress, rings clashing with the fabric, tears pooling in your eyes as you did so. Your body shook as silent sobs escaped your mouth, lips quivering as you wiped your dress. At that point you had no clear direction, your tears mixing with the wet fabric only adding to the dampness of the napkin. You repeatedly wiped your dress, ignoring Abby like she wasn't there, whispering a ray of "I'm sorry" as your hand-worked fast to fix the issue, but Abby pulled over next to a random house, stopping the car

"Sweetheart let me see," Abby was gentle with you, hitting the light above the two of you, grabbing the napkins from your hand as you cried while she wiped away the loose liquid on you. Sniffing gently Abby was muttering "You're okay" under her breath as she continued to use the last of the napkins.

You sniffled, "Do you think I'm a bad person, Abby" you questioned between tears as Abby looked at you in confusion. Where was that coming from? You bring a hand up to wipe the tears away from your face, anxiously twirling a curly strand in your hair, looking at Abby through your eyelashes.

"Y/n, you're one of the most genuine people I know...and that means a lot to me considering I've only known you for almost 48 hours. I know enough to know you aren't a bad person" Abby affirmed. Fixing your dress with her hands as she reached over giving your hands a squeeze. "Then why do I feel like a bad person?" You begun,

"M-My life is a disaster! —I was so focused on giving my best friend a good love experience, somewhere along the way I lost her, it seems like she doesn't need me anymore, maybe I'm buggin' -don't get me started on my dress…" you ranted, no longer crying as you broke your silence.

Abby's jaw clenched, she didn't know what to tell you, or how to soothe the clueless expression you wore on your face that wasn't without some form of intimacy. True Abby would kiss you until you forgot about the problem you were going through, she was holding back.

"Listen don't beat yourself up, you're a beautiful person unlike most I've met in the hills, and you wanting what's best for your friend is a clear sign of your selflessness" Abby assured you, now putting the car in drive and continuing the route she was taking now that you were in a slightly better mood.

"God I feel like such a buzzkill!" You shouted, hitting your head against the headrest which felt more like throwing your head on a pillow thanks to your curls.

"you're not me," Abby teased as you now were laughing with the girl next to you. You were amazed at the fact the girl was able to transform your sudden sadness and give you the encouragement that everyone neglected to give you. You just wanted a simple reminder that you were doing good and Abby gave you just that

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

It was day three of Abby housesitting the mansion and you will admit, you have grown to like the girl. She brought a different energy that challenged your norm and every rule you ever set for yourself. Sitting on the kitchen counter in your matching lapel collar cropped blazer and skirt set. Your hair was styled differently today, A simple puff as it gave the small hoops in your ears a chance to shine, and brought attention to your eyes.

"How did your test go?" The road test. Which you failed the first time, but it was an absolute miracle that you passed it. You have learned from your mistakes! No longer hitting the curb with an oops, instead hitting all of the marks perfectly. You reached over the counter holding up a white slip with a BIG-inked signature.

"Uh huh-- that's right, I passed" You sassed in enjoyment hopping off the counter to dance around the girl. Abby laughed at your behavior as you flashed the white slip in her face,

“Guess that means you won’t be needing me anymore,” Abby joked, nudging your arm to which you gave her a really? look. “Who says I won’t need you?” you exaggerate looking at Abby with your arms crossed.

Abby shrugged, “Just sayin’ in a few hours, you go back to being you and I go back to being me.” Why did she have to remind you of that? You were too caught up in the moment to realize the fun between you was actually coming to an end. You’ve gotten used to her company, loving that the girl teased and hackled you like no other. But you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Who said we have to act like we don’t know each other” You offered, as your soft moisturized fingers traced up her exposed bicep, muscles flexing under the fitted short-sleeve top she wore.

“I just assumed that’s how it would be,” Abby carried on in a knowing tone.

“My dad likes you, and he doesn’t like anyone, so you can be over as much as you like” You continued, spinning around, prancing to the counter digging your hand in the bowl of freshly washed grapes.

“and do what— exactly, I’m not playing dress up with you” Abby assured making you knit your eyebrows at her response. Bold of her to assume that you’d want to style her, you thought she was perfect as is.

“Who said we are going to be playing dress up, more like- putting down the biggest WWE match as I am scream—”

“That’s enough,” Abby shut down as you teased her. You were such a tease. She could practically feel the hair on the back of her neck as you said that. Abby wasn’t a hook-up person, she didn’t do that. Thinking that’s all you wanted, she wasn’t going to stand for it. Abby said nothing else instead shifting past you to make her way back into the guest room as she was packing her stuff. You frowned watching her walk away from you, hundreds of questions popping up in your head as she got further away from you. Were you coming off too strong?

