#like i see will graham and go huh. yeah. i get hannibal. i get why he did all that. because will graham looked at him *like that* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darling-i-read-it · 3 years

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Jealousy

Will Graham x reader, slight Hannibal Lecter x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: talks of murder, corpses, crime scenes

Author’s Note: besties you need to stop giving me freedom to chose the endings because i am SO biased. I hope you all enjoy regardless and didn’t mind that I bunched these two requests together because they’re so similar!

Requested: by anon, Hey i don’t know if you’re still taking Hannibal requests but if you are can you do something where both Will and Hannibal have a crush on the reader? The reader would be the only one who doesn’t know about the two men having a crush on her and one day the reader hangs out alone with one of them (could be Will or Hannibal) and the other gets jealous? It could end in the reader choosing one of them. (your choice)

Requested: by anon, AHHH i’m so nervous to write a request even tho this a anon😅 I never done a request but if you could do something where both Hannibal and Will take an interest in the reader? It could just be a thing where both of them try to impress the reader who remains oblivious to their affections. And during the entire thing they get jealous of each other and try to one up each other in gifts. If you want you could end it with them being polyamorous or the reader choosing one of them, i don’t really care my main focus id just the jealousy lol😅

Summary: the requests!

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

(not my gif)

You nodded gently, putting your fingernail between your teeth. You circled the corpse, giving it a careful eye as Beverly spoke over your thoughts.

“We believe it was murder, obviously,” she said.

“It’s just been a bitch trying to figure out how she was murdered,” Zeller commented. He was sitting on one of the stools, his hands resting on his thighs.

“Keep working on it,” Jack said, hand resting on the cold metal table.

“I think we should try and talk to the mom again. I feel like she knows more than she’s letting on,” you muttered. Will and Hannibal watched you as you moved to the head of the body, looking directly down at it.

“I want to go to the crime scene again,” Will said. You looked up and met his eyes, nodding a bit. You knew the toll that it took on him so you preferred him to offer up his abilities, rather than ask him.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” Hannibal asked. Yours and Will’s eyes floated to Hannibal who was standing at the corner of the room. This wasn’t his crime, he wasn’t sure what Will would find.

“I’m sure,” Will said sturtly and then turned around, walking out of the room. Hannibal watched as your gaze followed Will until he was out of sight and then you turned back to the corpse.

“I’ll drive you to the mothers house,” Hannibal suggested. You nodded and took your hands off the metal, walking over to him.

“Thank you.”

The two of you left quickly after that, leaving Bev, Zeller, Price and Jack in the room alone. Beverly pretended to check something on her clipboard before looking up at everyone.

“You all felt that tension too, right?” Overlapped responses came.

“Yeah.”

“Yes.”

“When did that happen?”

Beverly shrugged and learned against the wall. She tried to follow you and Hannibal as you left the morgue but you were already long gone.

“Who do you think she’s gonna pick?” Bev asked.

“I say let the best man win!” Price commented.

“We have a case here lady and gentlemen,” Jack said, pretending he too wasn’t invested. Everyone else shared one more look and then turned around, getting back to their duties.

=====

Hannibal sat promptly in his chair, legs crossed and looking at Will who sat across from him. Will had an open stance as he looked around the room he had been in a couple of times before.

“How was your week? Let’s start there,” Hannibal said gently, prompting Will to start talking. Will was usually filled to the brim with sarcastic comments but he never wanted to delve any deeper than that. Unless he was talking about other people's murders.

“Um, it was fine,” he said, trying to figure out what to say. “Y/N came over last night and made dinner. It was nice to have someone over.” Hannibal was able to mask his feelings very well but Will caught a little bit of disdain.

“That’s nice. Do you see her often?”

“Sometimes. She’s nice and likes to see the dogs.” Hannibal saw you yesterday as well, when the two of you went to interview the mother again. Hannibal offered a nice face to the woman and it ended up getting you somewhere with her.

“She is very kind,” Hannibal commented.

“Do you see her often Dr. Lecter?” Will asked.

“On occasion. She comes over for dinner. She used to be a patient but she’s been doing well.”

“Glad to hear you have some success stories.”

That was the day that Will and Hannibal realized they were competing and they hadn’t known it. They weren’t even sure that you knew it but they understood that the other had feelings for you.

Sure, ultimately it was up to you in the end but it was then they decided they would have to get to you first. Will was a little unhinged and confused. Hannibal was a little insane and unsettling.

Just depended on who was going to be able to play the right cards.

=====

You sat beside Hanniabl at his dinner table. You had a few of the case papers out in front of you, next to your plate of food. Hannibal was flipping through them as well. He was trying to help you out while also getting you to enjoy a nice meal.

You ate the last bite of the food and showed Hannibal one of the pictures.

“Do you think this looks like she’s been dead for a couple of months? I know water can wash away evidence and stuff but it definitely doesn’t look like she’s been dead for months,” you said. Hannibal took the picture from you and looked it over.

“I can’t say I disagree with you.” You took the picture back.

“This is really good by the way. Thank you for letting me intrude on your dinner,” you said laughing a bit. He shook his head.

“Of course. I’m glad you enjoy it, I know it can be an acquired taste.”

“I really enjoy everything you make. How do you say it? It’s growing my pallet,” you said smiling. He nodded pleasantly. It was always nice to make sure people were listening. You looked like you were about to say something else when your phone dinged. At first you ignored it but then it dinged again. “I’m sorry,” you muttered and then picked up the phone. You read a couple of messages and laughter bubbled from your mouth. Hannibal immediately felt a stab of jealousy but it didn’t show on his face. “Sorry, Will just sent me something about the case. I actually have to go see him later tonight, I should probably get out of your hair.”

Hannibal shook his head.

“You’re always welcome here, I hope you know that.” You smiled and nodded but still put the papers together in a neat stack.

“Don’t say that, I’ll abuse my privileges.” You stood up and put the stack of papers in your arms. “Thank you again Hannibal. I’ll call you?” He nodded, standing up as well and taking your plate.

“Of course. Have a nice night and say hello to Will for me.” You nodded and waved as you turned to leave.

Hannibal turned to the kitchen and put the dishes in the sink. He started to wash them and after a moment he found he had been washing his hands dry.

====

“You really didn’t have to drive me. I can drive myself,” Will said from the passenger seat of your car. You waved him off, shaking your head.

“Please Will, I can drive you around all I want. Plus, I wanted to see Hannibal anyway. Don’t worry I won’t intrude on your session. I brought a book.” You held your book up in front of him and he nodded slightly.

Why did you wanna see Hannibal? He decided not to ask.

You got out of the car and followed Will inside to Hannibal’s office. Hannibal opened the door, as though he had been listening and waiting for your arrival. His smile grew at the sight of you.

“I was hoping to run into you. I boxed some leftovers from last night because you enjoyed them so much,” Hannibal explained.

“You went over to Hannibals’ last night?” Will asked. He didn’t mean for his voice to sound so accusatory but it did. You shrugged.

“I went for dinner and he helped me with some case notes.” You remained completely oblivious to the tension in the room. He handed you a box that he grabbed from his desk and you nodded happily. “Thank you so much! I will cherish this,” you joked. You turned to Will. “Have a nice session boys, I’ll be in the car.”

They both nodded and waved goodbye to you as you left the room. The tension did not leave with you.

====

The morgue did not smell any better the next time you were in it. You were alone with just Bev this time as you compared notes on the cause of death. She and the guys were still in the process of figuring it out but it had been a busy couple of days.

“Yeah that’s kind of what Price was saying. I don’t know, I’ll look into it more and get back to you,” she said as you showed her some notes. You nodded and put your notepad back in your bag.

“Alright, keep me posted.” You stood up from your chair and stretched a bit. You and Beverly were pretty good friends outside of work as well so she had been dying to ask you about Hannibal and Will.

“So...how’s it going with Hannibal and Will?” she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. You gave her a confused look.

“Huh?” She scoffed.

“You’re kidding right?” You gave her a look and she laughed dryly. “You seriously don’t know? Those guys are head over heels for you. Come on, you had to have noticed how jealous they get when you talk to them. It literally fills the room with tension,” she explained. You shook your head slowly. It took you a moment but the realization hit you. You had to sit back down.

“Oh my God, I’ve been so head first in this case I didn’t even notice,” you said, laughing a bit.

“Well! Who’s gonna take the cake? Come on, we’re running bets here in the morgue.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Who did you bet on?” She gave you a look. “Come on!”

“Will,” she fessed up. You stood up.

“Go get your money Katz.” A prideful look went over her face and she nodded.

“Alright then. You better go get your man.”

======

You knocked on Will’s door that night. You teetered back and forth on the porch, wondering if Beverly had been wrong. She could have read the signs wrong. Heck, you read the signs wrong at first. You were about to walk off the porch when Will opened the door, rubbing his eyes.

“Hi,” he said, blinking quickly.

“Oh my gosh did I wake you? I’m sorry, I am running on case time,” you said, suddenly feeling very apologetic. He shook his head.

“No, don’t worry about it. Do you need something?” You doubted yourself again but figured that if you were going to do it you had to do it now.

“I just...Beverly said something and I...do you wanna go to dinner? Like together? Like as a couple?” You were trying to get the words out so they didn’t sound awkward. Will rubbed his eyes some more and then his hand dropped. He smirked a bit.

“Yeah. I would really like that.”

“Okay! Okay. Good, good. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow once you get some rest,” you said. He nodded happily.

“I look forward to it.”

“Me too.”

You turned around and he shut the door and a wall away from each other. You were both smiling wildly. Will almost called Hannibal and bragged but he went to sleep. He would find out eventually.

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

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slashyrogue · 3 years

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Hannigram AU: House of Wax

Wolf Trap has never been exactly a large town, but it's still not a super small one, and there are some things there that other places don't have.

Like The House of Wax.

For as long as Will can remember it's been there, and he was lucky enough to get a job working alongside the Hannibal Lecter. Mr. Lecter isn't exactly elusive, he's known to throw elaborate parties for his rich friends from all over, but no one really knows him. He's unmarried, but seem so to have an endless supply of money, and even though the House of Wax rarely has visitors it's still there on the outskirts of town.

Will was a fan long before he got a job there, though he mostly sweeps the floors, and he makes good enough money to stick around. Though Mr. Lecter won't let him in on the figure making, the one thing he's always been the most curious about, he loves his job.

And maybe has a bit of a crush on Mr. Lecter.

"Good afternoon, Will. Anyone come in?"

Will blushes as Mr. Lecter walks into the main room, standing to watch him check the figures. "No, it's been quiet. Though I did see a few people around town on my drive in. It think their car broke down or something."

Mr. Lecter pauses. "Oh?"

"Uh huh," he says, "They didn't seem the type to want to come in here but you never know."

"Yes," Mr. Lecter says, smiling as he touches one of the figures almost lovingly, "You never know."

"With Halloween coming up, I'm sure..."

He turns and heads for the door, much to Will's disappointment. "I think I'll go in town to see on supplies. You're doing a wonderful job, Will," Mr. Lecter says, smiling, "As you always do."

Will blushes harder, pushing up his glasses. "Thank you, Mister..."

"Hannibal, please," Mr. Lecter says, shaking his head, "You've worked here for nearly a year now, Will. I think it's about time you called me Hannibal."

Will blinks. "Um, ok....Hannibal."

Hannibal smiles. "Look after them for me."

"I will!"

He leaves Will alone in the main hall, a little shaken, and smiling at being allowed to call Mr. Lecter by his first name. He's been coming to the House of Wax since he was a senior in high school, and though he's only nineteen now he still feels like a kid.

But maybe Mr. Le--Hannibal, didn't see him that way anymore.

Will laughs, shaking his head. "Dream on, Graham."

He's just about to head for the Room of Thinkers when he hears a whimper, and looks around.

"Hello?"

Will frowns.

He really thought he heard something.

Weird.

Will heads into the next room and starts to go through the figures one by one, dusting to perfection the way Hannibal likes. He goes through all eleven figures and is almost finished with Einstein when he notices something.

There’s a gray marking on Einstein’s neck, almost like a tattoo. He wipes harder, confused, and is just about to start scrubbing when loud laughter comes echoing into the room. Will drops his rag and runs for the front hall in time to see they have guests.

The strangers he’d seen just this morning are in the Leader Room, and they’re not alone.

“Will,” Mr. Lecter says, smiling, “Please direct our Chad, Brad, Marli, and…what was your name again, Miss?”

A blonde wearing a too tight college sweater bats her eyelashes at him. “Kitty, but you can call me whatever you want.”

The others all laugh and Will frowns when Kitty touches Hannibal’s chest. “Kitty,” he says, “I think Kitty will come with me to a…private viewing. Treat them well, Will.”

“But—-“

One of the guys slaps Will on the back. “Yeah, Will…treat us. Kitty…don’t take too long cuz that part might come in.”

Kitty grabs Hannibal’s arm. “Oh…we won’t.”

Will’s chest hurts as Mr. Lecter walks away with Kitty, her long blonde hair bouncing as they go, and he hates this part.

Why does he always have to be the one to show the guests around?

And what really happens in the private viewings?

He sighs.

“Right this way,” he mumbles, “You’re in for sights unlike anything you’ve seen before.”

They all laugh as he heads into the next room.

It’ll be just like all the others.

A lot of snickering followed by everyone not even finishing the whole viewing. Just once he’d like to get to the end.

Why did no one really appreciate The House of Wax like he did?

#hannigram au #horror movie aus #house of wax AU #my aus

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

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A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 9

<- Chapter 8 || Sequel: A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry

Summary: The goddamned Red Dragon.

2,384 words

The smell was what hit you first. It entered your nostrils, filled your lungs like smoke, and shivered down your spine. The charcoal of burned flesh. If not for the bitter mingling of burned hair and gasoline, it might have smelled like steak on the grill. The thought turned your stomach. You gave yourself a moment to get used to it, to calm your breathing, before pulling back the curtain.

It was shocking. Horrifying beyond anything you could have prepared for.

He lay unmoving in the hydrotherapy tub in the ICU, burned over ninety percent of his body. You knew it would be bad, but you thought you had already cried your eyes dry when you were first told what had happened, and you stood in the hospital waiting room for hours begging every receptionist and nurse to tell you if he was going to live.

When they finally let you see him, you knew you had to be brave. Breaking down would only make it harder on him. Whatever you do, don’t react.

“Hey there,” you greeted him cheerfully like nothing was wrong. Don’t react. Monitors beeped steadily, and a strong antiseptic smell overpowered the smell of burning. His eyes lifted sluggishly, unfocused. Don’t... Your head swam, and you had to squeeze your eyes shut with all your might to force back the tears biting behind the lids. It felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs, and it was all you could do not to fall to your knees crying.

“Hard… to look at… huh?” he croaked after a while. You gasped at the sound of it, so pained that he had given up on forming proper words halfway through the question and ended it with a grunt. His voice was as charred as his flesh.

There was no skin left. None, except a few patches below the waist, cooling in the tub in an effort to preserve them. His hair was singed off down to the muscle, and the red remains of his scalp were blackened, cracked open and oozing in places. White teeth stood out in sharp contrast in his lipless mouth, like a skull. His lips were gone. Ripped off his face even before being burned alive by a serial killer who thought he was a fucking William Blake painting. A serial killer Will Graham had thrown in Frederick’s path, just to see what would happen.

Little fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brush’d away

You opened your eyes, surrendering to the tears that poured out unimpeded.

“I don’t know what to say,” you breathed, trying to collect your thoughts. You stepped up to the edge of tub and looked him directly in the eye, making a point of showing that his appearance wasn’t why you had to close your eyes. He had bigger things to worry about than what he looked like right now, but you were sure he was going to be acutely insecure about it. With his contact lens removed, his one dead eye completed the living-corpse effect, but you weren’t repulsed. “I was trying to think of something to say to you—something I could say that would make things better. Because I don’t want to ask a stupid question like ‘how are you feeling?’… or make cliché promises like it’s going to be OK. I tried to think of what I would want someone to say to me if I was the one lying there, but there’s nothing. Nothing I can say will magically make anything better, and I...”

The urge to hold him overwhelmed you. You wanted so badly to kiss him, but you couldn’t even touch him—not an inch of his scorched body—without hurting him more. Choked sobs broke through the tight constriction of your throat, and you gave up trying to speak, kneeling instead by the side of the water tank, your head leaning against its cold metal walls. It was all you could do, the closest you could get.

The last thing you wanted was to make him have to comfort you, but that was exactly what you did; Chilton started whispering sweet consolations to you, though every syllable was an effort, and without lips to press together he had great difficulty forming many sounds, and could no longer pronounce the letters b or p at all. You struggled to make out the words, but you understood the meaning behind them.

You just wanted to touch him again, and he felt the same way.

“Put your hand near mine,” he suggested, slow and raspy.

Carefully, you placed your palm down on the smooth white rim of the tub, avoiding medical tubing and wires, next to his. His wrist was restrained in a soft bandage to keep his arm from sliding off the edge and to keep the IV needles in place.

With painful effort, he stretched his fingers out. Even moving an inch hurt, the skin crisp and easily broken, but he gently touched the back of your hand. He released his muscles and let his hand relax on top of yours. A sigh of relief puffed from his chest. It was exhausting, but worth it.

You still wore your engagement ring, but his had to be cut off of him. A nurse had handed it back to you in pieces, the gold warped from the heat.

Chilton was furious with his situation. He was furious with Will Graham—his initial diagnosis of intelligent psychopath seemingly more accurate by the day. He was furious with Hannibal Lecter, with Jack Crawford, and with himself. Every part of his body screamed in pain the drugs could barely dull. He was grateful for one thing, however.

He was glad Dolarhyde had taken him in his car, and not at home. The goddamned Red Dragon. Francis Dolarhyde tortured him and killed two of his best bodyguards, but his modus operandi was murdering whole families. If Chilton had considered the risk, he would have never agreed to that interview. It was supposed to be publicity for his newest book, The Dragon Slayer. He pictured the headline: “Hero psychiatrist once again aids in the capture of serial killer.” If anything had happened to you, he wouldn’t have survived. He wouldn’t have wanted to.

God, he wished he could touch you. Wished you could comfort him. Wished he could feel anything besides pain. Would he ever kiss you again? Would whatever they could reconstruct of his face be something you would ever want to kiss? You stood by him through so much, but he could never ask you to walk through this hell with him.

*****

Two familiar voices spoke in hushed whispers outside the thin curtain. No. The hairs on the back of your neck bristled like an angry dog. Those were not the people you wanted to see right now.

“He’s trashed. You ought to get ready for this,” said the deeper of the voices, as if you couldn’t hear him.

Will Graham and Jack Crawford pulled back the curtain divider and entered the room, and you immediately leaped to your feet and rounded on them. You'd been holding in a scream since you saw Frederick burned, and now you unleashed it on them in full force.

“You bastards. You fucking bastards!”

Will’s eyes fell on Chilton, and regarded him with a disturbed, yet wholly unsurprised expression, like someone who set a mouse trap and now had to deal with the bloated carcass.

“Frederick, it’s Will Graham,” he said, ignoring you. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He wasn’t.

“He knows who you are,” you hissed through bared teeth. You would have screamed at him, physically pushed him out of the room, but you heard Frederick rasping, tongue moving behind his teeth as he tried to talk, his eyes locked on Will. You stood aside and let him speak for himself.

“You… set me… up. You knew it… You put your hand on me in the picture… like a pet.”

Will translated his broken speech for Crawford, and asked if he saw anything in the Red Dragon’s lair.

A blind black woman.

“Reba,” Crawford said. “The Dragon said her name when he called Lecter.”

With a lead to follow, the pair turned to leave.

“That’s it? That’s all you came here for, huh? You get your answers? Was it worth it?” you laughed bitterly. “Why the hell didn’t you protect him?!” you roared at Crawford, snarling savagely. “You gave Will a SWAT team when both of them were in that fucking article! Why wasn’t anybody watching him?”

Crawford shifted uncomfortably, unable to show the guilt he deeply felt while there was still a killer to catch. “We believed that the Dragon would—”

“Yeah, you believed he’d target Will, right?” you interrupted. “Because that’s what Will told you? You are at best a criminally negligent idiot being led around by the nose by psychopaths, and at worst, you are complicit in enabling them!” The fierce tears streaming down your face warned him better than to argue. You turned your fury back to Will where it truly belonged. “You! Stay the hell away from us. If you come near him again, I swear I’ll—” you spat, but stopped your threat short. You wanted to rip him limb from limb. You did. But saying you’ll kill someone was more than empty words around people like this. And the truth was, you didn’t have that in you. Not like Will did.

So you let them walk out without taking any revenge, or even promising to.

As soon as the curtain swished shut behind them, you wanted to fall to your knees again, but your anger hadn’t yet burned itself out. You turned on Frederick. “Stop getting involved with them! You keep trying to swim with the sharks, but you’re not a shark, Frederick—you’re chum on the water!” Your chest heaved with emotion and your voice was too hoarse to continue without a fresh round of tears.

Chilton wouldn’t dignify that analogy with a response, but grumpily turned his head away to stare at the opposite wall. At least you imagined it was grumpily—he was unable to cross his arms over his chest with annoyance, or leer haughtily through his brow which was singed to the bone, or curl his torn-off lips into a scowl, or even produce an offended growl from his raw throat, and yet you could see him doing all of it clearly in your head.

He was still your Frederick. He hadn’t changed. He never did. No matter what horrific punishment he suffered for his hubris, he would pick himself back up and continue to stick his nose where it didn’t belong until the fates knocked him down again. You admired that most about him—surviving the worst odds again and again, and keeping his ego intact. It was what first made you fall for him, all those years ago.

It never was pity at all, was it? It was always his strength that drew you in.

“I don’t… want you to get hurt again,” you explained, calmer, softer, your voice a trembling mess. “It’s a miracle you survived this, and I…” You wondered how much more could his body take before there was nothing left to recover—before he was nothing but a mass of scar tissue and empty space where bones and organs once were. But you couldn’t tell him that. He had to focus on healing now, not long-term outcomes. “I don’t want to lose you.”

He survived, but with massive trauma. It had to all add up. His blind eye, lost facial bones and teeth, missing organs, and now the majority of skin would be scar tissue and grafts. How many medications and risks of complications were stacking up? How many years were taken off his life? If he went septic before the grafts were completed he could he still die here in the ICU. If he made it out, he might still never move without pain again.

His maxillary prosthetic would get sore after wearing it for too long, but the sagging of his cheek and eyelid without it was also uncomfortable. It was difficult for him to reach things above his head because of the way stretching pulled at his abdominal scar. And those were small compared to this.

What would his life be now?

“You don’t have to stay… out of loyalty,” he wheezed, sensing the way your eyes drifted over his broken body.

“It’s alright,” you smiled through tears, the salt getting in your mouth, “I cleared my schedule. I’ve got nowhere else to be but here.”

“You know… what I mean…”

“Are you suggesting we call off the engagement because you can’t fuck for awhile?”

He made an attempt at a laugh that sounded like choking, then fixed you with a desperate gaze. “This is… not what you signed up for...” He knew he would never be the man you had wanted to marry again. He couldn’t ask you to help him through a long recovery, to look at the nightmare he had become and pretend to still love him.

“How uncharacteristically selfless of you, Dr. Chilton,” you teased, “but I just told you I don’t want to lose you. Asshole.”

His one good eye searched your face through a layer of tears that clung to its surface, but you couldn’t tell if he was smiling or frowning.

There was so little left of his face that was recognizable, but around the gaping hole of teeth the cheeks were still Chilton’s cheeks, the shape of his nose still Chilton’s nose. His one good eye was still the color of water at Chesapeake Beach.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so the only thing you should worry about is living long enough to make that happen. I’m never going to leave you, however bad things get. I love you, dummy. Always.”

Slowly, he released a breath he’d been holding since he was fished out of that fountain. The side of his mouth that always tugged up into a crooked smile when he was winning twitched. A contented, charred noise hummed in his throat. “You thought of something to say… to make it… a little better.”

#frederick chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #Hannibal #hospitals #sorry this wasn't a fix-it fic in the traditional sense #more of a 'at least someone holds your hand after the whump' fic #does a Chilton fic count as whump if his entire life is whump?#my writing

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aragima · 4 years

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hannibal questions! 🍖🔪

@nietzscheantrout @horrorlesbians and @hanniba1 wanted me to answer these hannibal questions and i wrote too much but oh well! thanks to all 3 of you ilu!!!

favorite episode and why: oh we’re just goin straight to the hard questions huh um OKAY so i think i can only do an ep a season - s1: SORBET SUPREMACY! you get to see the exact moment will looks at hannibal and thinks “.........shit. it’s him isn’t it. he’s The One. SHIT.” and that is so important to me - s2: this one is really hard maybe naka-choko? it’s so fucking gay and sexy. but tome-wan... but mizumono............ yeah idk - s3: torn between digestivo and the wrath of the lamb cuz they both hurt SOOO good much; i love will breaking up with hannibal and hannibal manipulating the situation so will can’t leave asldkjansk it’s so toxic we have to stan..... and for twotl i mean do i really have to give a reason every scene LIVES in my mind and it contains my favorite shot in the whole show:

that is LOVE baby! that is DESIRE! that is being ENTHRALLED!!!!

least favorite episode and why: i feel like they’re all so necessary that it’s kind of impossible to say but probably antipasto. i get sick of hannibal and bedelia’s shenanigans really quickly and as much as i hate to admit it... i miss will. i also think it was an extremely weak season opener and i blame it for getting the show canceled sjshshsgsg the resentment...

favorite side character: chiyoh or jimmy or actually wait— RANDALL TIER 🖤

if you could bring back one character who died, who would it be?: RANDALL FUCKING TIER. i want there to be a weird thing with him and hannibal and will going on. but also i love what his death did for will so idfk, other than him it’s gotta be beverly

dish prepared in the show that you would like to try eating/making: i was supposed to make hannibal’s osso bucco recipe like 3 weeks ago but it completely slipped my mind so i guess i’ll get on that my next grocery trip

which side character would you kill off?: chilton just because for god’s sake just let the man DIE ALREADY poor guy <- i’m taking ava’s answer because YEAH

was there any scene that you didn’t like to look at?: nah. the skin ripping scenes at the beginning of either kaiseki or sakizuki (idk i don’t remember, i hardly watch s2a) are particularly brutal but i tough it out

biggest ship: i mean do i even have to say

why did you start watching hannibal?: my wife, who was my girlfriend at the time, and her dad were watching it as it was airing and i was like “oh cool hannibal lecter origin story” but due to inconsistent access to the episodes i would just watch it randomly and that is... not the way to watch hannibal. i gave up around the end of s2 but knew hannigram was It regardless. i decided to watch s3 for the first time earlier this year just to have finished it and was like HOLD UP and did an immediate rewatch that left me... well, how i am now

favorite hannibal fic if you’ve read any?:

oh boy. yall ready for this? all of these can be found on ao3 obviously (i’m so sorry this is so long but i guess i’ve been asked to put together a fic rec anyway)

as soft, as wide as air by blackknightsatellite, the ladders series by emungere, blackbird by emungere, consenting to dream series by emungere, taken for rubies by emungere, at first meeting by emungere, protect me from what i want by @alienfuckeronmain, god of the cold, cold wars by highermagic, the abyss smiled back by highermagic, pomegranate seeds by highermagic, absolute zero by highermagic, in the truly gruesome do we trust by sidnihoudini, TKO by sidnihoudini, oh dear by lunarwench, each according to its kind by chapparral_crown, a flood in our hearts by nanoochka, let me sinful be by darlingred, uncomplicated by stratumgermanitivum & youaremydesign, good bones by @damnslippyplanet, like they do in babylon by @damnslippyplanet, your obedient servant by kareliasweet, past our satellites by shotgunsinlace, only the tender meat by isagel, the shape of me will always be you by missdisoriental, a white-walled room by rodabonor, spleen et idéal by rodabonor, the paper doll series by rodabonor, a common point of interest by rodabonor [i do NOT like a/b/o stuff but if i did... it’s this fic], just thought you should know by earthsickwithoutyou, the sacrificial lamb by princesskay, transcendent suffering by itsbeautiful, not something polite by moistdrippings, leave your message after the tone by onewhositswithturtles, holes in the floor of the mind by feverdreamblood, crossing caina by feverdreamblood, the archipelago series by melusine10, but seas between us braid hae roar’d by kareliasweet

have you watched any of the hannibal films?: yeah all of them except manhunter! i grew up watching silence of the lambs because my mom loved it and i went thru a big edward norton phase as a teen so i’ve seen red dragon like 10 times

have you read the thomas harris books?: no and i’m not going to lmao #fakefan

favorite murder tableau: if we’re talking just hannibal’s- the judge. if we’re talking Murder Bad But Kinda Pretty like in general probably the mushroom people or the totem

favorite blood spill: will imagining hannibal while he beats randall to death or The Gutting of Will Graham

what’re some of your headcanons?: - will is good at shibari (backed up in canon: his fishing knots, the firefly man’s full body hishi karada harness) - hannibal rarely listens to modern, non-classical music but he’s a björk fan and he saw one of her chapel performances during the vespertine era and was Moved - will listens to classic rock (zeppelin, the doors, pink floyd) with some classic country (patsy, merle, johnny) and blues (billie, muddy, bessie) thrown in. he’s also a sucker for early/mid-90s college rock/alternative/grunge - will plays the piano (because of the piano in his living room) and the harmonica (because he’s country white trash); he’s kind of shit tho - hannibal fell for will somewhere between “my thoughts are often not tasty” and “you won’t like me when i’m psychoanalyzed” (love at first sight! at last sight! at ever and ever sight!!!) - will’s circumcised, hannibal isn’t 🤪 - hannibal’s a gemini!!!! adaptable, creative, intelligent, outgoing, impulsive, etc - will’s an aquarius!!!!! analytical, a loner, temperamental, unique, compassionate, etc - will’s mom was jewish go read my fic about it https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774326 - hannibal is an agender man (tbh i think of this as canon, it’s just unstated/undefined) - hannibal can speak russian, spanish, and a teensy bit of portuguese in addition to the other languages we know he speaks (lithuanian, english, french, italian, japanese) - will speaks limited amounts of french; he learned it as a kid in louisiana - ED TW will sometimes has a Difficult relationship with food due to food instability by the way of poverty as a kid and goes through periods where it’s hard to keep himself fed, but hannibal is so good for him in that way because he keeps him from going hungry 😓 (yes this is me projecting but also it makes SENSE) - hannibal typically bottoms but THEY DEFINITELY ARE BOTH VERS and will never stops being surprised by how much he loves catching a dick. every time is like religious experience. okay? okay - they’re also both very kinky and switches but tbh.... will was made to Dom hannibal like that’s the reason he exists he could drag that old bitch around by a leash and hannibal would be in heaven HANNIBAL WOULD CALL HIM SIR - the first time they have sex hannibal comes like immediately but he isn’t embarrassed because he’s hannibal fucking lecter and hannibal lecter doesn’t get embarrassed - i have a hc for their favorite sex positions but i’m not gonna put that here because i don’t want yall calling me crazy any more than you probably already do but if you wanna know just DM me all i do is think about them fucking it’s a curse - okay no more dirty stuff abigail called hannibal “dad” on more than one occasion and it was half-joking but it also felt comfortable to her; she never thought to call will “dad” because he’s a weirdo and never knew her as much as he knew his idea of her - hannibal taught her to play piano at the cliff house - beverly is pansexual!!! - brian and jimmy kissed one time when they were drunk and they NEVER talk about it EVER - chiyoh is straight probably. i know, i know, everyone says she’s a lesbian and if she’s a lesbian to you that’s awesome! she’s a lesbian! but idk i just think she’s SO fucking straight and tbh i mourn bc that’s my wife. she could MAYBE be bicurious... - chiyoh is non-monogamous and doesn’t do serious relationships, she doesn’t like the idea of being tied to one person ever since she left the lecter castle - she helped hannibal and will escape after The Fall; she told hannibal she would continue to watch over him and i think she did, she got them a boat and got them the fuck out of there - MOLLY IS DOING SO MUCH BETTER WITHOUT WILL. SHE’S SO GLAD SHE GOT OUT OF THAT WHEN SHE DID. she has a good, long talk with alana and finds out all the shit about him and hannibal that will never told her (and it was a lot), gets drunk and burns all his shit, and then washes her hands of the whole thing; moves to a different state, gets a girlfriend, and never thinks about will again

okay i’m capping it there or i’m never gonna stop!! i’m not tagging anyone cuz i think everyone has done this by now lmao but if you’re a mutual who hasn’t and you want to just do it and say i tagged you!! mwah!!!!

#blood #long post #hannigram fic rec #hc

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hereticpriest · 5 years

Text

Bury a Friend Chapter 2

Warnings: Descriptions of stalking

The following two days were torture. Will had handed off his classes to take care of Rosalind, which ended up being difficult considering she didn’t want to be cared for. Her thank yous came through gritted teeth after the first couple of hours of Will not even letting her get her own glass of water. She went outside to sit on the porch, and he bundled her up in blankets even though she was perfectly fine with the dogs huddled around her for warmth. He wouldn’t let her cook, so all of her meals ended up being… satisfactory, at best. Will could cook a bit, but she had certainly got the bulk of the cooking talent. He took her further into Wolf Trap to get groceries, and she had gone into another aisle to grab only to turn back when Will began to call out for her in a panic. She was tempted to hold onto his shirt for the rest of the day just to reassure him that she was still there, and so he could stop looking for her every five seconds.

When Hannibal showed up on day three, he could hear the fallout of overprotective siblings going on inside. He approached the porch, listening in to see what exactly he was walking in on, watching the siblings through the front window.

“You were just attacked, Rosie, you can’t blame me for being a bit worried for you.” Will’s voice was raised, but he wasn’t shouting. Yet.

“Will, we are in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, Virginia. I think you can take your eyes off of me for five whole minutes without me getting raped and murdered.” Rosalind’s voice was raised slightly though not as loud as her brother. She was clearly trying harder than Will to keep her cool, and showing she was breaking by swearing.

“Jesus, Rosie!” Will slammed his hands down on the kitchen table, back to his sister so he couldn’t see how she flinched at the sound. Hannibal watched her shoulders stay tensed up, her chest fluttering with her rapid breathing.

“Sue me for being worried about you.” Will snapped, then breathed in harshly, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You’re smothering me, Will. You sat outside the door while I bathed. You know, that’s almost creepier than if you’d just sat in the goddamn bathroom. I opened the door and you scared the hell out of me.” Rosalind’s voice was steady again, but Will turned to face her looking almost angry.

“Rosie, I’m not trying to smother you, but you used to sneak out through the bathroom window when we were kids and I remember that. I’m trying to protect you!” Will’s voice was raised again. Hannibal began to climb the porch stairs.

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to do that considering what happened? You know what? Don’t answer that. Why don’t you go pick out a collar and lead for me, huh?” Hannibal smirked a little at the thought, “Get me one of those ankle bracelets they give criminals. Or have you already tagged me with something?”

Will tensed, and Rosalind growled, “Oh my god, Will, did you fucking tag me with something?”

“No!” Will shouted, and Hannibal took this chance to knock on the door and interrupt the argument. The door swung open to reveal Rosalind, her face flush with contained rage, and Will standing not too far back with an almost identical flush.

“Have I come at a bad time?” Hannibal asked, and he almost smiled when Rosalind took his hand and led him in like he was her saviour.

“No, of course not. Thank you for coming, Dr. Lecter. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Hey Hannibal, I wasn’t expecting you.” Will slumped down into an armchair, while Rosalind sat on the couch with Hannibal.

“I apologize for not calling in advance. I got out early from my appointments and decided to head up to visit and see if you would like a change of scenery.” Rosalind’s face brightened at that, and Will sighed as if both relieved and infuriated.

“I would love a change of scenery.” Rosalind replied, softening up immediately, “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I do not have any patients tomorrow, and then we have the dinner party arranged. I thought you could spend the night tonight, and perhaps we can go out tomorrow to find you something to wear for the party. If you have any interest, you can help me prepare food. If not, you could practice dancing, perhaps.” Hannibal offered, and Rosalind nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh that sounds lovely, thank you.”

“Hannibal, are you sure you can take care of Rosalind in public? We don’t know if he’s here yet, if he knows where she is.” Will shoved his hands in his pockets, and Rosalind shrugged.

“I’ll just have to get a gun, then.” Rosalind replied, “I’ve got bear mace and a legal knife, so that’s something.”

“I will take care of your sister, Will. I’m confident I can handle it.” Hannibal replied, and Will nodded.

“Keep your phone on you, and turned on, at all times.” Will said to his sister, “No ifs ands or buts. Not silenced, not left in the car or in another room. On your person. Do you still have the lockpick blade I gave you?”

“Yes dad. And yes, it’s still my waistband.” Rosalind replied sharply, though she looked cowed when Hannibal tutted.

“Your brother is looking out for you. You’re being too hard on him, just as he is being too hard on you.” Hannibal chastised her gently, “Go and pack a bag for a couple of nights. Will, you’ll still be attending the dinner tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Will promised, stopping Rosie as she passed him to give her shoulders a squeeze. She hugged him firmly.

“I’m sorry, Will.”

“Me too, Rosie.” Will gripped her tight for a second, then let her go and watched her ascend the stairs. He sat back down in the armchair with a heavy sigh, giving Hannibal a tired sort-of smile.

“She’ll be safe with me, Will.” Hannibal promised, and he meant it. He found himself surprisingly reluctant to even entertain the idea of hurting her. He’d only just opened the box, he didn’t want to break the toy before he’d even begun to play with it.

“I know. I know, I just wish seeing her again could’ve been a happy thing, you know? I made sure to keep her out of things for a reason. I didn’t want her getting hurt. It feels like I gave up a lot of time with one of the only people who really understands me… for nothing. For her to get stalked, hide it from me, and then get attacked.” Will grabbed a folio from one of his side tables, holding it out to Hannibal. He took it, opening it to find a file on Rosalind Graham. It began basic, typical information in a case file, but once he got past the outline, he found copies of emails, letters, and texts sent to Rosalind. There were transcripts of phone calls that were unnerving even with just a cursory glance. Last was the photos. They started out public: Rosie getting coffee, dancing at the ballet studio, group yoga in the park, and running by the water. They soon turned to what he figured was her house, first from afar, but soon closer. Pictures of different rooms through the windows, close enough that he must’ve been standing right outside. The last were the worst. A series of photos of Rosalind changing, naked from the shower, and even one of her masturbating that had been covered with a post it to warn of the content.

“This is…” Hannibal trailed off, closing the file and looking up at Will. He felt a bit of a stir seeing the details of her stalking, intrigued by the depths this man went to, and even more so by the reaction of the woman so far. He was excited to get her talking and having her rely on him.

“It’s a lot, I know. I made that copy for you because I was hoping you’d take a look and give me your thoughts. I have another copy upstairs.” Will removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, “I’ll send you the digital files. There’s audio for the phone calls, a couple of videos he sent her, and a mixtape he made for her. Uh, I’ll warn you though, there’s apparently a video of her getting undressed and… uh…”

“Like the last picture?” Hannibal asked, to save Will from dying of embarrassment.

“Yeah… Like that. He uh… recorded it and occasionally filmed himself… enjoying it.” Will nodded, clearing his throat.

“I will give you my notes after dinner on Friday.” Hannibal replied, standing and buttoning his jacket again as he heard Rosie descending the stairs.

“I’m ready when you are, Dr. Lecter.” Rosalind approached the sofa, touching Hannibal’s shoulder delicately as she passed him to sit on the arm of Will’s chair. Will steadied her with a hand on the small of her back as she leaned down to hug him. Rosie pressed a kiss to his forehead, cupping his cheeks.

“I love you, big brother. I promise you I won’t do anything stupid, and I won’t leave Dr. Lecter’s side unless it is to sleep. I won’t do anything to endanger myself.” Rosalind promised, laughing at Will’s gentle attempts to get her off of him.

“Rosie, stop kissing me, you’re so gross.” Will complained, which only made Rosalind laugh and kiss his forehead again. She knew he was mostly fighting the affection for show. He’d been starved of it for some time, as had she.

“Aww, Will, I don’t have cooties.” Rosalind laughed as Will put his palm to her face and pushed her away. Hannibal stood, and Rosalind stood with him, obediently getting off of her brother like the doctor’s mere movement was a command.

“Come Miss Graham, I would like to get you settled in before dinner.” Hannibal placed a hand on her lower back and slowly guided her towards the door, taking her bag with the other hand to carry it himself. Rosalind toed on her shoes and followed him out the door, tossing a quick “Bye Will!” over her shoulder. Hannibal led her to the car, opening the door for her, and she smiled fondly at him. Another stir. He put her bags in the back seat, along with her file.

“Thank you. I apologize, I didn’t ask before. May I call you Hannibal?”

“As long as I can call you Rosalind.” Hannibal replied, settling into the driver’s seat and starting his car. He pulled back onto the road and began the long drive home.

“Of course, Hannibal.” Rosie rolled his name on her tongue, then offered him a small smile, “Lithuania?”

Hannibal raised his brows at her, looking first confused, then impressed, “Yes, I was born there.”

“My form teacher was born in Germany, but she grew up in Lithuania. She has a seriously thick Lithuanian accent because she only moved to the US a year before she started teaching me. Yours is quite pleasant. Though, that may also be because you aren’t slapping my thighs and telling me my posture is horrific.” Rosalind laughed softly, while Hannibal raised his brows and contemplated the image.

“I’m glad my accent is pleasing.” Hannibal teased, offering her a little smirk that had her smiling in return, “I’m also happy that you are comfortable around me. I had worried, considering the circumstances.”

“I’m good at reading intentions. And while I don’t think you’re half as innocent as you want to appear, I don’t think you have any sort of interest in hurting me.” Rosalind replied, looking over at him to watch how he reacted to her comment. He looked over at her, catching her eyes and offering a slow smirk before he returned his gaze to the road.

“You have nothing to fear from me.” Hannibal confirmed, feeling a stirring inside of him that he hadn’t felt before. A pleasing warm buzz that made him feel strangely good. It was similar to how he felt when he met Will, but not identical.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal lecter/oc #hannibal lecter/original character

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itsybitsylemonsqueezy · 7 years

Text

Gotham 4x04: A Liveblog

Once again, friends, I come to you with review and summary of the latest Gotham events. And Ed’s back this time. ...god help us all.

TL;DR - I wonder what’s happening in the REAL Gotham where character motivation still makes sense

Ben, whatever happens, I’m holding you personally responsible

Side Note: what exactly IS an embalming knife? Like... where does a knife come into the embalming process? Is this the knife you use to carve out the mushy bits, is that it? Because like... to my knowledge, embalming is a primary function of embalming liquid. Like... mostly it’s preserving and shit. And I don’t know how a knife preserves fuck all. But maybe someone who knows anthropology or mortician practices can explain this to me.

“That cuneiform is definitely pre-Venetian” ...did... did I just hear that right? Oh, PHOEnician... that makes way more sense. I was just... had a heart attack for a second. Carry on.

Look Bruce, you could have a friend your own age! Or... you know, continue to live alone with your butler like... all normal kids do. I suppose you have Cat but... mmm. mm.

...Ed’s fine. He’s fine. Upside down in his... obsession pit. He’s fine.

It’s a TOTALLY NORMAL and HEALTHY thing to paste thousands of pictures of your ex all over the walls while you contemplate revenge, yeah that... this is fine. It’s all Fine.

You’re uh... looking a little ramshackle and disheveled there Ed, OH HEY KNIFE. HI, uh... Okay. Did you fucking... DRAW sketches of Oswald yourself? Oh my god Ed... oh my god. See you haven’t changed at all really.

Yeah, he seems fine

Meanwhile, stuffed birds all over the place. I’m sure that’s... fine

You know, it’s pretty great how ancient cultures are always keen to write their hellish prophecies on their murder weapons, always appreciate that

UHHHHHH SABER SKELETON. UHHHHHH. UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. *Randall Tier flashbacks* UMMM UMMM UMMM UMMM. I JUST UH. I FEEL LIKE YOU GUYS MIGHT WANT TO BE CAREFUL WITH THE ALLUSIONS YOU’RE MAKING GUYS. YOU DON’T HAVE A WILL GRAHAM TO SAVE YOU.

Just... just all of the safe. All of the safe.

Maybe uh... maybe don’t talk about the Demon’s Head being a person and then cut to a saber skeleton. Maybe we don’t encourage brutal fledgling serial killers hahahahaha.

That uh... sure is some hair, there, Alexander Siddig. God this show’s aesthetic is fucking weird.

...this whole sequence has been nothing but Hannibal allusions.

They are REALLY pushing for the Hannibal aesthetics. Got a real crush on that show.

Look Bruce! Your new friend has ALSO been traumatized by witnessing the death of his guardian! You have so much in common!

*frowns* Harvey left and didn’t tell Jim??? Like, given what happened this summer, I can totally understand Donal not being around for filming but... write it better than “Harvey left and didn’t tell Jim” Because that’s bullshit.

I also DO NOT WANT TO PARTICIPATE in a love triangle where 2 women fight over Jim’s soul NO NO NO NO NO. So if that’s where this is going FUCK OFF, FUCK EVERYTHING, AND FUCK YOU.

Welp, seeing another dead guardian should stir some shit up for Bruce

At least this sends Jim back to Barbara... I mean, that’s not really a positive, but at least I don’t hate Jim and Barbara, mainly because they have the stamp of canon on them

I don’t know how I feel about Babs hair this season, it’s... different

Okay, HARD NO on Ra’s-al-Ghul’s underlings, HARD NO. I just came from American Gods and THAT IS NOT ANUBIS. For one thing he’s white. What.

Intense staring contest with bowler hat. Oswald’s So Over It.

What’re you expecting Ed to jump out of it? Holy shit Oswald, calm down

I... you didn’t want to be disturbed... during your staring contest with the hat??? I... okay. Also, maybe close your fucking door then, it was wide open. Just saying.

Huh... Oswald and Sofia are meeting. Okay. Better put the masturbation hat away then Oswald, it’s a little too revealing

Hmmm... be careful Oswald. You’re right to be wary of her, don’t let her fool you. Also, Maybe Talk To Jim About This.

...White Rabbit. Really. *long, put upon sigh*

AAAAAAAAAAND the worst rap of all time! Well DONE Ed!

Oswald’s reactions to this are everything. Bless you Oswald. I love you. 100% everything I feel too.

Belated Side Note: Zsasz used to work for Falcone, and Falcone has taken control of him back from Oswald on occasion. Why then does Zsasz offer to stab Sofia? Is he truly loyal to Oswald now? Or was his relationship exclusively with Carmine? OR is it a bluff and Sofia’s already tapped him? Or will she tap him later? Lots of questions... lots of questions.

Yeah because WHY would you murder the guy??? It’s WAY more healthy for your psychological state to just... keep him on ice forever. That’s progress.

“I want Ed Nygma” we... we know Oswald. we know.

Always, ALWAYS the fucking docks. Goddddd. PLEASE GET A NEW SPOT YOU TWO.

Also, Oswald, DID YOU NOT LISTEN TO THAT??? That WASN’T a riddle, that was... statements. His brain is SHOT. God knows what a second spell in the ice will do.

Also also, I can guarantee that Ed won’t even be at the docks because he’s a dumbass now. And somehow the obvious answer will be wrong.

Um, frankly, I wouldn’t trust Bruce if I was Alex, Bruce is 100% the person who got Alex’s granddad killed. I’d be super pissed at Bruce. But... y’know, okay, whatever. Moving the plot forward.

Ahhh, Alex is giving Bruce the benefit of the doubt, I see. Nice kid. Very generous in his grief.

Also, why the shit would he come after you? He wanted the KNIFE, that’s it. I mean... I guess you’re a witness, but he didn’t see you so he doesn’t know about you. You’re not in danger kid. At least, not so much danger the police can’t take care of it, for once. You’re very much safe as houses until the plot inevitably fucks this up.

It would be a good idea to give up the knife tho, then you’re really in the clear

How the FUCK is Ra’s-al-Ghul at the library! How does he know to come here? Presumably he knew to come to the antiquities room because he was tracking Bruce because Babs told him to... I guess he could have tracked Bruce here then. Meh.

Ah yes. The creatures. Fuck that.

White people speaking ancient Middle Eastern languages. Mmmm nothing like it.

Ah, the old collapsing book case technique! Because no one thinks to GET OUT OF THE WAY of that shit. Nah, just gotta stand here and be crushed by the 3 ton weight of literature. It was my destiny to die this way.

Oh, I see, you’re just going to make like a harmless academic and this knife has been in your family for generations, of course...

You’re awfully paranoid kid. I mean... I suppose you were attacked now, so... I guess that’s justified

Uhhhh, kid, Bruce is not a Good Example of literally anything. He’s been training to become the world’s most popular vigilante for a few years now and that was born out of this very trauma so... y’know, don’t compare yourself to him. Please don’t. We don’t need more Batmans.

“No, you’re cool” I think you mean wealthy. Wealthy and cool CAN intersect but I feel like this is a classism thing. Let me provide you with a book on Marxism, kid.

If this doesn’t turn into another exploration of sexuality subplot, I’m gonna be disappointed

Uh, if he’s here on international business, like... check his visa Jim, he should have legal paperwork and shit to take that knife back to Nepal

JIM. WHY ARE YOU TELLING A MURDER SUSPECT THAT THERE IS A LIVING WITNESS. YOU’RE ACTIVELY PUTTING THE KID IN DANGER HOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT NOT GOOD PROTOCOL JIM. Unless you were planning to trip him up on a lie, THIS IS NOT GOOD PROCEDURE JIM. THIS IS A HANNIBAL LEVEL FUCK UP. AS PEOPLE CONTINUE TO TELL HANNIBAL, THE ACTUAL CHESAPEAKE REAPER, SENSITIVE CASE DETAILS ALL THE FUCKING TIME. HOLY SHIT NO.

This... this whole interrogation is a shit show, oh my god, not great work, very bad work, the both of you. Awful lying, Get Good.

Welp. I guess Ra’s-al-Ghul can teleport. Or turn fucking invisible. Glad that’s very justified. Everyone know if you get resurrected you get Special Powers. The divine amniotic sack gives to all.

Yeah because Sofia Totally Won’t Challenge Penguin For Power. That Defs Won’t Happen. And It Especially Won’t Involve Jim.

Oswald You Good. You Good Good Good Villain. How I Love Thee.

Brilliant babe who is rightfully suspicious after 3 seasons of this bullshit. Y’all fucking forget that Oswald is a sewer rat, you cannot trick him.

Oh boo hoo Sofia, I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you

Her criticism may be valid, BUT, on the other hand, as I said, Oswald’s lived through 3 seasons of this bullshit, while you lived the high life in Cuba. You might have your father’s perspective, but you don’t have any of Oswald’s hands-on experience. I still stand by Oswald’s decision to just murder them, he’s played the politics here long enough to know there is no loyalty amongst thieves. Not for him.

You know, it’s very considerate of Ra’s-al-Ghul to break shit every time he enters a scene so we know he’s here. Very thoughtful of him.

Oh it’s his fucking creatures again... ugggghhhhhhh...

More quality rapping! Good job Ed! Continuing to be the Best!

HAHAHAHAHA *more Randall Tier flashbacks* HAHAHAHAHAHA! ALL of the Hannibal allusions! Phew!

...no. no to the bone gag. just no.

Yeah, kid’s dead. Good job Ra’s-al-Ghul, at least you come through on your weird ass threats.

I mean... Ra’s totally made you make that call tho Bruce, this is his sick game, it’s on him. No one should have to decide between the death of one innocent or the deaths of millions of innocents. That’s a bullshit moral quandary that doesn’t actually exist. He wants you to think like he thinks, that’s all, this is psychological warfare, that’s the whole point. Remind yourself he did this, not just for the active murder, but more so because he thinks there is something to be gained by making you do this. He’s the asshole responsible.

Ed, I’m just... sweetie, pumpkin, if your point is to prove Oswald is a coward or an idiot, then... you proved it. Running after him sorta... disproves your point. If you want to meet him and murder him then... make that the point. Just... show up and murder him in the first place. *siiiigh* Or invite him to a cordial murder, whatever, but don’t make it a contest of wits if what you rally want is a confrontation. Get your shit together.

*nods* He’s right, they do suck, they were AWFUL

This... that... was bizarre. This was bizarre. What... exactly does Oswald want? I don’t understand. I know Ed isn’t himself anymore, but... you could help him. You could help him become himself again. And you both hate and are afraid of the Riddler. Why... would you want him back? As you just said, you want him only to freeze him. And just... that personality wasn’t even WHOLE, it was a fractured disaster. That wasn’t even a person. Just like this isn’t even a person. Why would you taunt Ed with saying “you’re not him”? I know you want Ed as an equal, but... do you think he can only be your equal as the Riddler? Who you hate and fear? You’ve got some weird ideas floating around in your head, Oswald. I would make the argument that you don’t hate or fear the Riddler nearly as much as you claim to and you want to bang the living daylights out of him, but like... *siiiigh* I dunno. You didn’t always want that. You wanted Ed to be whole and your equal. Nothing you’ve seen of him since he was your chief of staff has been real. None of it, all of it was a mistake, aborted attempts at personalities. And I just don’t know what you want anymore if you won’t take this broken, defunct Ed and help him.

You’re pushing him towards becoming the Riddler again, so I guess that’s what you want. And maybe you’re tired of being his mentor, after all, you tried that, reluctantly, and that went SO well. Maybe you hope/expect him to work it out for himself, and come back to you when he’s ready. That would put your relationship in a WAY different paradigm than it has been... but... okay??? I guess??? I’m having another time of not knowing what the hell the writers want for them

Why. why why why why. I hate everything.

I hate Jim so much

Ben You Done Fucked Up.

#Gotham spoilers #This season might kill my entire interest in the show #Nothing about this episode was satisfying #Everything felt like lukewarm mush #I am not excited about anything that happened #Ugh

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victorineb · 7 years

Text

Alana Finds Out: Zombies!

Another instalment of AFO in honour of Ladies of Hannibal week... in which Alana faces the possible end of the world... and some other unfortunate revelations.

(Also a small warning: there are mentions of offstage character deaths here. None of the major characters are affected, but be prepared in any case.)

Also on AO3.

“…the attackers can be stopped by removing the head or destroying the brain.”

Alana stood watching the television she hadn't even known Hannibal owned, transfixed by the impossibility of what she was seeing. On the screen, a news anchor, sweating through his shirt and a face-full of makeup, was giving details of what no one could any longer deny was the rise of the undead.

“Alana,” Hannibal had appeared behind her silently, his hand on her arm causing her to jump, “I think it is time to go.”

She turned to face him and froze. The man in front of her looked very much like Hannibal Lecter, except he was dressed in jeans, heavy boots and a leather jacket and appeared to have strapped the katana from his bedroom to his back.

“Hannibal, what…”

“The transport is outside, Alana, it is time for you to go.”

She looked up from his unfamiliar ensemble, taking in the firm set of his mouth, the sad look in his eyes. “Why aren't you coming?”

“I have a friend out there who requires my help.”

Alana didn't have to wonder. “You're going to find Will. Even after what he did, what he accused you of?”

Hannibal nodded. “You know as well as I that Will is not guilty.”

In the face of the zombie apocalypse, Alana found it all too easy to accept the truth of this, as well as something else she now knew should have been obvious. “You're in love with him.”

“Yes. I'm sorry if that upsets you but if there still exists a chance to keep him safe, I must take it.”

Alana considered getting upset for a moment but she had never seen her progression from Hannibal's friend to his lover as anything more than a clutch for comfort by either of them. Not to mention, the presence of the armed transport outside, courtesy of Jack Crawford’s calling in of every favour he'd ever earned, rather shortened the timeframe for confrontations. Instead, she simply wrapped her arms around Hannibal, with the words, “Don't be too reckless. Take care of him.” She drew back and met his eyes, “And be honest with him. No metaphors, no literary allusions, no exquisitely crafted obfuscations. Just tell him. I'm reasonably certain you'll get the response you want.”

Hannibal’s eyes lit at this, in a way she'd never seen before. “You are?”

She shrugged, feeling surprisingly light-hearted in the face of the end of both her relationship and, potentially, the world. “The other reason I told him I couldn't date him? When the pair of you aren't trading elegant couplets on the subject of murder, you're eye-banging like no one else can see you. It's not subtle.”

It was this final sentence that meant, as she took her bags to the door, the last thing Alana saw of her former lover, was the unexpectedly beautiful sight of Hannibal Lecter blushing.

Three years later.

Alana would know those curls anywhere.

She was in Florida, helping a colleague to run a week of counselling sessions for traumatised survivors. Given that mostly everyone still alive in the US qualified as such, these events were always utter chaos, a barely controlled swell of emotion coupled with endless paperwork and administration. The chances that Alana would catch glimpse of a living, breathing Will Graham in any context were, she contemplated, microscopic. That she would, through the packed crowds of the conference centre, simply glance towards the refreshments table to see him struggling one-handed with a coffee pot seemed impossible to the point of absurdity.

And yet.

Alana excused herself from her colleagues and crossed the room, almost in a daze. Just before she could reach him, though, she realised with horror that the reason for Will's struggle was the total absence of his left arm. His shoulder simply ended abruptly in a stump, covered with fabric neatly tailored to his altered form. Alana was used to such injuries – there had been far greater call for medics than psychiatrists during the last few years and Alana had found herself in field hospitals all across the country – but she couldn’t keep the words from leaving her lips.

“Oh, Will.”

He turned, clearly surprised to hear his name, still holding the pot in his remaining hand. She watched his eyes light with recognition as he set down the coffee and pulled her in for an embrace.

“Alana, you’re alive! I wasn’t sure, I… I don’t have the connections I had before.” He pulled back to look at her properly. “You’re ok? You’re safe, happy?”

“All of the above.” She felt a huge grin cross her face, the same reflected a second later on Will’s. It faded after a moment, though, as she glanced at the space where his arm should have been.

Will caught her look and said, “It’s ok, it could’ve been so much worse. Should have been. I got bit,” Alana’s head snapped up and she stared at him. “I know. Thought I was done for sure. It was only because of the guy with me, he took my arm off the second after the thing got hold of me. Kept the infection from spreading. Another second…” he trailed off, eyes clouded for a second, then shrugged. “I figure, an arm’s not that much of a sacrifice. And other than that, I’m a hell of a lot healthier than I was pre-apocalypse.”

Alana took a moment to look him over. Will was right – where she had known a scruffy, twitchy, often sweaty mess of a man who concealed his looks behind stubble and poor eye contact, the man before her now was neat and clean, smartly groomed and dressed in simple but elegant clothes. He also looked healthy, well-fed and clear-skinned, with an ease in his posture that she had never seen before. More than anything, though, he was meeting her eyes without hesitation, the expression in them so warm and genuine she wondered how she had ever thought him capable of violence and murder.

She smiled, feeling a prickle of tears in her eyes and then laughed, blinking them away. “The end of the world clearly agrees with you.” Will barked out a laugh, the same one she remembered, and she reflected gladly that some things remained unchanged. Then, without warning, she blurted, “I'm so sorry I didn't believe you, Will.”

He cast his eyes away for a second but then looked back and shrugged. “It's ok. I wouldn't have believed me. It's forgotten.”

“And… you're a free man? They didn't try to put you back in?”

“They made some perfunctory noises about it but, given my exemplary service to the nation in zombie massacring, as well as the fact that pretty much all the evidence against me was lost one way and another, they didn't pursue it too hard. Apparently the going rate for freedom is a couple hundred undead and my total’s well above that, thus I am a fully certified member of the post-apocalyptic society.” He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I'm not letting you go anytime soon, Bloom,” Will told her, taking her hand and dragging her to a couch in the corner. They sat and he looked seriously at her. “Do you know what happened to the others? Crawford? Katz and her boys?” Alana noticed that he didn't say anything about Hannibal and realised, the thought sinking like a stone within her, that if Hannibal wasn’t with Will, it was because he had died trying.

The tears returned to Alana’s eyes and Will’s expression dropped. She pulled herself together, took a deep breath and told him. “Zeller died early on. He was out on duty when the bodies at the crime scene…” she sniffled, “he went out fighting but he wouldn’t have had a clue what was going on. He wasn’t turned, they just… destroyed him. Price was distraught, of course, Beverly too. He’s still alive, got a partner and kids, named his son Brian. He says if the kid doesn’t develop a terrible sense of humour and a fascination with dead bodies he won’t have done his job right.” Will grinned weakly, his own eyes sparkling with tears.

Alana clutched tightly at his hand with both of hers. She had hoped never to tell this next part ever again. “Jack… Jack’s dead too. He…” Alana was openly crying now. “He made sure he got everybody to safety that he could. Then he… god, Will, he helped Bella to go. They were found in their bed together, there was a syringe next to her and a bullet in his head. He left a note, said that he was tired of fighting monsters and since Bella couldn’t follow him, he’d follow her.” Will pulled her tight against himself and they sobbed together.

Eventually, they quietened and Will leaned back, saying, “He was a great man. A gigantic, bull-headed bear of a great man. I’m glad they were together at the end.” He squeezed her hand and then a frown crossed his brow. “What about Beverly? Is she…”

“Don’t worry. Not all my stories are sad.” Alana took a deep breath and tried to shake off her grief. “Beverly Katz is alive, a decorated hero of the war on zombies and, other than losing an eye in combat, is both hale and hearty and every bit the snarky, badass bitch she ever was.”

The relief in Will’s eyes was dazzling. “Saved the best for last, huh? I bet she really pulls off the eye patch.”

“I think so,” Alana agreed, “it’s really the main reason I married her.”

Will’s stunned expression was a picture. “What?” he nearly squealed. “You and Katz?”

Alana held up her left hand to show off her wedding ring. “She’s pretty amazing. And stupidly hot when smiting the undead.”

Will grinned and launched himself at her for yet another hug. She felt him chuckle against her and say, “Remember when I kissed you?”

“I faintly recall.”

“Really barking up the wrong tree, huh?”

“My finding you attractive was never the problem, Graham.” She smacked him lightly on the head. “Though I must admit, I like the new look better than the flannel.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s a reason for that.” Will released her and held up his own hand, displaying a gold band. “Snap. Wrong hand, of course, but completely official.”

“You got married? To who? Is she here, can I meet her?”

Will grinned, looking pleased with himself. “I believe my darling spouse should be arriving soon. I’ll give you all the gory details when I can make the introductions.”

“You’d better.” Alana decided she had to ask, before Will’s wife appeared and the chance was lost. “Will, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but the last time I saw him, Hannibal was on his way to try to save you from Chilton’s hospital. He… he was in love with you, you know.” Will looked down. “I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t want to know that but… did he ever find you, did you ever see him again?”

From behind her, a familiar voice interjected, “Who else do you know could cut off a man’s arm and then convince him to marry them?”

Will’s grin could’ve lit the city. “Alana, I’d like you to meet my husband, Dr Hannibal Lecter.”

Alana turned to raise her eyes along all six-foot plus of her former mentor, finding herself unable to move. Hannibal seemed relatively unharmed, save for a wicked-looking scar that ran the length of one cheekbone. Seeing her shock, he grinned from ear to ear and Alana realised, as he leaned down for a hug, that she had never seen such an open expression on his face. Indeed, as Hannibal crossed to his husband, stealing a kiss before sitting behind him and pulling Will back against his chest, she realised how little resemblance this relaxed, loose-limbed, contented man bore to the one she had known before.

“She looks a little dazed, don't you think darling?” Will asked teasingly.

“Positively stunned, dearest,” agreed Hannibal.

“So, I was right about the eye-banging,” Alana interjected, not wanting to let them win.

As Hannibal smirked behind him, Will exclaimed, “What the hell does that mean?”

After they'd finished laughing, they exchanged war stories for a couple of hours, Hannibal equally delighted to hear of Alana’s marriage and Alana entirely unsurprised it took less than two weeks after Hannibal had rescued Will from the BSHCI for their first kiss to occur.

Eventually, as the venue began closing for the night, Hannibal said, “Alana, we would love to have you for dinner.” Will seemed to choke a little as Hannibal clarified, “For you to come to our house to eat dinner.”

“You still cook, Hannibal?”

Will snorted. “As if the end of the world could stop him.”

“Yes,” Alana continued, “but you always cooked meat and it's so hard to come by now.”

“In fact, my darling husband has adjusted well to a vegetarian diet,” Will told her. “Claims a couple of years killing zombies kinda did for his bloodlust.” His eyes twinkled as he looked up at Hannibal, whose eyes crinkled in response. Clearly Alana was missing some inside joke but she chose not to pry.

“In any case,” Hannibal added, “cutting off a large part of the man you love,”

“With a katana,” Will added.

“…has the unfortunate side effect of making butchery somewhat less appealing.”

Alana began to laugh at that, with the two men joining soon after and it took a couple of minutes for them to compose themselves. Finally, she regained enough breath to say, “A vegetarian dinner cooked by Hannibal Lecter. I knew there was a reason I survived the zombie apocalypse.”

#ladies of hannibal #hannibal fic #hannigram fic #hannibal #hannigram #alana finds out #my fic #zombie au

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elfnerdherder · 7 years

Text

The Fault in My Code: Ch. 11

You can read Chapter 11 on Ao3 Here

Chapter 11: One Eye Green, One Black

There were seven on the SWAT team, and only one of them had mismatched eyes –one green and one black. Much like the military, the psychiatric evaluations were intense enough that Will was convinced of the man’s bearing and mental fortitude without having to actually speak with him. It wasn’t until midnight, when the other squad members went to their appropriate placements throughout the hotel and the buildings surrounding that he even bothered to speak to Will, let alone make a conversation of it.

“Coffee?” he asked Will.

“Thanks.”

Another silence. This one was broken by the occasional sound of cups scuffing the particle board of the end table, the clearing of throats as Will perused Francis Dolarhyde’s patient file.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” the man said at last, the beginning of real words. Will immediately missed the silence.

“I’ll bet.”

“Your insight into soulmates has made it possible for people like me to do my job and not get shit for it.”

“You’re no different than anyone else,” Will assured him, and maybe it was his tone that made the man laugh, a curt bark.

“Oh, no, I’m plenty different. I’ve got a soulmate cross-country right now, and I don’t feel a damn lick of pain. What’s that say about me?”

“That you build effective forts and barriers within your mind to compartmentalize thoughts, feelings, and ideals into their respective places without the lines blurring,” said Will after a moment of thought. “So I’d say you’re right; you’re plenty different because most people can’t do that.”

“Can you do that, Dr. Graham?”

“No,” he said, surprised at his own honesty.

“Why were you so keen on studying soulmates without having one? What made you care so much about it when it didn’t affect you?” the man asked. The Velcro patch on his shirt dubbed him with the last name of Thomas.

“Because it does. The social behaviors, laws, and interactions of people around us due to the general culture of soulmates within our country means that everyone, from the bonded to the seeking to the indifferent, are affected.” And because I wanted to know the many ways in which to avoid one, he added silently.

“I did some training in Europe for awhile,” Thomas said. “Then I was in Asia, working with American ambassadors on security details.”

“The statistics for soulmates in eastern countries are vastly different,” Will said. “Young aged pairings that aren’t realized until the age when the child can communicate their feelings without the use of screaming, then averaging at about thirty years old with large gaps in between.”

“Here it’s a regular old Romeo and Juliet, what with all of the teenage pairings,” Thomas said with a snort. “In South Korea, we were told it was rude to just stare into everyone’s eyes, so we didn’t. There weren’t as many soulmates, at least; if there were, it was hard to tell, kind of like Sweden with all them blue eyes.”

“There are many shades of brown, the lighting shifting over each and every one of them; the darker pigment makes it difficult to tell, but they are just as varied as blue and green,” Will replied. The thought led him to Francis Dolarhyde, which led him to Red Dragon. Two brown eyes, partial-soulmate.

“It was almost a ceremony for them to date for a long time, then go through the process of looking into one another’s eyes. If they didn’t feel the connection the next day, then they made the choice to break up or continue dating.”

“How are you with your soulmate, Thomas?” Will couldn’t help but ask. Silence, the exchange of coffee cups taking turns thudding mutedly onto the table. Thomas’ mouth was composed of mostly grimaces and a tad bit of bitterness.

“You know, I heard it so damn long that I really believed it. Soulmates made everything better. Soulmates made everything easy –how could it be hard? You look at someone, they look back, and then you’ve got your other half right there, making everything okay.” Thomas laughed a little, rubbing the stubble at his chin. “Only, they didn’t tell you that maybe your soulmate connected with the way you shouted when you got too mad, and they liked to shout, too. They didn’t say the connection could be because you both came from bad homes, only you both process those bad homes differently.”

They didn’t tell you it was because of the darkest parts of your mind finally finding another place equally as horrifying and nestling in to stay.

“Our experiences shape us,” Will said. “We are the sum of our parts, our minds, and our past. What we are now is what happened to us before. If you hadn’t had the sort of childhood you did, you wouldn’t have connected to them.”

“The thing is, they understand you, Dr. Graham,” Thomas said. “That’s what makes it feel so right. You can say something just…just so damn bad, and they get it. You say something so damn good, and they get it. It’s nice to be known like that.”

“Until the knowing is something you wish you didn’t even know,” Will agreed.

“Yeah,” Thomas said, head bobbing. “I thought it was nice in South Korea, with the ceremony and the time it took to see and decide if they wanted to try. It was unique, but it was like…they took it seriously. I don’t think we take it seriously enough, here. I think we just slap our eyes on something, connect, and call it good. Call something that wasn’t a problem, a problem that was now fixed, since you had a soulmate.”

“That is why there is soulmate psychology, same as criminal psychology,” Will said when Thomas didn’t continue. “It’s to further study and take it more seriously, the way it deserves.”

“I guess I’m just saying thank you for doing what you do. You take it seriously, and you see the ugly bits as well as the nice bits. I read one of those psychiatric journals –the one you posted in? I liked it. I thought, ‘this guy’s got it right. He knows, even without having a soulmate, how it’s not suddenly daisies and rainbows just because.’ I think more people should know that. A soulmate doesn’t fix anything, they just make you feel better when the walls start coming down.”

“It is an active choice to have a relationship with your soulmate, Thomas,” Will reminded him lightly. “Same as it’s an active choice to have a relationship with a friend, a brother, or a colleague.”

“I guess that’s why I’m here with you instead of being across the country in Portland with her,” Thomas said. “I made my choice.”

In reality, so had Will.

Molly’s face was tired on the screen, and Will wished to smooth the fatigue out from under her eyes.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” she said.

“Neither have you,” he accused.

“It smells like Jack Crawford in here,” she complained, and he smiled a little.

“Oh, Molly,” he murmured affectionately.

“It does,” she affirmed. “He smells like hot feet, Old Spice ‘Swagger’ aftershave, and whatever starch he puts in his collars to make them look so damn crisp.”

“Maybe some scotch guard?”

“A bit of scotch guard, yeah,” she agreed. Her bitterness about Jack radiated in her eyes.

“How is your shoulder?” he asked. The picture pixelated, then showed her again, a baggy tee and hair thrown up in a bun that looked like it’d been done one-handed. Ruffled, rumpled. He wanted to kiss away the strands of hair along her forehead, sweep them back. He didn’t say that, though, in case she hadn’t realized she’d missed a few. He didn’t want to embarrass her.

“It hurts, and the pain medicine knocks me out. I try and hold out because I don’t like falling asleep all the time, but it hurts real bad,” she said.

“Thanks for not lying,” he murmured.

She stared at him, although it was difficult to see the expression through two computer screens and sub-par Wi-Fi. “I could say the same for you, but…”

“But I’m a bastard,” he said.

“You’re not a bastard, but you normally don’t lie, Will.” She shook her head, brushed the strands she’d missed away from her face. “I think that’s what’s got me so…you lied to me, you know.”

“I lied to you,” he agreed. It was a tic just under his eye that twitched: liar, liar, liar.

“Why’d you lie to me, huh? That’s what we do, we…tell the truth to each other. Even the ugly ones.”

He couldn’t merge the accusing words barbed with hurt with the frozen expression on the screen. He waited for it to go back to normal, for it to move and show the real Molly. “I was afraid,” he said.

“That I’d leave you?”

“That you’d ask me about them, and I don’t want to talk about them.”

“I do want to ask you about them,” she said.

“I know.”

“But I know you wouldn’t want to talk about them,” she added. “I know what you think, although I don’t know how you get to those thoughts sometimes.”

She didn’t know all of what he thought. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

“Do you see them?” At his stricken expression, she said, “I deserve to know that, at least.”

“Just enough to get the worms out of my skin. Then I leave, and it’s fine.” It’s fine. Like he hadn’t kissed him, like he hadn’t pressed himself against metal bars like some kind of desperate animal, like he hadn’t let Hannibal press gentle, coaxing lips to his open palm, somehow more intimate for the carefulness of the action.

“Okay.” She nodded, accepting it. “Thank you.” She appreciated his honesty, but it wasn’t all honest. It was lies by omission, and Will Graham was really, really good at those.

“I choose you, Molly. Not a soulmate bond. Always have, always will.”

“You’re one of the few, you know. Do you know how many divorce lawyers try and sue my work because married people who don’t have soulmates find their way to the website and then file for divorce when they find someone?”

“It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know. You go out to find something, chances are that sooner or later you’ll find it.”

Her face froze on a small smile. It glitched, caught up and showed him a pensive stare, head tilted much like Lecter’s.

“How did you get one, then?”

He thought of Hannibal’s grip, tight on his wrist and his eyes that bled triumph. “Sheer, dumb luck,” he murmured. A little bit of manipulation, maliciousness. Coupled with a lifetime of a fractured psyche and an inability to reconcile the pieces of himself that’d bled out from someone else.

She hmm’d, and something on his face seemed to upset her.

“Have you taken your pain medicine?” he asked, aggrieved.

“Not yet,” she said slowly.

“…You should.” He took a sip of the drink just to the side of the laptop, remembering too late she’d see it.

“Is that alcohol?” she asked.

Will didn’t answer. He set it down, moved it out of view.

“What’s in the cup, Will?”

“Whiskey.” Flat. Honest. They told each other the truth, even the ugly truth.

“I’m going to kill Jack Crawford,” she swore, and she leaned back in her chair, rubbing her face. “I’m going to kill Jack Crawford, you’re going to get your killer, and then I’m going to have to get to know you all over again.” A beat. She’d said ‘have to’ like it was a pain, like it wasn’t going to be fun to know him anymore. He could understand that. If he was someone else, he wouldn’t want to know himself, either. “How off of the wagon are you, Will?”

“…You said you’d get to know me all over again, before,” Will said, desperation coloring his tone. “Is that true, Molly? Is that still really, actually true? Do you still want to know me?”

“Yes,” she said slowly. Her lips dragged the word out, made it sound more like a ‘no’. “I keep my promises, Will.”

So did Hannibal. “Okay,” he said quietly, nodding. “…Okay.”

The connection died soon after, and he stared at the background screen of the laptop, a cheerful photo of her standing beside a fountain, his own gaze drawn down to the change floating below the water. She said it made him look ‘soulful’, but in reality, Will had been counting the coins, wondering at the price of wasted dreams.

By the end of his counting, you could waste the dreams of hundreds for about $84.33. Molly just really liked the photo.

He got a call early morning, and he sat up to take it with a curse heavy on his lips. “Jack?” he croaked. “Something happen yet?”

“Does he always call you so early?” Hannibal asked.

His voice was a douse of cold water, and he was awake instantly.

“How the hell did you get a phone to call me?” he demanded.

“Dr. Chilton is out, but as you know I’m legally granted access to my lawyer at all times,” he said. Will caught on to his cadence, his purposefully vague speech.

“What, then, would make you call me so early?” Will asked wearily. He fell back onto the bed, pressed his hand over his eyes.

“When you have nightmares, I have nightmares,” he murmured so low that Will almost didn’t catch it. It sounded much like he’d placed his hand over his lips, to distort Chilton hearing what he said. “It’s rather unsettling when one is trying to sleep.”

“You called to wake me up because I was disrupting your sleep,” Will said flatly.

“Among other things,” he mused.

“Hannibal-”

“You were able to match the saliva from the crime scene to Francis Dolarhyde’s DNA, weren’t you?” he asked.

“…Yes. Saliva and blood from my head-butting him.”

“Yes,” Hannibal murmured quietly. “Resourceful of you.”

“You didn’t wake me up for that,” said Will –more of a threat than a statement.

“Have you thought about what sort of psychopath he is? One born with little regard to human life, or one made? Tell me your analysis.”

Were they really doing this? He glanced to the clock by the bed, sighed, and shook his head. Apparently they were doing this.

“…Based on the files and what I’ve seen at crime scenes, I’d say he was made,” Will said slowly. “It’s covetous, something he doesn’t have, something his…upbringing took away from him. That connection to people that was denied at an early age. Coupled with abuse, both physical and mental, I’d imagine. He’d have started with small animals, progressed, wondered.

“He’d have known it was wrong to society, which is why I didn’t bother looking at your serious cases of delusions and scopes of violent patients. He’s smart; he’d have known to keep himself out of trouble in that way.” A beat. “Jack Crawford found your old patient, Tobias Budge. He had intestines in his basement.”

“He was making violin strings out of them, wasn’t he?” Hannibal asked dryly.

“Did you know that?”

“I may have had my suspicions,” he replied casually. “He was always searching for that perfect pitch.”

A pause as they listened to one another breathe. Will rubbed the bad eye and stared up at the ceiling, unsure how he felt about the sense of ease, that they could waste time and listen to one another breathe.

“Were you born, Will, or were you made?” Hannibal wondered.

“…Were you born?” Will asked back, challenging. “Or were you made?”

Another silence, this one heavy with something that made Will want to press the phone tighter to his face. He very much needed to hear the answer.

“I was made, dear Will,” he said at last. “But I do lay claim to a very sturdy foundation from birth that paved a direct path.”

“I’d say…I was born,” Will said bleakly. “A sturdy foundation that only got worse from there.”

“It must have been very lonely for you.” It didn’t sound mocking, although normally Will thought it would have. If anything, it reeked of understanding, of a lifetime of looking away from eyes and struggling to find a way to speak your mind without terrifying everyone in the room. He tried to imagine a young Hannibal, alone with thoughts that may have once repulsed him, terrified him at his capacity to imagine such violence. The image didn’t quite set right in the frame. Not terrified; confused, intrigued. Curious.

“Yes,” Will admitted.

“In your dreams, I noticed that you are always standing alone. You may face someone, you may interact with a demon or shadowed beast, but there is no one at your side. You are always alone.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your sleep,” Will apologized, dry and not at all serious. “Time takes it away. Moments of intense emotion in dreams would explain why you saw it.”

“Perhaps –and feel free to correct me –your subconscious tired of the sensation of being alone. Our kinship with our unsavory sides, the way in which we utilize it are rather similar, although application on your part does leave much to be desired in terms of finesse; those are well and all, but perhaps that was not enough. You’re a soulmate psychiatrist, Dr. Graham. In sensing the many ways in which we are similar, perhaps your mind made the leap because it was tired of you being utterly alone.”

“Is that to comfort me, or is that to get under my skin?” Will wondered. His mouth and throat were decidedly dry. He wanted to see Hannibal. Hearing, he reasoned, would have to be enough.

“It’s to reassure you that you aren’t alone in your dreams. Whatever demons you’re facing, I am there.”

From Molly, it would have been a comfort. From Hannibal, Will wasn’t sure quite what it was –eerie? His gut clenched, even as a soft, lulling sensation made his eyes close, made his grip slacken somewhat against his ear.

“…Okay,” he said, and that was about as kind as he could make it. “Okay.”

“I was made aware that you saw to it that Matthew Brown was moved from jail to the illustrious Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane,” he said, and his lips seemed to caress the title. “An apt punishment for his crimes, I think.”

“You first cajoled him into those crimes,” Will retorted.

“Only because he was sincere in aiding me. How could I fault him when his only desire was to see me with my soulmate?” His tone lacked sympathy, much as it always did. Underlying it was something else, something ugly that Will recognized as pride.

“You thought it was funny that he had a half-connection to me,” Will realized. He shook his head, rubbed his face roughly.

“I wonder just how many people in this world exist with a half-connection to you,” said Hannibal, and Will heard his smile. “I wonder just how many people saw something within you that moved them chemically, and you didn’t react in turn. Are you a heartbreaker, Will?”

“You used him because he was eager to be used.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t blame him for that; I blame you.”

“It’s not me you punished though.” Hannibal’s voice lowered, delicately secretive. “You punished him, the one that dared try to connect to you in whatever way he could.”

“Half-connections sometimes cause psychotic breaks that-”

“I know what you told the judge, dear Will, but don’t lie to me. He crossed you, so you taught him a lesson.”

Silence. Will blinked languidly, stared up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes again. Hannibal was looking for the lie, therefore he couldn’t lie and lie well. He swallowed, tasted liquor from the night before. He thought about the smoothie he’d inevitably tossed in the trash, wiping the condensation from its weeping sides on his corduroys. He’d known, even then, that Hannibal would have been proud of him, even if he wasn’t proud of himself.

“Are you rather angry with him?” Hannibal asked.

“…There’s a part of me that pities him,” Will said raggedly.

“What is the other part?”

“Furious that he’d try and intervene with my life; that he’d step up to those bars like I did and try and speak on my behalf.”

“And it was that part that acted, wasn’t it? That decided to teach him a lesson?”

“I’m going to go back to sleep,” he told Hannibal. An assent without having to voice agreement in the slightest. “Don’t make a habit of calling this early. I won’t like it.”

A quiet hum of acquiescence. “Yes, I’d imagine so.”

“Good night, Hannibal.” A pause. “…Thank you.” Whatever the hell that meant.

“Good morning, dear Will,” Hannibal replied. “I’ll take good care of Matthew Brown for you.”

He went to sleep, and when he woke a few hours later, he was disgruntled to realize that rather than waking with bags under his eyes and a crick in his neck, he felt remarkably fine.

He sat at his usual park with BBQ Pork Buns and a Jasmine Bubble Tea with Boba. Beside him, Beverly drank her Taro Bubble Tea and positively radiated smug bliss. On the other side, Zeller stoutly refused to partake.

“Zeller thought he found his soulmate, but his eyes didn’t change,” she’d explained to Will, sitting down. “That’s why he’s like this.”

“I didn’t say she was my soulmate,” Zeller protested. At Will’s grimacing smile, he emphasized, “I didn’t.”

“You said it was a connection you’d never felt before,” Beverly teased.

“You didn’t bring him along to psychoanalyze me, did you?” Zeller complained.

“I don’t think you could afford what I charge for therapy,” Will lied. He liked to keep his prices mid-range, something for everyone. Although Dr. Avery tried many times to get him to up prices due to the amount of work put in, he reasoned that poor people needed just as much therapy as the rich.

Beverly laughed, delighted.

“I don’t need therapy, I just thought we had a connection,” he grumbled.

Will politely sipped his tea drink with a sealed lid on top boasting a questionably wide-mouthed panda. The air was hot around them, and the name of the game was waiting; waiting on Red Dragon, waiting on Molly to heal, waiting on his eyes to go back to the way they were.

Will would be waiting a long time for that last one.

“Besides, did you see that back there? If Graham and I had soulmates, we could have gotten a discount on drinks. What kind of shit is that? If a place gave discounts just because you didn’t have a soulmate, there’d be a boycott, an uproar –Graham, help me out here.” Zeller motioned to him, annoyed at Beverly’s snickering.

“If you want a discount, you could always get colored contacts,” Will said dryly.

“Oh, come on, I’m not that desperate,” Zeller groused.

I am, Will thought.

“It’s not all that it’s cracked up to be,” Beverly attempted to console him. The dimples on either side of her mouth gave her away, though.

“Right, things aren’t just suddenly easy because you have a soulmate,” Zeller scoffed. “Guess who gets more time off? Gets who gets reimbursed for travel because of the ‘emotional tax’ it takes? Who gets their own holidays off, who gets travel packages at better discounts-”

“Who literally almost dies the moment they feel the sudden loss of the person they connected to?” Will cut in. “There is a point when the soulmate is near-death that their partner feels it so acutely that their body thinks that it’s the one dying and attempts to shut down.”

He cast a look to Beverly, who nodded her assent as she sipped her tea.

“It’s a give and take,” he continued ruthlessly. “To make up for the inevitable end.”

That quieted Zeller. He’d known Beverly for a long time, knew her when she’d lost her soulmate. He’d probably been there when she’d first felt the sensation of loss, of separation so acute it nearly killed her. Will chewed a pork bun morosely and mulled over his own soulmate. He should go see him; reasoned that it would only infuriate him to see him behind the glass wall.

“Do you think Red Dragon is going to go for it?” Beverly wondered in the quiet.

“If so, I’ve got guys on me.” Will nodded to a spot where he noticed one of them posted up. “This is an approved public space. Snipers up on a rooftop, too.”

“Jesus Christ,” Zeller muttered.

“How comfortable is Kevlar?” Beverly asked.

“Not very.” A beat. “If he’s serious though, it’s a head shot. They’ll get him, but he’ll get me first.”

“You don’t sound very concerned,” Beverly said.

“I’m not.” A lie. He wasn’t going to concern them, though, not when it was his idea in the first place. He wouldn’t back down, no matter how much sweat stuck to his shirt now that there was an added layer of Kevlar between the undershirt and the plaid.

Just down the hill from them, two people wandered, lost. At visually seeing one another, one let out a shout and the other ran, meeting in the middle where they collided and kissed, the embrace desperate, needing. Will stared, fingers curling into the soft dough unconsciously.

“Get a room,” Zeller muttered.

“First meeting after the connection?” Beverly asked Will.

Will frowned, chewed nice and slow. He washed the food down, wiped his mouth, nodded. “They’ve found each other. Didn’t know where to go ‘till they got there.”

He thought of Molly and how she’d kissed him in the café they met at the next day. He’d called her as early as was acceptable, checking and re-checking his eyes in the mirror. Two seafoam blue. She answered the phone, breathless, asked him to meet her somewhere.

Two brilliant baby blues.

She’d kissed him with the relief, made his skin go cold but his breath speed up. She apologized, he apologized, and they ate their sandwiches and sipped Italian sodas, peeking glances at one another in between bouts of looking out of the window. When she went to leave, he asked her out to dinner.

“You think it’s always like that?” Zeller asked. He too couldn’t look away, a sense of longing that Will felt on the tip of his nose and down to his feet.

“No,” Will said. He’d given enough therapy that Zeller wasn’t going to argue his reply.

“I was mad,” Beverly said with a grin. “I’d been dating someone else, then this one comes along and just threw that out of the water. The guy I’d been dating said he wasn’t going to date someone with a soulmate –what if he missed his own chance because of me? I told him no way, but you know how it goes.”

“How’s it go?” Zeller prompted.

“You think about them a lot. You want to touch them a lot, and it makes the thoughts go away when you do. You want to hear their voice, you want them to like you; when they’re upset you get upset because you want it all to be perfect for them. So you hold hands once, and you speak so that you can hear their voice. You reason it makes sense, ease the feeling in your fingers. You fight their battles because only you can keep them safe, in your mind. Then next thing you know, it just…feels right to be with them. Why anyone else?”

“That’s a little unromantic,” Zeller said.

“There’s nothing romantic about chemical compounds holding you hostage to your desires,” Will said thinly.

Will thought of Thomas, pained by the connection to his soulmate being their anger and their childhood. He thought of Hannibal calling him early in the morning to reassure him that even in his worst dreams, he wasn’t alone. He thought of Molly on the train, crying because she had her own dreams and aspirations and was so scared they’d all be ruined.

“People say it just makes things easier,” Zeller said. “I guess that’s why I’m waiting for mine.”

“It doesn’t make it easier,” Will told him from around his pork bun. “It just adds one more line of code.”

#LiaS scribbles #the fault in my code #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal au #hannibal soulmate au #will graham x hannibal #someone help will graham #better yet #someone help people #because of will graham #haha #hannibal is a cannibal #hannibal is sassy #hannibal tries comfort??

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Fromage

1x08

Hannibal Lecter x reader x Will Graham

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, murder, snapping someones neck,

Author’s Note: You have no idea how pleasing it was to completely erase that scene of Will kissing Alana from existence.

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

Official Episode Summary : When the BAU investigates a murder in which the victim's vocal chords are exposed, Hannibal learns the killer acted to gain his attention; Will turns to Alana as a distraction from the noises in his head.

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

Tag List: @llperfectsymmetryll

(not my gif)

You sat on the ground at the bottom of the bed, thumbing through the new book that Will had gotten you for Christmas. You were already mostly finished with it and it was very good so far. Will laid on his side beside you, working with an old motor. The dogs were sprawled around you in various stances and places.

You didn’t even notice when Will stopped, you were so engrossed in your book. You didn’t notice anything until he spoke.

“Do you hear that?” You put your head up and leaned hard into hearing as you tried to find a noise out of the ordinary. The steady snores of some of the dogs, Will’s sock covered foot tapping the ground. Nothing weird.

“I don’t hear anything,” you said. He stood up and looked out the front door window and turned to you.

“You don't hear that whining?”

You listened again and still heard nothing.

“No. Is it faint?”

“I’m gonna go walk around out front and see if I see anything,” he said and you nodded. He grabbed his coat and you heard the front door click shut. You listened again and still, heard nothing. You tried not to think anything of it and went back to your book.

A few minutes later Will came back inside and you perked up to see if he had any dog with him.

“So?” “It stopped. I think I might call Alana or someone to come look with me,” he said absentmindedly.

“I could just come.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“Hannibal won’t kill me if I’m a few minutes late. I think he likes the both of us enough,” you promised and got up. “What, do you want Alana to come instead of me?” you asked. It wasn’t judgy or playful. He couldn’t tell what it was.

“No you can just come. It’s cold, grab a jacket.”

You walked outside together through the barren lands outside of the house. You liked Alana, you really did, but you also were pretty sure that Will used to be in love with her before you met. You glanced at him, your hands shoved in your pockets. He was wearing a beanie that you liked but it covered his curls which you weren't a fan of.

“Why are you thinking about Alana?” Will asked.

“How did you know I was?” you whispered sheepishly.

“I know that look. Like you’re trying to have the courage to ask me something you might not like the answer to. The last time you did that you asked me about my crime scene thing.” You nodded.

“I’m thinking about her because I know you two used to be close.”

“She was close with Hannibal. Actually, I’m pretty sure they almost dated so if you’re going to worry about a boyfriend worry about him,” he said.

“Wow, touchy much?” you asked but he nudged you playfully. “I don’t like Hannibal that way.”

“I think Hannibal looks at us both in a different way than he does with other people,” he muttered. “As for Alana, I don’t like her the way he likes us,” Will digressed. You nodded.

“As long as I don’t hear about the two of you making out behind my back,” you said. He shook his head.

“When I did like her, before I met you, she thought I was too broken to date,” he said. You scoffed.

“Yeah well I can disagree there with proper evidence to back it up.” He laughed and nodded, putting his arm around your shoulder.

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything. You should go to work.” You nodded.

“Walk back with me?”

“Sure.”

Hannibal sat in therapy, across from Bedelia. He clasped his hands on his crossed leg.

“I worry I’ve made Franklyn feel powerless. His obsession with me is interfering with his progress,” he explained. “He wants to be my friend.”

“Are these the opportunities for friendship you spoke about?” she asked, referring to a prior session.

“I’m considering referring him to another doctor.”

“Referrals can be complicated. I referred you to another psychiatrist. You refused,” Bedelia said.

“I’m more tenacious than Franklyn,” Hannibal promised.

“Why were you so tenacious?” Hannibal considered this a moment.

“I feel protective of you.” This admission makes Bedelia feel uncomfortable but she hides it well.

“Who else do you feel protective of?” she questioned, eager to avert the subject smoothly. Hannibal thought about his answer here too, careful where he tredded.

“I suppose I feel protective of those who support me as a colleague, psychiatrist and as a human being like you do.”

“And the other names that come to mind are?” Hannibal knew the answer. He also knew Bedelia also knew the answer he was thinking of.

“I suppose Will and Y/N,” he stated simply. “I’m not sure.” She nodded, realizing how his demeanor changed when you and Will were brought into the conversation.

“The Grahams.”

“They aren’t married,” Hannibal corrected politely.

“But that’s what they’re referred to as, from Will’s colleagues,” she said simply. He nodded.

“I suppose.”

Although he knew it to be true he couldn’t ignore the feeling in his chest of distaste. ‘The Grahams’. It felt wrong even if he thought of the two of you as a unit. He sighed.

Hannibal approached you at your desk.

“Would you care to go on a trip to a string shop with me?” he questioned.

“In an attempt to widen my cultural mind?” you asked. “Or simply to go.” He shrugged.

“I would like to meet the man who runs the shop. You don’t have to come if you’re busy.” you shook your head.

“I’d love to come. I don’t know anything about strings though.”

Hannibal spoke a bit about his intent in the car but most of it went over your head. You nodded along and when he pulled the car up to a small string shop you were amazed that this was all the hype was about.

Hannibal got out of the car and opened your door for you.

“Ever the gentleman,” you teased. He nodded proudly as the two of you walked inside. You looked around a bit.

“Keep your gloves on,” Hannibal said. You had on your winter gloves and he had on surgical type ones so you didn’t question it, just nodded in agreement. A man walked in and you recognized him although it took you a moment to place him.

“You’re Franklyn’s therapist. Dr. Lecter. Nice to see you again,” Tobias said. He turned to you. “And you’re the girl who has no romantic interest to him.” He shook both of your hands and you nodded, smiling politely.

“Tobias right?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“Your strings are all gut,” Hannibal pointed out.

“I also carry steel and polymer strings, if you prefer,” Tobias said. He walked around the room but you stood close to Hannibal, just in case.

“I prefer gut. Harps found in the tombs of Thebes strung with gut still made music after 2000 years. Wonderful music you were making,” Hannibal said.

“I didn’t hear you ring the bell.”

You looked between the two of them. You wondered why Hannibal had brought you. Perhaps it was simply because he wanted company despite you not knowing anything about strings.

You stood near him and he watched each of your movements in the side of his eye.

You walked in the door to your home tiredly after getting back from the string shop. You were exhausted from trying to follow the conversation but Hannibal said at the end he appreciated you coming so you must have done some good as a buffer of sorts.

You looked to your left and immediately saw the large hole in your wall, just above the fireplace. You put your bag down. Will stood in front of it, holding a hammer. He turned to you.

“I can explain.”

“You better start. Like right now.”

You walked up to the wall and stuck your arm through it.

“I thought I heard an animal inside,” he said.

“What kind of animal?”

“Might’ve been a racoon.”

“Might’ve been?” you questioned, turning around. You weren’t angry per say but rather inconvenienced. Will would likely want to fix it up himself so you wouldn’t have to pay anybody but still. It was a hole in your wall.

“By the time I knocked a hole in the chimney, it crawled out the top.” You let out a sigh.

“Well, at least it got out,” you muttered. You took the hammer from his hands and waved it a bit. “I’m keeping this.” He nodded.

“You’re late,” he said.

“I was at a string shop with Hannibal.”

“What?” You walked over to the kitchen, putting the hammer away in one of the bottom cupboards.

“A string shop. With Hannibal,” you said slower.

“Huh,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“There was a murder today, some guy played some other guys vocal chords like a cello. Just odd Hannibal went over there today.” You shrugged.

“He needed an instrument fixed, I tagged along.” You walked back over to the wall. “Although I wish I had stayed back to talk you out of doing that.”

“I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“I know. And it’s okay really. You were just trying to help an animal which I understand,” you said simply. Even so, your eyes lingered on the chimney hole and you had to wonder if there was even an animal to begin with.

“I was actually going to go to Hannibal’s,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah I wanna talk about this murder with him. You mind?” You shook your head.

“Of course not.” He nodded and grabbed the keys.

“I’ll be back before you’re in bed!” he called.

Then you were alone in your home that had a hole in it’s wall. You sighed.

You were in the office. It was just another day. Hannibal had an afternoon appointment with Franklyn and you were to wait in the waiting room working. There was nothing about the day that seemed eventful.

Will called you earlier in the day saying he was going to check out a string shop owner, teasingly. He didn’t elaborate but you worried for him a bit, naturally, as you worked.

It wasn’t until a little way into Franklyns session that you heard the door open. You looked up and noticed Tobias walk in. His ear was bloody. You stood up.

“Can I help you Tobias?” He shook his head and grabbed your arm, dragging you out from behind the desk. You panicked and started to move away but his grip tightened.

“Go inside,” he said. He shoved you in the office and you stumbled in the patient entrance. Hannibal and Franklyn stood up. Hannibal was keenly aware of your presence.

“Tobias?” Franklyn asked.

“I came to say goodbye Franklyn.” You were quiet but Hannibal’s eyes caught yours and he gave you a clear ‘stay still’ warning with his eyes.

“What do you mean goodbye? Oh my God, is that your blood?”

“I just killed two men. The FBI came to question me about the murder.” Your head immediately snapped to him.

“What?” Your heart raced so fast you could hear it in your ears. Had he killed Will? Was Will dead?

“You have to turn yourself in. This plane is going down. Let it be a controlled descent. You can get back up in the air again. There is rehabilitation for everyone,” Franklyn said but you barely heard it.

“Franklyn, Y/N, I want you to leave now,” Hannibal said steadily. He watched your eyes. You were worried for Will. He knew the feeling.

“Stay right where you are,” Tobias stated.

“You’ve done something horrible and I know you wish to god you didn’t, but you did and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Only thing you can change is your future. You’re probably scared. Probably feel like you’re all alone,” Franklyn said, taking a step forward to try and calm Tobias.

“I’m not alone,” Tobias said.

Hannibal caught your eye. He mouthed something to you, very subtlety. ‘Turn around.’ You shook and did as you were told, turning around very carefully so that Tobias didn’t snap.

“That’s right. You’re not alone. Nothing has happened in our friendship that you and I can’t recover from.” There was a snap. A body fell to the floor and you turned around. Franklyn was between Tobias and Hannibal, in arms reach of both of them.

“Go outside Y/N,” Hannibal said and you were gone before Tobias could reach out and grab you. You stood outside and frantically called the police, your heart still pounding, tears threatening to fall. You heard commotion in the room and waited outside, hoping it was Hannibal who came to get you. Your mind was scrambled.

The door opened and Hannibal stood in front of you. You rushed toward him, hugging him tightly. He hugged you back. He had blood all over him and you could see a dead Tobias on the other side of the room.

“If Will is dead I was scared I would lose you too,” you whispered.

“Come inside. We’ll wait for Jack to come,” he said quietly. You nodded and let him lead you to the desk where you sat down together. You sat on the floor in front of him and you were quiet, the only noise being yours and his shuddered breaths.

Eventually the FBI came and you stood, just beside Hannibal in case you needed someone to catch you in the worst event. All you could hear was Will’s voice in the phone call, laughing at you and joking that you had been to see a man who killed people. You shook, your hand tight on Hannibal’s shoulder.

Jack walked inside and behind him followed Will. You let out a sigh of relief, barely able to hold back tears as he walked over quickly. He hugged you firstly and you buried your face in his neck, inhaling every part of him that you had worried you would never feel again.

“I was worried you were dead,” Hannibal said as you pulled away.

“You had reason to worry,” Will muttered, demonstrating his wounded arm. You stood between the men and sat on the desk, still shaken. Will put his hand on yours as he leaned against the desk as well.

“Tobias Budge kills two Baltimore Police Officers, nearly kills an FBI Special Agent, and after all that his first stop is your office,” Jack said.

“He came to kill my patient,” Hannibal said.

“Hannibal’s patient told him he suspected a friend was involved with the murder at the symphony. Hannibal told me and I investigated. I got him involved,” Will explained. “Your patient. Is that who Tobias was serenading?” Will asked.

“I don’t know. Franklyn knew more than he was telling me. He told Mr. Budge he didn’t have to kill anymore. Then he broke Franklyn’s neck. Then he attacked me,” Hannibal said.

“And you killed him,” Jack said.

“Yes.”

“And this is how it happened?” Jack asked, looking at you. You were put in the spotlight and you were unprepared. Your mind flashed to Hannibal telling you to turn around, as though he knew Franklyn was going to die the second he did.

“Yes,” you muttered. Jack nodded and moved off to study the crime scene.

“I feel like I’ve dragged you both into my world,” Will muttered.

“I got here on my own,” Hannibal stated.

“And I would have been here eventually,” you promised.

“I appreciate the company,” Hannibal said and you glanced at each other, shaky smiles all around.

1x09

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

236 notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Entrée

1x06

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

Hannibal Re-Write Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: spoilers for hannibal, some cancer talk, murder talk

Author’s Note: I am having a grand time making Alana more likeable and hating Jack Crawford on main :) the boys y’all. This is shorter in terms of words but it’s the same length because I did more dialouge this time round. Also yes I used two gifs of Will from a scene I didnt’ even rewrite because WOW

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

Official Episode Summary : Jack and Alana are contacted by a former colleague, Dr Chilton, who believes he has The Chesapeake Ripper in custody, but then one of his patients commits a murder that matches The Ripper's profile.

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

(not my gif)

“Where are you going?” you asked as you slid on your shoes. Will was doing the same thing beside you although he typically wouldn’t be up this early for class. He let out a shaking sigh.

“Baltimore State Hospital,” he told you, meeting your eyes through his glasses. You let out a small scoff and leaned on your back foot, looking him harder in the eye.

“They gonna let you out?”

“That is to be seen,” he admitted tiredly.

“Why are you going? I thought you were going to try and talk to Jack about all of this stuff and how it isn’t good for you,” you said. He opened the door and gestured for you to walk through. You would have to take separate cars. The hospital was far too out of the way for you to drop him off on your way to work.

“I tried and then he pulled me right back in,” Will said. You walked down to the cars together and you shook your head the whole way.

“You don’t have to do it you know.”

“I know. I guess he’s right though, people will die and I’ll be stuck in my classroom without helping anyone,” he said. He had too much of a heart for this job. People like Jack were heartless, taking what they pleased to get a good end result. You hated seeing him this way, so people pleasing. “As for why I’m going, Frederick Chilton thinks he has the Chesapeake Ripper in his hospital.” You scoffed.

“Doubt it. Did he kill someone?”

“A nurse yeah. The same way the last ripper victim was found.”

“I thought the last ripper victim was never found.” He nodded and shrugged.

“The last one they did find.”

“Good luck. Try and stay in your own shoes.” He kissed you quickly.

“I’ll try.”

You got in your respective cars and drove opposite ways out of the driveway.

Much later that day the door opened to Hannibal's office. You had started to put things away because Hannibal didn’t have any more patients. You trained your head to see who it was and around the corner was Jack Crawford, looking visibly shaken. When he saw you he didn’t look happy.

“I often forget you work here,” he said bitterly. You were glad you had become a nuisance to him. A constant reminder that what he was doing to Will was wrong.

“Yeah well,” you said, putting your rain jacket on. There was a steady sprinkle outside when you had gone out last. “You don’t have an appointment.” He nodded.

“I was just...in the neighborhood,” he said meekly. Jack was clearly sad. Something was wrong, he wasn’t willing to challenge you. Perhaps the murder earlier had been trying. You only hoped Will would come in in one piece.

Hannibal opened the door.

“Agent Crawford,” he said, not seeming very surprised. “Does he have an appointment?” Hannibal asked at you. You shook your head.

“No you’re finished officially for the day.”

“May I take your coat?” Hannibal asked Jack. “You may go for the night Y/N,” Hannibal said as he ushered Jack into the office. You nodded and started to get ready at a steady pace now that you were allowed to go.

“I’m not staying I-” Jack started and then turned to you before the door shut behind him. “Will looked a bit shaken about the crime scene today. In case he pretends he wasn’t,” Jack said simply. You nodded slowly, startled that he thought to even tell you.

“Thanks.”

The door clicked shut behind him and you were alone

At home that night you waited up for Will to get home. It didn’t take him very long after you got back but Jack was right. He seemed distracted if nothing else.

“Hey,” you called as he came in, looking up from your spot on the couch. He waved meekly and put his jacket down and slid his shoes off. He greeted the dogs and then walked over to you. He sat down on the couch beside you and put his forehead directly on your shoulder. “Good day then,” you teased and he groaned, bringing his head up to look into your eyes.

“Frustrating.”

“Did you find your murderer?” you questioned.

“I don’t think so.”

“I ran into Jack at the office today. He said when you did your thing at the crime scene you were a bit...startled,” you said, attempting to put it nicely. You never asked about what he did at crime scenes. You had only seen him do it once.

“It was a particularly odd one,” he admitted. “It was the mind of a killer but not really the killer I wanted. He smacked a nurse around a room, gouged her eyes out,” he told you. You imagined Will doing that. You shook the thought out of your head quickly.

“I have part of the day off tomorrow. Can I come catch a lecture?” you asked. He nodded,shrugging but glad at the change of conversation.

“Sure. We can drive together.”

He put his head back on your shoulder and you rubbed his back, fearing trouble ahead.

The next day Will had a small lecture that he did. You hung around afterward between classes and before you had to do anything really. You grabbed him coffee and when you walked back inside his hands were in his head, eyes closed through the cracks of his fingers. You walked over slowly and he startled himself awake.

“You tired?” you asked, handing him the coffee. He shrugged. “You looked like you were dreaming.” He shook his head and took the coffee happily.

“I’m okay.” Jack and Alana walked in then, one of them happy to see you.

“You awake Graham?” Jack asked and he nodded again.

“I get that a lot but yes I am.”

“I should go to work Will,” you said and he nodded stiffly. You put an arm on Alanas and she shrugged.

“Call soon,” Alana said and you nodded.

“I will.” You gave Jack a curt courtesy nod and he gave one back.

That day you were in office, your feet on your desk as Hannibal was in session with somebody. Your phone started to ring and you picked it up after finishing some last numbers for payment.

“Hello,” you said absentmindedly. You hadn’t even looked at the caller ID.

“Hey, you busy?” It was Alana.

“When I agreed to call soon I didn’t mean the same day,” you joked. She laughed on the other end and it was nice to hear her laugh. She was one of your only friends that wasn’t Will or Hannibal and while you thought she looked at you professionally you looked at her as a friend.

“Well are you busy otherwise? I could use a wind down,” she admitted.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t think this guy is the Chesapeake Ripper,” she admitted.

“Neither does Will.”

“Neither does Jack,” she said. You scoffed

“You mean he still has functioning brain cells?” you questioned. She chuckled and you clicked through some things randomly on your computer, having exited out of work.

“He thinks he’s getting phone calls from Miriam Lass,” she said.

“Isn’t she the last Chesapeake Ripper victim?”

“A note on ‘victim’,” she said tiredly. You raised an eyebrow.

“Perhaps Jack has lost all his marbles.”

“Maybe.”

The back door opened which indicated Hannibal was finished with the session. He didn’t have another for about thirty minutes. You clicked on an article from tattlecrime.com, another by the infamous Freddie Lounds.

“You see the new tattlecrime article?” you asked. Hannibal walked into the waiting room.

“It’s already out?”

“Huh? I gotta go, I’ll call you later. Take care of yourself Alana.”

“You too.” You hung up the phone and put it down. Hannibal walked up to the desk and you gave him a sheepish smile. You weren’t technically supposed to be on call while you were working.

“What’s the new article?” he questioned, clearly having heard the end of the conversation.

“Here. Says this guy Gideon is the Chesapeake Ripper,” you said, scoffing. Hannibal looked it over and this real dark look went over his face. You watched him and he quickly reserved it once he noticed you were looking.

“You don’t think he is?” You shook your head.

“From what I’ve heard about him, no. Plus Will doesn’t think so.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

“Is that right?”

“I don’t think Jack does either. Freddie Lounds huh. Once a hack always a hack,” you murmured, closing the article out. He looked over at you.

“Why doesn’t Jack?”

“Supposedly he’s getting calls from Miriam Lass.” He hummed.

“Who do you think is the Chesapeake Ripper?” You shrugged.

“From what I gathered, someone much more charming and intelligent then this guy.”

Hannibal smiled.

You picked Will up from the observatory because you took the car to work. He climbed into the passenger seat.

“Do you ever think we should just take two cars?” he asked.

“No, it saves gas money. What do you not like riding in a car with me?” you asked. He shook his head.

“We have two cars.” There was a moment of silence.

“Why am I picking you up from an abandoned observatory?” you asked him finally. He let out a long sigh.

“We tracked the calls Jack has been getting here. He said he’s been getting calls from-”

“Miriam Lass, Alana told me.” He nodded.

“We found her phone. And her arm.” You raised an eyebrow as you drove out onto the main road.

“Pleasing.” He nodded.

“So we’re guessing the ripper isn’t Gideon.” Will shook his head.

“That my faithful girlfriend is very right.”

“Then who do you think it is?” you questioned, echoing Hannibal’s question to you earlier. He shrugged.

“I don’t know yet.”

You drove home talking lightly about other things, trying to keep your minds off of a serial killer at large.

1x07

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

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Opposites Distract

Will Graham x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: talks of murder and dead bodies and killers

Author’s Note: Hey love! I hope that it’s okay I chose Will I think will be the first I post of him although I’ve written like seven already that have yet to be posted lol. I just really love him and when I read this request he was the first that came to mind! Thank you for requesting dear!

Requested: by @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza,Hey idk who this prompt would work with best but I wanted to do a general ask with the phrase "opposites distract"? Where reader is so similar to the character but continues to date awful people because opposites attract? Thx😘

Summary: the request!

Genre: fluff

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

(not my gif)

You were exhausted. You had come home from yet another bad date and to be honest you weren’t sure if you could take much more. It was a fifth date really and you had planned on going home with the guy until it took a horrid turn, him bullshitting about some sort of misogynistic ideas. You knew he was a bad guy and you should have taken the first hint when you saw him texting a girl's heart right in front of you.

To be fair though, you were pretty terrible at choosing guys.

You walked to your bed and dialed Will’s number. He was probably still awake, despite the late hour.

It only rang twice before Will picked up.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No.” You were silent. “Yes. It’s alright, it wasn’t a good sleep anyway. How was your date?” You scoffed. “That good huh?”

“He told the waitress that her tits were nice. While I was eating my salad Will. Over my salad.” He couldn’t help but laugh. There was an obvious distaste in your voice and he was pleased to hear it.

“The guy was a scumbag anyway.”

“I should've just listened to you,” you muttered.

“I know. Listen, go to bed and try and get some sleep okay?” You had obviously woken him up and he was too polite to tell you he wanted to sleep but to be honest you didn't' mind. You should go to sleep anyway but you wanted him to know that the date had gone exactly as he planned it. Bad.

“You’re right. Goodnight Will Graham.” You could practically see his smile. He liked it when you said his full name for some reason. Just the way it sounded coming from your voice was pleasing.

“Goodnight Y/N.”

The next day Will was called in to help with a case. Hannibal was there as well, checking in on how the case was forwarding. