#garrett graham x reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corpsekiller · 3 years

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 — 𝐰.𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦

P𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. will graham x fem!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. angst, fluff, violence, crime scenes and corpses are mentioned

𝖲𝖸𝖭𝖮𝖯𝖲𝖨𝖲. there are three times you made will feel less lonely. and each time, he realizes how important you are to him. (set in season 1)

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.655 words

MASTERLIST

ONE

Blood. There is so much blood, thick and almost black in the light of the pale moon who thrones in the darkened sky like a face watching him, watching and waiting to strike down if he makes a mistake. It's when Garrett Jacob Hobbs puts a heavy hand on his shoulder that Will knows, he's trapped in a nightmare, a nightmare that feels so real and haunting and-

Will awakes in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat and limbs shaking with fear, pure disgusting fear that still seems to stick to his icy skin like a deadly disease when he throws the blanket to the ground and scrambles out of bed without any sense of orientation.

He just needs to get away, get away from the sandpaper sheets and his bed that keeps so many nightmares. Winston whines quietly when he stumbles through the room into the dimly lit hallway until he finally reaches his kitchen, trembling hands searching for a glass to fill with water or whiskey, he doesn't care anymore. Anything to get his mind off the nightly terrors robbing every minute of his sleep.

The golden liquid burns deliciously on his tongue, but it only lasts a few seconds until his mind wanders back to Hobbs, to empty eyes staring into his, to Abigail and the blood on his own hands. And then, your face appears.

And it's strange, it really is, because you're so lovely and kind and nothing like him, and yet his thoughts saunter to you even in his darkest hours. For a moment, he hesitates but then he reaches for the phone and blindly dials your number. His actions don't seem to reach his brain, he's paralyzed and unable to think properly, but calling you just seems like the right thing to do. Will isn't even sure if he said something to you after you picked up the phone and worriedly called out his name. After a few minutes, a steady beeping fills the silence of his house. The next thirty minutes go by in a rush. Everything starts to feel so unrealistic, dreamlike and it's getting worse with every second until he hears a faint knock coming from his front porch. Somehow, he finds the strength to get up and stumble to his door.

"Will?" Your voice is soft and still raspy from sleep. When he opens the door, pale face and dark circles shadowing his blue eyes, you let out a breath of relief. "Are you okay?"

He watches how you step inside and turn to him, a gentle hand cupping his stubbled cheek. And suddenly, his breath hitches in his throat, the words kind of get stuck behind his tongue because you're completely mesmerizing. Your hair is a mess and you didn't even change out of your pajamas, but god, he doesn't think he's ever seen something as beautiful as you are. And there's this look in your eyes - full of adoring kindness, warmth, and something he can't quite put his finger on.

"Will", you whisper again, "Are you okay?"

He's not. Of course, he isn't okay, because he called you in the middle of the night after a gruesome, gruesome nightmare. And then you took your car keys and drove over to him, without any hesitation. This makes his cheek burn and his heart flutter with something he can only call deep affection.

“I don’t know. I... don’t think I am.” His voice is strained and he tries to turn away from your gaze because you’ve been looking into his eye for far too long and he’s afraid you might find something dark, something tormented and violent that’ll scare you away.

Instead, you follow his movements, try to make him understand. You won’t be leaving him, not ever, because he’s too important to be left behind. And then, you hug him - it’s careful at first, testing, to see how he reacts because he’s never been big on physical touch like hugs or handshakes. Will flinches, just for a second, a blink of an eye and then he melts into your touch. It feels good. It feels good, safe and Will drowsily nuzzles his face into your neck, breathes in your scent. His nightmare is long forgotten. He wishes it would stay like this forever.

TWO

Another murder, another dead body. And it’s terrible. Terrible, to see a young girl covered in mud and maggots, slaughtered like an animal without a trace of pity or compassion or any other thing a human should feel. The coppery smell of blood fills the early morning air, the cold gnaws at every part of exposed skin and Will just feels lost and strange between police officers and special agents investigating the crime scene, feels like he’s watching himself from another point of view, watches how he stumbles along the edge of sanity and something animalistic, feral, something far more deranged than anyone could imagine. And then comes the sadness: slowly and then all at once, because he realized something about himself: He will never be whole again. He was meant to shatter, over and over again and each time, he will lose another piece until there’s nothing to gather anymore. And there’s not a beautiful way to explain that Will is lonely, truly and utterly alone.

“Hey.” Tender fingers graze his knuckles and he snaps out of his trance to find you next to him. Your eyes are set on the corpse in front of you, yet, you show no sign of discomfort or disgust.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He’s right. But you don’t move, just take his freezing hand and pull him back, just a step or two, away from that sickly sweet stench of death and a certain cruelty only Will seems to fully understand.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be here”, Will repeats, a little louder this time,”You’re neither a cop nor part of the forensics team.”

“I know.” You smile, a small one, but it’s there on your pretty pink lips, kissable ones too, and Will wonders how they would feel against his. Your thumb caresses the back of his shaking hand, draws small circles on his skin and he tilts his head in confusion because there is no reason for you to be here.

“Then why are you here?”

For a moment, you can only blink at him and then you nod your head into the mere direction of your car. A mischievous glint appears in your eyes, eyes full of promises. “I brought coffee and bagels, thought you might need a break.” You gesture wildly, while your fingers clasp around has wrist to pull him with you. Although Will would’ve followed you anyways.

THREE

Will doesn’t know where he is or who he is, but he knows you’re there too. You’ve always been there. And that makes a difference, a big one because all these years he felt lost and outcast, never quite at home and always a stranger, but with you, he feels... safe. Like he found a place to belong and that makes this whole situation half as bad as it actually is.

His breathing is shallow, panicked and his face feels numb, but then he feels the warmth of your hand as you cup his cheek and your face comes into vision. “Will? It’s me, Y/N.” You’re sitting right in front of him, in that small interrogation cell. “Hey there.” Your words sound lighthearted, but the trace of dried tears and the redness in your eyes tell him the truth.

“Y/N”; he mutters, defeated, tired, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you how his gaze sharpens and his posture changes, just a bit. “I didn’t think, I’d see you again.”

He watches how you fiddle with your bracelet, your eyes flickering to him. And then, you lean forward. It’s almost as if he could feel Jack’s burning gaze on him through the glass, yet Will mimics your movement, deliberate and thoughtful until your faces are mere inches apart. So close that he is able to smell the shampoo you used this morning: apple, mixed with the flowery scent of your perfume you’ve been using for years.

“I believe you.” The words are whispered into a deafening silence, almost inaudible, and only meant for his ears. And then you kiss him. You kiss him and he falls into you, lets you swallow him completely and he swears, at that moment everything seemed to be less painful, less suffocating. Although he is painfully aware of how it’ll take only moments for Crawford to barge into the room, he doesn’t push you away and silently counts the seconds in thought.

5...

Your teeth graze his bottom lip and he tries to raise his hand to cup your face, only to be held back by heavy chains locked to the table you’re leaning over.

9, 10...

A hand curls around the base of his neck and pulls him in, pulls him closer into this bruising kiss and his lungs burn from the lack of air, but neither of you intends to stop until -

Will counts 15 seconds and already hears rushed footsteps outside, behind that closed door. Then it gets dangerously quiet. Maybe, Jack decided to show some mercy and give them one, even two seconds more, but then the door bursts open and you are pulled away from him by an officer who looks buff and ridiculously intimidating.

“That’s enough!” Jack’s booming voice lets the grey walls around them vibrate. Will doesn’t flinch. “I know what you’re doing here. You’re manipulating that poor girl!”

Behind Jack’s bulging form, Will can see how you roll your eyes and flip Crawford off before the officer roughly shoves you into the hallway, and somehow, your little action gives Will enough strength to lean back and endure Jack’s yelling. He knows you’ll be back soon.

#nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham fic #will graham x reader #will graham is too precious #will graham #hugh dancy #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter #my writing

449 notes · View notes

shegatsby · 4 years

Text

Dangerous Game

Pairing: Hannibal x Female Reader

Genre: Romance, Slow burn, Smut in the future.

Warnings: Mention of murder.

TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!

Summary: Y/N Hobbs an opera singer and also the eldest adopted daughter of The Minnesto Shrike, and her entire life changes after what happened. She will be the object of affection of a certain psychopath, whether she likes it or not.

Chapter 1

Baltimore, Maryland

Y/N Hobbs, a 20 year old woman who was living her day to day life until FBI visited her. It was a normal day for her, she woke up, had breakfast, watered her flowers and plants in her small apartment. While she was practicing and warming her throat there was a strong knock on her door. ‘‘Probably Mr. Cash.’‘ she thought because good old Mr.Cash always complained whenever she was singing, she got up from her comfy couch and opened the door, to her surprise there were two people standing in front of her. ‘‘Hello Ms.Hobbs, Special Agent Jack Crawford and Psychiatrist Alana Bloom. Can we come in?’‘ She felt like her stomach dropped to her feet, she moved away from the door and let them come in. ‘‘What’s wrong?’‘ Y/N asked, Alana Bloom and Jack Crawford gave each other a look, ‘‘Maybe you should sit first.’‘ young woman said, her blue eyes was observing her closely. Y/N sat on her couch, ‘‘Ms.Hobbs, your father Garett J Hobbs is guilty of murder of 8 girls in Minnesota. He is The Minnesota Shrike, I should say was because yesterday he was killed.’‘ Y/N held her chest, ‘‘W- what?’‘ Alana Bloom continued, ‘‘Garrett J Hobbs killed his wife before the FBI went to his house. I’m so sorry for your loss.’‘ Y/N could feel her eyes water, ‘‘Abigail? Is she okay?’‘ she was always protective of her little sister. Alana sat next to her, ‘‘Your father tried to kill her too, but he was stopped by one of our men. She was saved by Dr. Lecter because she had a cut on her throat, later she was taken to hospital. She is stable now.’‘

They gave her a minute to breathe, to process everything they told, ‘’You have to come with us for interrogation.’’ Jack Crawford said calmly, ‘’Why? Isn’t it over?’’ Y/N asked, trying to stop her crying, ‘’We think that he had an accomplice and unfortunately that makes you a suspect.’’

Alana gave him a sharp look, ‘’I have to get my jacket and my bag, excuse me.’’ Y/N went to her bedroom, she was in shock, she couldn’t believe her ears. She needed to see Abigail, she had to.

They took her to a building which belonged to the FBI. After climbing stairs and walking halls Jack took her to a room. ‘’Please wait I’ll be withy you shortly.’’ he said and left her alone. There was a metal table and two chairs on opposite sides. She sat and started to wait, FBI Agent Jack Crawford came after few minutes, before he came he asked Alana Bloom to stay behind the glass window and observe Y/N. ‘’I want to see my sister.’’ Y/N began, voice shaking. ‘’Dr. Bloom will take you to her after this.’’ Jack had files with him, he opened them and put 8 dead girls’ pictures on the cold metal table. ‘’Why did you left home 2 years ago?’’ Y/N was looking at the pictures of those girls. ‘’I wanted to live on my own. Are they the ones my dad... you know?’’ couldn’t even bring herself to say the word. ‘’Yes. Do you recognize any of them?’’

‘’No.’’ She replied shortly. ‘’How did your father react when you decided to leave home?’’

‘‘He got angry, it was hard for me too. Now I’m glad I left.’‘ Jack noticed that she stopped looking at the pictures. ‘‘Why were you adopted?’‘ Y/N shrugged her shoulders, ‘‘I guess my biological parents didn’t want me. I was 4 so I don’t remember much. I want to see my sister.’‘ Jack stood up and gave her his card, ‘‘If you remember anything please give me a call.’‘

Dr. Alana Bloom smiled kindly and escorted Y/N to her car, when they got close to the hospital she spoke, ‘’Don’t be surprised if you see Will Graham or Dr. Hannibal Lecter. They were at the crime scene with your sister and they check up on her quite frequently.’’ Alana wanted to warn her. ‘’Which of them killed my dad?’’ Alana was surprised, ‘’Will Graham. How did you know that one of them killed your father?’’ she was a smart girl, ‘’I know a guilt when I see one. He probably feels responsible.’’

Y/N never liked the way hospital’s smell, it triggered her every time she walked into a hospital because she had to go the hospital whenever she got hurt by her abusive biological parents. She lied to Jack Crawford, she remembered things from the past but decided to bury them all the time. Dr. Alana Bloom saw her stopped walking, ‘’Ms. Hobbs are you okay?’’

‘’Yeah, I’m fine. Where is her room?’’ she showed her the room and saw Will Graham coming towards them, ‘’Excuse me for a moment, I have to check something.’’ and she left. The door was closed, Y/N took a deep breath and withouth hesitation she opened it. It was a big room, there was a couch which had someone’s jacket, Abigail was on the hospital bed, sleeping like an angel, there were machines around her when she saw her neck which was covered whit a bandage she felt a stab of pity and sadness, felt like she needed to vomit. It made her sick to her stomach to see her baby sister in a situation like this. ‘’Excuse me Miss, but who are you?’’ A man with a nice accent asked, Y/N turned to see him. He had questioning brown eyes, his brown hair had small touch of grey here and there, he was prancing tall and proud. ‘’I’m.. she is my sister...’’ Y/N tried to speak and everything came down all at once, the pressure was too much for her to handle. The last thing she remembered was falling slowly into the arms of a stranger.

258 notes · View notes

issamhysa · 4 years

Text

Énouement

Pairing: Will Graham x Reader

Summary: After the fall, Will believed he would never recover. Time proves him wrong.

Warnings: Rowdy girls, fluffy situations, dad Will Graham, and obviously, SPOILERS!

A/N: Ah, hyperfixation.

Five years. It had been five years since Will left his old life behind. The FBI, Jack Crawford, and Hannibal Lecter were now but fleeting memories he no longer acknowledged. Memories he swore he would never allow to hurt him again.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. And you.

He knew you trusted him enough to believe him. You had known Will when he found himself at his lowest point. Back when he was in therapy with Hannibal Lecter, coming to you at three in the morning after a nightmare and forcing himself to strain his empathic abilities for the sake of Jack Crawford. You knew about the atrocious acts Hannibal coerced Will into doing. You knew about Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Randall Tier, and Francis Dolarhyde. You knew about what had happened between him and Alana, and you knew about Margot and Mason. He had told you everything.

And despite it all, the nurses and doctors told him you refused to leave his side when they found him after the fall.

The two of you had only been going out casually back at the time, although, later into the relationship, you confessed you weren’t sure if Will loved you as you did him. It took months of recovery with you by his side for him to finally come around and admit how he truly felt about you.

You and Will decided to leave Wolf Trap. He left everything, took the dogs and moved as far away from his haunted past as he could. Months later, he married you in Switzerland.

It wasn't a big wedding, it didn’t need to be. Your wedding consisted of a few of your closest family members, Alana Bloom, Margot Verger, and their son, Morgan. They were the only people Will allowed back into his life after everything had happened, and so they became part of your little family.

You and Will had never planned on having children. Of course, you talked about it and you both agreed that it could be something you would both want eventually. But after seeing how Will interacted with Alana's son Morgan, you did find yourself wanting to see Will interact with a child of his own. A couple of years later, you had two beautiful girls.

Now, Will found himself sitting outside in the backyard on an embroidered quilt with your head on his lap and your feet flat against the soft green grass. The sun shone brightly upon the both of you, and Will inhaled the fresh air before exhaling in a contented sigh. His toes dug into the dirt under his feet, and his hands worked on slowly feeding you wild strawberries he and the girls had picked in the morning. Will watched you turn your head away from the kalimba between your hands and towards the woods. Upon seeing the smile on your face, his eyes turned to gaze at the sight before him. The smile that spread through his lips was a prideful one.

The oldest of your daughters, Thora, was chasing the little one, Cashmere, all over the edge of the woods, a toad held between her delicate little hands. Their favorite sundresses were stained with mud at the bottom, as were their bare feet. Wildflowers, twigs, and green leaves decorated their wild curly hair, courtesy of Will’s own genes. Their eyes were bright as they ran around, screaming and giggling in pure joy. Will's dogs chased after them, tails wagging faster than Will had ever seen them wag. They barked at the running girls, who paused to pet them with muddied hands. Ever so loyal, Winston sat by Will, watching over the girls as they ran around and played. Will scratched behind his ear gently, causing Winston’s paw to thump almost rhythmically against the dirt.

Never in a million years did Will Graham imagine this is how his life would turn out.

Will couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at the thought before turning to look down at you. He found you smiling up at him, and for a second, Will was awestruck. Your smile was one of the things he loved most about you. Something that never failed to make him stop and wonder how the hell he got so lucky to have you.

He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. As usual, your lips tasted of the sweetness he became addicted to from the moment you shared your first kiss on that stormy night in Wolf Trap. Reluctantly, he pulled away, his thumb gently brushing a fleck of dirt off your cheek.

The girls returned to the two of you, panting and grinning and holding something behind their backs. They shared a look and brought their hands forward, holding two daisy chains.

“What’s this?” You asked, setting your kalimba down and sitting up straight to look at the girls, who giggled with glee and plopped a daisy chain on his head and yours.

“Flower crowns! One for mommy, and one for daddy! Now, you can be the king and the queen of our kingdom! Right, Mere?”

“Uh-huh! King and queen!” The little one nodded her head wildly, her little cheeks flushed from exertion.

You smiled, “Thank you, little loves. These are beautiful crowns, aren’t they, Will?” You looked at him, the flower crown sitting at an angle on your head.

Will’s smile softened as he cupped his daughters' cheeks, leaving soft kisses on their foreheads. “Fit for a king and a queen. Thank you, my little princesses,” he answered, gently tucking a strand of hair away from Cashmere's little face.

“Now,” you spoke up. “Go wash up, it’s almost time for dinner, and we’re making your favorite tonight, Thora.”

The girls lit up, bouncing on their heels, and clapping their hands together. Cashmere even started spinning around, which rendered her a little dizzy, as she stumbled for a second. Will had to reach out and grab her to keep her from falling.

“It’s spaghetti night!” Thora cheered, her blue eyes wide. “Wait, can we have dessert tonight, too?”

“Dessert! Dessert!” Cashmere squealed, hearing her sister’s question and looking at you expectantly.

“Hmm, well, I do have a black forest cake sitting in the kitchen! You best wash up before Winston finds it and gobbles it up!”

While Winston tilted his head in confusion at the mention of his name, the girls squealed with delight, and after taking Cashmere’s little hand in her own, Thora bolted towards the shore to wash the mud off her hands and feet.

He was lucky, oh so lucky to have ended up with you and his gorgeous girls. They had your curiosity, your stubbornness, but they had his wit and cleverness. They were perfect, and Will had you to thank for that.

Will wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and connecting his lips to yours. He almost shivered when your arms wrapped themselves around his neck to deepen the kiss. After the two of you pulled away, you pressed your forehead to his and nudged his nose with yours, making him chuckle.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you for giving me my life back,” he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose.

You smiled in return, brushing a curl away from his eyes and holding a hand under his chin. “You did that yourself, Will. But I love you, too, and I’m glad I was here to help.”

As the two of you pulled apart, Thora and Cashmere bounded back towards the both of you. You grabbed Cashmere and tugged her onto your lap, and Will wrapped his arms tight around Thora, tickling her and reveling in the sound of her sweet laughter. Next to him, you were peppering Cashmere’s face with kisses, causing her to squeal and laugh as well.

At that moment, Will suddenly wished he could go back in time. He wished he could look down on his old self and tell him that everything he’d go through, all the pain he’d be forced to endure would lead him to the woman of his dreams, to two beautiful girls that made him feel as though the world was brighter than it had ever been.

To the life he had never expected he would have, but would never let go of.

#nbc hannibal #nbc hannibal x reader #hannibal #hannibal x reader #will graham #will graham x reader #hugh dancy #hugh dancy x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #will graham imagine

198 notes · View notes

rhodrymavelyne · 3 years

Link

I think all of mine fall into this category. :) Let’s see, I’ve loved Lestat, Louis, Armand, and Marius from Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles for years. Many of Anne Rice’s characters seemed to fall into this category. I also adore Elaine in Elizabeth Bear’s Promethean series; plus Will Shakespeare’s strained, yet enduring love for his wife, his growing love for Kit Marlowe, balanced with his fascination for Morgan Le Fey was depicted beautifully in Ink and Steel, Hell and Earth. Sebastien in New Amsterdam, his love for Jack and his growing feelings for Irene Garrett, his past progeny and his court, was intriguing, intense, and often quite hot. Utena’s love for her prince, her desire to be her prince, yet the love, attraction, and need to save Anthy which plays out and are revealed to her were quite epic in Revolutionary Girl Utena. Kamui’s earnest love budding from childhood for both Kamui and Fuma, yet the bond of shared pain and attraction he has after Subaru enters his heart was quite beautiful in X/1999. And of course, I found Will Graham in his shy misanthropy trying to reach out to Alana, yet finding himself drawn more and more to Hannibal very interesting on the TV show Hannibal.

3 notes · View notes

elfnerdherder · 7 years

Text

Ill Intentions: Chapter 2

You can read Chapter 2 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 2: A Sordid Sort of Muse

He really, really shouldn’t have picked it.

In between the concern about the prostitutes being targeted and the police refusing to see it as more than normal criminal-on-criminal violence and the wonder at how a killer walked free due to the abuse of evidence, he put the enticing blurb in, although he refused to put the name on the end.

I adored your analysis of the Minnesota Shrike. How quickly you boxed him into a corner and revealed his hand! Surely the ladies on campus will sleep better knowing to avoid anyone that looks remotely like them with a father in tow. That, or perhaps you’ve inspired them all to dye their hair a poignant shade of blonde until the next killer comes along.

I wonder if your clever little mind would be able to catch someone like me, however; would you be interested in playing a game, Mr. Graham? I’ve grown bored as of late, and the city is not much to entertain these days.

He thought it’d give a bit of a teaser to the readers, something that would give them enough to ask for clarification. He wanted interest, not panic. He also liked the exciting way that it made a small zing of pleasure curl down his spine. He hadn’t been excited about many things for a long, long time. His world since graduating from GWU left much to be desired, no matter how much he enjoyed writing. When he presented it to Charlie, the man grinned around his cigarette and nodded.

“I like it.”

He liked it, Beverly liked it, and when Will saw the ratings for his newly released column, ‘Will Intentions’, his eyebrows almost hit his hairline. Other people liked it, too.

He grabbed one off of a newspaper stand, just because. A stupidly sentimental souvenir to celebrate his moving from wedding announcements, baby’s breath, and a back page with a 5.5 font.

Thank you for the congratulations, anon, although I’m not so much in the way of catching rather than analyzing. In reality, from the safety of a swivel chair I think anyone could try their hand at playing the sleuth, at observing unbiased evidence and coming to some sort of conclusion.

As to the mention of your game, I’m very poor at playing games; you can ask several of my associates who find me a bore at work functions, even the celebratory kind. If you give me something to analyze, though, I think I could be of service.

He cut the column because of sentimental reasons that made him itch, and he pinned it to the corkboard alongside the letter with the gold star. Staring at it, a cup of water in hand, he supposed that he should be terrified at the prospect of the how of the star –he wasn’t. In truth, he hadn’t been afraid of much for a long, long time.

His watch beeped much later in the day; time to eat lunch. He wondered, as he ate a hotdog of questionable origin, if he could find a program for the smart watch to remind him to feel things like fear in the face of a potential serial killer at large, egged on by his ability to accidentally lead the FBI to a cannibalistic father of one.

There wasn’t any such program to remind him to feel things like that, but as it chimed to show him e-mails coming in with more letters from eager readers, he stupidly hoped the ‘Chesapeake Ripper’ would be one of them.

“Will Intentions is a hit,” Freddie informed him at the water cooler.

It wasn’t so much of a compliment as it was an observation. Will hit the small notification on the smart watch to assure it that he was drinking water. “I’m relieved.”

“Did you think it wouldn’t be?” She flipped hair over her shoulder, a wild array of curls in so many hues he wondered just how an artist would describe it. How would a writer describe it? Scarlet, auburn, sunset russet? Ringlets, curls, waves, oceans of red surrounding a pinched, surly expression?

“Sometimes the hype dies down after one intriguing iota of information.”

“It helps that the next front page was me covering the Hobbs story,” she assured him.

“A good read,” he admitted. It hurt in a pinching sort of way to say that, seeing as how Freddie Lounds was shit. He had to play nice, though. He was page three, and she was top-half news. Beverly called it office politics. He called it asinine.

“I thought it’d be good, since they take their questions to you after they eat out of my palm,” she said, and she tossed her cup in the trash as they walked away. Will stopped at his desk, and she found her way to a cubicle right beside Charlie’s office. It was bigger, more spacious. If Will Intentions continued to impress, would he one day have a space like that? Maybe his watch could also remind him to care about that, too.

Dear Will,

Loved the analysis on the Minnesota Shrike. My boyfriend’s been acting weird –is he a killer? He lies a lot, he’s gone for hours, won’t clean the house…

Oh, god.

Dear Will,

Why do you think a person with intrusive thoughts would kill? Is it a temporary delusion, or are some people just born wanting to kill people?

Maybe.

Dear Will,

Do you not wish for people to know who I am, therefore you refer to me as anon? Quaint.

Bingo.

I don’t mind as much as I should; in reality all of my work is only noticed by the name assigned to me by the press rather than my real name. Chesapeake Ripper. After the cleverness of the Minnesota Shrike’s name, I find myself mildly offended that I wasn’t given the same twist of words. What would you call me, I wonder?

As for analysis, is that not the best sort of game? I give you clues, you try to find where the bodies are. Easy as pie, I’m told. If you’re quick enough, maybe you could save a few in the process.

I read your wedding announcements and compared them to your analysis of Garrett Jacob Hobbs; truly you were put into a bad place, writing things about the way the vines curled over the trellis or the flowers braided into the hair of a blushing bride. It was lackluster, and you weren’t quite fulfilled in your work. No wonder you were almost fired.

Your analysis though, that is where you truly shined. I could feel your intimate thoughts through the paper, the concern for those girls, the knowing that made you caution them. Something cryptic, something that made readers want more. You’d been drowning in chiffon and petticoats for so long, but you thrived on the idea of death. Are serial killers your muse, Will Graham? If so, I think you’re going to enjoy what’s next. I’ll give you a little warm-up.

This thing all things devour:

Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;

Gnaws iron, bites steel;

Grinds hard stones to meal;

Slays kings, ruins town,

And beats high mountains down.

You have 3 days

-Avid Fan

“Fuck,” Will muttered, reading it. He was quite good at riddles, if he did say so himself. This though, with the threat of a life, he grabbed the letter –plain white copier paper with a fountain pen, if he wasn’t mistaken –and he marched to Charlie’s office, knocking with his fist rather than his knuckles. It smarted, made a rough, heavy thudding noise against the particle board.

“I’m up to my ass in phone calls; what,” he demanded irritably. Will hesitated by the door, glanced to Freddie sitting in a chair with legs daintily crossed, then back to his boss.

“You liked the anon wanting to play games, right?” he asked.

“Yeah?” Charlie gave him a look that said quite clearly, you’d better not have fucking knocked on my door for that sort of validation.

“He replied.”

Will passed him the letter, and after Charlie read it, he passed it to Freddie. There was a curt exchanging of looks with varied expressions, from grim to confused, followed by a silence that felt oddly stretched.

“I think we need to go to the police about this,” he said slowly.

“It’s just a crazy,” Freddie said. She didn’t sound so convinced.

“If so, it’s a good rendition of crazy. What kind of riddle is that?” Charlie leaned back in his chair, lit a cigarette. Will’s fingers twitched with the urge to pat down his jacket for his own.

“It’s from The Hobbit,” he said. After glances of mild amusement, he added, “We read it in high school.”

“So what’s the answer?” Freddie asked, lips curling into a Cheshire grin.

“Time.” A beat. “I think he’s saying where I’ll find the body…if I’m fast, maybe they’ll be alive.”

“You think this is a real killer, kid?” Charlie asked skeptically.

“I think it sounds serious enough to give it some attention. We should…maybe call the police.”

“The police will take it and get in our hair,” Freddie protested. “If it’s true, we won’t get the first scoop since they’ll take it out from under us!”

“Someone could be in danger,” said Will.

“You don’t sound so scared, though,” Charlie replied.

“No police,” Freddie urged. She sat forward, pinning Charlie with a look that said she had a marvelous idea. “Charlie, we’ve got this. Hobbs is dead, we need a good top half for next week, right? We send Will out, he maybe saves the day, we get front page news: Will Intentions saves the life of X by figuring out the riddle of a killer.”

“Then the police come in and ask how we knew about a potential murder and said nothing,” Will pointed out.

“We don’t know if it’s real until we look into it,” Freddie retorted. “That’s called investigative journalism, Willy.”

Will hated being called Willy. His watch beeped to tell him he hadn’t taken many steps that day.

Charlie considered the two of them, cigarette spewing smoke that floated just over his head like a dank, murderous fog. He rolled it around his lips, thought, then nodded, leaning forward. “Here’s what we’ll do: Will, look into it. You’ve got three days, then we see what happens. If you save the day, we have front page news, too. You don’t, we go to the cops, still get front page news since we found the body first.”

Will wasn’t so sure that was an ethically sound idea, but work was work. He thought of the taunt, the question about murder being his muse.

“If you can’t, I’ll do it for you?” Freddie offered.

“I’ll do it,” he replied, nearly bowling over her question. Fuck if he’d let Freddie Lounds steal from him.

He looked up popular clocks in DC, focusing on the answer being time. The first was a clock at the naval base, but that was a no-go. Even if the person was there, he’d never be allowed in to look at it. The next was a new clock being built just across town, but with the construction Will wasn’t convinced that a serial killer would be able to get a body in there without being seen.

By day three, he was just nervous enough to ask Beverly to hunt with him, google maps for places of interest his tool as they hiked all over DC. His watch beeped to congratulate him on the amount of steps he’d taken. A record-breaking step count, it said.

“Did you check Georgetown?” Beverly asked.

“What?” Will looked up from his phone. “Georgetown?”

“They have that huge clock tower on campus,” she said. “The Healy Hall Clock Tower whose hands keep getting stolen; I did an article on it once.”

He took an Uber since he didn’t feel like going back across town on foot, no matter what his watch said about steps.

“What do you think you’re going to find?” she asked, following him on campus. Early fall played with the leaves overhead, threatening to dump them every which way. Between classes, gaits varying from harried to lax and meandering, students roamed the sidewalks and streets, their voices loud and coalescing. It reminded Will of his days at GWU, when everything seemed to feel so exciting, like he was on the edge of something great.

Then he graduated and got to see just how monotonously boring life could really be.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “A prank, probably? It’s gotta be a prank.”

He didn’t think it was, though. There was something about the detached, mocking tone that made him just nervous enough to care.

“I could see Freddie doing it as some roundabout way of welcoming you off of back page,” Beverly said with a laugh. She skirted a biker whose speed was just fast enough to be dangerous and caught up with him. “I mean, they mentioned you almost getting fired. That’s some personal stuff.”

“…Yeah,” Will grunted. When they reached the tower, he looked up at the clock face with its dark stone and golden bronze etching, his stance shifting from foot to foot as he considered it. “I think it’d be inside.”

“How are you getting in there?” she asked. “They’re pretty strict since the hands keep getting stolen.”

“Investigative journalism,” he muttered savagely.

It wasn’t too difficult to get in there. When they climbed enough stairs and went through enough maintenance rooms, the door to the actual back of the clock face was unlocked. That in itself, for a clock face whose hands kept getting stolen, was enough to make Will a little nervous. His hands tingled as he opened the door and walked in, the room cool and dark. He blinked the shadows from his eyes, Beverly close behind him, and he used his phone to make a flashlight, looking around for some kind of switch.

“Got it,” Beverly said, turning a light on.

As his eyes adjusted, he stared up at the manmade chrysalis hanging overhead with a body inside, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he most certainly dropped his phone in shock.

“Got it,” he repeated weakly.

Thankfully, Beverly managed to snap a photo.

The victim was Hannah Oberly, who’d been put into a diabetic coma and was on a rather fast track to death if Will hadn’t found her in time. As she lay dazed in her hospital bed, she admitted to Will, then to police officers that she honestly couldn’t remember what happened to her. One moment she was watching TV, the next she was waking up as Will administered the insulin that sat just at the bottom of her chrysalis, teasing in its closeness but inability to save her without the aid of another. She’d faded in and out of consciousness after, while he held her and waited for paramedics to rush her to the hospital. Her skin felt clammy, like the flesh of uncooked chicken left out on the counter for too long. He’d held it tight, marveling at the feel against his fingertips.

How had he known the insulin would save her rather than kill her, police asked? Fuck if Will knew. He had a hunch.

They took his prints in case his hunch was something more than just a hunch. His fingers still tingled from the feeling of her skin as she hovered between life and death.

In the hospital hallway he paced, but it was with guilt that he realized it wasn’t fear for her life. Hannah Oberly was safe, and police were investigating. No, no, he was almost –almost –ashamed to admit that his pacing was from adrenaline, from a short burst of excitement that lingered long after paramedics whisked her away to administer intravenous fluids and balance the glucose in her system.

He’d saved someone. The Chesapeake Ripper gave him a riddle, a timeline, and he’d saved someone.

He supposed that said a lot about him, that he felt such eagerness in the face of someone else’s potential demise. Psychopathic tendencies? No, no, he very much felt her fear, palpable and thick on his tongue like he’d dragged it through butter. He felt bad for her. He couldn’t imagine himself doing that to someone, drugging them and wrapping them up in a grotesque display of paper mache in order to lead someone through DC on a manhunt to save their life.

And yet, he could. He could very much imagine it.

He comforted himself with the reality that that said far more about his mind than it did him. Will Graham was unique in a way that he didn’t much like sharing with anyone –their frailties, failings, and realities falling into the cracks of his mind and nestling in, making his thoughts worse off in the aftermath. He could imagine wrapping her tenderly into a pupa of his own making, much the same way he could imagine the tentative grasp on reality he’d have if he came to under the administration of a stranger dosing him with life-saving medicine.

He called Freddie because he promised to keep her updated. Due to his position as her savior, Hannah was persuaded to share a few words with an eager Freddie Lounds before police came back into the room and kicked the two of them out.

Charlie didn’t let him post the entire letter due to the nature of far too much information about his personal life and his work, but they did post the bits that would entice readers:

Analysis; is that not the best sort of game? I give you clues, you try to find where the bodies are. Easy as pie, I’m told. If you’re quick enough, maybe you could save a few lives in the process. I think you’re going to enjoy what’s next. I’ll give you a little warm-up.

This thing all things devour:

Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;

Gnaws iron, bites steel;

Grinds hard stones to meal;

Slays kings, ruins town,

And beats high mountains down.

You have 3 days -Avid Fan

With Hannah Oberly safe and relatively sound in a hospital, Will was more than happy to post a reply.

Avid Fan,

The Hobbit? Hannah Oberly was found in the Healy Hall Clock Tower, time both her keeper and her enemy. I found the diabetic coma to be somewhat tasteless, but readers will be happy to know that she’s alive, well, and safe.

The police are investigating you, but I’m sure that’s exactly what you wanted. There’s something about the way you signed avid that tells me you’re aspiring for the sort of attention that will bring infamy, at the very least. The questions other readers send will be on how best to protect themselves against someone like you, and I look forward to giving my insight to keep the public safe.

A little ham-handed and snarky, but Will thought utmost honest was best.

The Chesapeake Ripper didn’t like him for his flowery descriptions of trellises, after all.

Dear Will, Why do you think a person with intrusive thoughts would kill? Is it a temporary delusion, or are some people just born wanting to kill people? -Cindy

He thought that question was fitting to follow-up the Chesapeake Ripper’s.

Cindy,

To say that someone is born wanting to kill people would be to say that an infant with no life experience is born unlike anyone else. To be sure, children are victims of their upbringing, just as infants can be born addicted to meth, caffeine, or nicotine due to the foolishness of the one carrying them to term. What you refer to is something different, though, something that represents the way a person looks at the world.

Some people are born without empathy, without the ability to care for another person on a level that creates connections and healthy relationships. Does that make them criminal? No. It is not how they see the world that makes them criminal, but what they do in the face of such thoughts. That’s different from delusion –anyone can suffer delusions. Anyone can suffer from intrusive thoughts.

Most people suffering delusions on a psychotic scale generally only commit violence in moments of extreme duress, when they think it is the only option. On a psychopathic scale, it is a methodical act, a necessity to complete a fantasy that they have lived in their heads. That tends to stem not from some singular, one moment, but from repeated moments of abuse, neglect, or trauma. It grows, escalates. Serial killers are not called such because they only kill once and create their fantasy. They are called that because they have the impulse to recreate the fantasy over, and over, and over again, escalating it to relive the rush of emotion from that first intimate act.

Do I think some people are born ‘just wanting to kill people’? Not in the least. It is a learned thing, an environmental thing. I was born with an aversion to carrots, but I don’t kill carrot farmers.

They made the font .3 smaller so that they could keep the carrot farmer crack. Will wondered what the Chesapeake Ripper would think about that.

#LiaS scribbles #hannibal #hannibal au #hannibal fanfic #hannigram #hannibal x will graham #someone help will graham #hannibal starts a game with will graham #dark will graham #is just dark enough to play

18 notes · View notes

ao3feed-chilton · 7 years

Text

Loved By Many (Various Yandere Hannibal Characters X Gifted Reader)

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2kJdT4k

by EPICNESSQUEEN21

Name) Graham is the adopted sister of William Graham. She is also a gifted. She has the ability to sense what the people have seen by touching them. Dead or Alive. She can also feel other people's emotions and desires.

Along with Will she is brought in to be a special agent for the FBI. Being that she is mainly a struggling but famous artist and singer. Also once being a FBI agent. Who help figure out killers after they were arrested. She does not see a problem with helping the FBI with her brother.

Her brother Will is in a a obsessive love with his sister. And wants to be with her for she understands him greatly. They both become patients of Doctor Hannibal Lecter. Since they are both seen as unstable.

Hannibal falls in a obsessive love with her. Seeing her as someone who can feel what no others can. She can understand why people do what they do. He wants her to be with him. Body, mind and soul.

She meets many males and females who also fall in a obsessive love with her. They all want her to be theirs. And theirs alone. She is loved by many.

Words: 1094, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Hannibal (TV)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Various Characters, Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham, Will Graham's Dogs, Alana Bloom, Jack Crawford, Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Abigail Hobbs, Dr. Frederick Chilton, Bedelia Du Maurier, Freddie Lounds, ect

Relationships: Various/Reader, Hannibal/Reader, Will Graham/Reader, Jack Crawford/Reader, Freddie Lounds/Reader, Alana Bloom/Reader, Dr. Frederick Chilton/Reader, Bedelia Du Maurier/Reader, ect - Relationship

Additional Tags: Obsession, Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Hannibal, possessive, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, cannibal, Murder, ect - Freeform

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2kJdT4k

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Dr. Frederick Chilton #Chilton

10 notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Amuse-Bouche

1x02

Will Graham x reader, eventual Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, blood, gory murder talk

Author’s Note: I’m really enjoying writing for this and all the feedback I’m getting is really boosting my happiness that you guys like it. It takes sooooo long but honestly? Worth it. I’m already excited for episode 3. Actually I’m already thinking about season 3 but that’s beside the point.

I took lines directly from the script so some may seem familiar.

Official Episode Summary : Will Graham helps Jack Crawford search for a killer who buries his victims alive to grow mushrooms; Will, starting to trust Hannibal, opens up about killing Hobbs; Freddie Lounds lurks around the investigation.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director

(not my gif)

Jack looked over the antlers all over the room. It was a sight. If anything screamed obsession it was the room he was in right now. Will kneeled beside one of them, looking over the bloodied and dripping antlers across the wall.

“What if Hobbs wasn’t eating alone?” Jack asked. His voice was distant and the tone inferred that he already knew the answer to his question. Will looked over at him and shrugged. The implication wasn’t jarring. Will had briefly thought of it as well. “A lot of work. Disappearing these girls, butchering them and then worse. All without leaving a shred of anything outside of this room.”

“Someone he hunted with?” Will suggested. His mind was wandering at the dream he had earlier about Garrett Jacob Hobbs. He was sure to have more dreams like it in the future however this time he didn’t wake up with you beside him. It was an odd feeling, expecting the comfort he didn’t get because he was napping in the car.

“Or someone in a coma. Who happens to also be someone he hunted with,” Jack led. Will closed his eyes and at the back of his eyelids he could see Abigail in her hospital bed, asleep. His heart ached for her or perhaps just the fact that he had left her orphaned. He had been stuck in conflict for a long while and the recent events didn’t help him in the slightest. He tried not to think of her frail and broken body that no longer had a home to return to. The implication that Abigail was being looked at as a killer made his stomach churn.

“Abigail Hobbs is a suspect?” He wanted to make a comment about how Jack just wanted blood. He wanted someone locked up for these girls' deaths. Will had already given him blood. What more could he possibly ask for?

“We've been conducting house-to house interviews around the Hobbs residence and this property.”

“What’s the gossip?” Will had already practically disregarded Jack's words before they even left his mouth.

“Hobbs and his daughter spent a lot of time together. They spent a lot of time together here. She would be the ideal bait, wouldn't she?” Will stood up. His voice remained far away and uninterested.

“Hobbs killed alone.”

Jack shook his head but didn’t say anything more on the subject. He looked over at Will and pursed his lips. Will could feel his gaze, always watching and inquiring.

“What?” Will asked.

“I’m surprised that Y/N let you out here,” he said simply. Will let out a dry laugh.

“She tried to tie me to the bed and go to work. I told her I was going with you and she almost got a shotgun that we don’t own.”

“So I’ll be hearing from her?” Will was comforted with his answer before it left his mouth.

“Likely so.”

The door opened and Hannibal's last client of the day left. Hannibal said something you didn’t care to hear and once the door shut behind the client you looked up from your computer. Hannibal walked over to your small reception desk and you looked up at him.

“How is Will?” he asked. The sheer subject made your blood boil. You came into work to keep your mind off of Will. You couldn’t fault Hannibal for being curious but your emotions came nonetheless. You were still reeling about the death of Hobbs and the coma induced daughter that Will pretended he wasn’t obsessed with.

You couldn’t shake that Hannibal had been there and done nothing to stop it.

“Not great.”

“Jack Crawford has contacted me about doing a psychological evaluation on him.” You raised an eyebrow. It was odd thinking about Will talking to Hannibal so intimately. Your work life and home life were so separated that having them meld together seemed unnecessary. You knew Hannibal was a good therapist and you genuinely believed that, despite your reserves. You just weren’t sure if you wanted Will in on the anomaly that was Hannibal Lecter. Not to even brush upon the anomaly that was Will Graham.

“Is that so?”

“Do you think he’ll be interested?”

“If he has to be. He doesn’t think any form of therapy works on him,” you said. Hannibal nodded, noting that in the back of his mind.

“I’ve had a time allotted for him tomorrow, if you could write it down.”

“I’ll connect the payment to my credit card so you can send the cost there,” you said but Hannibal shook his head.

“The first one will be a courtesy.”

“You don’t do courtesy.” Hannibal gave you a thin, knowing smile that left you ill at ease.

“You haven’t been here that long.”

The next day you took Will to his session with Hannibal. You tried not to show any reservation about the situation, for his sake. You assured him that you worked for the man and trusted him, in some capacity.

After the session you took some time out of your day to drive Will to the shooting range where evidently he was still thinking about Garrett Jacob Hobbs.

“How are you?” you asked. He let out a sigh and adjusted his glasses. You were driving so he was able to look over at you and study your face.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. You nodded. You had expected the answer but it wasn’t any easier to hear.

“But the session went okay?” you questioned. You were curious about it. You would never force him to tell you but you had never actually been in session with Hannibal. You had only heard the legends.

Will shrugged.

“It’s alright. Helps Jack sleep at night.” You scoffed.

“You shouldn’t be worried about what that man says or how he sleeps,” you said, voice bitter.

“What, you don’t like him?” Will asked dryly, laughing. You nodded and glanced over at him as you pulled into the shooting range.

“I don’t. I don’t trust his motives.” You parked the car.

“And you trust Hannibals?” You were taken aback by the question. You should have known that Will would pick up on whatever it was Hannibal was giving off. You didn’t want to feed it though, not until either of you had something credible.

“I trust how much he intrigues me,” you said. Will nodded.

“That sounds about right.” He opened the car door and got out. He walked over to the door then stopped, turning around and walking back to you. He leaned over your opened window and kissed you.

You smiled, letting the day go away and hope that he didn’t shoot anybody in the range.

“I love you,” he said.

He was gone again before you could say it back.

The following day you drove Will back to Hannibal’s. You had to go too anyway. Will teetered back and forth in the passenger seat and you looked over at him, trying to think about what he was thinking about.

“Dead bodies,” he muttered.

“I didn’t ask anything.”

“You were wondering what I was thinking about,” he said.

“Stop reading my mind. It’s weird.”

“I can’t help it, I know you too well,” he said. You glanced over at him and pulled into Hannibal’s office. You got out of the car together.

“Now we’re both thinking about dead bodies,” you said as you walked in together. You were both lingering on the murder that Hannibal had signed off on Will going to see. It was a bad one, mushrooms or something. You got information from the papers, from Will’s broken words, from Hannibal’s observations. The puzzle pieces made a picture you couldn’t imagine seeing in front of your eyes.

Hannibal was inside waiting.

“You let him back out there?” you asked, immediately. Hannibal’s face didn’t even move.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Will said. “But I will say that I am in somewhat of an agreement.” Hannibal shrugged. “It may have been premature.”

“They’ll revoke my rubber stamp.”

“Maybe they should.”

You didn’t want him to go behind the door you couldn’t follow. You couldn’t protect him there. You were out here, cut off from the conversation, unsure of the influence being projected. Despite your worry, the two of them disappeared into the office. You walked back to your desk and let out a sigh, still annoyed at everyone who was allowing Will to mentally injure himself like he was.

The fear plagued your mind. You knew Will’s ability to keep himself sane was a thin line. You could never truly tell when he was about to fall off the deep end. It scared you.

You were going to get work done when your phone rang. It was a musty day in the office and your shirt clinged to you. You picked up your own personal phone, as opposed to the one for calling for an appointment.

“Hello?”

“Hey.” The voice belonged to Alana Bloom. You knew each other decently well, only because she was so curious how you managed to lead a life with Will so successfully. You stood up and walked into one of the back rooms of the office to take the call.

“Are you calling me about how terrible Jack is to Will?” you asked with the intention of joking but it came out too dry. She laughed and you leaned against the wall. You put your head back, looking up at the ceiling.

“I was just checking in on the two of you. He is sleeping?”

“Not last night no. But we’re trying,” you said. “In all honesty, I think this is bad for him. I hope that Hannibal is able to help out wherever he can.” Your voice had a vulnerability that you hadn’t expected. Alana hummed.

“I’ve been watching Jack on this side. I hope Hannibal can help too.”

“Do you think it’s necessary he’s out there?” She was silent for a moment. You knew the answer you wanted to hear.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen those people. I haven’t talked to their families.”

“Have you talked to Abigail Hobbs?” Her presence remained elusive to you.

“No, not yet. But I intend to when she wakes up. He saved her life.”

“He took one in order to save hers.” You went to bed with a murderer every night. His hands had dealt the last breath of a man. The man deserved it but the feeling was hard to shake. If it was hard for you, you couldn’t imagine how it was for Will. “I don’t know if he can come back from that.”

The door opened and you peaked your head into the main office, where you were supposed to be working. A woman with curly red hair stood at the door.

“I have to go Alana, I’ll call you later.” You hung up before she could answer and walked into the room. You knew that Hannibal had a patient soon, after Will. She had been a pain on the phone, wanting no other time but this. Something Kimball. She was leaning against the door and something was in her hand.

“Excuse me?” you called. She turned around, quickly taking off some headphones.

“Sorry! I’m early. Just listening to some music,” she said with the best fake smile you had ever seen on someone who wasn’t Will Graham. You nodded, knowing she was lying.

“You can have a seat over here,” you said, gesturing to the couch. She nodded and followed your direction. She looked over you in the same way Jack Crawford did. Like you were being observed, as though you were under a microscope.

“You’re Will Graham's girlfriend aren’t you?” she said. A journalist, you thought. Clearly. She wasn’t very good at hiding it.

“Yeah,” was all you answered.

“What’s that like?”

“I really have to get some work done.” She nodded and receded back into herself, even as her gaze lingered. You both waited in silence until the door opened and Will exited through a separate room. Hannibal came back through the door near you and you gave him a look. The girl stood up and he gestured for her to come inside. She passed him into his office.

You walked over and grabbed his arm.

“She’s a journalist,” you mumbled. He looked over at her and nodded in agreement.

“Thank you.”

He shut the door.

Will took the car home. Hannibal offered he would drive you home, not wanting to inconvenience Will.

You got into the car with him and felt at ease. You had been doing this a few times and it had always been a pleasant experience. There was light classical music playing over the stereo and the whole vibe felt very peaceful.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” you asked, trying to make small talk.

“I’m making a pork loin. Jack Crawford is coming over for dinner to discuss Will.” Your eyes went wide.

“I know it’s extremely rude but may I inconvenience you to pop in? I can call Will to pick me up but I really wanna give Jack a good talking to.” Hannibal chuckled. He enjoyed seeing this side of you. He had never known you to be fiercely protective but liked the way your teeth seethed like a wild animals when Jack Crawford was brought up.

“That would be wonderful. The more the merrier.”

You called Will to let him know where you were. He had some quips about you speaking alone with Jack, he was unable to stop what was already in motion. He told you to be safe and refrain from touching any sharp objects when you were angry.

Hannibal had set the table by the time Jack entered. You seated yourself as you heard the conversation floating from the front door. Jack’s voice set you on edge. You stared at the silverware before you. Hannibal walked in first. He was wearing a gray, almost dark blue, suit. He looked handsome. In the moment he was your ally, which made your heart warm at the sight of him.

When Jack walked in his eyes went wide seeing you at the table, just beside Hannibal's spot. You smiled. You were sure he could sense the ferocity behind it. You had your hand around a wine glass that was half drunk. Hannibal gestured for him to sit. He made a point to sit on the other side of Hannibal where you would be less likely to slit his throat.

“I hope you don’t mind, I overbooked dinner,” Hannibal joked. Jack shook his head, trying and failing to hide his discomfort.

“Sometimes work comes home with you. I can understand that.” The mere insinuation that Hannibal had brought you home for nefarious purposes made you even more angry. The knife was looking all too good .”I don’t imagine you’re quite happy with me,” Jack said. You shook your head, cutting into the meat and taking an angry bite.

“I’m here to eat. Hannibal cooks an amazing dish and it’s always something I’ve never heard of.,” you said. Your voice was floating. The threat wasn’t overt but it filled the room regardless.

“Thank you,” Hannibal chimed in pleasantly. He had always liked dinner and a show.

“I’m also here to tell you that Will became a teacher because he couldn’t pull the trigger in hard situations.” You had lost all fake sincerity in your voice. “He’s worked with you for one week and he’s killed a man. He has nightmares, he’s seeing a therapist, he brought home another goddamn dog.” Jack opened his mouth. Your stare shut it. “Will is now a murderer because of you.”

“It was necessary,” Hannibal said. You held up your fork. The sudden movement startled Jack, though he didn’t show it.

“Hannibal.” He nodded. He cut at his food. “If he breaks under you, I’ll be very unhappy,” you said, eyes back on your target. Jack nodded, nervously swallowing a bite of loin.

“Understood.”

You ate another bite, eyes locked with Jack, just in case he hadn’t gotten it through his head quite yet. You would sit here and have a whole dinner with them if you had to, just for him to realize what he was dealing with.

You were sitting behind your desk when Hannibal called you into the office. You were already on edge. Will was at work, trying to catch a killer. You walked into the room and Hannibal gestured to his tablet that had a newspaper article on the screen.

“What is it?” you questioned. Hannibal handed it over and you looked over it. You didn’t have to read more than the headline. “Takes One to Know One,” you muttered in disgust. He shook his head and pointed at the picture of the author on the side. Familiar red hair. Her name was really Freddie Lounds, the journalist you clocked earlier in the week. The sight of her made you seeth. You briefly wondered if you should take some anger counseling. “I should have punched her when I had the chance.”

“I would have had to fire you.”

“You wouldn’t have.” You looked up and met his eyes. He was already dismissing you.

“Go to him. Call me later.” You handed it back to him.

“Thank you Hannibal.”

You drove to the hospital because that was where you knew he would be. You called Jack on the drive in.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Are you on your way to ruin her career?” you asked. He snorted.

“Since when are you on my side?”

“I’m on Will’s side. And Hannibal’s depending on the situation.”

“Don’t worry about her anymore.” Unbeknownst to you he was just outside her door, ready to threaten to charge her with obstruction of justice if she didn’t comply. You hung up the phone but you didn’t feel any better. The hospital was daunting and the situation inside was more so. When had your life become so quickly off the rails? Why were you calling Jack Crawford on the regular, making threats that could likely send you to jail?

You got out of your car and walked up to Abigail Hobbs' room.

When you got there you saw Alana, reading quietly. Will was asleep on the couch, a blanket draped over him. You acknowledged each other with a nod of the head as you walked over to Will. You ran a hand through his hair and he woke up enough to see you and grab your leg with his arm. You sat down beside him, his head resting on your leg but now awake.

You were vaguely glad to have Alana there. She would mention the topic and you could be there as a buffer, rather than an antagonizer.

“I'm about to broach the subject of that "Takes One to Know One" article,” Alana said, putting the book she was reading down.

“I’m apparently Jack Crawford's crime gimp,” Will muttered groggily. He sat up now, realizing Alana was in the room.

“I can’t believe she wrote that,” Alana said.

“I can’t believe Y/N isn’t actively murdering her as we speak,” Will joked. It clearly hadn’t phased him as much as you anticipated. You and Alana laughed but your hearts weren’t in it

“I thought about it,” you assured him. “Jack promised he would handle it.”

“I heard you handled Jack,” Alana said. You shrugged.

“Some help from Hannibal.”

The conversation floated along, following avenues you only half understood. Eventually Alana had to go and you and Will were standing, mumbling something about coffee. Your voices were quiet and finally calm before Will got a call. He listened for a moment and you watched his expression as it felt. He put his hand on your arm and shoved his phone in his pocket, replacing it with a gun. You were amazed they let him keep it. You were amazed you hadn’t noticed it before.

“What is-” you started but he cut you off.

“Stay here.”

He was gone after that, running back to Abigail's room. Then he was gone, running out of the room and yelling at a receptionist. You followed him, despite his warnings.

You were just behind him as he stood in front of a man, presumably the killer of the week. Will had his gun pointed at the man and he looked up at you at the end of the hall. Following you was security and they quickly apprehended the man as Will showed identification.

It all happened so fast. One second you were fine and then Will was pointing a gun at someone again. How often would he be doing that? Would he get used to it? The thought was daunting and worrisome.

You rushed up to him.

“What-”

“Don’t ask.” You nodded. People moved around you, apprehending a man whose story you only half knew. You watched, security rushing past you as you stood firmly beside Will. He turned back to you, chests flushed.

“I’m just glad you have a check in with Hannibal tomorrow,” you whispered. He chuckled.

“You know what? Me too.”

1x03

#hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #will graham x reader #will graham imagines #will graham x reader x hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal imagines

301 notes · View notes