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Nightfall has fallen over meaning you had 4 hours left with Abby and you didn’t speak to the girl in 6, since the kitchen incident. While you were writing in your diary with your fluffy pink pen in your room that’s when it all suddenly clicked for you. Glancing at the paper where you had written hearts all around her name you wrote in cursive, sealing it with your very own kiss next to it. You liked Abby. Those 10 things,

10 . The way she challenged everything you said

9 . The way she teased you to make you laugh

8 . The way she wore her hair down because you said you loved it more than when she wore it in a braid,

7 . Her patience with you

6 . Her style, which you would do absolutely nothing to change

5 . The scar on her cheek, which apparently, she got after a soccer game her freshman year of college

4 . The way she moved your curls out of your face, saying she wanted to see your eyes more

3 . The way she encouraged you to keep going even when you made a mistake

2 . Her smile when you said anything that remotely made her laugh

1 . The way her lips almost met yours, yearning for a single taste

That’s it! — you like LIKED Abby,

“I like Abby!” you shouted, gasping as you slammed your journal shut at your epiphany. Rushing down the stairs in your matching pink pajama set. As your foot hit the top of the stairs preparing to ascend downwards but you stopped yourself on the imperial staircase, collapsing on the ground, throwing your body in defeat. There was no way you could tell her now, How could she like you? — She even said it yourself, you’ll keep doing you and she’ll be herself. It was all temporary. You rubbed your palms into your silk pajama shorts thinking of everything you could possibly say, all possibilities sounding like the worst one. Ignoring the sound of wheels on the tile stopping in front of the door in front of you.

“Why do you look like a kicked puppy,” Abby spoke up, her hand holding the telescopic handle of her suitcase. You have lost track of time, she was heading out in about 3 hours. You hadn’t realized that all the time you spent in your room was like a princess being locked away in a castle. You eyed her, black trousers and the same white t-shirt tucked into her pants secured with a belt. Her hair this time was in a braid, and now you wondered if you imagined the whole thing. Abby walked up the main stairs, taking a seat next to you.

“Are you here to say goodbye, or were you just gonna leave?” You snapped eyeing the girl in front of you.

Abby scoffed, “did you want me to?”

“Duh…It would of been morally right but maybe I need to chill out” you confessed

“No,no I wanted to” Abby confirmed. The two of you sat in silence for a minute before you broke it, slicing the thick air with your powerful words.

“Abby, that is brutal, the truth is I don’t want you to leave… I really like you Abby” you confessed tucking a piece of your loose curls behind your ear. Abby watching you with pure bliss and sincerity.

“You…like me?” Abby questioned, checking if what you said was right.

“Yes, and it pains me to see you go because I don’t want you to think I don’t want anything more but I do and I want to spend every mo—” Abby shut you up with a kiss. That was it! she finally kissed you! It was romantic, and beautiful, like your lips touching a bed of flowers, you could almost feel your body ascending off the floor. The kiss was long as you leaned into her body that locked perfectly into yours like a puzzle piece. Her lips were smooth, most likely from the peppermint chapstick that she wore that contrasted your glossed pink ones. The two of you pulled apart as her head rested against yours, breathing heavily.

“I want to take you on a real date” Abby confessed, which made you give the girl a shy smile as she stroked your cheek, “you know, to buy you real flowers, show you a bangin’ time” Abby finished as she bought out a tiny slip of paper, shoving it into your hand as she was now getting up adjusting her clothes,

“When you’re ready, give me a call”

You watched as she walked away in amazement, eyeing her backside as she walked with much pride. Abby grabbed onto the handle of her suitcase opening the front door, stopping to give you one final look. Abby lifted her hand to her lips blowing you a kiss, which you mimicked blowing one back. You were never certain about anything until now, tears pricking your eyes in joy as you smiled at the girl leaving.

“Oh, I will!” You sassed running in the opposite direction of the stairs up to your room.

While some may say happily ever after was overrated, you thought otherwise. What you thought was going to be a nightmare turned into the best 4-day weekend, you’ve ever had in the hills.

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cedarxwing · 4 months

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Hannibal Season 4 Plot Ideas

The main concepts that keep coming up in interviews of Bryan Fuller and some of the cast are:

"Will Graham's broken mind" and "memory palace bullshit"

"Inception meets Angel Heart"

an interesting return to season one dynamics, but flipped

deeper exploration of Will and Hannibal's relationship than in previous seasons

stuff from Hannibal the novel that no other adaptation has done yet.

we're in Cuba

So based on that, here are some possible story beats for S4 (picking up right after the Fall as if the show was never cancelled):

We start out in Cuba. The most obvious reason? To hunt down one of their victims that have fled the country, as Hannibal does at the end of Silence of the Lambs. Based on interviews, it's clear that Chilton would remain in the US to head the BSHCI again (how is he alive, let alone working?), so it's more likely that they're hunting Bedelia for the post credits leg scene.

Will Graham's Broken Mind

During the Fall, Will suffers a mental schism that splits his personality, similar to the detective in Angel Heart. I don't think he literally has a split personality disorder, but he compartmentalizes his killer/Hannibal self from his moral self. When he participates in murders, he's not quite himself, viewing it through a dream lens (we saw a little of this when he was killing the Dragon). It's possible that he takes on personality traits from killers in season one, or even has to fight against a Red Dragon personality ("You can always toss the Dragon to someone else." "Will Graham interests me.")

I think we'll see a return of the teacup metaphor relating to Will's mental schism, since their reunion represents the "teacup coming together again" the way Hannibal wanted it to in Digestivo. "Not even in your mind?" Well, the teacup HAS come back together in Will's mind, because there's no other way for him to accept his feelings for Hannibal. He mentally regresses back to season one/two and we see the return of the Abigail imago we last saw in Primavera, as well as Beverly and Hobbs and Gideon and all our other friends. Maybe Will thinks they're all alive again! Or maybe he thinks he's dead! This would be really poetic from Hannibal's perspective, since his arc in the novel is about dropping a teacup and "being satisfied when it does not gather itself together." So it would be perfect for the cup to gather itself in Will's head and for Hannibal to realize that's not at all what he wants.

Will hallucinating Abigail would be a fun way to get the "murder family" dynamic. "It's hard to grasp what would've happened, could've happened. In some other world… did happen." Well, we can see that world in Will's broken mind!

I don't have a clear guess of what a "return to season one but flipped" might mean. There are lots of possibilities...

1. Could refer to Will's encephalitis days when he wasn't sure if he was committing the murders or not, except this time he's committing them. Maybe he has a pendulum wipe moment and thinks he's reconstructing a murder instead of committing it (like a reverse of the Georgia Madchen murder in Buffet Froid). Going extreme in this direction, maybe he analyzes his own crime scenes with Hannibal in therapy. Maybe Beverly shows up at an actual crime scene and helps him "analyze the evidence."

2. Could refer to his dynamic with Hannibal. According to the rest of my bullet points, they return to their therapy sessions, but with memory palace elements and hallucinations, etc., but this time Hannibal is trying to fix Will instead of breaking him down.

Something from Hannibal the novel that no one else has adapted

This could be a few things, but I think it's most likely the end of the novel where he's brainwashing Clarice. Hannibal would use drugs and hypnosis ("therapy") to help Will merge his two halves and fully accept who he is. This happens in different places in their memory palaces, kind of like the white space dinner scene from Dolce, or when they were jumping around to different places in the Red Dragon investigation. To be clear, they're on friendly terms. Will consents to this. He has ample opportunity to escape and go back the US if he wants. We might get a lot of information on Will's childhood and backstory, maybe a "saving Hannah the slaughterhorse"/"silence of the lambs" moment. I'd like to see him as a cop working in New Orleans. The time he got stabbed. The time he didn't have the stomach to pull the trigger. This would be a nice reverse from the S3a dynamic where Will was delving into Hannibal's backstory. :)

Part of this "therapy" could be helping Will let go of Abigail the way Hannibal helped Clarice let go of her father. This plot beat has already been done twice in the show (1. The Primavera line "A place was made for you, Abigail. The only place I could make for you" refers to the place in Will's mind. 2. The WCWTS scene where Hannibal helps Abigail let go of her father. "What you need of your father is here, in your head.") BUT I still want to see it with Will/Hannibal. What I'm really saying is it would be cool if Hannibal showed Will Abigail's skeleton to convince him that she's dead and Will cried over her skull.

For the other half of Will's therapy, Hannibal has to get him to really delight in a murder when he's fully present as himself (Similar to how Clarice ate Paul Krendler's brain. Similar to how Hannibal wanted Will to kill Mason Verger.). Ideally the victim wouldn't be a criminal (Will is already fine killing murderers like Dolarhyde and Bedelia), but a representative of the corrupt judicial system. Someone who has personally slighted Will. An FBI official that Will HATES enough to eat their brain. The perfect option is Kade Prurnell (whose name is an anagram for Paul Krendler!). So yeah I think Hannibal catches Kade Prurnell and they have a dinner party where Will kills her and realizes, "Hey, I don't care what Jack or Alana or the FBI or anyone thinks about me anymore. My personal ethical code is good enough for me because I am MORE ethical than the law." And then he and Hannibal can be full murder husbands after that.

Side character subplots

While all this is happening, there's an international manhunt for Will and Hannibal going on. Jack/Price/Zeller are still at the FBI, probably beefing with Kade Prurnell to establish how awful her character is. Either Clarice Starling, Miriam Lass, or Alana Bloom are on the case. The murder/disappearance of Bedelia (or whoever) in Cuba is their first lead, so everyone gets to go to Cuba!

It's been nearly two seasons since Will interacted with Prurnell, so maybe they need to have a cat and mouse dynamic in Cuba to reignite his loathing. Idk why she would be in Cuba, when she works for the OIG... but who cares! She's there, motivated by greed, basically acting as Will's Pazzi. Maybe she's bullying her underlings in true Krendler fashion.

At this point, Jack is the only somewhat moral person in the entire cast. His primary motivation is saving Will. Yep, that's right, he still thinks there's a chance to bring Will back. He's leading the investigation, but he's hoping to catch Will alone before anyone else finds him so he can try to talk him back onto his side. This would continue the God vs. Devil thing with Hannibal, fighting over Will's soul.

Maybe Jack finds Will when he's in his broken state of mind and they have a chat. I'd want this scene to function like Clarice's hypnosis scene where she talks to her "father." Jack and Will address the vague father/son dynamic they have ("I'm not your father, Will." "Abandonment requires expectation." Jack as God/Will as the Lamb). Jack forgives Will for his crimes. Will forgives Jack for sacrificing him. The conversation helps Will along in his "therapy."

Last time we saw Alana, she was fleeing on a helicopter with Margot and their son. My first thought was "Omg they're going to Cuba! They're going to get Chilton'ed in Cuba!" but Fuller has mentioned that Margot would be actively managing the Verger meat packing company as a vegan girlboss lesbian so idk. (I personally don't see how a vegan could run a meatpacking company... maybe it transitions to tofu packing).

Anyway, I think Alana's character has gotten even darker since Hannibal's escape. She's given up on Will and is completely focused on protecting her family. Knowing Hannibal is going to come to kill her, maybe she sets up some sort of trap for when they come (or she puts Will's dogs under a cardboard box held up by a stick and waits). Maybe she catches Will and Will has to pull a Bedelia and pretend he was kidnapped and brainwashed (and he kinda was, if Hannibal used hypnosis and drugs like in the book). I think it would be fun for her to finally give into her "professional curiosity" about Will and try to study him (like a Bedelia/Mason hybrid character). Maybe she teams up with Jack to use Will to catch Hannibal. It would be wild if W+H actually killed her, but maybe! Maybe she gets the Chilton treatment and lives, but gets a nice facial scar like every other fallen character in the show.

Freddie Lounds would have to come back! And I want her DEAD haha. She's escaped punishment for too long, so in my ideal S4, she writes a book about Abigail even though Will asked her not to. Maybe she's investigating/contaminating Will's crime scenes in Cuba? She's definitely gonna die, but not before W+H use Tattlecrime for some shenanigans!

Chilton loses a limb (that's really all he has left to give). In an actual S4, I'm sure there would be a plot reason for this and some other killer would probably do it, but in my mind it's a comedy beat. W+H don't even set out to get Chilton. They don't hate him, they just find him pathetically entertaining at this point. Through Chilton's own incompetence or some karmic twist of fate, he runs into them (like Barney at the opera). W+H take one look at each other and go, "You know what would be funny..."

I have NO idea what to do for Molly. I assume she's living with Wally's grandparents in Oregon. Maybe Will mails her some signed divorce papers and that becomes evidence in the investigation lol. I'd rather leave her in peace!

More serial killers who used to be Hannibal's patients! W+H read about a former patient's murders in the news and go to catch him before the FBI can (running into the FBI in the process, of course).

Other stuff

I'd love to skip around to Brazil or Buenos Aires, the South American locations from the books. Maybe Hannibal gets injured and needs surgery in Brazil, and his medical records are another lead for the investigation. Maybe the season ends with a happily ever after in Buenos Aires. <3

They pretend to be recovering from plastic surgery to hide their faces in bandages. I just think that would be funny.

Will escapes Alana's clutches by using all the serial killer skills he learned in season one. He pretends to be a dead body, wearing someone else's face as in SotL. (This was actually in the Digestivo script but it got cut.)

They steal an ambulance (and turn off the radio!) again like SotL. And then the "This is very educational" line from Sorbet would come full circle.

Someone has to send a secret message using book code. What if W+H got separated and that's how they had to communicate? Or maybe they communicate to another killer that they're hunting? Or maybe they do it just to taunt the FBI?

Jack vs. Hannibal fight scene (round 3)! This time over Will's soul. Will watches, amused (maybe in broken mind state).

(If anyone else has thoughts I'd love to hear them!)

#hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannibal s4 #hannibal season 4 #hannibal meta #will graham #hannigram #cedar writes

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