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hobisfavoritespritecan · 3 months

Text

𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖇𝖗𝖊

Pairing: Hannibal X Reader

⚠️ Warnings: mentions of weapons and murder, implications of sexuality, that's about it ⚠️

AN: Hey panko shrimps, it's been a while! I hope to make this account more active going into 2024 so I hope this Hannibal fic is a good ease back into writing! 💛🦐

Your feet tapped against the hardwood floor in anticipation. It had been a long time coming to actually go along with your doctor's referral to see a psychiatrist and here you were, against your initial wishes. There wasn't much to you that you didn't already know as you considered yourself to be quite introspective most of the time; yet here you were with your anxieties hopefully concealed to your best ability, and the faux smile plastered on your face to hide whatever was left over. An unsettling feeling was still in your stomach which you hoped would eventually subside.

The waiting room itself was nothing short of grand. The marble flooring and intricately carved stone walls gave the impression of perfection but hindered the possibility for any sunlight that could have potentially set you at ease. It was a cold sort of old money interior, not that you had been directly expecting anything else of the sort, just silently hoping for a more inviting atmosphere. Dressed to match the occasion (and the environment, it seems), you were wearing a knee length black skirt and a white button down top. Black tights and matching flats with your hair neatly in place made the rest of the outfit cohesive. You weren't looking to stand out, especially not to whomever your new psychiatrist was.

But oh, how fast that would change.

A few more agonizing minutes went by before the large door to your right opened up revealing a tall man seemingly in his forties with unkempt hair and jackets piled one on top of the other. Black framed glasses adorned his angular and unshaven face; almost as if they were strategically placed there to cover the large under eye bags he had. Your initial response was one of surprise and then somewhat of a let down. If a man who was supposed to aide others through their difficulties looked as if he had a million and one of them himself, what work was there he could provide?

Setting your initial judgements aside, you reach your hand out to shake his. "Y/N. You must be Doctor Lecter?" You asked in a small voice, smaller than you intended. There goes your original plan of coming across as dominant and straightforward. Guess you'll have to use another tactic to try and withhold the fact you were terrified for this meeting.

"Oh, ah no." He said, offering his hand to shake yours and then immediately after doing so, wiped his hand on his jacket. A rude gesture that didn't go unnoticed. "I'm Will Graham."

Another anxious twinge ran through your whole nervous system. Were you in the wrong room? The wrong place? The wrong building, perhaps? That's infinitely more embarrassing than anything else you could've mustered about this gathering.

Stepping slightly aside and placing his hands into his pockets, another taller figure emerged from the doorway from beside this supposed Will Graham. This man, unlike the other, immediately had you floored. Slicked back greying hair with a chiseled face that of a Danish statue paired oh so wonderfully with a black tux, pink button down and an expensive tie was the only thing that filled your vision. His eyes were piercing with a hint of some unfamiliar darkness, however, that calming sunlight you had hoped for seemed a silly request now. It was almost as if those two things, this man's eyes and the sun, could not exist within the same place as though his expression would diminish the light emitting from the solar system. You'd never found yourself so infatuated so quickly and the thought scared you but drew you in with a perplexed curiosity that you hadn't experienced yet before.

"Y/N," he smiled, reaching his hands out to hold the both of yours in a formal greeting, "I must be the man you're looking for."

You almost said yes, yes you are right there and then. His hands were cold but steady, artist's hands. You briefly remember being told of Doctor Lecter's past occupation with working in the surgical room.

"Doctor Lecter?" You asked, as if you needed to confirm. You smiled at him, forgetting your worries and your determined voice came back to you and you silently thanked Will for being the person your meekness was originally directed towards.

"Ah yes, that would be me. Please forgive me for going slightly past overtime, I was just finishing up my appointment with Mr. Graham here."

Cordial and charming. What a dangerous mixture of the two adjectives.

"I'll be out now," Will said, looking down at his phone with a poignant expression, "Jack will be wondering my whereabouts anyways."

"Then you must go," the doctor said, never taking his eyes off of you once, "wouldn't want him to worry."

You watched as Will nodded and placed his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and made his way to the polished staircase leading to the exit. His disappearance almost didn't entirely register to you at all as you looked down and noticed your hands were still intertwined with the doctor's. As if he just noticed it as well, he offered up an awkward chuckle as he gently removed his hands from yours, not wiping them on his shirt as his counterpart had.

"Shall you come in?" He asked, placing the large of his back against the doorway with an invitation in the form of an outstretched hand towards the room he'd just come out of, making room for you to walk through.

"Oh uh yeah." You remembered your reasoning for being there in the first place as your senses came back to you. Let's get this over with.

• • • 💉 💉 💉 • • •

Inside, the office was massive, the marble flooring continuing into the carpeted room. A large desk loomed towards the front of the room with a decorative Turkish lamp placed atop along with various writing utensils and a laptop. A couple of chaise lounges took up residency by the furthest area of the study and were closest to the largest curtained windows you've ever seen in your life. A small table with large papers littering the top of it wasn't too far off from the designated seating arrangement and to top off the grandeur of the room itself, was a second half-story with walls lined with books.

It was as if you had stepped into some sort of museum with the way everything was spotless. Everything was clean and if it wasn't organized, it was a neat type of disorderly. What stood out to you the most was this small table of disorder with all the papers haphazardly sticking off the ends and so you went to investigate as the doctor stood a few feet behind you, watching your every move. With the slight sway of your hips and the way your hair fell, he would be amiss to not focus himself on you. It was not like him to feel this strongly, whatever this feeling was, about anyone upon first introduction yet here you were. A presence so familiar yet so foreign to him as he became mentally aroused by the thought of something that wasn't murder. Something that could captivate his interest and lure him in. Perhaps it was a good thing he'd gotten the patient referral.

Your outfit was inviting, yet not too revealing. It left him with an appetite for more yet an appreciation for the craft. The way you held yourself was one of someone who has been guarded her whole life, but has done the emotional work of opening up once more, although with caution. The slight dirt on your soles gave him enough information to know that you cared about your appearance, but not to the point where you were vain or someone who required a lot to make them happy. You were gorgeous, of course that was a given, but you came with the inner workings of a traumatic past- one that made you feel as though taking up space was a crime in itself. He was determined to rewire that thinking of yours, not just as a psychologist but as someone who could see the beauty in you.

Unbeknownst to his observation, you slid your hand carefully over the papers to see they had been drawn on in graphite. Beautiful images of anatomy danced over them in an alluring yet subtly worrisome way. The figures were beautiful, yes, but the compromised positions they were in and the sharp weapons that stuck out of their flesh had your heart skip a beat.

As if he could hear what was going through your mind, the doctor spoke up to alleviate any worries you might have. "The macabre. There is art in death and I hope to shed light on that through my drawings." He said, calm and sultry.

You heard his shoes against the floor as he made his way over to you. His cologne was sharp but not unpleasant as the scent filled your lungs, his arm just brushing yours as he looked down at his own works as if critiquing them in his mind although he was only really looking to see what your reaction would be. Would you flinch away from him after seeing these? Would you be drawn in, curious or would another wave of nervousness hit like what you had felt in the waiting room?

Instead, you look up at him, the two of you very close now. "They're lovely, I think your attention to detail is phenomenally done."

A wave of heat went down his spine. Why did it fill him with such satisfaction to hear a compliment of his work (which he knew was quite good) escape your lips? He dismissed it almost as quickly as it arose, however. He must keep things professional and he wasn't fond of the way his entire demeanor seems to have gone awry upon your arrival. It was so hard to be collected in your presence. How is that so?

Returning to his original formalities, he gestures for you to take a seat on one of the lounges, away from any implication of the monster he truly was on the inside, although his stoicism concealed it well.

You complied, respectfully making sure your skirt was correctly placed before sitting down on one of the velveteen sofas, trying your best to make yourself comfortable. Any forwardness you may have regained upon walking into the study has now left you alone, struggling to regain your composure. You tried your best to go down the list of everything making you anxious so as to tackle each problem in an efficient and healthy way, as you had been told to do from previous visits to therapists in the past.

1.) You're in a new setting.

This is something that a lot of people struggle with, you told yourself, trying to put yourself at ease and to not blame yourself too much. It'll become a familiar setting with the more meetings you have with the doctor.

2.) You're nervous about keeping up appearances.

Well, you had just met the guy and you haven't embarrassed yourself all too badly yet. You had mistaken his patient Will for him, but that was an honest assumption. You doubt he would've thought anything too much of it as it didn't seem entirely unusual.

3.) There is a very, very attractive man sitting across from you right now.

This was the one thing you weren't sure you could talk yourself down from. From the way he positioned his legs comfortably one over the other with his head rested against his palm in the armchair to the notebook he had in his lap, he was the literal definition of temptation. It was as if the devil himself were trying to get you to bite the apple and consume yourself with desire. This random invigorating feeling of lust springing up on you out of nowhere was so out of the ordinary for you. There was an undeniable tension between the two of you, yes, but this sudden satiation was seemingly preposterous.

You folded your hands in your lap and settled on looking at the floor rather than Doctor Lecter.

He cleared his throat and began to speak in that tone that drove you wild. "Would you perhaps like a drink?" He asked, innocently enough.

"Sure, as long as it wouldn't be an imposition." You say, finally mustering up the courage to look at him.

He smiled and arose from his chair to busy himself at the liquor cabinet you hadn't noticed upon first glance of the study. "Not at all, are you more of a wine or beer type of woman?"

He took off his blazer and laid it upon the backing of the chair closest to the large desk, revealing the pink button down from before. He opened the cabinet and poured himself a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon before turning to face you.

"I like wine, if you don't mind." You said, offering up another one of those faux faces of confidence. You felt yourself sit up straighter in your seat.

"I hope red is alright, I'm more of a red wine enthusiast myself. Pairs well with dishes." He states, before going to pour yours and offer you the glass, which you took tentatively.

"You're a chef?" You ask.

"Yes, it's a hobby of mine," He sits down in the chair again, placing the notebook in his lap once more before he asks, "Do you have any hobbies?"

He begins to write. The session has begun.

"I'm somewhat of an artist myself." You say, staring at the page as you see his hand create the unmistakable swirls of the cursive alphabet. Of course he writes in cursive.

"Mhm." He smiles to himself, reaching for another sip of the Cabernet. "Of what medium?"

"I prefer portrait work. With pencil, I mean." You notice a lipstick mark on the side of the glass you had just used, much to your dismay. You didn't want to make his dishes any dirtier than you already would be by drinking out of them. Lipstick could be difficult to remove.

He had also noticed this too, and had silently prayed for you not to remove it. Something in him told him he would be cherishing that glass after you had left it, reveling in the dark red makeup left behind by your lips. Even your stained imprint in his dishes had a divinity to it.

You set the glass down and continued the conversation. "I also enjoy reading, so you can imagine my surprise noticing your extensive library."

"You like my library? It took quite the time to build it, much less fill it with literature of my liking."

You allowed your eyes to move around the room and take in everything you may have missed on the second floor, seeing now the ladder that was placed against the side of the balcony. You would have a field day in here.

As if reading your mind again he adds, "You're welcome to it any time you'd like."

"I- thank you, that's very kind." You say, turning to face him once more. He seemed pleased you didn't immediately turn down the offer although he wasn't quite sure where the offer had come from himself.

"Not an issue at all." He states, looking directly into your eyes now. It's a gaze you don't feel as though you'll ever recover from. It's intense and cold but somehow so inviting in a way that's more peculiar than anything else. There's a darkness behind them, despite their bright blue nature. Everything around them fades to black and it's almost as if you're so deep into them that you've traveled to an alternate dimension entirely. You feel as though you're looking right through them, not into his soul, no. But to something much darker, much more insatiable.

Snapping back into reality, you notice how close the two of you have gotten to one another. He stands up, extending his arm out to you and then pulling you up with him, wine glasses and notebooks discarded along with the conversation you two never finished. Your eyes never left each other once as you were now face to face almost chest to chest, him towering over you.

"D-doctor I-"

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, looking down at you.

"Please, call me Hannibal."

#fanfiction #hobisfavoritespritecan #mads mikkelsen #hannibal x reader #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal lecter #doctor lecter #will graham

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