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hannibals-favourite-meal · 2 months

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loki with prompt 26 pretty please?

.⋆｡That's It｡⋆.

Loki x plus size reader

You ride Loki for the first time

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, mentions of wax play and bondage, some self-deprecating thoughts, fluff, established relationship

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

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“Loki, I don’t know about this.” You pulled your robe tighter around yourself, nervously avoiding eye contact with your boyfriend who was currently lounging on your bed, his perfect naked body cradled by the mountain of pillows against the headboard.

There was no doubt that you were both incredibly sexually adventurous, experimenting with everything from bondage to wax play and everything in between but this felt so much more daunting than anything you had tried before, even if it was relatively vanilla.

“There is nothing to be scared of,” he cooed, reaching an inviting hand out to you, “It’s just me my love.” You slid your hand into his, letting the god pull you into his lap. You tried to lift some of your weight from him but Loki kept you pinned to his naked thighs. “If you truly do not want to do this, then we don’t have to. You have the power.”

His touch was cool but comforting all the same. The silk material of your robe slipped on your skin, exposing more of your chest to your boyfriend, yet he didn’t let his eyes wander away from yours. “We stop if I say stop?” You knew the answer already but you craved the gentle reassurance he always gave before starting any scene.

“Always.” His eyes sparkled, knowing that he was already getting his way. Your legs parted, allowing you to straddle him comfortably as Loki’s smile broadened. “So, are you going to finally ride me or make me wait some more?” He teased, making you shiver with anticipation.

It was the one thing you were hesitant to do— be on top. To be so vulnerable and have your whole body on display as you worked for both your pleasures, it was terrifying. But the way that Loki looked at you, like you were worthy of worship, it made you want to give him this piece of yourself, even if it made a chill settle in your bones.

“Loki.” You whined but it soon bled into a moan as his hands journeyed beneath your robe, cupping your generous ass in his palms. His smirk sent fire racing through your veins and you felt his length throb against your soft thigh. You rocked forwards in an attempt to escape his firm grip but only succeeded in letting his length slide against your cunt, his tip bumping against your sensitive clit.

Your gasp bounced off the bedroom walls as it had done countless times before but this time felt so different. Loki’s blue eyes stared right into you, he refused to look away for a single second almost as if he were worried about scaring you off. With a gentle touch, he guided you to your knees.

“Take me.” His hand slid between your bodies and lined the head of his cock to your weeping entrance. Your lips pressed against his in a starkly gentle kiss as you slowly sank down, taking every glorious inch of him inside your cunt.

Your moans and Loki’s quiet groans twisted together in a beautiful symphony of pleasure. His touch travelled across your plush thighs, up past your hips, grazing your breasts briefly before he cupped your cheeks. You relaxed on top of him, the burn from his thick cock now lessened to the deliciously addictive stretch you could never get enough of.

Loki’s tongue brushed against your bottom lip as your kisses quickly became more desperate. Your cunt squeezed around him making the god buck up into you forcefully. His chest rumbled with a pleased sound as he ripped his lips from yours. “Perfect girl, c’mon start riding.”

Tentatively, you rocked forwards onto your knees, rising up on his cock before slamming back down to the hilt. You could feel the way your flesh moved with the force but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about what you may look like, not when you could feel Loki everywhere. Your next bounces were more confident and quicker until your rhythm made the bed squeak beneath your bodies.

Loki looked up at you unwaveringly, his gaze a mixture of lust and adoration. His hands touched every part of you that he could reach, needing to feel your body move as you took your pleasure from him. “Good girl, that’s it. Give yourself over to ecstasy.”

Your legs shook with the strain of the position. You huffed and sat back, trying to rest your poor legs but Loki had a different idea. His palm clapped loudly against the fat of your ass. “Keep bouncing like my good little bunny.” He growled through clenched teeth. You shivered at the power in his voice, biting down on your lip as you lifted yourself up once more.

You whimpered, the knot in your lower stomach steadily drawing tighter. Your thrusts down grew sloppier the tighter the knot became yet Loki didn’t relent his determination to have you ride him. “Please Loki.” You begged, tears gathering in your eyes as your orgasm seemed so close and yet so far.

Loki clicked his tongue as if he were annoyed but the delighted sparkle in his eye and the way his cock throbbed from deep within you said otherwise. “Is that right? Does my bunny need her god to make her cum? She’s too soft to do it herself?” You whined and ground your hips down, making Loki’s smirk broaden. “Don’t worry bunny, I’ll take care of you.”

His hands clamped down onto your hips and suddenly all the pressure was taken away from your knees. Your eyes went wide but before you could ask what he was doing, Loki lifted his hips from the mattress and thrust up into you with such power that you felt the air get forced from your lungs. “Did so good for me, bunny, so so well. You should be rewarded.” Your head lolled with each punch upwards, your stomach tensing as he bashed against the bundle of nerves inside you.

“Loki.” You weakly attempted to call out but he silenced you with a cold thumb connecting to your clit. You hiccuped as the pleasure mounted.

“Cum for me. Do it now!” He buried himself to the hilt, pulling your soft body completely against him. You shattered around him, your vision whiting out as Loki growled in your ear, emptying himself into your cunt.

You slumped against your boyfriend and Loki laughed breathlessly, placing a soft kiss to your temple. “See, I told you there was nothing to be scared of.” Your sleepy smile made him cuddle you closer, exhaustion falling over you both like a thick blanket.

“I guess you were.” You muttered.

And as your eyelids fluttered shut, Loki whispered. “That’s it.”

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suchawrathfullamb · 5 months

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Prompt: Will tunes out during sex.

They’re in bed, it’s very hot, and the fan hums a steady rhythm, the only sound in the room, calming, soothing. Beyond the gently flowing curtains, sunlight bathes the space in hues of yellow and orange, evoking the ethereal essence of a languid four o'clock golden hour. The sheets are white, soft, silky and perfect on a king-sized canopy bed.

The bed holds them captive each morning, especially on scorching summer days like this, when they linger, reluctant to part from its embrace. They’ll get up to eat sometimes, but usually they’ll pack up the mini fridge to avoid having to leave the bedroom. Today, a plate sits on the night stand, scattered with half-eaten grapes, strawberries, and watermelon cubes, and two glasses of tea, now diluted with melted ice.

CW: 18+

They’ve taken a cold shower a few hours ago to relieve the heat, and their bodies are now all soft, dried, and smell like bergamot, orange, pomegranate and patchouli. Will's hair carries the fragrance of cypress, lemongrass, and geranium.

They’re both delicious and fresh, naked on the Marrakesh sheets, crafted from percale Angel Luxe Egyptian cotton, it’s white and feels otherworldly sensual against their cool skin. Will is laying on his back, draped across the bed, like a lazy cat. Vacant eyes, wet hair almost completely dried by the heated air, head turned to the window, slowly blinking at the golden gleams outside. Hannibal lays beside him, body glued on his, one hand holding Will’s leg by the thigh, as he props himself on his elbows, face buried in Will’s throat, inhaling, kissing, tonguing, nuzzling that sweet spot, as his lower body moves back and forth, in and out of Will’s, rhythmically, sensually, languidly, and it feels like he’s covered in Ambrosia silk, sliding in and out with almost no friction at all, oozing and pouring from inside Will. It’s hypnotic, the sound, the sense of the movement, the heat coming off of their mingled bodies. His hands are already starting to form sweat from where he’s holding Will’s thigh, by the nook of his knee. Hannibal is trying to control himself and keep the pace slow, but he can feel it boiling up inside him. He notices Will is silent, which is rare, almost never occurring, in fact. Will is a screamer, he’s usually so loud, Hannibal wonders if the neighbors can hear them and that must be why they give them dirty looks. He doesn’t mind, of course. When he thinks about dying, he wishes heaven is a musical nothingness and his are Will’s little moans. But he is quiet now, and Hannibal lifts his face from Will’s neck to check on him.

His eyes are vacant, open but blinking slowly as if he’s on the verge of falling asleep. He’s reacting to the movements ever so slightly, with little sighs. He’s staring at the window but isn’t looking at it. The sun casts a golden shadow on half of his face, making his blue eyes appear extravagantly light, almost like the sky. And they’re void of the usual intensity they hold. Hannibal frowns at the sight, but gives him a little kiss on the cheek, to see if that will bring him back. Will just closes his eyes to the touch but continues to wander. Hannibal, with a lot of effort, stops moving and just looks at him. Where is he? Where could be better than here and now? He feels a soft ache in his chest. He though they were sharing something beautiful, but perhaps he was alone.

Will continues in oblivion, batting his lashes leisurely, lips slightly parted, his chest gently rising and falling. Hannibal considers saying his name but opts for a soft “hmmm” in his ear, like a cat purring for attention, followed by a light kiss there. Will doesn’t respond to it, so Hannibal lowers his leg back on the mattress.

“Hey, you” Hannibal whispers, nuzzling his ears and hair.

Will lets out a small “hmm?”, absentmindedly.

“Where have you gone?” Hannibal smiles and tenderly brushes his hand on Will’s cheeks. Skin golden by the Sun, smooth by the au beurre de Karité he massages onto his face each morning. What a greek god, a mirage. So perfect, so sensual and beautifully crafted. “Is this not good for you?”

Will finally but slowly reawakens, raising his brows and blinking distractedly. “What?”

Hannibal smiles softly at him and brings his hands to his hair, stroking up and down. “Was it not good?” he asks with genuine concern. “It was so good for me that I failed to check on you. I apologize.” He gives featherly kisses on Will’s eyes.

“What…” Will mumbles inattentively and finally find Hannibal’s eyes.

“Amore mio…” Hannibal gives him a fondly impatient smile. “Where are you?”

“Sorry,” Will swallows and sighs loudly. “It was good.” He parts his lips, tongue sliding out, leaning for a lazy and wet kiss. “Keep going.” He taps Hannibal on the thigh and lifts his leg back up, readjusting himself, shifting his head to the side again and closing his eyes.

Hannibal just looks at him for a moment. Will’s not even hard anymore.

“Tell me where you were.”

Will flutters his eyes open again, “Nowhere, I was here. Just…” he sighs, smiling at Hannibal now, “it’s really hot…and I’m a little lethargic, that’s all.”

Hannibal studies him for a moment, isn’t entirely convinced, but opts for a gentle kiss on the forehead instead of more probing. He looks like an angel and very hard to resist like this, all pliant and mellow. So Hannibal just shifts, getting on top of him, taking both hands in his and pressing them above the pillow, with gentle but firm pressure. Will blinks slowly and gives him a lazy smile. He’s still absent, but his body is reawakening, almost instinctively, to Hannibal’s. His legs languidly glide on Hannibal’s, inviting. Hannibal leans in and kisses him open mouthed, tongues slippery and sopping, in a way that always ignites Will and makes him painfully turned on, whimpering in Hannibal’s mouth through glossy kisses.

Just like that Hannibal can feel Will hardening against his core, and he smiles through the kiss. He slides in with no effort, both still sleek from before, and Will reacts with a little quiver, parting his lips. As soon as his eyes fall shut, Hannibal leans closer, nuzzling his face. “Uh-uh, stay with me,” he commands, willing him to keep his eyes open.

He does, and they make love like this until the sun begins to set, and the air begins to cool.

#i liked my own prompt so much i decided to try it out lol #i lovelovelove lazy afternoon hannigram sm #and yes if you follow me you noticed how obsessed i am with scent #it's important to me AND to hannibal okay? we're both scent folk #feel free to use this prompt too and pls tag me cause i'd love to read it!#hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal #will graham #hugh dancy #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #fanfic #fic rec #writing prompt #fic prompt

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zmediaoutlet · 2 months

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Straight shot down I-29, Sioux Falls to Carthage. Should be about seven hours unless the girls have to stop and pee every fifty miles. “That means you, too,” Dean says. Sam shoves his shoulder but just enough so Dean sways, grinning, and Sam rolls his eyes and settles back against the cab, stretching his legs out long on the truck bed. He hands the bottle back over to Dean, too, so he’s not that annoyed. Bodes well for Dean’s chances, later.

Freezing out. Dean’s wishing they’d brought out a blanket for more than one reason. One of those nights where there are about a billion stars overhead, the moon just a tiny sickle-slice low in the sky, and Bobby’s place out far enough from town that there’s nothing to get in the way of the view. He tips his head back against the truck’s window, blows out so it purls foggy over their heads. A shooting star, streaking fast across the east. They both snort.

Dean takes a drink off the bottle and hands it back to Sam, and Sam takes it but doesn’t drink, only sets it on top of his thigh. Dean lets his knees spread, knocks one into Sam’s. Wants to pull Sam down to the cold metal and crawl over him and actually get to some good ol’ defiance of looming death, but on the other hand if he does that then he doesn’t get to look forward to it, anymore. He licks the inside of his cheek, thinking it through. Thinking also that he’s kinda tipsy. Won’t be the first time he’s driven hungover to almost certain tragedy. Maybe it’ll be the last but he’s feeling optimistic, kind of. Sort of. Against the cripplingly awful odds.

“You know,” Sam says, “Carthage is where Hannibal was from.”

Dean squints at the stars. “The f-f-f-fava beans and chianti?”

Sam huffs, lets his shoulder sink down against Dean’s. Warm all the way along his side. “The general. Led that doomed march on Rome. Drove his elephants over the Alps. Half the army died.”

Elephants in the snow. Dean pictures it. Soldiers cutting out pieces of flesh to try to keep going. Stumbling, freezing. Leaving their friends behind. He turns his head and finds Sam looking not at the stars but at his hands. Only one of the junkyard lights on, back by the house, so Dean’s really only got the rime of gold on his dumb swoopy nose and his crumpled forehead to go on. “Messed up,” he says, light. “Should’ve used snowmobiles. Better turning radius than elephants, for one thing.”

Sam doesn’t laugh. “How are we gonna win,” he says, finally.

Like Dean hasn’t been thinking the same thing, on a terrified constant loop screaming from his cramped guts to his hindbrain. He’d thought Hell was bad. Even the word crawls in this frozen awful way up his throat and makes him want to just lay down, give up. Apocalypse. And worse, though the idea of worse than that should be impossible, that the hands meant to wreak it, that are allegedly destined to force their way into cracks in the earth and just tear the whole thing to jagged bleeding pieces, are right here beside him, holding that shitty plastic bottle of drugstore hooch.

Dean reaches over, takes it. Sam lets him. Dean takes a big gulp that burns going down, and then sets the bottle tucked into the back corner of the truck bed where hopefully they won’t knock it over, and then takes Sam by one wrist and pulls and Sam—resists, for a second that makes all the horror in Dean leap up straight to the surface in his skin—before he lets Dean bring him in, sliding down together on the slick cold metal, Sam’s hand sliding up his side under his jacket and shirt and shirt and landing freezing somewhere around his ribs, this light hold that makes Dean shiver all over. Dean nudges his nose under Sam’s jaw, breathes there in that way he’s known for too long makes Sam shiver, too. Sam does, and presses his closed mouth to Dean’s temple. They’re going to fuck, one way or another, because this is a last night on earth unlike any other they’ve had—and Dean can feel it already, getting a wet hand around Sam’s cock and maybe sucking it, getting Sam to grab his head in those huge hands and getting that taste heavy under his tongue and that ache in his jaw that he’s always not-so-secretly liked, from how he’ll stretch after and Sam will smile at him, and he’ll say shut up and Sam won’t say anything, and how that’s just—maybe never going to happen again, if they screw this up. If tomorrow goes how it could so, so easily go. If Lucifer—

Sam’s hand slides over his stomach, down. “I want,” he says, and doesn’t specify. Dean gets it. Wants a honeymoon suite and a case of bourbon and a week to sink into every single inch of his brother. Sam’s hand cups his whole crotch, squeezes, and Dean pushes into it, balls dumbly waking and his dick swelling, stupid and ignorant of the circumstances. “I—”

“Yeah,” Dean says, to everything. He pushes Sam down to his back and rises over him, Sam’s hands sliding urgent to his hips, his body blocking Sam from the cold stars.

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #ww lottery #a random ficlet for episode 92 #hard to say if dean still made eyes at jo in established wincest world #i'm gonna say yes but just to be polite #there's only one last night on earth partner for him

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writeshite · 2 years

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I absolutely love the homelander x therapist smut! Can I request a part two where John wants the reader to top him? Fluffy smut too

One Look And You’re Hypnotized

Summary:

“You’re hot when you’re threatening people,” John murmurs. You sip your drink with a smile, “She’ll be back,” you place your hand on his chest, sliding it beneath the side flap, “In the meantime, why don’t we go see how many orgasms I can fuck out of you.”

Pairings:

Homelander x Male!Reader

Tags:

Smut | Fluff | Brief Possessiveness | Praise Kink | Slight Threat Of Violence

Words: 2482

Author's Note:

I will not explain the thought process behind this other than Reader is once again inspired by Hannibal Lecter (excluding the cannibalism). Do I know where this went? No. But did I enjoy writing it? Yes.

John takes having sex as the final boundary to cross before he dives all the way into his infatuation, you fuck twice more on your kitchen floor, and you doze off after, waking in his suite at Vought Tower. You’re no longer in your usual sleep attire, instead draped in a long sheer robe - the fabric around your torso is near see-through, but the bottom half is slightly more opaque. You sit up in bed and find Ashley standing off nervously to the side, biting her lip and scratching anxiously at her nails.

The room is decked out with more of your possessions, all waiting for you as if you’d just moved into a new apartment. When you look to the side, a vase of flowers awaits, and beneath it sits a card - Congratulations to the happy couple - Ashley clears her throat and hands you a singular piece of paper. “What….”

“Vought sends its happiest regards on your marriage,” she says, “sir.” She blurbs out the title after, and you turn to her with a look of confusion; she just points to the paper. Now genuinely looking at it, you realize it’s a marriage certificate; the details are all filled out, and at the bottom are spaces for three signatures, the first two - John and Vought’s President - the third space is for you.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” you both turn to the door. Homelander stands there, all happy smiles. “Pretty neat, huh?”

“Could you…give us a moment?” You ask, but Ashley’s already rushing to leave; once the door clicks shut, you hold the paper up, “John, what is this?” He moves towards the bed, sitting beside you before he pecks your temple; when you press for an answer, he distracts you with another kiss, “John, I need an answer….”

“You don’t need an answer,” he interjects, “you’re home.”

You turn your head and trail your fingers on his cheek, “Darling, I’m your therapist —”

“Exactly, you’re mine, so you need to be with me; besides,” he pulls you close, your legs across his lap, one hand between your legs, “you said I was a good boy, and good boys get rewards.”

“Ah, so I’m a reward then?” He nods enthusiastically, “Is that what the marriage certificate’s for?” He smiles wider, happy that you seem to be going down the same thoughts as he no doubt is with this; he’s caressing your inner thigh and gripping your waist. There’s a hint of uncertainty in his eye as he tells you all this; mild panic surrounds him as he awaits your verdict on the matter.

You tilt your head, moving your legs to straddle him, “If I marry you,” you begin, “it means I’m yours, but it also means you’re mine. That means no one else gets to have a piece of you, no intern, no other supe, no one,” he moves up, chasing you for a kiss, you bring your face close to his, mouths inches apart, “not even Sitwell.”

He stops at the sound of her name, eyes locked on yours; you move your body closer and grind down onto him; he grunts, but you don’t stop. His hands push your robe up as he adjusts your position, hands gripping your ass painfully as he moans out your name. A wet patch forms on his crotch, the tent of his hard-on causing him to groan. His eyes flutter as he loses his concentration, his mind buzzing as the lust wraps around it. “No, no, sweetheart, don’t go just yet,” you lightly slap his cheek, “we’re still talking.”

He mutters something incoherent. You take his face into your hands, pushing aside the haze so he can speak more clearly, “...love you…you…love….” It’s the closest you’ll get to an answer at this point, so you take it; he whines when you move from him, then grumbles when you call Ashley’s name. She returns to the room, congratulating you as you sign the paper.

“There’ll be a press conference next week to announce it to the world; until then, enjoy your…uh…honeymoon.”

When she’s gone again, you return to the bed; John looks mildly irritated; you stalk up to him on all fours, and he slides down a little. He pulls you onto him, the outline of his dick pressing against you; you unbuckle his belt and help him shed the suit, chuckling when his cock springs up eagerly. He doesn’t waste any time lining it up, and you have to stop him when he gets half of it in before you can prepare. You hiss as you slide in the rest of it. John’s hands run along your lower torso, gaze facing up; he smiles at the slight scrunch of painful pleasure in your expression. He moves the robe off your shoulders but doesn’t toss it aside, leaving it on you; when you’ve adjusted to him, you glance down, clenching around him.

“That was a dirty move, dear,” you mutter; there’s a dull pain on your lower back, “I might not be able to walk after this.”

John thrusts into you; you lower your face to his, close like this again, “Good,” John mutters before his lips are on yours. It’s not as fast-paced as the first time; he moves slow, hands stroking every inch of you as if mesmerized, passion coils between you, and you push your own emotion into it. John hums at your delight when you part for air, his mouth holds open as his eyes close in bliss - his head tits back, and yours follows suit - the robe flies in the air as you bounce on his dick. You use his shoulder to balance yourself, your hands wander higher, settling around his neck - you don’t have the strength to strangle him, but John still enjoys it - his thrusts slow down, but you don’t. Riding him hard and reveling in the choked sound that leaves his mouth, he grips your hip hard, no doubt leaving an indent of a bruise, but you don’t care.

Your hands migrate from his neck, then down his chest, nails barely grazing his skin as you spear yourself on his dick. “Look at my pretty boy…,” you say. John’s hair curls around his forehead, gathered like a halo, the pillows beneath surround him like clouds, and the sounds he makes ring like music in your ears. When John comes, he tries to thrust further and manages a few, he draws his legs up, and you lean on them, still sat atop him as the come rushes in.

You shower together after, and John carries you into the bathroom, hands never quite leaving you; he holds you above the ground as the water runs over you. And you leave the bathroom, lips swollen from making out. John still has hero work to do, but he rushes back after, snuggling into your arms the second he returns.

“How was work?” You’re lying back on the couch; the TV sound falls into the background as you card your fingers through John’s hair.

“Shitty,” he grunts, “had to save a bunch of cocksuckers today….” He rubs his face on your chest; ever since your marriage, he’s liked keeping you in sheer robes and as less clothing as possible, “....missed you.”

You kiss his forehead, “Missed you too.”

Ashley is the only other face you see in between now and the press conference; she tries not to be around much, treading lightly when John’s about.

The press conference is loud, cameras flash at you as reporters clamor for your attention, and the room is arranged to mimic a church altar - with the podium at the front surrounded by flowers, and you and the people present sitting in rows. You stand hand in hand with John as the speaker drones on; the Seven sit at the very front, half on one isle, half on the other. The dress code has everyone around you donned in white, and various shades of cream - including the supes - John had grimaced at the sight of his ‘wedding suit’ earlier.

The speaker, Madelyn Sitwell, puts on a facade of joy, but there’s a bubble of irritation, you think, around it; when she turns to you and John, you note the strained smile on her face. The reporters nearly swamp you at the mock reception.

“How did you meet?”

“How long have you known each other?”

“Is your husband a supe too?”

John’s PR smile is on full blast; he takes one of the mics being shoved in his face, “Look, all you need to know is that marrying this man was the greatest thing to ever happen to me….” He goes on, laying in the sweet sappiness, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from outright laughing. Over the flashes and heads, you see Sitwell again, a glass of something in hand; she’s not smiling anymore; her lips are drawn into a frown as outright envy bursts from her. There’s a dash of vexation there as well, and a part of you almost feels smug; leaning your head onto John’s chest and placing your hand there riles her further.

She looks about ready to snap her glass in half. “Anything else to add?” the reporter who asks does so timidly, a nervous smile on their face as they pass the mic to you.

“Not much,” you say, “but I do want to express how lucky I am to have found such an amazing man to be my husband.”

Oh, she doesn’t like that. Stalking off in a huff as John tilts his head for a kiss, the cameras go off tenfold, and you hold him softly; you send him off to fetch you refreshment after to give Sitwell a chance to saddle by. “I’m amazed at how well you handle him,” she starts, holding out her hand, “Madelyn Sitwell, Vice President of Vought, as you know.”

You shake her hand, introducing yourself, “Husband to Homelander, as you know.” You both stand there, eyeing the other up, “so Miss Sitwell, come to offer your happiest blessings?”

“Something like that,” she replies, “I just wanted to meet the man who stole Homelander’s heart….and mind.”

You grin, “Well, I guess I’m just that good,” you shrug, “but that’s not really why you’re here, is it? Go on then, ask away; what do you really want, Sitwell?”

“I’ve never had to struggle keeping John’s attention, it took me a while, but I got there,” she says, “now you show up and, in less than a year, manage to do what I did and keep him in line. What’s your goal here? What are you planning?”

“Well, tonight, I’m planning to fuck my husband,” you respond slyly, “see, he likes it when I —”

“I don’t,” she holds her hand up, “I don’t need to know the details, thanks. Still doesn’t answer —”

“Oh please, don’t pretend to care about John’s wellbeing,” you interrupt, “you’re just mad you can’t make him do what you want anymore.” The resentment she’d been holding in flares up, and she glowers at you, “Struck a nerve then, have I?”

She takes deep breaths to calm herself, “I’d think twice about crossing the line with me.”

“I should say that to you,” you tell her, “who knows what John will do for me.” It’s not a threat per se, at least not in the most blatant way, it does the trick, and Sitwell steps back, resentment fading into fear, then slight panic when John returns; he hands you a glass of champagne with a kiss, then turns to greet her. She smiles as she offers her good wishes; you toast to her words, and John follows suit, “Thank you, Miss Sitwell.”

“You’re hot when you’re threatening people,” John murmurs.

You sip your drink with a smile, “She’ll be back,” you place your hand on his chest, sliding it beneath the side flap, “In the meantime, why don’t we go see how many orgasms I can fuck out of you.”

You slide away from the events, John flying you back to his suite; he doesn’t bother to lock the door as you pull him inside. Most of your clothes get discarded on your way to the bed, and shoes and gloves fumble together by the bedroom door - John falls onto the bed, head on the bottom half with you on top of him. He’s happy to toss the white suit aside; you sling one of his legs over your shoulder as the other curls around you, heel digging into your backside. You kiss him giddily, “Put it in already, will you?”

“Impatient, aren’t we?” You utter by his lips, you’ve still got your shirt on, and he pulls you by your tie. He moans when your dick goes in; his other hand grips your shirt as he pulls the tie, “You like that, don’t you?” Thrusting into him, you kiss him again, biting his lip when you move back - there’s content and cheerfulness around you; John drags you back in every second for kisses.

When you do get some semblance of a pace going, John tosses his head back, eyes shut, and you hold onto his hips, the sound of skin on skin in the room, as you pound into him. There’s a sound somewhere in the background, but you ignore it; when you recognize the sound of heels, you glance up from John’s face - Sitwell stands by the door; she’s got one of her dress sleeves draping off her shoulder, a bottle of wine in one hand and her clutch bag in the other. You tilt your head, smirk on your face, John’s still unaware of her presence, and you doubt he’ll come down from the high anytime soon. You don’t stop, gaze locked on hers as you fuck John, “Are you mine forever, John?” you ask smugly.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes….” he repeats the word like a mantra. Sitwell looks like a deer in headlights, and you laugh - something wicked, something mocking - you pull her mind into the haze, and she flinches at the overwhelming feeling of it, dropping the wine bottle; it shatters as she clutches her head, it’s too much for her, and she whimpers as it strangles her thoughts. Distress bursts from her, and a trail of it drifts behind her as she runs from the room.

“....what….what was that?”

“Nothing you need to worry about,” you reply, kissing his nose. You hover closer to him, John’s arms wind around you, and he locks his legs around your waist; you kiss along his neck, reveling in the small whimpers that come from him. John maneuvers you around so he can lay on your chest, nudging his head into your chin until you run your hands through his hair; you fall asleep that way, hands loosely tucked in the strands of his hair.

End Note:

At this point, my FBI agent is probably rolling in their grave. I gotta admit, the idea of Reader and Sitwell just ready to fight entertains me. Stay Hydrated.

#homelander x male reader #homelander x reader #shiterequests #my fbi agent must be rolling in their grave 💀#Homelander has a praise kink i said what i said #therapist reader

684 notes · View notes

hayleythecannibal · 5 months

Text

Twisted Minds: Chapter Eleven Roti

TW: Crime scenes, Gore, Crying, Death, Malpractice, Hallucinating, Gun shots, Mental Breakdowns, Seizure.

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

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

Twisted Minds Masterlist

HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT

Hannibal ENTERS carrying KUDAL, an Indian curry of sheep intestines, lovingly displayed in a sculpted banana leaf. “Dr. Gideon is a psychopath. Psychopaths are narcissists. They rarely doubt who they are.” Hannibal says as he enters, with Chilton trailing behind; “Tried to appeal to his narcissism.”

“By convincing him he was the Chesapeake Ripper.” Hannibal says, Dr. Chilton realizes he’s gotten himself into trouble. “If only I had been more curious about the common mind.” Chilton says as he looks out the frosty window. “I have no interest in understanding sheep. Only eating them. Kudal. A South Indian curry. Made from sheep, of course. Bathed In a Coconut-coriander-chili sauce.” Hannibal says as he serves Dr. Chilton a morsel from the platter. “Feels like a last supper.” Chilton says as he takes a seat at the dining room table. “You’re not the only psychiatrist a patient has accused of making them kill. Poke around a psychopath’s mind, bound to get poked back.” Hannibal says as he takes his own plate and sits down at the head of the table.

“What would you do in my position?” Chilton asks, “Deny everything.” Hannibal replies simply and blatantly. “I thought psychic driving would have been more effective in breaking down his personality.” Chilton says with a slight smirk. “Psychic driving fails because its methods are too obvious. You were trying too hard, Fredrick. If force is used, the subject will only surrender temporarily.” Hannibal and Dr. Chilton enjoy the beautifully prepared meal. “Once a patient is exposed to the method of the manipulation, it becomes much less effective.” Hannibal continues.

“When Dr. Gideon began to suspect he was being pushed…” Chilton trailed off and Hannibal continued for him; “...he pushed back. The subject mustn’t be aware of any influence. The only motivation one needs is loneliness or mild depression.”

ROAD - PRISON TRANSPORT VAN CRIME SCENE - DAY

Behind Will is the PRISON TRANSPORT VAN, it’s doors open, spattered with blood and debris. Will closes his eyes. A PENDULUM It swings in the darkness of Will Graham’s mind, keeping rhythm with his heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. FWUM. His eyes are closed. The PENDULUM is now outside his head. It swings behind Will, wiping away in its wake the LOCAL COPS and FBI AGENTS. FWUM. The PENDULUM swings again and the AMBULANCE and PARAMEDIC are gone. FWUM. FWUM. He opens his eyes and walks BACKWARDS toward the Prison Van. BACKING into the Prisoner Holding area and sitting down. FWUM. The doors close behind him taking us to:

PRISON TRANSPORT VAN - DAY

Will sits where Gideon was sitting. The PENDULUM swings across the BLOOD-STAINED walls and doors, lifting the blood. FWUM. The PENDULUM swings and the pool of blood on the floor has vanished. Will glances at the bench next to him to see a small torn piece of flesh and a smear of blood. FWUM. Gone. Will glances up to see the PT OFFICER sitting opposite him and the NURSE sitting on the adjacent bench. “All I need is to get one hand free.” They watch Will, who glances at the bench next to him where the small torn piece of flesh and smear of blood once were. Slamming his hand into the bench, Will dislocates his own THUMB and quickly slides his hand free of the cuff. The PT OFFICER sees this and moves to stop him as Will quickly pops his thumb back into place. The PT Officer lands a blow to Will’s head, before Will pulls him to the bench in a choke hold.

The NURSE attempts to intercede and a vicious battle ensues. But Will kicks the Nurse back, pins the PT OFFICER to the roof of the van with his leg shackles, choking the man out. The man falls to the floor dead allowing Will to flip the Nurse onto the floor of the van. He takes THE FREE HANDCUFF and DRIVES deep INTO the Nurse’s neck. Will pulls on it and the man’s throat is ripped out in a gush of blood that sprays the inside of the back door windows. The vehicle lurches to a stop and suddenly, the BACK DOORS OPEN, blinding Will momentarily, then... Will SPRINGS.

ROAD - PRISON TRANSPORT VAN CRIME SCENE - DAY

Will steps out of the back of the Prison Transport Van where JACK CRAWFORD is waiting for him. “Does Abel Gideon still believe he’s the Chesapeake Ripper?” Jack asks, as he looks at what Gideon did.

“Abel Gideon’s having a difference of opinion regarding who he is.” Will says, “This is either Kabuki or some dissociative identity disorder.” Jack says carefully as Will glances back at the bloody Prison Transport Van. “Whoever did that, was not in the same state of mind who did this.” Will says cautiously, Will and Jack are staring at: A HUMAN HEART Topped with a sprinkling of snow, it glistens in the sunlight as it slowly spins. PULL BACK to reveal it is hanging from the branch of a tree. Tied in place with a length of ARTERY. To reveal the heart is not the only organ suspended from the tree’s branches on varying lengths of human vein. Its branches are full of LIVERS, KIDNEYS, LUNGS, SPLEENS, ETC. The bloodless corpses of the PT Driver, PT Officer and Nurse ring the base of the tree, propped up in sitting positions. BEVERLY KATZ, JIMMY PRICE, and BRIAN ZELLER work the crime scene as Jack and Will approach. LOCAL COPS and FBI in b.g.

“He took a uniform, police radio, two nine millimeter handguns, pepper spray, taser and handcuffs.” Beverly Says as Brian Zeller studies an incision in the Nurse’s throat where The carotid artery was crudely removed. “It’s what he didn’t take.” Will says as he looks at the tree of organs. “Hung the organs from the branches with veins from the victims.” Beverly says as she inspects the organ tree. “Long ones are saphenous veins and those there look like popliteal.” Zeller says as- “He even tied little bows with them.” Jimmy says as he looks closely at the tree of organs. “Pretty impressive for an arterectomy performed with the contents of a first aid kit. And a dipstick.” He says as he bags the dipstick as evidence. “The Chesapeake Ripper wouldn’t have left the organs behind.” Will says Grimmly “If Gideon isn’t the Chesapeake Ripper, he’s certainly trying to get his attention.” As Jimmy Price leans in, takes a photograph...

“Local PD’s picked up a foot trail leading out of the woods. Boot soles were consistent with what we found at the crime scene.” Beverly says as she points to the area, “How fresh were the tracks?” Jack asks

“Two, three hours old.”

“Which direction were they headed?”

“Back to Baltimore.” Off Jack’s concerned expression --

BSHCI - CHILTON’S OFFICE - DAY

Chilton sits glibly behind his moat of a desk. “I suppose this is my fault, too.” Will and Y/N stand before Chilton – “You did dodge a bullet. Gideon’s escape foregoes a trial. And a very public humiliation for you.” Will says as we walk into the room. “Now you’re hosting a private one. Next you’ll be accusing me of arranging his escape.” Chilton says with a bitter tone in his mouth.

“Nobody’s making that accusation.” I say gently, “If we’re assigning blame, Dr. L/N, you’re due your fair share. You planted the suggestion I was unethically manipulating Gideon.” Chilton says as he slightly shoots death stares at me. “According to Gideon, you were.” I say as I cross my arms, “After you told him I was. You thought I was manipulating him? He was manipulating you. All this litigious lather you’ve worked up gave him the opportunity to escape” Chilton says as his voice rises with anger. “You were pushing him” I say calmly and gently. .

“He gave me informed consent to treat him. Said he was grateful for my help understanding who he is.” Chilton says with narrowed eyes, “What did you help him understand?” Will asks as he ever so subtly places his hand on the small of my back; which helps ease the tension in my body. “He wasn’t insane when he killed his wife. Killing her drove him insane. He disassociated from the previous murders he committed. I didn’t convince him he’s a serial killer. I just reminded him of the fact.” Chilton says as he stands up at his desk and approaches Will and I slowly.

“Gideon is not the Chesapeake Ripper although he may have thought he was while under your care, Doctor.” Will says with an almost- no not almost Exact hatred in voice towards Chilton. “Whether he is or he isn’t doesn’t matter right now. If he thinks he is or even if he’s confused on that issue, he will kill again.” I say with a foreboding tone in my voice. Dr. Chilton rocks back in his chair.

“I hope he doesn’t for your sake. Can’t imagine how you’d sleep with that on your shoulders.” Chilton sneers cockily as if he was untouchable, oh how i wanted to smack that smirk off his face. Instead I smack him with words. “How did you sleep after Gideon killed your nurse?” I say with a raised and angry yet composed tone. Will strokes my back softly, trying and succeeding at calming me down.

“They thought he was unconscious. The attendant left the nurse alone for three minutes. And in those three minutes Dr. Gideon did horrible things. I am less responsible for that nurse’s death than the attendant’s small bladder.” Chilton says with another Cocky ass smirk, oh how i hate this man. Will tries to focus the conversation away from blame: “What does Gideon want?”

“Last thing Abel Gideon said to me was he intended to tell everyone he’s the Chesapeake Ripper.”

“He just wasn’t intending to do it in court.” Will says this as he considers the extent of what that means...

B.A.U. - CONFERENCE ROOM - DAY

The room has been transformed into a command center for the Gideon Manhunt. Area MAPS and INFO about DR. GIDEON have been pinned to the walls for reference. Multiple PHOTOGRAPHS of GIDEON are on display for reference. ROWS and ROWS and ROWS of FBI AGENTS listen intently to Jack’s brief: “Transplant Surgeon. Convicted first degree in the murders of his wife and her family. Institutionalized at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where he murdered a nurse and claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper.” Jack explains to the agents. A man apart, Will leans against the wall at the back of the room, observing the other AGENTS as they listen to Jack.

“Dr. Gideon escaped this morning after killing two police transport officers and a hospital attendant. He is armed and dangerous.” Jack continues, Will winces at the BUZZING overhead lights, a bead of sweat makes its way out of his hairline down his cheek. JACK’S VOICE begins to VIBRATE at the same frequency of the BUZZ. “He’s believed to be at large in the greater Baltimore area.”

The AMBIENT NOISE of Will’s circulatory system provides an organic hum, his HEART BEATING FAINT AND FAST. Will wipes the sweat from his brow, glancing up. THE ROOM IS FILLED WITH ANTLERS. They are mounted to every surface of the walls, branching out from the chairs where Agents once sat but are no longer there. WILL IS HALLUCINATING.

JACK CRAWFORD - SLOWER MOTION He’s the only other man in the room. Jack speaks M.O.S., the twisting antlers pushing into FRAME like thorny branches, wrapping around Will’s point of view. Jack looks at Will, his voice cutting through the bramble: “He will kill again.” Will is snapped from his schism by a sharp WORD from Jack.

WE ARE BACK TO REALITY.

The briefing has ended and the VARIOUS FBI AGENTS are moving into action. Jack Crawford standing on the other side of the room, conferring with FBI AGENTS. He glances at Will. Will resets to NORMAL, his mind resuming synch with the room. He nods to Jack, who registers Will’s odd state with unease.

HANNIBAL’S OFFICE - NIGHT

“A thicket of antlers. All I heard was my heart dim but- but fast, like footsteps fleeing into silence.” Will says as he stares at the ground. “Have you noticed if these hallucinations occur at a particular time of day?” Hannibal asks as he observes Will from across from him. “Usually later in the day, at night.” Will responds as his eyes begrudgingly look into Hannibals.

“Are you more sensitive to light than you used to be?” Hannibal hesitantly asks, “Maybe. Yeah.” Hannibal internally debates how to broach the next subject: “Have you heard the term Sundowning?”

“Sundowning?”

“It’s a state of confusion experienced at the end of the day. When there are more shadows. It commonly occurs in the elderly.” Hannibal explains as he places his hand in his pants pocket.

“Is it a symptom of dementia?” Will asks with a confused look. “It can be.” Will stares at Hannibal, then averts his eyes. It’s a truly terrifying suggestion to consider. A silent moment, then: “People with dementia have all sorts of sleep disorders and disruptions. They can experience episodes of hallucinations, sleep walking.” Hannibal describes the symptoms, but he knows Will does Not have dementia. “I don’t know how to gauge who I am anymore. I don’t feel like myself. I feel like I’ve been gradually becoming different for a while. Now I just feel like somebody else.” Will says as he starts to open the floodgates of what he fears most. “What do you feel like?” Hannibal asks gently.

“I feel... crazy.” Will finally admits, but this is what hannibal wanted all along. “And that is what you fear most.” Hannibal suggests “I fear not knowing who I am. It’s what Abel Gideon’s afraid of, isn’t it. He’s like a blind man. Somebody got inside his head and moved all the furniture around.” Will says softly and grimmly.

“I imagine Abel Gideon would want to find the Chesapeake Ripper to gauge who he is. And who he isn’t. Will, you have me as your gauge.” Will is dimly comforted...

B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY -

Jack is with Will Graham. Zeller, Price and Katz are present with the bodies of the PT OFFICER and MALE NURSE on trays that have been slid out of open morgue drawers. “Gideon didn’t leave a manifesto. We confiscated all correspondences he got from outside admirers. We’re going through everything now”. Bev says as shes looking through them. “Any secret communiques or coded messages written in bodily fluids or anything else, we’ll find them.” Jimmy Says confidently.

“You won’t find anything. Whatever Gideon’s up to is all in his head.” I say as i walk in with A monster in hand and the looks of someone who hasnt slept. A CLOSED MORGUE DRAWER Will notices a trickle of water streaming out of the seam. Brian Zeller sorts through ORGANS in STERILE bags, wrapped in narrow cords, until he finds two containers of gray matter.

“Not much left in these heads. All the organ removals were postmortem. Including transorbital lobotomies.” Zeller says as he looks at all of the bagged organs. Jimmy removes the Dipstick from an evidence bag. “Dipstick lobotomy.” Jimmy says with a grimm but funny look.

Will watches as the TRICKLE OF WATER from the morgue drawer forms a PUDDLE that’s pooling around his feet.

“It wasn’t technically a lobotomy. Didn’t remove any of the brain, just scrambled them.” Bev says with crossed arms. “Went in through the top of the eye socket and whisked it around.” Zeller says as he stands next to Bev. Will realizes that no one else has noticed the pool of water. He glances back and it’s no longer there. “Why remove every other organ in their bodies completely in tact and then scramble their brains?” Jack asks crossing his arms, Will tries to shake off his hallucination, adding: “That’s what they did to him.”

“That’s what who did to him?”

“Dr. Chilton and every psychiatrist and Ph.D. Candidate who attempted any kind of therapy. Poked and prodded. Gave him tests. Told him who he was, who he wasn’t.”

“I want a list of every doctor, every therapist, anybody in any kind of psychiatric field who ever had a conversation with Gideon.” Jack orders.

“Y/N L/N will be on that list.” Will says causing my breathing to hitch as all eyes are now on me. Will’s concerned Look at me…

F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL - DAY -

Will Graham swims upstream through the crowd of EXITING FBI TRAINEES leaving the lecture hall. Y/N L/N stands behind the desk looking through her papers as he gathers them up. “Are you my protective custody?” I ask my partner and lover, “You heard?”

“I heard I get an armed escort until Gideon is apprehended.” I say with a soft smirk, “You’ll have a real FBI Agent, not a teacher with a temporary badge.” Will says which causes me to slightly frown. “Too bad. Would have been fun cozying up with your dogs in front of the space heater. Not that I don't do that most days.” It’s a flirtation, but a mild one.

“Don’t need protective custody to cozy up with my dogs. Or me for that matter. I'm yours to cuddle with anytime.” I smile sweetly, and touch his cheek and reacts. “You’re really warm.”

“I tend to run hot. They say stress raises body temperature.” Will says, reaching his hand up and strokes my cheek and I revel in the soft and tender moment. “You should take some aspirin honey.” I say softly as the doctor and big sister in me comes out. Will shakes the bottle of aspirin in his pocket. “Way ahead of you.”

“They’re going to kill Gideon, aren’t they?” I say more than ask, I look down as I lean on Will’s desk.

“Whatever happens to him, has nothing to do with you.” Will says as he takes my face in his hands, and places a tender kiss to my forehead. “Gideon’s not completely responsible for his actions if he was subjected to an outside influence.” I say softly.

“Like Dr. Chilton telling him he’s the Chesapeake Ripper?” Will raises an eyebrow, “Like me telling him he’s not in a state of mind to know who he is.” I can’t help but hold myself slightly accountable. “What do you think will happen if he finds the Ripper? Do you think the ripper would turn him into Art?”

“The Chesapeake Ripper will kill him. He took credit for his work. Ripper would consider that rude.”

DR. CARRUTHERS’ OFFICE - NIGHT -

Paul Carruthers is dead, tongue hanging out of the hole in his throat, lying across his collar and tucked into his waist coat and fastened with a decorative tie pen. Although the stands are still present, the IV BAGS of BLOOD that once hung on them are now inside an ice-chest cooler on the desk. Jack Crawford and Will Graham are studying the body. “Dr. Paul Carruthers wrote an article for the Journal of Criminal Psychology describing Gideon as a pathological narcissist who suffers from psychotic episodes.” Jack says

“Let’s hope he got some satisfaction from being proved right.” Will says as he stares at the body, “This isn’t just about getting the Chesapeake Ripper’s attention.” Jack replies as he also stares at the body. “Gideon’s mind has been dissected by psychiatrists, and as a surgeon, he’s applying his own skill set.” Will says as he takes a closer look at the dead man’s tongue. “Gideon gave him something better to do with his tongue than wag it.” Jack eyes Will.

“That’s not what killed him.” Brian Zeller looks at the cannulae inserted into Paul Carruthers’ arteries.“Arterial cannulae. Drained him until his heart stopped.”

“Got a little on his collar.” Jimmy Price examines the bags of blood. “There’s four-and-a-half liters of blood in here. Packed in ice.” Jimmy pulls a note out from under the cooler and reads: “Please deliver to the Red Cross.”

“That’s considerate.”

“He’s peacocking for the Ripper.”

“This is like flowers and chocolate before a first date.” Will notices Paul Carruthers’ hand is on the computer mouse, forefinger poised to click (if it had any life in it). Will taps the CONTROL KEY and the monitor illuminates. The TATTLECRIME.COM website HOME PAGE is already on the screen. The HEADLINE READS: “CHESAPEAKE RIPPER ESCAPES.” It’s splashed across a PICTURE of the TWO TREES hanging with organs. The CURSOR is directly over the REFRESH CIRCLE ARROW. Will pushes Paul Carruthers’ dead finger hover over the mouse and CLICKS the refresh. The latest home pages LOADS. The headline story reads: “CHESAPEAKE RIPPER RIPS AGAIN.”

“How is this already news?” Beneath, the EXCLUSIVE HEADLINE is a picture of PAUL CARRUTHERS, tongue-tied, blood bags still hanging. “Somebody from Baltimore PD must’ve taken a picture with their phone and sold it to Tattlecrime.”

“Took the picture before the blood was on ice. Gideon was still here.”

“He has Freddie Lounds.”

B.A.U. - MORGUE - DAY -

PAUL CARRUTHERS’ grotesque, BLOODLESS body lies on a gurney. across to find an identically injured corpse. Jack, Will, Y/N and Brian Zeller are gathered around dead CARSON NAHN, thirties, throat cleanly sliced, tongue pulled through, resting on his upper chest. “Dr. Carson Nahn. He’s the Psychiatric Attending at Western General. Interviewed Gideon for the same psychopathy survey I participated in two years ago.” I say as i look at the body infront of me

“Total frenectomy. All of the webbing under the tongue, even the connective tissue into the throat has been cut free and pulled through for the... desired effect.” Zeller says as he gestures to the tongue 'necktie’. “Still no word from Dr. Chilton?” Jack asks, “He hasn’t answered his phone since yesterday and didn’t show up to work this morning.” I glance at Will, both of us assuming the worst.

“Gideon wants to lure the Ripper. He’s going to offer up the man who disrespected both their identities.”

“Every detail of Paul Carruthers’ murder meticulously described in Freddie Lounds’ article has been faithfully re-created except one…” Jack pulls back the sheet covering Carson Nahn’s shoulders REVEALING one of his arms has been recently amputated. “What’s different about Carson? Why amputate his arm?” I ask, but deep down I know. “Freddie write anything about this?” Jack asks Zeller. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Abel Gideon didn’t kill this man. The Chesapeake Ripper did.” Will says it, the thing i knew deep down. “You said the Chesapeake Ripper would want to kill Gideon for taking credit for his work.” I say softly as I move to be next to him. “Gideon’s not alone anymore. The Ripper won’t risk exposure. So he’s telling us how to catch him. Actually, he’s telling you.”

“Where was the last place you saw a severed arm, Jack?” I ask and turn to look at him

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

Traveling. Will sits in the backseat with Jack Crawford. F.B.I. AGENTS up front. Jack studies Will as he glances out the window at the street lights intermittently flashing past. “I want you to wait outside.” Jack tells Will and quickly looks at him. “I think that’s probably best.” Will says as he is gazing out the window at the dark sky. “You look like hell, Will.”

“I feel like hell. Actually, I feel fluid. Like I’m... spilling. I must be coming down with something. Hope it’s not contagious.”

“This. What we do. Can weaken your immune system. If you allow it.” Jack says. “If I allow it?” Will says with confusion tainting his voice. “Keep this all in perspective. Keep yourself in perspective.” Jack says with knowing words. “I am in a haze at the moment.”

“You seem over-whelmed. You’ve got to take care of yourself, Will.”

“Build up my resistance?”

“Just don’t let yourself go. As much as you can, let the rest of it go. You take too much of this with you.”

“It’s hard to shake off what’s already under your skin.”

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT -

The F.B.I. S.U.V. approaches. ON WILL GRAHAM His eyes are closed. He listens to a POUNDING RAIN outside his head. He slowly opens his eyes and WE ARE...

F.B.I. S.U.V. - NIGHT - SLOW MOTION-

Will sits with JACK CRAWFORD and THREE OTHER FBI AGENTS. Sheets of water pour over the windows indicating a heavy rain outside. The SOUND DROWNS OUT ALL OTHER SOUND. Jack Crawford and the other FBI AGENTS EXIT the vehicle, quietly shutting doors as they move across the field.

- WILL’S FEVERED P.O.V.

Pouring rain outside. Will watches the distorted images of JACK CRAWFORD and the FBI AGENTS stealthily moving off. He finally unbuckles his seat belt and gets out. Will steps out of the vehicle and there is no evidence of the heavy rain fall he witnessed when he was inside.

The LOUD SOUND OF RAIN is abruptly absent. There are TWO OTHER F.B.I. S.U.V.s parked on the road, FBI AGENTS moving toward the Observatory from each of them, following Jack Crawford and the others. ON WILL GRAHAM He casts a foggy look to the nearby tree-line. Something’s moving in the forest. It’s THE BLACK STAG. BACK TO WILL He moves, drawn toward the treeline, heading away from --

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT

The FBI team slowly and stealthily approaches the Observatory. JACK CRAWFORD stands by the door to the Observatory. He hears a LOW MOAN. The big TELESCOPE DOORS are opening. He looks at an FBI SWAT OFFICER. Jack nods. The SWAT OFFICER pulls the door open --

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT -

Jack RUNS into the SPACE and sees MOONLIGHT streaming through the TELESCOPE DOORS REVEALING: DR. CHILTON The drip in his arm. He is reclining in the GURNEY. He holds HIS OWN INSIDES in his lap, a GROTESQUE BASKET OF ORGANS, like hellish fruit. Freddie Lounds works furiously, rhythmically pumping air. “He’s still alive.”

“Get medical in here! Now!” OFF the horrifying tableau of Chilton clinging to life...

OBSERVATORY - NIGHT -

From a distant vantage point, Gideon amongst trees, watching The FBI flood the Observatory. He sighs, disappointed. Jack Crawford EXITS the observatory and confers with FBI AGENTS. He watches for a moment, then recedes into the darkness.

FOREST ROAD - NIGHT -

Will stumbles out of the trees and stops short. THE BLACK STAG It stands at the side of the road, motionless, staring back. They watch each other for a still moment. Will slowly un-holsters his gun. He raises his weapon at the Stag, his finger tensing on the trigger.

GIDEON’S CAR - NIGHT -

Gideon slides behind the wheel, glancing up in the REARVIEW MIRROR to see Will Graham sitting in his back seat. He’s in a flop sweat, the gun still in his hand pointing at Gideon’s back through the backrest of the front seat. “I was expecting the Chesapeake Ripper. Or are you him?” Gideon glances over his shoulder at Will’s drawn gun.

WILL GRAHAM’S - FEVERISH P.O.V.

Gideon is now GARRET JACOB HOBBS, his eyes cloudy and dead. “Turn around. Don’t look at me.” Will looks grey, sweating, swaying. The gun unsteady. Gideon looks at Will’s state. “You’re a little peaky, Mr. Graham, if I’m allowed to say so. I may be crazy, but I believe you’re sick.” Gideon says. ‘Garret Jacob Hobbs’ stares at him from the REARVIEW MIRROR. “Who is your doctor?” Will’s eyes droop, but then he shakes it off. Wipes sweat from his brow with his free hand.

“Drive.”

HANNIBAL’S HOME - MUD ROOM - NIGHT -

Hannibal has opened his door on ABEL GIDEON and a pale and sweating WILL GRAHAM, holding a gun on Gideon’s back. Hannibal backs inside, allowing Gideon and Will to ENTER. “Will, what are you doing here?” Will closes the door behind him, keeping the gun on Gideon. Only he looks exactly like GARRET JACOB HOBBS to Will.

HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT -

Garret Jacob Hobbs sits at the head of the table. Will Graham stands between Hannibal and Hobbs. “I didn’t know where else to go. I’m... I’m having a hard time thinking. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know what’s real.” Will says as he points his gun at Gideon, who remains silent, observing Hannibal’s navigation of the situation; “It’s 7:27 PM. You’re in Baltimore, Maryland. Your name is Will Graham.”

“I don’t care who I am. Tell me......if he’s real.”

“Who do you see, Will?”

“Garret Jacob Hobbs. Who do you see?” Will asks as he is worried about losing himself. “I don’t see anyone.” The admission throws Will into more confusion. Will fights the welling tears, terrified of his madness. “He’s. Right. There.”

“There’s no one there, Will.” Will shakes his head, glancing over and seeing GARRET JACOB HOBBS staring quietly back at him. “You’re lying.”

“We’re alone. You came here alone. Do you remember coming here?”

“Please don’t lie to me.” He screams at Hannibal, tears stream down his Fevered face. “Garret Jacob Hobbs is dead. You killed him. You watched him die.” Will holds his head, trying desperately to hold on. “What’s happening to me…!” He cries out terrified and desperate. “You’re having an episode. I want you to hand me your gun.” Will shakes his head through confusion, shudders, goes still. “Will?” Hannibal examines Will’s eyes, His pupils has Dilated Dramatically.. “He’s had a mild seizure.”

“That doesn’t seem to bother you.” Dr. Gideon says with confusion as to what he just witnessed. “I said it was mild.” Hannibal says as he removes the gun from Will’s hand, directing at Gideon. “Are you the man who claimed to be the Chesapeake Ripper?” Hannibal asks him as he sizes him up and sits down.

“Why do you say claimed?”

“Because you’re not. You know you’re not and you don’t know much more about who you are beyond that.” Gideon is struck silent by that assessment. Hannibal sits opposite Gideon at the dining table. “A terrible thing to have your identity taken from you.” Hannibal says with a soft malicious tone. “I’m taking it back one piece at a time. You should see the pieces I got out of my psychiatrist.” Gideon says with a sadistic smirk.

“Y/N L/N was one of your psychiatrists, too. Is that right?” Hannibal says lowly, He wants no harm to come to her but wonders what Will would do if he put her in harm's way.

“Yes. Dr. L/N.”

“I can tell you where to find her” and so his curiosity or his idea of a experiment is set in motion.

HANNIBAL’S HOME - DINING ROOM - NIGHT -

Will stares into middle distance and blinks. “Will... can you hear me?” Will slowly nods, disoriented. “Repeat after me. My name is Will Graham.”

“My name is Will Graham.”

“Raise both of your arms.” Will does as instructed, Hannibal studies them, then gently pushes them back down again. “Although you may not feel like it, I need you to smile.” Will does as instructed. “It wasn’t a stroke. You may have had a seizure. Tell me the last thing you remember.”

“I was with Garret Jacob Hobbs.”

“You have a fever. You were hallucinating. You thought he was alive. In the room with you.”

“I saw him.”

“He’s a delusion disguising reality. Don’t let that let you slip away. You killed Garret Jacob Hobbs once. You Can find a way to kill him again.” Hannibal places his car keys on the dining room table. “Where are you going?” Hannibal moves toward the door, shrugging on his coat. “I’m worried about Y/N. Abel Gideon is still at large. He mutilated Dr. Chilton. They found him clinging to life. Will…”

“Y/N.” Will stands but Hannibal gently pushes him back down.

“You’re in no state to go anywhere but the hospital. I’ll call Jack Crawford. Tell him where you are.” Hannibal EXITS and returns with the telephone, dialing, but Will is already gone. Hannibal hangs up the phone, content.

Y/N’S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Framed by the window pane, Dr. Y/N L/N works at her desk. This is GIDEON’s POV. He stands outside her window, some distance away, studying her. Will Graham standing behind him. “I don’t know if I’ll feel like myself again. I don’t know if there’s a self left to feel like. I spent so much time believing I was him it got harder to remember who I was when I wasn’t him.”

“Who are you now?”

WILL’S FEVERISH P.O.V. -

GIDEON In Will’s mind on fire, he appears to be GARRET JACOB HOBBS. “You.” Will is horrified by Garret Jacob Hobbs’ comparison. Gideon turns his attention back to Caroline in the window. “We’re both here. Looking at her. Just those kinds of people who are infatuated with those we care about.. So infatuated that it gets dangerous….You and I are already committed. Hard to be with another person when you can’t get out of your own head. “I want to get out.”

“We all want things we can’t have. If I kill her... like he would kill her... I wonder if I could understand him better, hear the cold drips in his darkness, and watch the world through his red haze.” He turns to Will and we REVEAL GIDEON is GARRET JACOB HOBBS. “I wonder if then you could finally understand who you’ve become.” Will stares at him and for a moment, seem clear headed.

Y/N’S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Y/N JUMPS at the SUDDEN sound of a GUNSHOT outside.

Y/N’S HOUSE - NIGHT -

Will is Sweating, breathing heavily. The GUN drops from his hand and drops the GRASS next to Gideon.

F.B.I. ACADEMY - JACK CRAWFORD’S OFFICE - NIGHT-

Jack stares at pictures of Abel Gideon on his corkboard before pulling them down, along with the maps of his escape. “They’ll be sewing Dr. Chilton back together until morning. If he lives through the night.” Jack says to Hannibal. “At least Will remains in one piece. For now. His temperature is 105. White blood cell count is twice normal. They still can’t identify the source of the infection.”

“They will.”

“You seem confident.”

“Even with a 105 degree fever, Will brought Gideon down. He’s going to be fine. I told you. Will always comes back to being Will.”

“Will’s sense of self has not been constant or even continuous. How he thinks of what he does is becoming less and less evident. I would recommend you suspend his license to carry firearms." Jack glances at Hannibal -- that’s a serious recommendation. “Are you having a difference of opinion about who Will is?”

“I know who Will is. Will knows who he is. But our experiences shape us, Jack. How are Will’s experiences shaping him?”

HOSPITAL ROOM - NIGHT -

Y/N L/N sits on bed and watches over unconscious Will Graham, he’s hooked up to an IV and several monitors. She kisses his forehead softly as she scoot in next to him and rests her head on his chest.

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

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slasher-male-wife · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Can I request any kind of fluff about being in a poly relationship with Hannibal and Will Graham? (Fic or headcanons, whichever you prefer ☺️)

Oh I'm totally down for writing this. I am an avid fluff lover so I'll happily write this for you. And because the holidays are coming up I'm going to make this holiday themed but not explicitly Christmas because I know not everyone celebrates. So this is just gonna be more like a holiday gift giving thing. Vague I know but I try to make sure a lot of people can enjoy my writing. I also threw in some of my own head cannons for Will and Hannibal because I can.

Happy holidays: Hannigram x gn reader

It's a cold and snowy day in December. You'd just finished a lovely dinner made by Hannibal. You'd tried to help him in the kitchen but he insisted you go spend time with Will. So you did. While Hannibal cooked you cuddled with Will on the couch, his cold hands pressed against your belly making you laugh. You knew that they were planning on giving gifts soon. Each of you got each other three gifts. After dinner, while Hannibal is taking away the plates you head over to the living room with Will.

Because the fireplace was rarely used in the living room you'd set all the presents there. Hannibal wrapped his in black wrapping paper perfectly. He used twine instead of ribbon and you couldn't help but admire how stunning it looked. Will used blue wrapping paper and you could tell he tried wrapping them the best he could but it just turned out messy, but it got the job done. You'd used some wrapping paper with a scene of a snowy house at night. You loved the winter so it only made sense that you used this wrapping paper. While your wrapping wasn't as neat as Hannibal's you still did a decent job.

You two sat on the couch waiting for Hannibal to join you.

"I'm a little surprised you didn't wrap some gifts in their exact shape Will," You tease, "Although I doubt I could actually tell what it would have been if you did." You chuckle and Will rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, well for your information I tried my damn best to do this ok? I should have just used bags." You smile at him and pull him into a hug.

"I love spending winter nights with you Will. And not just because you keep me extra warm."

"I love being with you in general Y/n. I just love you."

"I love you too Will." You hear Hannibal enter the room and you sit back up. He's got a slight smile on his face.

"Well we should get to unwrapping." He picks up one box for you and one for Will, handing them both to you. Will unwraps his first to find a beautiful painting of his dogs. He did have to give them up, but it was to Alana and Margo who are taking great care of them now. Will smiles and runs a thumb over the frame the paining is in.

"Thank you so much Hannibal." He says.

"Of course Will." He replies. They look to you and you open your smaller box. You're careful not to tear open the wrapping paper because it just looks to beautiful to ruin. You find a small velvet ring box underneath the black paper. You open it to find the most beautiful ruby ring. Knowing Hannibal it has to be real and probably very old. You carefully take it out of it's box and slide it on your ring finger.

"Oh Hannibal. It's so beautiful."

"I bought it back in Italy many years ago. I'm lucky it's your size." A big stupid smile spreads across your face as you look over at him.

"Thank you so much Hannibal. I love it." You can't help but keep staring at it. How the red gem catches in the light so beautifully. It really is just too much, but you know Hannibal has amazing taste. Will gets up and grabs two of his gifts. He hands one to you then one to Hannibal.

"I'm sorry it's so poorly wrapped. I'm not good with wrapping gifts." Hannibal opens his first and finds a bottle of wine with a label written in a language you don't speak. But he smiles at this.

"Sternenklarer Himmel," He says, "German for Starry sky. 2018, very finely aged I must say Will."

"Well I flew it all the way over here From Germany just for you. With how much it cost I hope it's worth the money." Will replies. You open your gift to find a small cardboard box. You open the box to see three tickets. When you pick them up you read it's three tickets to a concert coming up for your favorite band.

"Oh Will!" You shout unable to hold back another huge dorky smile, "These must have cost so much! But I can't believe I get to see my favorite band live!" You have to throw your arms around him while he hugs you back.

"Well I had to get you something super special, because I know Hannibal is going to get you something even better."

"Oh Will don't lie! This is so amazing! Thank you so much!" You let go of the hug and get up to grab their gifts. You hand one to Will and one to Hannibal, "Now I'm not sure these will be as good as the ones that you two have gotten for me but I hope you still like them." Hannibal opens his first. In it he finds dried pressed flowers.

"These are the flowers I bought you when we first met." He says with a smile.

"They are! I dried and pressed them then put them in the frame so you could keep them forever!" You say beaming.

"Well thank you very much Y/n. These will be going into my office very soon." Hannibal looks over the flowers in the frame while Will opens his gift. Inside he finds a cassette tape decorated with paint. The word, "For Will, love Y/n" are written on it too.

"I made a tape to add to your collection. I put all of the songs that remind me of you on it." Will smiles and takes your hand.

"Thank you very much honey, I'll give this a listen as soon as I can." He sets it on the coffee table and Hannibal gets up to grab the next two gifts for you and Will. Over the next couple of hours the three of you talk and open gifts from each other.

You beam and hug both of them for the thoughtful gifts that they have given you. They hug you back for the gifts that you had gotten for them. But as the night winds down you feel yourself begin to fall asleep on the couch. Soon enough you're fully asleep. Hannibal carefully picks you up and carries you to your shared bedroom, Will following behind. Hannibal sets you in bed and him and Will soon join you under the covers.

Will cuddles up to you and Hannibal watches, soon also joining in. The three of you lay together on a snowy night. Warm in bed and full of love.

#hannigram #hannigram x reader #hannigram fanfiction #hannibal x reader #will grahm x reader #hannibal nbc

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dulcewrites · 11 months

Text

Acquired Taste (modern au)

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen x oc, Jacaerys Velaryon x oc (wc: 4k)

Summary: Sometimes the hungry grows too strong. Edith and Aegon know that all too well.

Warnings: allusions to cannibalism, obsessive tendencies, slight unreliable narrator/purposely ambiguity. Aegon and oc are weird I fear :/

A/N: I wrote this on a total whim 💀💀. Slightly inspired by hannibal, Hope y’all enjoy, and if y’all want to chat, my inbox is always open 🫶🏽

The first tug comes at a family dinner.

At first, Edith was able to chalk it up to nerves. She’s eating expensive lobster and was sure the hand soap she used in the bathroom cost more than the several disgustingly overpriced books she had to purchase for university.

Jace’s family situation is tense. But then again, most blended families probably were.

He had told her he had nothing to worry about, that everyone would be far more focused on celebrating his aunt entering her PhD program. And yet, the attention made her feel claustrophobic. Throat tightening, palm sweating, stomach churning; it must be the nerves, right?

She was most anxious to meet his mother. Jace gushed and raved about his mother in the way all mama’s boys do. It was not that Rhaenyra was cold or even mean, quite the opposite. She was polite, almost farcically so.

Edith was hoping to see Baela and Rhaena. The only reason she knows Jace is because of her connection to their mother, Laena. But their absence, along with their parents, was notable. It leads to Edith having to make polite, but awkward small talk with those wanting to strike one. Which is a short list; the other side of Rhaenyra’s of family looking entirely bored of the whole thing.

The tugging in her stomach and burning in her throat continues through dinner. Even the wine and after four glasses of water she chugs down.

Edith blinks, a bit shocked when she feels Jace’s hand on her thigh, sliding up further and further. She must fight back a sigh. She doesn’t know what is worse: him doing this while his mother is asking her about her degree, or the cumbersome way he fiddles with her underwear.

She wonders if this is a terrible attempt at spicing things up. But she indulges and indulges in the way she always does with Jace. It’s hard not to giggle a bit at the earnest nature in which Jace does things, even in his spontaneity, but she would take it over the other traits her exes have exhibited.

Cold fingers slipping her lacy panties to the side, gently rubbing. As conversations and clink of silver ware droned on, her eyes fluttered up towards the giant chandelier handing above them. For a moment, she wonders what would happen if it just fell and shattered all over them.

She would die being fingered, surrounded by strangers. There are worst ways to go she supposed.

When her eyes fluttered down from the lights to the table, they catch on big blue ones.

While Jace has nothing but praise for his aunt Helaena, he had silence and shrugs in response when Edith mentioned his uncles. Jace’s two middle fingers are ring deep when Edith makes eye contact with Aegon. Her breath quickens, and she finally reaches a hand to slow Jace down. Edith does that a lot, slows him down. Molds him and sculpts him a bit.

Jacaerys is malleable in the way she thinks all men should be.

All she can do is smile weakly at Aegon in hopes he doesn’t notice. He just tilts his head in the way dogs do when they are confused, but then a slow smile spreads across his face. Edith doesn’t know what it means but it makes her quickly turn her attention back the conversation between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

Cold fingers, sparky chandeliers, and unwritten meanings.

The tug eventually turns into an urge.

Edith can’t put her finger on when or why, but the burning in her throat moves to her belly. Deep and wanting.

She tries not to focus on it during girl’s night, but it lingers. This time, she tries to blame it on her lack of contact with Jace. By the fourth time she checks her phone, Dana snatches her phone out of her hand.

“Girl, give it a rest,” she sighs. “He’s probably just busy.”

Asha snorts from the purple sofa chair in their apartment. “Or maybe he’s ignoring her text for a reason.”

Dana glares over at her. “We don’t know that,” she turns to Edith sympathetically. “You don’t know that.”

Asha never liked Jace, but to be fair, she never liked any of their boyfriends.

“This is why you don’t give the guy you have to coach or work to like a chance, even if he’s rich,” Dana shrugs. Edith rolls her eyes, stuffing popcorn into her mouth.

“I’m not with him because he has money. I’m with him because he’s nice to me, and a good guy.”

“Hmmm, even the nice ones fuck up.”

Edith blinks, being transported back to the dinner that happened two and half weeks ago.

“Sometimes, it’s better to date the ones that will be assholes out loud.”

She had told Jace she had to use the bathroom before they left. Taking a left instead of a right, she gets a bit lost. Wandering around the mansion, staring a bit too keenly at the old, expensive decor. By the time she makes it to one of the many bathrooms in the house, the door to it is swinging open.

“Ah, the girlfriend,” the edge in Aegon’s tone doesn’t match his face. Soft features that remind Edith of the hand drawn cherubs on the wall of her church back home. Big eyes now blurrier than before as he sniffles softly.

“The uncle.”

She tries to smile but the copious amounts of liquids she had during dinner has made her focus strictly on getting to the bathroom.

But Aegon doesn’t budge from his place blocking her. Just looks at her with that same curious look. She feels like the frogs her science class when she was 13. Dissected and open to see. It was a feeling that grew throughout the night.

“We are all so surprised when Jace said he was bringing someone home,” he leans against the doorway.

Edith wants to ask what is so surprising about it. Instead, she opts for something more diplomatic, possibly even too sickly sweet.

“I’m glad he did. It was lovely meeting where Jace gets all his best traits from.”

Aegon hums in response, clearly not impressed. “Hmm, best traits.”

He finally moved out of the way. As he walks away, their arms brush. The material of his shirt against her bare skin.

“Have a good rest of your night,” his voice floats and flutters in the hall casually.

Still slightly dazed by the usual nature of the conversation, and Aegon himself, Edith forgoes reciprocating the salutations.

Even then, she felt like there was something she was missing. That Aegon was holding the key to a chest of secrets that she will never be privy to. The curious look, blank smile, and the white residue she found on the bathroom counter, the only things sticking in her mind from that night.

“You’re right,” Edith flashes Dana a fake smile. “He’s probably just busy.”

She leans her head back against the sofa as Asha restarts the movie. Trying to focus on her breathing and not the how she acutely feels the blood rushing through her body. From the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Dana reaches over gives her arm a soft, reassuring squeeze. Edith focuses in the warmth of tawny fingers gliding across her arm.

Her tongue starts out over her mouth. Blood red, flowing and staining the mouth.

Aegon wakes to a call from Alicent that he instantly sends to ignore. Then a string of text from Aemond and Helaena. He doesn’t know what they say but he sees the notifications one after the other.

It is not till he gets a call from Rhaenyra that he knows something is wrong. Rhaenyra makes it a happen to do most her communication with her siblings through Alicent.

“Have you seen Jacaerys,” the normally cool, almost annoying melancholy tone that his older sister usually has was replaced by something more panic stricken.

“Why would I have seen him,” he looks over the window in his bedroom. The sun has barely begun to rise.

“I’m serious Aegon,” Rhaenyra’s voice grows more anxious. “I - I haven’t spoken to him in over a week. He always calls me on Sundays, especially if we don’t talk during the week. I called Edith and she hasn’t seen him either. I have a bad feeling.”

The annoyance he felt titters into guilt. For all the Rhaenyra’s faults, and Aegon tended to think she had many of them, she was a good mom to her group of brats. Sometimes a bit too doting; often never believing the boys she gave birth to were anything less than perfect angels.

She had a mother’s intuition. Aegon always felt Alicent had one too. He remembers her calling randomly, only moments after the first time he did ecstasy. As if she could tell he was about to do something bad.

But that was when he was 16. A couple more escasty pills, and a light coke habit (he can quit whenever he wants), and a white lie that he was at the mall ago. He is a case study for how a concerned mother doesn’t lead to less trouble. Hell, it may lead to more.

“I can go over there,” as soon as Aegon offers, his mouth twist as if he’s tasted something sour. He is not the one that should be offering. He barely cares about Jace, but the tremor in Rhaenyra’s voice is headache inducing. “See if he’s around or not.”

The sooner he confirms it’s just Jace not hiding under his mother’s skirts anymore, the sooner he can be done with it. He is closer to Jace’s place than anyone else.

Rhaenyra is silent for a moment before sighing. “I’d really appreciate that Aegon. Thank you.”

Aegon grunts in reply before hanging up.

He wonders how much bigger of a monstrosity he must have been in a previous life to have the family he does. Or better yet, to be settled in the body he is in now.

— — —

The apartment is clean… and empty.

After knocking for the umpteenth time, Aegon eventually gets a superintendent to let him in the apartment. It is how he expects any apartment owned by a kid in his 20s. An organized chaos of books, clothes, and little knickknacks.

There should be nothing out of the ordinary, but soon as he stepped in the one bedroom left something just felt off.

Aegon slowly looked at each nook and cranny. Eyes lingering on the photos Jace had on his wall in his room. Mainly ones of him and his immediate family. One from Joffrey graduating middle school. Another of him sitting next to Rhaenyra on a hospital bed holding Joffrey. That next to one of him and Harwin at a baseball game.

It would all be touching if Aegon gave a shit.

The picture that stands out is what he assumes is the newest one on the wall.

Edith’s pretty face standout amongst the various images of family and friends. A big smile on her face, dimple indenting in her left cheek. Jace’s arms thrown around her shoulder as he kisses her right cheek.

Once again, it would all be so sickly sweet if a deep level of resentment didn’t settle in his chest.

He supposed that it just how families worked, or at the very least how his family worked. A fucked-up mix mash of being perpetually over them while still longing for them. Or really what they have.

Breaking his gaze away from the pictures, he tries to think of a way to tell Rhaenyra that Jace is not here. And based by his made bed, and the eerie neatness of the apartment, has not been for some days. As he goes to to call her, something shiny laying on the floor catches his eye.

A dainty gold and white gold elephant hanging from a thin gold chain.

Aegon recognizes well. He remembers being taken by the way it sat perfectly between the swell of Edith’s breast at dinner. He also took note of true meaning. An elephant symbolizing luck and good fortune to come.

She armed herself coming to meet his family… cute.

But now it lies limp on the floor of Jace’s bedroom. As he ticks the necklace into his pocket, Aegon can’t help but wonder if Edith’s luck has run out.

Jacaerys’ body is washes up days later. At least the remains of it.

After Rhaenyra had formally made a missing person report. The officer comes to the family home. The one Rhaenyra grew up in; Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron following suit years later.

Aegon is sure he has not heard a noise like the one Rhaenyra makes before. A mix between a wail and groan. Her knees buckling briefly.

Because how does one take news of their child, their firstborn, being dead?

How does one live with that hole in their chest; what can you do but to give into grief. To wail, and to let your body get weak with pain. Aegon watches as Alicent tries to comfort her, and he thinks about how she would react if he wound up dead somewhere. Lips purple, and life drained from his face.

He has thought about it more than he thinks is healthy.

Years ago, it was Aemond, freshly 16 and off a freakish growth spurt, that drove him hospital to get his stomach pumped. His brother had put on his best Alicent like glare afterwards and reprimanded him.

“I refuse to be the one the tell mom you’re dead because you got yourself fucked up.”

In hindsight, it probably was a bad idea to ask his teenage brother to drive him as he came off a bender.

But it did make him think of Alicent. Aegon thinks of his mother more than he thinks people give him credit for. It is probably his behavior that makes people assume he has little regard for Alicent. But it is quite the opposite; he has so many feelings for his mother. Taking in the inadequacies of motherhood to the shining moment of empathy plastered onto all her kids in different ways.

Alicent wore her heart on her sleeve, and sometimes Aegon hated her for it.

He hated when he could tell how disappointing she found him as a son. How with each fuck up, a new worry line would magically appear on her face. The face she gave him.

But most of all, he hated that it didn’t make her love him any less.

Outside of Rhaenyra, Harwin, and Luke, the other person in near hysterics was Edith. Big wet tears falling from her eyes like diamonds. When she walked through the door with her hair pulled back, no makeup, and in a matching sweat set, the necklace that he put in his wallet felt like it was burning a hole through his pocket.

She played the distraught girlfriend well. Her pale-yellow crew neck becoming stained with tears as Helaena rubbed her back soothingly.

Aegon knows he has no reason not to believe she is genuinely upset. It could be the small pull in his chest that seeks out the fuck up nature in others to make him feel a bit better about his own tendencies. Despite the big doe eyes and meek disposition, Jace’s pretty girlfriend not the lamb in the middle of the slaughterhouse but the weapon herself.

Now that send a chill down his spine and blood to his groin.

Aegon does a poor job eavesdropping as the officer whispers with the family.

missing body parts, fentanyl found in the body.

Nothing about it makes sense, and it sends Rhaenyra into even more of a spiral.

The rest of the night is spent placating her until it is time for them to go to ID the body. Edith shakes her head, staunchly, chin wobbling when asked if she wanted to come to with. A batch of tears welling in her eyes. Rhaenyra hugs her tightly as Edith’s eyes flutter shut. When they open, they land on Aegon.

The wound and the blade.

— — —

Edith sits in her car, staring at her fuzzy steering wheel.

Lips feeling puffy and swollen from the crying. She needs to drive. Put the car in reverse, and drive. But there is a paralyzing anxiousness in her running through her body. She could barely make eye contact with the officer when they came to the house. She knew going to the hospital would just make things worse for her.

Luckily, caught in her own grief, Rhaenyra bought it when Edith said she could not stomach it.

But now she sits in the driveway, stuck.

A knock on her window makes her yelp and jump.

Aegon’s knuckles tap against the window of her car casually, as he leans down. Despite her better judgment, she rolls her window down. The sun is setting behind him, highlighting the golden tones in his hair.

“I wanted to see if you were ok to drive.”

Edith nods, hands going to the steering wheel. “Yes, I just needed a moment.”

Aegon mouth twists. There’s that look again, he knows something.

“Understandable,” he says before a faux look of surprise covers his face. “But I am glad I caught you before you left. I wanted to give you this.”

He digs into his pocket, then pulls out a necklace. Her necklace. Edith feels her lunch starting to work its way up her throat.

“I thought you would want it back.”

Aegon dangles it within the car, while she just stares for a moment.

“Where - where did you find it,” she whispers.

“In Jace’s room,” this time a smile comes onto his face. Not at all one you think a uncle would have after hearing news of his nephew being dead. Edith reaches out to grab it, and their fingers brush.

Long, slender, riddled with rings. Edith swallows hard.

“Thank you, I must have left it there the last time I slept over,” the metal is cold against her hand. “I should get going.”

Aegon nods breezily, stepping back from the car.

“Take care of yourself, Edith.”

The funeral is held on a rainy Friday. Under a black tent before the wake at home. Aegon blew air out of his mouth rather loudly during the funeral leading to Alicent pinching him softly.

Behave.

Next to Lucerys, Baela, and Rhaena stood Edith. Face partially covered by a thin veil. She reminded him of those old Hollywood actresses in a horror movie. Tragic and beautiful and hopeless.

The time after Jace’s body was found, Aegon found himself slipping into a bit of… a habit.

Checking her Instagram, TikTok, and LinkedIn. He knows she can see the last one, it only makes him look more. A morning routine he does over coffee the way others read the newspaper or check emails. Scrolling through the same pictures and videos. The same picture-perfect curation burned into his retina. None have been updated recently but the lurking becomes self-soother. He even liked a photo, a deep want for her to know he’s watching compelling him.

Then there was the drive-by past her apartment but that was a two-time thing. He had to cross reference the pictures in her apartment for that.

There is an itch he needs to scratch.

The need leads to him following her during the wake. Her heels clinking against the hallway. He knows she can hear the heavy footsteps of his dress shoes; it makes her steps faster.

He picks up his speed to till he is right behind her, wrapping his hand around her arm. He yanks her into the first room he can find. One of the bottom guest bedrooms.

Edith tries to yank her arm back but he pushes against the door after he closes it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” she hisses, her hat askew and eyes a bit wild.

“You did something to him, didn’t you,” Aegon whispers. “But you’re putting on quite a show.”

“I loved him,” her bottom lip trembles. Aegon lets out a bark of laughter. “Fine, I didn’t love him but I - I cared about him.”

Cared.

“Cared about him. You and the other girl he was seeing?”

The slap he receives is stinging. Only rivaled by the ones his mother gave him in his youth. Must like Alicent, as soon as she does it, her face falls with guilt. “I’m sorry, I shou-“

Aegon cuts her off by pushing his lips onto hers. Edith makes a surprised noise in the back her throat. Her arms go push him away. Her teeth sink into his bottom lip hard as an attempt to get him to stop, but as soon as she breaks skin and his blood graces her tongue, a submissive moan comes out.

The taste of metal dampening both of their lips. Her tongue swiping against the blood.

Bloodied lips travel from lips to her neck.

“We can’t do this here Aegon,” she says breathlessly.

Is that confirmation she’d do it someplace else?

But the way his name rolls off her tongue only makes him reciprocate, nipping at her neck. He always wondered what she smelled like, under underneath the sweet-smelling perfume. He wonders what all lies underneath the faux sweetness.

She finally uses all her strength to push him off.

“Leave me alone,” she points at him.

Aegon wishes he felt guilty about the tears welling in her eyes, but all he can do is focus on his blood smeared on her lips. He doesn’t know what he wants to do more, crawl out of his own skin, or burrow himself into hers.

He tries to reach out, and she all but lets the door swallow her. “I mean it.”

She gives lets out a shaky breath before turning to open the door, making sure to slam it in his face before he can follow her out. He leans his forehead against the door, running a palm over the slight erection in his pants. Shuddering, he fiddles with his belt.

Even in death Jace has gotten more than him. What a pity.

Edith comes home to an empty, dark apartment.

Both Dana and Asha asked her if they needed to be with her for the night, both having predesignated plans. Sleepovers are a normal occurrence between the three of them.

But she wanted the place to herself tonight. Hunger biting at her stomach.

She only kicks off her heels and rips off her hat before going to the kitchen. Mouth curling to the side as she tries to decide what to have for dinner. Fingers traveling over the different meat cuts in different containers.

Finally settling on what to fix, she grabs a pan from under the stove and pulling out ingredients she needs.

A flurry of notification makes her phone dig. Edith must fight back a sigh, already having a feeling as to what it is. Since Jace’s death was made public, she had received a plethora of well wishes. Most were in good faith but being reminded of it did nothing to actually help.

Her mother even went as far as to insist she would come down the week after the funeral.

Poor, poor Edith.

But when she checked her phone, it was not someone reaching out to send their condolences, it was Instagram notifications. All from a familiar person.

He just won’t get the hint.

[what part of leave me alone don’t you understand]

She messages him, after self-indulgently scrolling through his page. Aegon answers embarrassingly fast.

You said “not there” first

[you’re a weirdo.. snooping on your dead nephew’s girlfriend]

*ex. He would’ve broken up with you anyway

….right?

Edith rolls her eyes. Fucking cunt.

Her eyes survey the two slabs of meat in front of her.

[do you want to have dinner]

She watches the dots appear, then disappear, then reappear.

What?

[you’re clearly not gonna leave me alone so do you want dinner]

More reappear and disappearing dots. For a moment, she thinks she overplayed her hand.

Fine. Where

[at my place]

[you already know the address. btw if you’re going to stalk someone maybe don’t drive around in the gold Porsche. It’s obvious and tacky]

He hearts the message. Freak.

And here I thought you were trying to be normal

Edith stares at the last message for a while.

Normal.. what a funny idea. Maybe her version of normal is just a bit different, the way she is sure Aegon’s version of it is different.

[bring wine]

It’s the last message she sends before rolling up her sleeves, fingers massaging over the meat as she seasons it. Extra care given to the tender parts of it. Herbs and spices marinating in the fleshy parts.

Bloody and soft, like Aegon’s lips at the funeral.

127 notes · View notes

totally-not-a-cannibal-hannibal · 9 months

Text

To My Taste

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Part 6: More Than A Crush

Masterlist

⚠️Warnings⚠️ Mentions of child abuse and neglect. There is some pretty graphic violence. obsessive behavior. Injuries.

Unfortunately I couldn't sleep for very long. Some horrible nightmare I couldn't fully remember shocked me awake. I just remembered my attacker's face staring at me from the dark of some unknown room.

My sudden jerking didn't seem to wake Will. At some point in our nap he had moved much closer to me. He had slung his arm across my torso in his sleep. I wouldn't have ever guessed Will would be such a cuddler.

I had to carefully slide out from under his arm just to get out of bed. He stirred for a second before finding a pillow to curl onto his embrace.

I felt horrible about what I did to Hannibal and wanted to make him and Will a meal to apologize. Hannibal seemed to adore food, he uses it as a way to express himself so I figured it was the perfect way to say I'm sorry.

I closed Hannibal's bedroom door so Will wouldn't be woken. Hannibal's kitchen was so fancy, and high tech. It took me a bit to figure out how to even turn on the stove top.

Without thinking about it I start to chew at the skin on my fingers again. It wasn't till I felt the sting of my teeth tearing the flesh that I even realized I was doing it.

"Fuck." I take the Band-Aids off and start to wash my hands. The soap stung when it got in my cuts. I was happy no one was here to see me whining over such a small pain.

Once my hands were clean and I was sure there was no blood I started to make some eggs. I was never a very good chef but I could do the basics.

A door somewhere in the house was flung open and footsteps approached the kitchen. I grabbed a large knife from Hannibal's drawer and held it down at my side while I waited for the footsteps to find me. A very worried looking Will turned the corner. His gun was out and ready to fire. I hold up my hands and stay perfectly still.

As soon as he sees me he practically deflates he sighed so hard. The relief on his face was palatable.

"I thought we agreed you weren't going to leave the room." He said as he put his gun in the back of his pants.

"I wanted to make eggs. Did the clanking pans wake you up?" I ask as I put the knife away.

"No, I smelt food cooking. You should have told me you left the room. I assumed the worst." He sat at the bar and watched as I flipped the eggs.

"What do you think the guy is going to kill me then cook you eggs?"

"No, I just didn't know. You could have been in danger or something."

"I'm only in danger of messing up Hannibal's pans. This is why I prefer cast iron pans. You can drop a nuke on them and they will still cook an egg."

"Or bludgeon a rapist with one." Will adds with a smirk.

"Or that. You know what, I bet that pan is still in perfect condition." The front door is opened suddenly and the pin is typed in on the alarm system. Hannibal walked past the room before turning back once he realized we were in the kitchen. He had a duffle bag of mine in his hand that was full of clothes.

"Are we having brunch?" He asks as he takes off his coat and hangs it on the back of a bar chair, then sets the bag down. "Are you feeling well enough to be operating a stove? He asks, looking at me. He had a talent for saying condescending things without actually being condescending.

"Yes and yes. I'm feeling totally fine physically. I wanted to make some food for you guys since you always cook for us Hannibal." I say as I start to plate the eggs. I fumbled with the toaster oven for a second but eventually figured it out. "Egg muffins sound good?"

"You are feeling well physically but what about mentally? Any disorganized thoughts or trouble distinguishing reality?" Hannibal asks as he comes around the bar and pulls out some thin ham slices and cheese from the fridge.

"If you are asking if I still think you are a cannibal the answer is no and I'm still really sorry." I say smiling up at him. He gave me a smile back but his eyes looked worried.

"That is not what I was implying. I am still worried about the effects the sleeping pills had on you. I didn't see any medication allergies in your medical history. Your body doesn't seem to take to sedation very well. I'd like to speak to your doc-" my heart started to race and I had to stop him.

"It's okay really Hannibal. I don't plan to be put under anytime soon and talking about this is giving me anxiety. How toasted do you like your muffin?" I spoke quickly as I tried to figure out the settings on the toaster oven.

"My apologies Lydia. Lightly toasted please." He says as he starts frying up ham for him and Will. I felt awful talking to him like that. I just didn't want to think about anything to do with sleep right now.

Will got up and took my finger from my lips. I was chewing at the cuticle and hadn't even noticed.

"Shit, sorry." I say softly as I go to wash my hands again. I wasn't sure why I was sorry but I was. I wince again at the pain of the soap.

Will watched over my shoulder as I dried my hands. He stood so close to me I could feel his breath against my neck.

The toaster dingged, taking me by surprise and I jumped. Will put a supportive arm around my waist as he got the muffins out.

"Why don't you go sit at the bar we got this?" Will says softly as he hands the muffins to Hannibal.

They successfully took over my cooking operation and I almost didn't even notice.

"Did you speak with my landlady?" I ask watching the two men work.

"Yes she was happy to hear you were okay." Hannibal says as he starts putting the egg muffins together. I nod glad she wasn't left worrying.

"She's pretty chatty right?"

"Oh yes she was quite the conversationalist." He never pulled his eyes from the food.

"I'm going to grab my phone. I'll be right back." I say as I get up. Will looked like he was going to say something but Hannibal gave him some kind of look. I wondered if Will could read that man.

I go into the bedroom I last left my phone in and check it. I had 7 missed text messages all from my mom. She was asking me if I could grab her some groceries. She normally would have called me by now unless she was belligerently drunk. "Great."

I went to walk back into the kitchen but stopped when I heard Hannibal's voice.

"Do not say anything-" he stopped quickly. He must have realized I was lurking.

"Hey, Will can I borrow your car to get some groceries for my mom? I'll fill the tank." I ask as I walk into the room. There was no point in standing there if they had stopped talking.

"Your mother is unable to get her own groceries?" Hannibal asked as he walked over and handed me an egg muffin.

"She had her license suspended a few months back." I take the food and take a bite right away.

"You really shouldn't leave. That man is still on the loose." Hannibal says as we all walk into the dining room and take our seats.

"I'll be super quick. I have her shopping list memorized at this point. You guys can come along if you really want." I couldn't put my finger on it but Will seemed a little more on edge.

"Why do you have to help that woman? She hates you." Will says in a huff. He looked disgusted by something. Hannibal looked over at him and moved his hand to nudge Will's.

"She doesn't hate- why would you say that?" I hadn't told him anything but nice things about my mom. It was clear Hannibal had said something to him on the matter.

"I don't know, I'm just tired. Don't listen to me." He back peddled pretty quick. Hannibal cleared his throat.

"Yes we all can go shopping after brunch. We better hurry so we don't hit lunchtime traffic." Hannibal was just giving me what I wanted so I wouldn't question the situation any further. It wasn't going to work.

"No, Will seriously tell me why you think that about my mom." I say as I stand up. He just shook his head and looked down. He looked guilty and angry all at once. "Look at me Graham and answer my question." I was trying to stay calm. I didn't want to lose my temper.

"She neglected you! Uses you, beated you and you are just going to go get that witch her groceries?" He said, raising his voice and standing to his feet.

"Will stop talking." Hannibal said as he stayed seated. He folded his hands on the table and looked up at Will.

Not only has Hannibal told Will what I told him in confidence, he also showed Will police reports from my childhood.

"What. The. Fuck. Hannibal." I say as I walk off and grab my duffle bag of things. "I'm calling a taxi and I'm going to my mom's. You two can stay here and gossip to your heart's content but I'm done, that was deeply personal and private. You had no right sharing that. Hannibal I appreciate your hospitality but with all do respect go fuck yourself." I said as I pulled out my phone to call. I couldn't remember the last time I was so mad, and hurt. Hannibal shifted in his seat and looked down to the table. He didn't seem remorseful though he looked like he was thinking.

"No no Lydia wait I'm sorry." Will said as he walked over to me quickly.

"You can fuck yourself to." I say as I call the Taxi service. I put the phone to my ear. I felt so much embarrassment I might have been lashing out but it felt right in the moment. Will looked at Hannibal wide eyed and desperate.

Hannibal let out a large sigh as he unbuttoned his vest and stood up.

"You don't have to call a taxi, you can take my car." Hannibal said. His expression is as even as always. The taxi service picked up. I waved Hannibal's offer away with my hand as I turned around and requested one taxi to the address. Will walked in my direction but Hannibal put his arm out to stop him. I stared at them both. I was absolutely seething.

"I'm sorry ma'am we don't send taxis that far out on weekdays." The operator told me on the other line. My heart sank as I hung up frustrated.

"What did they say?" Will said as soon as you pulled the phone from my ear.

"My offer still stands. I'd feel better if you were not trapped in a car with a stranger. I'll give you the keys you just need to let me explain." Hannibal said as he walked over and retrieved his keys from a small table next to the door.

"What could you possibly say that will make this okay? Talking about anything we discuss in therapy with anyone else is illegal." I say as I cross my arms. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off I was more hurt than anything. I wanted to sob.

"It would be but you told me about a crime. I'm a mandatory reporter. You tell me about a crime I have to tell law enforcement. I figured you'd want it to be someone you knew and trusted. I wasn't sure about the statute of limitations on child neglect so I had to report."

"Hannibal, I'm in my 30s. It's ancient history."

"That is what Will told me. I'm sorry, your story affected me more than it should have, it made me angry and I became emotional and allowed my anger to affect my judgment." He spoke so direct and candidly. It was hard not to feel silly for my outburst. Hannibal could explain anything away so eloquently.

"I'm sorry as well Lydia, I shouldn't have said those things about your mom. It wasn't my place." Will said from behind me.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you both." I looked down at the floor to avoid crying. I could hear Will walking up behind me. He grabbed my hand and held it before wrapping the other arm around my waist. He pressed his face into the top of my hair. He sounded like he was breathing heavily. I didn't move, allowing him to do what he had to, to feel better.

Hannibal watched us closely. It was a very odd situation to say the least but being held so gently felt nice so I wasn't going to object.

"It's okay Will. I just need to cool off. I think I will take you up on your offer Hannibal. I say as I try and pry myself free from Will.

"Let me come along, I know you are upset but that lunatic is still out there." Will says as he lets me move away from him. Hannibal holds the keys out to me and I take them.

"I'm going to the grocery store then my mom's. I'll be gone for 3 hours at most and half of that is the car ride back to Virginia. It's fine. I need to change, then I'm going." I say a bit more firmly. I bend down to grab my bag again but Will snatches it up quickly to hand it to me. "Thank you." I say as I take it from him. His eyes were dark, almost angry looking.

I finished changing in the bathroom and I'm about to come out when I hear the front door close. I come out and see Hannibal standing in his foyer alone.

"Did Will just leave?" I ask hearing this car start and pull out.

"Yes he wanted to follow some leads he had on your case." Hannibal says as he stars out the window. His hands in his pockets.

"I am sorry about what I said, Hannibal but I was thinking maybe I should find different accommodations. I'm worried I have brought too much craziness into your quiet life. You don't deserve that."

"We can talk more about it tonight. Will won't be happy but so is life." He never looked at me as he spoke. His eyes fixed on the outside.

"Is he okay? It's starting to worry me how quickly his mood switches.

"Is he scaring you?" Hannibal's tone was even and unwavering.

"No, of course not. It's Will, I know he can get a little intense but I could never be scared of him. This is the guy who took me fishing the second day we ever met. He doesn't do great in difficult social situations but he's a good sweet man."

"Could you ever be attracted to him?"

"What? Hannibal we-"

"The time for playing coy is over Lydia. He is sure how he feels about you. The question is do you feel the same?" He asks as he turns slightly to look back at me. I was surprised by his directness but I guess I shouldn't be at this point. In all honesty I was starting to grow more fond of Hannibal. I wasn't sure what it was about him. Maybe it was how calm he was in the face of horrible situations. It was reassuring, he had a way of making you feel safe with him.

"I don't know, I think I could fall for Will. Just not right now. I'm scared shitless most of the day. I don't need to pull a boyfriend into that mess. Look, I really need to get going. I told my mom I was already on the road. I'll think about what you've said. I'll be back, Hannibal." I say as I open the door. Hannibal nods to me and goes back to looking out at the trees.

On the drive all I could think about was Will and Hannibal. What if Will was actually in love with me? He's not the type to let stuff go. If I was starting to get feelings for Hannibal how could I tell Will that. It would break him but I couldn't just lie. It's not that I wasn't attracted to Will. He can just be so unstable. I wasn't sure what to do. I know one thing: I had to handle this killer thing before I could put much more thought into romance.

Such a mind numbingly boring activity like food shopping was just what I needed. I always enjoyed going to the grocery store, I was never allowed to come as a kid so maybe that's why I like it so much now.

Once I got all her normal stuff I drove over and walked into the house. My mom was sitting on the sofa watching the news.

"Hey sweetie, there was a package that showed up for you." She said, still staring at the screen, a lit Cigarette hanging from her lips. On her counter was a small package not unlike the one the man had sent me that had my love bird's wings in it.

"Mom who dropped this off?"

"The mail man, who else? Oh oh baby look at this panda that was just born at the zoo. Isn't it just adorable?"

"Mom, focus please. What did this guy look like?"

"Hmm? What guy?"

"God damn it mom, the guy who dropped this off!" I say walking around in front of her, blocking her view from the TV.

"What!? He was the normal mail guy. Real cute, scrawny boy. Hey should I put in a good word for you?" I chuckled a bit once I realized it wasn't my attacker.

"No, it's fine. Let me put away the groceries and I'll see what it is." I say as I get to work fixing her cupboards.

Once finished I held the box in my hands. It had my name on it but my mother's address. I opened it and froze up. It was the body of my love bird. I bit my lip and carefully closed it back.

"Hey mom, I need to make a phone call. I'll be right back." She waved me away as she watched her show. I got outside and called Jack to explain the situation. Tears rolling down my face. Jack told me to go back inside and wait. He'd send the police and he would be over himself soon.

I got back inside and locked up the house. For once I was thankful my mom was too drunk to realize something was wrong. I texted Hannibal and explained all I could. He kept trying to call me and I had to keep denying his calls so I could keep the line open for Jack. Hannibal said he was going to text Will. I just had to let him.

Soon her driveway was filled with cop cars. My mom perked up and looked back at me.

"Mom, I need you to do whatever they ask. A man is trying to hurt Me and he has your address." I try to explain quickly while letting the police in and show them the box. She was too drunk to really grasp what was happening or maybe she didn't care.

"Make them take off their shoes." She said as I ushered her to her bedroom. Jack arrived shortly after.

"We are closing in on him. He's feeling the chin tighten around his neck and he doesn't like it." Jack says, I wasn't sure if he was trying to be comforting, it didn't really matter because it wasn't going to help anyway.

"I don't care Jack, just get my mom in witsec. He knows her address."

"And he didn't kill her. He wants you, this is him lashing out because he can't find you. We will keep patrol cars outside of her house 24 hours a day. Hell we can get the officers to stay inside the house if that helps but we are so close to him. We are breathing down his neck." Jack was making sense, I was just too scared and pissed to see it.

Will pulled into the yard and got out before even shutting off his car.

"He sent its body?"

"Her body. It's Lucy and yes." I say biting my lip again. I held in my tears as I looked at him.

"Lydia, I'm so sorry come here." He said as he tried to hug me. I pulled away and shook my head.

"I don't need a hug right now, Will I'm pissed." It doesn't sound like something someone could get used to but I was starting to get numb to my attacker's attempts to scare me. The wings got to me. I wasn't going to let the body break me.

Will looked hurt but didn't say anything properly because of Jack's presence.

"I need to get Hannibal's car back to him. Jack, if you can't find this guy soon he's going to kill me and probably do a lot worse things than that before. He is starting to work his way through my friends and family then colleagues. He found my mom's place, he'll find Hannibal's house. Tell my mom I left." I walk past the two men and out to Hannibal's car. Will isn't far behind.

"Will, we still need you in here." Jack calls from the porch. I don't wait to see what Will decides to do. I make the long drive back to Hannibal's.

It was dark when I got back. None of the lights were turned on in the house. He probably went to sleep. I got in and noticed the food was still on the table. Hannibal would never go to bed without cleaning up his dining room. Something was wrong.

I pat myself down looking for my phone but can't seem to find it anywhere. I must have left it at my mom's in all the confusion. I was going to go check the car when I heard some murmuring coming from the hall.

I flip on the light and find Hannibal laying face down on the floor. I rushed over to him. He was breathing, he looked like he had been hit over the back of the head.

"Hannibal, stay with me." I whisper as I try to pick him up. He groans out and tries to help me get himself to his feet. Out of nowhere I was grabbed from behind and pushed to the ground. My worst nightmare had been realized when I saw my attacker standing over me.

He drops his weight down on me the same way he had the first night we met. I screamed at the top of my lungs as he fumbled with his knife. He seemed much less confident this time. His eye was covered with gauze and bandages. I hope he lost it.

"That's it, sing like your birds did." He hissed. He stabbed the knife back into my shoulder, piercing the gauze and opening the wound up again. It was the most excruciating pain I had ever felt. The tender skin made it so much worse the 2nd time.

I tried to pick my shoulder up but the knife was caught deep in the hardwood floor under us. The man laughed as I cried out. He hit me a few times in the face. Again I could taste my own blood in my mouth. He took his hands and wrapped them around my throat. He was pressing down on my throat so hard I thought my head was going to pop off.

I wasn't going to die on the floor of my psychiatrist's house. I refused to let this guy win. He has taken so much from me.

It worked last time, maybe it would save me again. I tried and reached for his face to take his other eye. He was ready and leaned back away from my frantically grasping hand. This seemed to piss him off and he took a hand from my throat. He tried to jam it in my eye. I turned my head and covered my eyes with my hand. He seemed enraged and landed blow after blow against my head. A particularly strong punch dazed me.

I fell completely limp in his hold. I saw his thumb coming towards my eye again but very quickly he was pulled from my vision.

I try to focus my eyes. I can hardly make out the shape of Hannibal's body. He and the man were fighting in the center of the hall. He gets on top of Hannibal and starts to hit him. I had to do something. This wasn't Hannibal's fight. He shouldn't have to die for me.

I muster the strength to pull myself from the ground. The knife still firmly in my shoulder I stumbled to a bust of a woman that was sitting on a hall table. I pick up the marble bust and heave it down on the back of the attacker's head. He slumps over on Hannibal. dropping the bust I fell to my knees. Hannibal pushed the man off of himself and panted as he held his jaw and popped it back in place. It made a sickening crack.

I don't know what came over me. I was so angry. This man attacked me, killed my birds, forced me from my home and now he almost killed my friend.

I pulled the knife from my shoulder and leaped for the man. Hannibal did nothing to stop me and I was thankful for it. I plunged the knife into his chest. His eye popped open and he tried to grab for me. I pulled the knife out from his chest and jammed it in again. I could feel the blade catch against his top rib but I didn't stop. With all the strength I had in me I dragged the knife inside of him before pulling it free one last time only to stab it down into his neck.

I fell down next to him as he twitched and gasped. He looked like a fish brought ashore. Laying next to him I had a perfect show of his last moments on this earth. His blood ran all over the floor and slowly the puddle grew so far it engulfed me. I didn't mind, it warmed my rapidly cooling body.

His eyes become glassy and his chest stops rising. Hannibal walks over and takes his pulse. I didn't bother saying anything. There wasn't anything to be said.

My shoulder was pouring blood faster than ever before and I had a pain in my head that seemed to pulse with the beat of my heart.

Hannibal looked down at me. His face was bloody and bruised. Nothing had changed. I still couldn't read his expression.

"Can you hear me?" He asked. I nodded the best I could. My face was swollen and my eyes were blurry. My eyelids wanted nothing more than to close. "Your head is bleeding badly. Keep looking at me." He said as he crouched down next to me. He touched my head and for once his cool calm exterior dropped. He didn't look worried or scared though. He looked pleased. "Don't close your eyes." His mouth kept moving but I couldn't hear him anymore. My eyes closed for just a second, what harm could that do?

Water splashed around me. A hand scooped up some water and let it run over my shoulders before running down my arms. My eyes opened to a bright room. I recognized the tile, it was Hannibal's master bathroom. I was laying in his tub. There was a humming to the right of me. It sounded like it was in my head.

Hannibal came into view as he poured water over my chest. His eyes met mine as he smiled softly.

"I'm happy to see you are awake, all though it couldn't have been at a more compromising moment I'm afraid." His sleeves were rolled up but a lot of his shirt seemed to be wet anyway.

"Am I naked?" I ask as I try to cover myself with my arm, I don't make much progress though because there was a searing pain that started in my shoulder and ran all the way down to my fingertips.

"Yes, you are in the tub. You were covered in blood. I sewed up your wounds while maintaining your modesty but this was unavoidable. I'm almost finished, just lie still for me." I lifted my head to confirm what he was saying was true. I was naked in bloodstained water. My shoulder had a long line of stitches. My head felt like it weighed a million pounds so I laid it back down.

Hannibal's own injuries seemed to be treated as well. Now his jaw and bottom lip matched his bruised nose.

"Did we go to the hospital?"

"No, all your injuries were treatable here. You lost a lot of blood but I believe I got the wound closed in time."

"Oh good, the medical bills are almost worse than being stabbed." I say as I close my eyes again. The water was so warm and Hannibal was being incredibly careful not to move my shoulder or head.

The bathroom door is opened letting in some cold air. Hannibal looked over at someone.

"She's alright. Get out and I'll get her dressed. Then we can speak."

"What the fuck happen Hannibal?" It was Will. I tried to move my head to see him.

"I will explain, let me finish up here, Will please go wait outside." Hannibal said. The door was closed shortly after. My eyes met Hannibal's again as he gently brushed the wash cloth over my forehead.

My eyes closed once again and I was carried to sleep by the sound of water and Hannibal's soft humming.

When I woke up I was in Hannibal's bed yet again. Just barely in my line of sight I can see Will in Hannibal's embrace. They were hugging I think. They really had grown so close in such a short time.

I tried to turn my head to get a better look at them but Hannibal spotted my movement and let Will go.

"Are you with us Lydia?" He asks as he walks to the edge of the bed. My neck was almost too stiff to move.

"I think so, what happened?" I asked as I tried to sit up. Will and Hannibal look at each other.

"What do you remember?" Will asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed. I groan out in annoyance.

"I hate when people answer a question with a question. I came back here after I saw you at my mom's. Hannibal was on the floor…" I looked up at Hannibal and realized how banged up he looked. I kept having flashes of red. "He was on the floor and the man was here." I tried to shake my head. Something wasn't right. I looked between both their faces to try to get any info out of them that I could. Will looked worried sick and Hannibal was just soaking in every word I spoke. "I killed him?"

"That is right. You stabbed him while he was unconscious. An act that could be seen as outside of self defense." Hannibal said in a less than gentle way. I blinked and felt tears fall down my face. Will looked back at Hannibal.

"Where is his body? We have to call Jack." I choked back a sob so I could get the sentence out unbroken.

"We won't be calling Jack. His body has been removed. I have taken care of it all for you." Hannibal said as he straightened his shirt out. He spoke so casually about covering up a murder.

"There's been a murder. We have to report it. What are we going to tell the police?" I ask as I try to sit up. It felt like my whole body was moving through wet cement.

"We don't tell Jack anything. That monster will never be found. Hannibal will file a police report saying he was mugged and we can keep you away from Jack for a bit, most of your bruises are covered by your hair, he'll never know." Will says as he takes my hand and holds it in both of his.

"Are you seriously going along with this, Will?" I asked, looking at him in disbelief. He nodded slowly.

"He is and so will you. You saved my life when you knocked that man unconscious. Now I am saving your job and potentially your freedom." Hannibal said with an air of finality.

"I didn't ask you to do that!" I was getting worked up. I was appalled but also touched that someone was willing to do this for me.

"You didn't have to ask and you never will. I am skilled at knowing what people need." Hannibal said with a reassuring smile. There was no arguing with the man. He seemed positive this is what was best. I look down at my hand in Will's.

"Did you go along with this because of me?" I whisper to him. He gently tucked some hair behind my ear and grinned.

"It was two birds with one stone. I get to protect a friend and help get rid of a homicidal rapist." Will said as he stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. I can't help but frown thinking how much trouble I caused these two men. "I'm a big boy, I can make my own choices. If I didn't think it was a good idea I would have walked away." He finished as he looked into my eyes.

I had to look away, my chest was getting tight and my stomach had butterflies all of a sudden. I needed to distract myself from the intimate look in his eye. I had never seen such a look from Will. I wasn't sure how I made me feel.

"Where is his body? Are you sure he's dead?"

"If he wasn't after he bled out he is now." Hannibal said with a malevolent grin that lasted just a second. The look made my blood run colf. I have never seen Hannibal take joy in something so dark.

"The important thing is that he's dead." Will tries to reassure me. It still didn't sit right with me that I killed someone. It weighed on me. Killer or not I didn't think I was capable of it.

"I don't know about you two but I'm famished. I'm going to prepare a special meal for us all." Hannibal said as he exited.

Will continue to look in my eyes. He didn't seem to pull his eyes from mine the whole time.

"Lay back down, I'll lie with you." He says with a shaky but sweet smile. I was in no position to tell him no after he has done so much for me. Sitting up was making my head spin anyway.

I lay back down and carefully roll on my good shoulder. Will lays down facing me. His hands were shaking like he was nervous as he pulled me against him. I wince as my head laid against his chest. It was so sore. I didn't want to mention it in the moment but my vision has been so blurry ever since I woke up.

Will was sweating, his breath was almost labored. Could his hesitant but needy affection be from something more sinister than a crush?

I'm sorry, I'm horrible at action scenes. I hope it wasn't too distracting. 🤗

#hannibal #will graham #hannigram #jack crawford #nbc hannibal #nbc hannigram #yandere hannibal #dark fanfiction #oc stuff #yandere will graham

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grippingbeskar · 2 years

Text

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter seven - some kind of human

[series masterlist] [previous chapter]

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 3.8k

warnings: canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of mental illness, blood, description of cuts/scars/wounds, mentions of death

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m hungry.”

“Okay.”

“And I need to pee.” Frank sighs, as if the fact you can’t control yourself after 3 hours straight in a car is an inconvenience.

“I can’t stop the car every three seconds cause you don’t know how to sit still.”

“Three seconds? It’s been hours. Are you even human?” That gets him to look at you, eyebrows raised slightly, and you realise the irony of your words. Rolling your eyes, you stare back out the window as he indicates off the highway.

“What do you eat?” The question snaps your attention away from the passing buildings, an old style church buried into the sudden appearance of trees and forest landscape. Not ‘what do you want to eat.’ What do you eat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Is it specific? Do we have to-“

“What are you trying to say?” He seems uncomfortable, shifting in his seat as his eyes dart across the road to the dense forest. Did he think- “What is it that you think I am?”

“Give me a break.”

“No, I want to hear you say it. You think I drink the blood of virgins or some shit?”

“You tear peoples heads off.” He sighs out like that’s an answer.

“So you thought I - what? Ate people?”

“I didn’t think - I - okay. Whatever.” You were looking at him, almost dumbfounded, with your entire face blank in confusion. As soon as he stumbles out that sentence though, you can’t help but burst out laughing. The look on his face, a slight paleness coming over his features - you can’t hold it in. This guy really thought you were eating people like some kind of Hannibal Lecter.

His hands were gripping the steering wheel tight as he turned into the gas station to the right, your laughter still strong when he pulled the handbrake on the car.

“God! That’s fucking - wait, hold on, you can’t open the door yet.” His jaw was tight, but he stops his hand on the handle and looks over his shoulder. You try to calm your face, looking serious, and for a second you pull him in, his eyes focusing on you. “I’m not sure I can control myself. Can you check if they have a muzzle in a women’s size 14?”

“Christ.” He groans and gets out of the car, your laughter muffled as he marches inside the gas station. As you try to contain yourself, you are made actively aware of how much you need to pee, so you stumble from the car, still giggling as you walk around the back of the shop.

Stepping into the shitty bathroom, you try to ignore the smell. The seat of the toilet looks like a personified STD, so you try to touch as little of it as possible. Then, you walk over to the sink, grumbling about how gross it is, and you catch your reflection in the mirror.

It makes you pause. The cut on the side of your face from Franks gun still has the gauze over it, so you gently start to tear it off, checking the wound. The stitches they used at the Colonel’s base always dissolved after the wound healed, making it so they wouldn’t have to bother taking them out. The cut was healing well, the skin still slightly pink, but the scar on your temple should be minimal. The black eye that swelled around the side of your head had turned to a light green, almost invisible if you weren’t looking so close. It’s the softest your face has looked in years.

Freedom looks good on this face, you think.

While your fingertips run over the healed cut, it reminds you of the gash Frank sewed up on your leg, and you hesitantly slide down your pants and peel back the gauze. The sight of it makes you feel warm - the memory of his hands, so gentle and fucking massive, able to sew the torn skin together in a way that looks - neat. It shouldn’t even scar, the way he’s done it. You don’t remember if you said thank-you.

Trying to forget the way you miss the feeling of his hands, you splash more water on your face and head back to the gas station.

As soon as you walk in, the brightly coloured stacks of snacks almost call your name. They do call your name. No, Frank was calling your name, somewhere towards the back of the gas station. Grabbing one bag of every brand name you recognise, you make your way to the back where the newspapers are set up in ascending order.

“See anyone you recognise?” You do. A photo of Gus Daley. Shoving the snacks under one arm, you pick up the article, one written by the New York Bulletin. You recognise the name of the author as the one who wrote about The Punisher.

‘Gus Daley, notorious arms dealer and leader of the infamous ‘Crows Club’ has been murdered in a grizzly scene just behind 3rd street. Officials say this is yet another addition to the string of murders plaguing the dark side of New York’s streets. Is this seemingly random hit-man New York’s very own justice league, or is this just the beginning of something much more sinister?’

“Sounds like he deserved it.” You say, silently relieved the article didn’t say you murdered a loving father of seven or something. Frank looks down at you as you shove the newspaper back to him, his eyes scanning the array of snacks under your arm.

“You think you have enough?”

“Well, they were out of spleen-flavoured almonds. Got to get something to spur the cravings.” He snatches the sandwich you had stacked on the top of your pile and marches his way to the front desk.

“$80 on number 4.” You shove all the food onto the small desk in front of him, and elbow him in the ribs. “This shit, too.”

“Oh! These, too please.” You grab a pair of sunglasses from the display, but Frank slides them off.

“No.”

“Yes.” The man behind the counter starts to scan your items as Frank shoves the sunglasses somewhere behind you.

Just as you go to argue, you hear it.

Beep. Beep.

Your face drops, and you feel your stomach flip at the sound. He was just scanning your stuff.

Beep.

That sound. Your free hand wraps around your wrist on instinct. Like you were going to press the buttons in. You had to answer him, or he would come.

Beep. Beep.

No. You were free. You were-

“Go outside. Fill the car.” Franks hand touches your shoulder lightly, and it pulls all your attention to him. All he had to do was ever so slightly pull you away from the desk, and your legs listened, drifting out towards the beat up sedan.

In for seven.

Out for eleven.

You think you would be sick if you had anything left in your stomach. You were free. You were outside.

In for seven.

Out for eleven.

You have to busy yourself. Do something, think of something else. You quickly grab the nozzle out of the tank and shove it into the car, watching as the numbers go up on the machine.

In for seven.

Frank was still at the counter, shoving stuff into a bag. His face was starting to heal, too. You remember punching him, and how his lip split open under the force. It was nearly fully healed now.

Out for eleven.

You needed to stop staring at his lips. At his face. You couldn’t find the strength, though, not when you were feeling this lightheaded. He was what you wanted to look at.

You felt the tension in your chest release, and as he walked outside towards you, you almost forget what messed you up in the first place. He throws the bags in the back seat of the car, and you hang the nozzle back up. As soon as your hands are free, Frank throws something in your direction. Without thinking you snatch them out of the air - the sunglasses he almost threw across the shop inside appear in your hand.

“You big softie.” You try to hide your smirk as you put the sunglasses on.

“Get in the car.” He disappears from view, and you try to cool the flipping feeling in your stomach as you walk around and get back in the car. You try to tell yourself it’s the underlying feeling of the sickness you just experienced, but when you slide in next to Frank, and he laughs a little at the sight of you checking out your new sunglasses in the mirror, you feel the butterflies again. This time, you don’t really want to squash them.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How many houses do you have?”

“None. Owned by the state.” He says in between shoving the sandwich into his mouth. He finally told you where you were going, another one of his places out in the woods, only ten minutes from where you were. “This one isn’t a house, just storage.”

“I’m guessing it’s not storing piles of comic books or old furniture.” He gives you a side eye that confirms it. He must have guns falling out his ears, the way this guy was stocked. “So we’re prepping for a fight?”

“When Madani called this morning, she was saying she thinks The Gnuccis and The Colonel might be one in the same.” You think back to the explosive morning you had, and try to bury the residual embarrassment.

“Why would they work together? Colonel stole from them. Exhibit A.” You use your hands to wave up and down your torso.

“There wasn’t a way out. No way they wouldn’t have crossed paths.” Thinking back to that day, and how they led you out the back door. You had passed out before you could even see the sky. “I had ‘em surrounded up top, so they had to take you and your brother out the back. They knew they weren’t gonna keep the base, so moving their most valuable assists make sense.”

“But why bother setting up an entirely new organisation? The Gnuccis have all the power and money they could want, and they’ve never been ones to share the spotlight.” Frank finishes of the sandwich and starts pulling the car off road, trees nearly hitting the side view mirrors as you drive up to his storage house.

“Don’t know. I’ve been tracking ‘em down for months, made a real number on their men. ‘New America’ had all the men, and none of the money to put ‘em to good use.” You consider this, pulling all the limited information you have.

The Gnucci family were just that; family. No one past the first few ranks was outside of their bloodline. They didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t related. But, if Frank had really been tearing through them, maybe they would be searching to replace the lower levels, and who better than a bunch of angry, bigoted assholes with a trigger happy leader practically begging for a fight?

“Okay, so Gnucci’s hire the Colonel and his men to take me out until they establish another base.”

“Maybe.”

“But I wasn’t killing for the Gnucci’s. The Colonel had his own regime.”

“How do you know?” You swallow, not meeting his eye as he pulls up to the house.

“When I killed for them, it was… messy. Never just one person, and always slow. They used to send people to watch, to make sure I made it… last. ” Your eyes shut, as if it would block out the memory. “With the Colonel, it was ordered. One person hits, clean and tidy. He had specific names, like you. It’s almost like he knew who you were. You made him angry.”

Frank considers the new information, not the least bit concerned about what you just said you did. You tortured people. Butchered them. You could still hear them some times, begging you to stop-

“You were the deal. He got to use you for his ‘New America’ bullshit, as long as he kept you under control until they needed you back.”

“But they wouldn’t of given him both assets. They wouldn’t trust him that much.” Which confirmed the past two months of your life you had been killing for a man who had lied to you. Your fists tighten, and you suck in a breath through your nose. “So they kept my brother and handed me off.”

“C’mon.” Frank gets out, eyes lingering on your closed hands.

The house is small. It’s hardly a house, definitely more of a storage space. A wooden exterior opened up with a small half caved in door, and the inside reminded you of the shop class where you met Curtis. Almost like a workshop - tools lining the walls and a flat wooden tabletop screwed to the wall.

“Well, if your plan is to build them a bird house, we should be pretty much set.” You wondered if the place had been looted. It was isolated, and the way Frank drove in here was so complicated you wouldn’t have a clue how to get out, but it was also run down as all hell. You took a step in further, and looked down. An old blood stain was splattered across the floor, specks still stuck to the walls. “Frank?”

He was bent down in the corner, ripping at something on the floor.

“Get on the end of this.” One of the planks of wood on the floor was still bolted in, and with your increased strength and the aid of Frank, the plank came free easily, and allowed him to lean over and pull out the bags from under the floor.

They were already half open, and you had to step back as guns of varying sizes, colours and shapes poured out of them. Stray bullets rolled around on the wood, and Frank was shoving clips into handguns when he looked up at you.

“Take that one out to the car.” You wanted to bite back at him for ordering you around, but you were more interested in what the hell he was packing into those bags. You grab the one closest to you and walk out to the car, popping the trunk and immediately diving in.

Something at the bottom was making the bag heavy, packed away in a giant case. Sniper, most likely. The rest were an array of automatic rifles and handguns, a few another weapons you didn’t recognise and ammo scattered in between. You never used guns, so you had no idea what you were looking at, but you knew with almost certainty that this was not a normal amount of guns to own.

The Punisher. That’s what the article called him. This was an arsenal fit to the name. With as many weapons as this, the idea he single handedly tore a massive hole in the Gnucci operation was making more and more sense. Christ, was that a grenade-

“You enjoyin’ yourself?” Frank came up behind you, carrying twice the amount of bags you had.

“This is insane. You only have two hands.” He shuts the boot, walking back up into the unit and you follow. “How do you plan to even use all this stuff?”

“There’s a whole lotta people out there who are gonna come for you when we get back to the city. You’ll be grateful for it.” He pulls a sheet down from the wall, and you stare up at what he just revealed.

A bullet proof vest, with a white skull spray painted on the front. You remember seeing it. He pulls it down, shoving it into a material bag full of other clothes.

“The Punisher.” He stops, just for a second, and then zips up the bag. “That’s what they called you, right? Why you have all this stuff?”

“Lotta people called me a lotta things.”

“How long has it been since you’ve done this?” The vest hung up on the wall looked fresh. No blood splattered in the front, and the stains under your feet were old. You stared at them, the brownish red colour stark against your near white shoes, and Frank followed your eyes.

“I never stopped.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You took the stitches out.” Frank keeps his eyes on the road, trying not to focus too much on the scar he left on the side of your head.

“They dissolve.” Your hand was sticking out the side of the car, letting the wind run between your fingers. “How’s your arm?”

“Good as new.” He stretches out his hand, only wincing a little. You bark a dry laugh and wind your window up.

“Sure it is.” He wraps his hand back on the steering wheel, and you lean forward to play with the radio again.

He tries to keep his eyes on the road, but the side of your face is so visible to him. There’s a small scar showing up underneath the wound, and he can’t stop looking at it. Looking at you, how you’re leaning right over the centre console, how the long thin scar along your forearm pokes out from underneath his jacket you were still wearing. You had enough scars on your body, and he doesn’t like the idea that he added to them.

“Oh, don’t tell you’re feeling bad about it now.” He sniffs and turns his full attention back to the road. It’s like you can see right through him - he still wasn’t sold that you couldn’t read minds. “You really are soft!”

“I don’t hit women.”

“I was going to rip your head off your shoulders and roll it around like a prized pig.”

“Oh, come on.” He shakes his head, turning back onto the highway towards New York.

“I’m serious. Don’t get all high and mighty. I would of killed you if I hadn’t recognised you.” You stare forward, the playful side eye you were giving him disappearing.

“You know I wasn’t there for you, yeah?”

“Yeah, I know. Still. Being under there… it was the worse than you can imagine. I didn’t think I’d-“ You shake off the thought, physically. “Well, if it turns out they were working together, I really don’t owe you anything.”

Frank finds himself laughing before he can stop. He’s trying to remember how much you pissed him off just a few weeks ago. He tries to remind himself what you are, and that he should still be on his guard. How you nearly killed him. He comes up empty.

“The stitches in my leg look good, though.” It takes Frank a second to realise, but he thinks you might be trying to make him feel better. He almost laughs again.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I am. Though, reading what I did about the Punisher, I figure you spent a bit of time sewing yourself up.” You were walking a line that he wasn’t sure you were ready to cross, because if you started asking questions, so would he.

“You still think I’m working for Madani?”

“Less convinced now.” He catches a small smile on your face, but says nothing. “It sounded like you were busy - are busy. With all the ‘punishing’.”

“Something like that. Why, you gonna miss me if I leave, huh?”

“You’re a dick.” You say, but that cute little smile is still plastered on your face. Fuck- he needed to focus on the road. “But, for real. What are we doing?”

“I’m going for the Colonel. One way of the other, assholes gotta die. Whole gang of them needa be put down. I’m hopin’ the trail will lead to the Gnucci’s pot of gold at the end.” Nodding, you turn the radio down a little. “You - it’s up to you where you go, but I can’t hide you out from Madani. She’s too smart for that shit. She’ll figure it out.”

“I need to get to him. You have any idea where the Gnucci’s are now?”

“That’s what I’m hoping the Colonel can tell me. If he’s still alive.”

“Why would they kill him? He’s on their side, right?”

“Yeah, but he let their most valuable asset out of containment.” He speaks before he thinks, and sees your shoulders slump forward. “I didn’t mean-“

“No, you’re right - I just don’t think of stuff like that.” Your eyebrows screw up, and you drag your legs up under your chin. “So, providing the Colonel’s like, alive, he could be the only one that knows where my brother is.”

“Maybe.” He doesn’t want to make any promises he can’t keep - he knows how much family means. He wouldn’t fuck with you about that.

“Your friend, Agent Madani. I’ve heard of her. She um, do you think she would be willing to work something out if I…”

“We’ve got some time. Once we’re back in the city, we’ll set up. I’ll call her, get some information, see where the Colonel’s at.” Out the corner of his eye, he sees you breathe in for a long while, and then breathe out. You do that a lot, a few times since he’s met you. Your eyes get real distant and you have to hold onto something sometimes. “You should probably learn to hold a gun, too. If you’re gonna stay out of sight, ripping heads off will draw too much attention.”

“What makes you think I don’t know how to hold a gun?” He was watching you from the storage house as you dug through his bags, holding the barrel of the gun like it was a dirty sock.

“Do you?”

“No.” You adjust your sunglasses in the mirror. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Just know things. Like with the Colonel, and me. You can just put it all together. I don’t ever see shit like that.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Don’t let it get to your head. It’s big enough.” He laughs, and you turn the radio up. Black Sabbath plays strong through the speakers of this shit box of a car, and as much as he might not know a whole lot about you, he’s pretty sure your music taste is well ahead of the rest of you.

The highway stretches out in front of him, and you were sticking your hand out the window again, fresh hair sending your hair flying out in all directions. You let your head rest back, and he sees your eyelashes flutter closed under the sunglasses. At some point, your hand falls from your chest next to the gear stick where Frank was holding. Your hand rests on top of his, and he doesn’t move. Just keeps driving, and keeps his eyes on the road.

Mostly.

[next chapter]

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #the punisher x y/n #the punisher fanfiction #marvel #marvel tv

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eggcompany · 2 months

Text

Dumb Men and Mummy Dearest

Female! Hannibal coming home to find Duncan and Nigel have fucked the omegas, Will and Adam, without any prep. The boys are upset and afraid their "mommy" is going to be mad at them. She isn't. She's pissed at the alphas though. She loves the omegas and takes care of them.

They all woke up differently.

Hanna woke up first, extracting herself from Will's warm cuddle and carefully kneeling over Duncan, to quietly make her way to her old room to shower and get dressed and leave for work. She never fully moved into their collective room. She couldn’t. She would wake up the omegas and the babies needed their sleep. She kept her clothes and some of Will’s in her own room along with some of the men’s outfits just in case they needed to leave early for an emergency. But it was okay because every morning she could wake up and see all her boys snuggly and sleeping.

Except Duncan, who would be awake during it all as he woke up first but he could never pull himself away from the babies when he slept with them. If he was in his own room he’d be up watching the sunrise coffee in hand. But for some mornings he would scoot over and collect Will into his arms.

Will was always so warm at night, warm hands creeping over Hanna’s stomach to scratch and pet at the older man’s fuzzy tummy or chest, warm back pressing against his side in the morning, warm little breaths panting across his neck when the boy holds onto him after a bad dream. Will was just a snuggly thing and Duncan couldn’t resist him. Especially on such a nice morning when they could all sleep in.

Adam was awake then, he always woke up the same way. He would let out a little high whine, sit up which woke up Nigel, and stretch his arms up and stretch his hands to his toes and get up. Adam always needed to stretch right when he woke up because he was always curling up in weird ways between Nigel and Will. He liked touching both men. He liked his face firmly shoved into Nigel somewhere (neck, face, arm, armpit, belly, side, he once woke up with his face in Nigel’s crotch and his toes tucked into Will’s armpit) and liked keeping his feet on Will because he always had cold feet and Will’s legs were perfect foot warmers.

Nigel would wake up, hug Adam around the middle, and pull the small omega up to get a bath together and feed Adam. Showering was always Nigel’s first priority because 1. Morning Boners were best taken care of by sleep loose little ‘megas and 2. Adam had a habit of drooling in his sleep and Nigel didn’t want to have dried drool on him. Plus Nigel liked shaving Adam’s face for him. Hanna liked shaving all of them but she always let Nigel shave Adam because Adam was so… tempting to just nick a small bit. Just a little. Just a small indulgence. But Adam hated it and Nigel never nicked him.

Will woke up last when he didn’t work. Which was very often given Hanna had let off on Crawford. Will had been so sleep deprived after a particular case of someone mutilating eighteen omega men and stringing them up in a warehouse that he collapsed on his way back from his walk and caused them all to have a panic. Poor Adam wouldn’t leave his side and couldn’t stop crying. Hanna had a private conversation with Jack and now Will only ever worked from home or consulted from the office, never in the field.

Will would wake up and throw a leg over Hanna or Duncan, let out a few purrs letting whoever pet him and he’d rub a bit on whoever hoping to get a good good morning. Usually Hanna would simply slip her slim yet strong thigh between his legs, and either pop open the top buttons of her pajama shirt or let one strap of her slip dress slide down so Will could nuzzle and kiss at her breast. Will loved a good good morning. Duncan would just hum and tell him to go take a shower first.

Duncan never was much for sex unless it was heat sex. Duncan didn’t get knots anymore but he still had such a nice smell and could quench the boys’ heats all the same. Even still rubbing on him was comforting.

Each day was similar and routine and scheduled.

Perfect for two neurodivergent omegas and a (maybe a bit overly) controlling woman, and relaxing for the (mostly) retired men.

Today was a day off though. Today no one but Hanna had work and she only worked till 2pm. She was gone and Adam was sleeping in, nude back pressed against Will’s undershirt covered one, toasty warm and maybe too warm.

Adam bristled a bit when he realized he was damp. He made an unhappy noise which was copied by Will who was starting to wake up. Both hated waking up damp, Will even more so after so many years of waking up soaking wet in sweat.

“Willy? Are you…?” Adam whispered and squeezed his thighs together as he woke up enough to realize his cock was a bit heavy in his underwear and hips ached from opening up. Adam always had worse heat pains than Will but he was younger and his body was still in its prime for pupping.

“Yeah, yeah me too. Fuck-“ Will murmured and whined and pushed at Duncan’s hips with his hands trying to get the older man to roll to face him.

"Will? Wha's wrong?" The deep rumble came from the eldest man. Will whimpered and pushed his hips against Duncan's side, his boxers rubbing scratchily against his erection. He threw his arm over Duncan’s chest and pulled him close and nuzzled at his stubbly neck.

"Oh? Didn't know you were due" Duncan said as Will climbed to lay on his chest, their bodies touching head to toe. The fresh scent of petrichor made grind his hips up so the omega could feel his cock growing harder.

Adam let out short half cries and climbed onto Nigel in the same way.

Adam and Will acted nearly identical during their heats. Having the same moves and needs. Both pushed their chests out, grabbed and pulled at their own hair, and kicking their feet. Though they were still a bit different. Adam made squeaky noises and cried out a lot and usually needed to have his face lifted from the bed or else he’d choke on his own flood of tears and snot. Will made long drawn out moans and begged a lot, mostly for it to be harder, rougher, god daddy hurt me , and such.

Oddly when both the boy's underwear were down and they were ass up, face down, there wasn't any trace of Hanna's prep or that she'd already given them their first orgasm.

That was Hanna’s thing. Heat time rolled around, she would take the boys and let them hold onto her, suck on her breasts or find comfort in them, and use her thigh straps to give them their first orgasms and knots. It ensured they were properly slicking and stretched enough to take the alphas’ very very considerable lengths.

There were just… not the usual signs like some small red pinch marks on their bums like Hanna usually sent them back to bed with or her dark lipstick staining their foreheads and necks.

However no one cared because, god, those sounds that poured out of the boys... could send a man straight to hell. All blushing plump flesh and needy whines, no one took a second to think about Hanna or prep.

That would come to bite them in the ass. Hard.

“Momma!”

“Mommy!”

Will and Adam call out as soon as Hanna stepped into the house. They came wobbly crying to her, their faces messy, shirtless, with slick freely running down their legs. And their smell making a thick coating of fresh rain, Will, and gentle cocoa, Adam.

“Hello sweet omegas. I smelt you this morning but I didn’t expect to come home to full heats. You’re not due for another four days.” Hanna said as she nearly toppled as the two boys pulled onto her suit jacket panting and whimpering. They smelled a bit like fresh blood, a bit meaty, their holes probably gaped and rubbed raw. Hanna hated to smell that when they were in heat.

“Momma, momma, hurts. I'm so hungry.” Will whined and shoved his face into her breast still covered by her suit jacket and blouse. She pressed her hand to the back of his head, his hair unwashed and sweaty, and encouraged him to nuzzle close. She towered over them easily in her high, yet modest, heels.

“Mommy… hurts…” is all Adam whimpered and Hanna kissed his forehead. Adam was so soft hearted. So soft, so young, so needy. Poor thing had such a low pain tolerance.

“My poor darlings. I’ll get you two in the bath and have a… conversation with daddy and papa. You’re such good omegas for telling me. Now let’s get you two in a nice warm bath.” Hanna said and realized that indeed, she shouldn't have trusted two thickheaded alpha men to really take care of the babies.

“You moronic man.” Hanna said as she slammed her hand across Nigel’s face. Palm open and fingers flat.

“You should have done better.” She said as her hand came rearing back to backhand Duncan.

The two alphas rubbed their cheeks and didn’t meet the woman’s eyes. She was a force to be reckoned with. Unmovable. Not someone to even try to explain yourself to nor someone who cares about excuses.

“You know I didn’t prepare them like I usually do, I let them sleep in. You didn’t bathe them, you didn’t let them nest in their selected area of the house, you haven’t given them any privacy, and you fucked them over the work bench which they now feel so guilty about because they know it’s a rule. The thought I was going to take them over my knee? No, I'm going to take you two over my knee. You dumb,” she paused with a slap across both faces.

“Knotheaded” she said and her hand swung back to connect again.

“Worthless, inconsiderate, men.” She said ending each work with a swing of her flat hand. The final slap was so hard they nearly feared for her hand not to break.

She stood there, eye to eye, and panted. She was the epitome of wrath of a woman. Fire set in her eyes, sneer showing her pointed teeth.

Both men were hard in their trousers.

“I should bend you both over this bench and castrate you where you stand. However I need to fix my babies, and cook dinner. Both of you can go weed the garden, clip the hedges, and clean the porch. Do not come back into my house until I tell you to. Go. Now.” Hanna said and both men left silently to go do what she said. It was deadly not to. She stood there until the door clicked shut behind them and she closed and opened her hand a few times because damn… that stung.

But she had much more important things to take care of. And wash. And kiss. And get her fingers into.

“Will darling what happened to your back? Is it a sweat rash?” Hanna asked when she pushed the boy to face away from her to wash his hair. His back was all red and rubbed raw in some places and looked so tender.

“Papa… took me against the wall with the wallpaper. It’s scratchy.” Will said and reached back to try and cover his back. Duncan had shoved him against the wall and he’d been bouncing up and down against it and it had hurt then but it hurt more now that the water was sloshing against it. It probably wasn’t very pretty…

“Poor thing, I’ll put balm on it once we’re out. Adam, did you get any rub marks?” Hanna asked and put her hands on his shoulders to turn him around. Usually he would be markless except for some hickies inside his thighs. But who knows since those men had been so careless.

“Mommy” is all Adam said and laid his head against her arm. Hanna kissed the top of his head and moved her hands to rub and massage his marked neck.

“I know, you’ve already gone so deep. I’ll put some on you anyway. Make sure you feel good to make a nice nest.” Hanna said to deaf ears and Will turned and laid his head on her opposite shoulder, his scruff growing scratchy given Hanna didn’t shave him during heat. Will gave a scratchy worn purr and Hanna pet down his back and dug her thumb into Adam’s mate mark.

“Wanna nest momma's room.” Will grumbled and brought his soggy arms up to hug Hanna around the trim waist. She was just so strong and solid and warm and she was pulling at the scruff at the back of his neck.

“Mommy’s room.” Adam agreed and Hanna’s fist around his scruff and pulled it into her grasp.

She had them both in her grasp, completely silent and lax in submission.

“That’s perfectly fine babies. We can go right to my room, I’ll grab what I need while you two dry off. Be good boys and take care of each other.” Hanna said in a quiet low voice and released the boys who nodded and lifted themselves up out of the deep tub.

Hanna looked out her bedroom window at the men in the backyard. They were working, Nigel clipping the hedges and Duncan pulling weeds from the garden beds. She wasn’t happy with them but she was over her anger. It was up to the babies now.

She had pulled out all their blankets and pillows and had clean sheets on her large king sized bed. She had her harnesses and a few changes of clothes for them all. She’d pulled off her suit jacket, her slacks, and her pantyhose. She pulled on a pair of lightweight blood red pajama pants and left her dark blouse on from the day.

She was sitting at her vanity wiping away her lipstick and minimal makeup when the boys came back in. Hand in hand, Will leading them. They were panting and had both pulled on pairs of slick absorbent underwear that Hanna had left.

She watched them in the mirror look and sniff around at the blankets and such on the floor around the bed. They both looked up at her for approval.

“Start but do not get in until I’ve looked you over.” Hanna said and continued her routine. The boys whispering and shuffling behind her.

Soon a nest started to form up Hanna was done and turned in her vanity chair. The boys looked up at her with flushed faces and big round eyes. She had already set out some balms on her desk and beckoned them over with a single spread of her legs.

“Will, your back.” She said and the boy turned around and knelt down on the hard floor. He let his head hang down, his hands fiddling in front of his stomach scar. Hanna felt a spark of heat deep in her belly. Will was always so perfect in submission. A delicate little flower, so easy to crush in your palm.

Hanna dipped her fingers into the viscous gel in the tub of balm. It was freezing cold to her touch and she was quick to presh it into Will’s raw back.

The boy cried out but held still, leaning down panting, letting his hands support him.

“Momma, that hurts. It burns.” Will cried out and Hanna smiled gently as she pressed the cold substance around Will’s back. She used both hands to rub and spread the gel until Will’s skin started to absorb it. She rubbed a bit more after and Will was shaking.

He was panting loudly and his whole body was shaking in pain. Adam was looking out the window, he didn’t like hearing Will get hurt even though he knew Will enjoyed it.

“Will, go get the knot you want. Adam come here.” Hanna ordered them and Will stood up, knees red and sore but in the best way. He turned to face Hanna first and she could see the outline of his rock hard cock in his underwear. She looked up at his desperate face and Will bit his lip.

“Go pick out the knot you want. Clear off the edge of the bed. Good omega.” Hanna said in her most commanding voice and Will was nodding along with her words. He turned and did what he was told, slick already overflowing the pad in his underwear making it wet.

Adam walked over and made that damn kicked puppy face. He was starting to tear up again. He’d already confessed to having sex in the kitchen, but Adam held onto guilt.

“Are you mad we made your counter messy?” He asked and tears started to slip down his cheeks. Hanna shushed him and pulled him into her lap for a hug and to kiss his forehead. Adam sniffled and wrapped the flowy fabric of the woman’s blouse in his fists.

“My toes couldn’t even touch the floor, mommy it was so scary. And it hurt my- my skin. It hurt my bones.” Adam tried to explain but the words weren’t what he was meaning. He was just upset and his hormones were all wonky and he was hot and cold and empty.

Hanna shushed him and kissed his temple through his still damp short hair. She understood. She always understood.

“May I see where it hurt? My work bench was made for my height, you’re just too small to be able to bend over it. It’s not your fault sweet baby.” Hanna whispered into Adam’s ear, her lips teasing the sensitive flesh. Adam shivered and let out a small noise.

“Yes ma’am” he whispered and climbed off her lap and pulled off his underwear. Slick started to drool down the inside of his leg. Hanna caught some off the inside of his knee and licked it from her finger. She hummed and looked at the way both him and Will were staring at her. Dizzying, that power, absolutely dizzying.

“Hurts here, now” Adam said and pressed a hand to his belly right above his small erection. Adam had what was an “ideal” omega genital. Small, uncut, barely any precum if any at all. Will didn’t. That was another reason Hanna loved him so. He was big, cut, and drooled a delicious amount of precum every time he got riled up.

Hanna smiled and pulled Adam closer by his hips and he dropped his hands. She placed a small kiss to his stomach and looked at his bruised hip bones. Indeed, the alphas would get matching ones brought to them by a cane. They had a rule about careless bruising.

“I’m sure it does hurt. Poor little boys. Go get yours ready Adam. We can take a nice long nap while daddy and papa make dinner.” Hanna said and Adam went to get the dildo of his choice.

Hanna smiled at Will who’s knees were trembling a tiny bit, holding onto the thigh harness with his blue knot, it was small and short but rubbed against his cervix in a way that always had him gushing and cumming in no time. He liked the way it made him ache inside after.

The woman stood and walked around Will to sit on the edge of the bed and took the harness from his hands. She quickly and efficiently slipped the straps around her thigh, high on her thigh, and buckled the nice and snug. Will was already climbing on the bed to straddle it but all Hanna had to do was put a hand on his belly and he paused.

Adam was making huffs and frustrated noises. He was still standing by the toy box by the bedside table. He had a big pink dildo in his hands, the knot bold and pronounced, girthy and long. It would fit through the ring of the harness with a bit of finesse. Adam just needed to be filled and knotted.

“Adam, bring that to me.” Hanna commanded and Adam huffed in defeat and handed them both to Hanna. She fastened the harness to herself once the toy was through and Will was already growling. She gave him a sharp slap to the ass which made him moan.

Adam was careful to position himself, always was, just so he could easily sink down and get full without hurting. Once he was ready he didn’t start their game by sitting down. He looked at Hanna waiting for her.

“Go ahead Adam. You may take it now.” Hanna gave him permission but Adam shook his head and grabbed her blouse.

Will huffed and growled again. He was not patient enough for this. Hanna knew it too, so she said nothing when he grabbed both sides of the blouse’s collar and ripped it so her bra was exposed.

“Hurry up” Will barked out as his body shook in need, his toy just touching his needy hole. Adam smiled and started to sink down and nuzzle at Hanna’s soft bra and softer breast.

Once he was letting out short breaths and had his hand under Hanna’s bra, Will dropped himself.

Will was fast about it though, his slick had dripped down to cover Hanna’s pajamas and made it easy for him to slam down, the knot nearly slipping in, and throw himself back up. He was crying out.

“Oh momma, feels so much better! Need it, need it momma, please, give me, I need-” Will begged as he made a punishing pace for himself. Each time the small knot slipped past the ring of muscle and rubbed against his prostate and the head crammed against the small bud of his cervix. He’d be bleeding by the end and bruised up on the inside for the next few days of heat. But lord it felt good.

Will had his hands on her shoulders, he could enjoy her warm breast when he was sleeping, and he was bouncing all three of them with the effort of his thrusts.

Adam however was quiet and fulfilled. He’d been fucked today, he didn’t need anymore. He needed to be filled up and snuggled in. He had one hand under Hanna’s plain blue bra, happy she never had underwires. He was cupping the soft, warm, soft, really soft plump flesh gently and nuzzling the exposed top of her breast. He wanted to undo the few clasps that rested in the valley between her breasts but he didn’t wanna move his hand away.

Will was making so much noise and almost there. The boy battering his inside and Hanna’s warm body right there and their nest was ready and fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck, momma, I need, Fuck, I need- Scratch me! My leg, here” Will finally struggled out. He needed the bite of her short nails, the heat of it. He needed a little pain and he’d be there. Hanna smiled and brought her hand to first squeeze his cock in one long stroke which made him cry out and then to stroke his thigh a few times. She stroked his thigh with the rhythm he’d set for himself and when he finally nodded and let her nails catch the strong scarred flesh of his thigh and tear down it for a few inches.

Will screamed and grabbed onto Hanna, the scent of blood and cum filling the space. Adam gagged a little but reached over and touched Hanna’s thigh and gathered some of Will’s slick and brought it up to his mouth. It helped.

“Beautiful. Beautiful Will. Thank you for giving me that. Now let’s take a nice nap, both of you need sleep.” Hanna instructed once Will caught his breath. Both boys nodded and allowed Hanna to unbuckle and remove the straps from the toys. She’d just need to remove the rings from the bases of the toys once they were done. She pulled her blouse off and looked at the way Adam was staring at her chest.

“Adam, do you want to unclasp it?” She asked and Adam smiled and undid the clasps and moaned when the offensive blue fabric fell away. He immediately leaned forward to kiss and suck gently at her rosy nipple. Hanna tossed the bra to her vanity chair and Will brought his hand up to play with her other nipple.

“That’s enough of that , you two. Nap time, now.” Hanna commanded and laid down in the center of the nest letting the two omegas snuggle up to her and get comfortable.

Will curled up with his head on her stomach and his hand resting on her hip. He liked laying where he could smell the scent of arousal rolling gently off her body. Adam shoved his face into the soft side of her breast and let his hand go to lay in the toasty underside of her other breast. His arm was under his head so his hand could pet at her greying blonde hair gently.

She was absolutely content and comfy. It was easy for all three of them to drift off to sleep.

It wasn’t until nine p.m. that they all woke up.

And realized they never allowed the alphas back in the house. It was okay though. It just made their punishments a fraction less brutal.

#fanfic #egg_company #smut tag #hannigram #nbc hannibal #polar 2019 #nigel charlie countryman #adam 2009 #omega adam raki #adam raki #alpha duncan vizla #duncan vizla #alpha nigel #alpha hannibal #alpha duncan #female hannibal lecter #omega will graham #will graham #omega adam

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heavenlyhandscribbles · 2 years

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In which the lion devours the lamb

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Warnings: mentions of blood, smut, I try to be poetic, it's bad, drug usage, high blowjobs, use of drugs during sex (consensual), A LOT of references to cannibalism. 18+

Summary: A poetic piece about coming to terms with love and also eating your lover.

Word Count: 1.1k

When a lion devours a lamb it is not slow and calculated. It is quick- it is hungry, and it is violently vile. Steve’s hand traces the delicate back of Eddie’s. He is the Lamb to Steve’s Lion. He is the split open pomegranate, leaking blood red onto Steve’s pretty clenched hands. He is his meal and his love and something else all together and he thinks it might kill him. Steve kissed along his jaw now, muttering against his flesh with a soothing tone, “How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy.” The lamb answers, still dealing with the effects of the new weed the two tried out tonight. Steve chuckled softly, kissing him still as he sat up, “Do you need anything?”

“I’m like… really horny right now.” He let out a small chuckle, looking up at Steve, “You?”

“Very.” He muttered, leaning down to watch Eddie’s lips move slowly, making a small popping noise as he let out giggles beside Steve. Steve smiled a crooked smile, his eyes closing as he savored the sound of Eddie’s joy before muttering, “Can we try something new tonight?” He asks, an offer to join him at the dinner table, to give him a new platter to dissect and try, and a new palette to fill him for the final course.

Eddie nodded, “Sure, what’re you thinking Stevie?” Cocky, arrogant, and oh so loveable. Steve smiled, sliding and shifting himself so he was now on his knees between Eddie’s legs that were sprawled across the bed, “I think I just want to devour you whole, you’re so damn cute.”

Eddie chuckled, shifting and muttering out, “Okay, Hannibal Lecter.”

Steve shifted to follow his movements, muttering into his shoulder, “I think you’re the only thing in this world I’ve learned to love.”

Eddie softened against him, the lamb baring his neck to the lion as he muttered, “I think I’m glad for that, in a selfish way. I’m glad I’m the only thing you can love.” He admitted, the greedy lamb, hungry to experience the fresh new awakening of the lion.

The lion, or rather Steve, was the new but experienced member of these two primitive animals. Eddie has been running his whole life from lion’s. Steve has been chasing after… a different breed of lamb per say, and he’s settled on the equivalent of a black sheep.

Eddie was his black sheep, lamb coated in black jean jackets and band shirts with scattered pins that pricked his skin. Eddie was the final sanctum of Steve's everlasting chase to find the final meal, and he savors every single bite, pained noise, and flushed expression he gets from Eddie. He is settling at the dinner table, whether the long winding one in his own empty barren home, or the small one settled in the same trailer he was in now, constantly covered in dice and papers.

Steve prefers Eddie’s dinner table. Soft murmured ‘I love you’s’ over piping hot coffee. Gentle hands gracing his own as he muttered out he wanted the salt. Sweet praises of cooking and promises to make up for it that night in the bedroom.

Steve believed, when he first looked at Eddie, he wasn’t just liking him, he fell in love, immediately. Was it an poorly-concieved infatuation with the out and queer metal head? Probably. But it’s an infatuation of devotion. Praying to the sheep’s head every night and kissing along his flesh like it’s the Hawaiian rolls he received in church when he was younger. The body of christ, given to him.

Eddie shifted beside him, shaking Steve out of his trance as he leaned forward to look at him. “So, what did you want to try Steve-o?”

“I thought maybe I could return the favor on something..?” Soft, but the offer of his final devouring.

“Sure.” Eddie shrugged, purely just enjoying the time he could spend with Steve. Steve nodded, hazy, and shifted down, tugging at Eddie’s boxers.

Steve will admit it. He’d never once given head. But he needed to do this, needed to finish off the lamb, feel him down his throat and take him further. So he did. Agile hands flying to his perfectly fixed ‘mane’ tug and yank as he swallows Eddie down. He takes the hot taste of him and embeds it into his brain forever as he glances up at him. He watches his resolve crumble, watches as Eddie finally submits to it all and bucks into Steve’s throat. The lion chokes on the lambs meat, static filling his brain as Eddie fucks his throat, taking him apart now. Eddie is close, he can tell by the sudden quiver in his right thigh. So Steve lifts his head to the top, swirling his heavy tongue around Eddie’s tip as he looks up at him, immediately sliding his head back down to swallow his release. Eddie falls apart, wool off the wolf’s back as he reveals the pure hunger in his own eyes, tugging again at Steve’s scalp as he cums down his throat and lets himself be devoured for Steve’s own entertainment.

So now, the lamb is the wolf. The lion is still the lion, but hunger flourishes in both their eyes as Steve pulls back, a slick line of saliva following him from Eddie's now softening cock. Steve sits forward, and Eddie follows, both connecting as they kiss, the hot seed from Eddie’s cock swirling in their mouths as Steve pulls back, final words in his everlasting chase that is coming to a close.

“Eddie Munson, I love you.”

“Steve Harrington, I love you.”

Eddie's response. The final breath from the lamb coat wearing wolf. Now the known reason for the black looking coat Steve supposed. Black sheeps are always the more violent ones. He figures it’s because the wolf coat from beneath is shining through.

Eddie looks Steve over, chuckling a bit, “Dude you’ve been in and out of it all night.”

The lion facade fades away, a now tired Steve looks over to Eddie, “I think I like this strand, but I’ve been a little zoned out because of it. And now I’m tired.” He muttered, looking over Eddie

The consumption of lamb has stopped, but now the love and adoration of the lion had begun

Eddie smiled, fixed Steve’s hair for him, and leaned back, tugging Steve with him, “Then how about we go to sleep Stevie.”

Steve nodded at his lamb, muttering sweetly to him in a post-high, sleepy haze, “I love you, my lamb.”

Eddie chuckled, not understanding. The foolish lamb, wrapped comfortably in the lion's arms now as slept befell onto them.

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queuebird · 9 months

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15. allergy

E, Hannibal, Will/Hannibal, ~400 words

For day 15 of Domaystic 2022

Warning: dubious consent

Will sneezes just as he enters Hannibal’s office.

“Have you been outside? The pollen is unbelievable,” he says.

…

Hannibal is not sure how it happened, but Will is currently sweating, moaning, and grinding down on the chair like a bitch in heat.

“I’m sorry—Hannibal, please,” Will gasps, then squeezes his eyes shut.

Hannibal weighs the merits of his options.

Though Will may not technically be his patient, he is still a trusted figure of authority in Will’s life—arguably the only one. Will has learned he can come to Hannibal for anything, and Hannibal is loath to do anything to jeopardize this status.

On the other hand, he has been aching for a taste of Will’s skin since they first discussed taste, and he’s not sure when another opportunity like this one will arise. Hannibal is, after all, only human.

He makes his decision.

…

Hannibal presses down on Will’s back, pushing him further into Hannibal's desk, and Will lets out a whimper.

Hannibal fucks into him, the desk shifting under them, Will's ass pinking under his ministrations.

"More," Will grunts. "Harder."

Hannibal slides a hand into Will's hair and pushes his head into the pile of papers. Hannibal watches saliva slide out of Will's mouth onto a copy of a paper by a psychiatrist Hannibal detests.

"Yes," Will pants. "Yes, like that. Fuck."

Hannibal leans down and licks up Will's spine, then reaches around to stroke his cock.

"You are a divine being," he murmurs into Will's ear before he bites at the lobe, and Will moans loud, a hand coming up to touch Hannibal's head.

Will's orgasm takes them both by surprise, and when he clenches Hannibal swears and comes too.

"Ugh, God," Will says, slumping onto the desk.

Hannibal pulls out, stroking a hand down Will's sweat-damp back as he does. He tosses the condom and neatens himself and Will the best he can with tissues.

Hannibal pulls on his pants and settles back into his seat. At the sound, Will's head comes up. Hannibal can almost see the apology forming in his head from the shy downward cast of his eyes, the nervous clench of his hands.

Hannibal gestures to the seat across. "Let us return," he says.

Will opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, then just sighs.

"Alright," he says.

#domaystic #scrobbles #will graham gets his shit wrecked

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slashyroguefics · 8 months

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AU-Gust Day 16: Road Trip

His divorce is finalized on a Tuesday.

It’s rainy, the kind of rain where you can’t even leave the house, and he has to drag Winston out to take a piss but when the message comes from his lawyer he feels it in his chest.

You’re officially divorced.

Will thought he’d feel something when it was truly over, but all he feels is relief. He and Molly weren’t good for each other, hadn’t been for a long time, and even knowing she’d been cheating with her ex-husband hadn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

But even with the relief comes the urge to do something.

You never want to do anything.

God, Will, are you just gonna hide forever?

I feel like I’m locked up here with you.

He’s lived in his apartment only for seven months but suddenly it feels like a fate worse than death to stay. So he takes all his sick time - thirty two days - and packs up the car with Winston in the passenger seat before he just drives.

Will had always wanted to go on a road trip, just like in the movies, but his genuine hatred of socializing resulted in no friends and even Molly had been a dog park fluke.

No.

He could do this with Winston, silent but loyal, and as they leave the state he feels freer than he has in a long time.

Then, of course, only three days into his trip the killings begin.

They call him The Wanderer.

Mostly because he leaves bodies across the states. Beautiful, elaborate tableaus of horror that are found almost always by hikers. The Wanderer seems to want to be seen, but not seen, and though Will has struggled with his past leaving the FBI for his mental health he can’t help when he gets drawn into the case.

And the dreams begin.

He wakes up in a cold sweat, blood soaked images haunting his nightmares, and Winston usually wakes him up pulling on his shirt when he’s screaming. Will gets kicked out of three different hotel rooms in Tennessee, leaving the state in the middle of the night barely dressed, and when he reaches Illinois he reads about the body found just two states behind him.

The Wanderer is almost trailing him, looming closer and closer, and when in North Carolina he can hardly sleep sucking down cheap coffee in diners that let him bring the dog.

Which is where he meets Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Dr. Lecter is in North Carolina for a conference, Will had seen the signs for the Psychiatric Association of Medicine event just blocks away, and though it’s odd to see someone dressed in Armani sipping shitty coffee at two a.m. he still blushes when he notices the man’s eyes on him. It’s just the two of them, other than the waitress, and though he’s sure a night with someone who looks so out of his league he might as well be on Mars would be nice he’s not in the mood.

But it’s still nice to be admired.

Molly never once looked at him the way the stranger does, and when he gets up to stop at Will’s table he finds himself blushing.

“Is this seat taken?”

His accented voice is oddly thrilling, and when Will looks up he realizes the man is better looking than he realized.

“Kinda,” he says, looking at the dog, “And he’s not really one for sharing.”

“I see,” the man says, looking at the dog, “May I?”

He slides in beside Winston, who easily lets him, and Will laughs at the face he makes when the dog licks his cheek. “See?”

The handkerchief he pulls out looks just as expensive as the suit, but it’s oddly adorable when he wipes his face. “Yes, I…see,” he looks at Will and holds out his hand that Will takes, “Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

“Will Graham,” he says, unable to keep his own admiration secret, “And I’m just gonna say this before you even try. I’m flattered, but I just got divorced like a little over a week ago and…”

“You’re so certain I was staring at you out of sexual attraction.”

Will frowns. “Yeah, I mean…wait….if you’re not I…shit.”

“No, no,” Hannibal says, smiling, “I was. I was just trying to save my own pride. I apologize.”

“Oh,” Will laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “Thank god. I thought I was gonna have to buy your…what was it you’ve been having other than coffee?”

The waitress comes over and hands him another mug that she fills.

“Gladys makes a very good apple tart,” Hannibal says, “I’ve had two, but as it’s so late…I should not have more.”

Gladys blushes. “You’re such a dear.”

He smiles as she leaves.

“Wow, she hasn’t stopped glaring at me since I brought the dog inside.”

Hannibal frowns. “Has she?”

“Yeah, I…I asked if he was allowed, since they have the sign on the door and all. She said yes but I think she meant no.”

“Hmm.”

Hannibal watches Gladys, eyeing her oddly, and Will blushes.

“But it’s fine, honestly, I….I’ve been forcing him on people all over the US. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

He turns to Will. “All over?”

Will blushes. “I’ve been…I’m on a road trip.”

“Oh,” Hannibal says, “That’s…it’s an odd time for it. What is it you do, Will?”

“I’m a history teacher,” Will says, “I took off the last month before we get out of school because of the divorce and…yeah you don’t want to hear this.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

He smiles. “Well…”

Will proceeds to tell Hannibal pretty much everything, about Molly and Walter, even about the cheating, and when he’s about to bring up the Wanderer he pauses.

“Will?”

He takes a sip of his coffee, a little cold now, and sighs. “You didn’t ask why I’m here.”

Hannibal looks down at his hands, then up again. “I know insomnia when I see it, or…is this not involuntary?”

Will blinks back tears. “I…I used to work for…I helped solve murders.”

The surprise he sees in Hannibal’s eyes is genuine. “Used to?”

“I quit because it fucked with me mentally,” he sighs, “I…I have this thing where I can assume the killer’s point of view, and it…it got hard to keep them out after they came in. You know? I…I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Will…”

“And I…I made the mistake of…looking into the Wanderer,” he looks up at Hannibal, “And now he’s,” he puts fingers against his temple as a tear falls down his face, “...in here. I have nightmares and…he’s getting closer. He was only a few states away when I got here. I feel like he’s following me . I know it’s crazy…”

Hannibal puts a hand on Will’s. “It’s not crazy, Will,” he says, “You have anxiety related to your past and it was bound to happen when you began looking into such a gruesome subject. I imagine your fears will only grow if you don’t rescind this particular monster’s point of view.”

“Don’t tell me you can cure me, because I…no offense…hate shrinks. I had counselors and shrinks all my life tell me I was crazy. I don’t need you to do the same.”

“I would never.”

“I…”

He takes both of Will’s hands and squeezes, his gaze filled with sadness.

“I would never attempt to cure you of this, Will, you…I wouldn’t advise that method.”

Will sniffles. “Then what…”

“I would tell you not to hide from him,” he says, his voice shaking, “Let…let him in and see what happens. You may be surprised.”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “NO! I…” he sees Gladys turn to look at him sharply, “No, no, I…” he takes his hands back, “No fucking way.”

“Will..”

Will gets up, whistling, and Winston climbs under the table coming to his side. He throws down a twenty and sighs. “Thanks for..the talk but…I’m fine with hiding. Goodnight, Dr. Lecter.”

He drives away, shaken up from the encounter, and goes to get two more cups of late night coffee before returning to the hotel. Will stares at them, hands shaking, and thinks about what Hannibal said.

Let him in and see what happens.

Will doesn’t know why he does it.

Curiosity?

But he doesn’t drink his coffee.

Two hours later he falls asleep with Winston at his side, and in his dreams it’s not Hannibal in the diner with him.

It’s the Wanderer.

He’s a phantom, dressed in a black robe, but Will knows it’s him. He holds Will’s hand in his, smothering them with blood, and Will tries to scream, pulling away but can’t even when he realizes whose blood is on his hands.

Gladys.

She’s lying across the counter, eyes gouged out and tongue on a plate that sits on her chest.

He wakes up screaming, voice hoarse, and something compels him to look at the news.

THE WANDERER KILLS WAITRESS

Will reads the words, eyes wide, and feels like he can’t breathe.

Gladys Harlow, aged 66, found dead at the Pit Stop Diner.

He stares at his hands, and though he knows it’s not there he’s almost sure there’s blood all over them.

“He’s here,” he whimpers, hands over his mouth as tears fall down his cheeks.

Hannibal’s voice echoes in Will’s mind as he curls in a fetal position, shaking so badly he can’t hold the phone in his hands.

“Let him in and see what happens. You may be surprised.”

Also at: AU-gust Writing Challenge 2023 - Chapter 16: Road Trip

#hannigram au #au gust 2023 #hannigram fanfiction #hannigram #hannigram fanfic #pre-slash #serial killer hannibal #different first meeting #one of my favorites of the whole month tbh

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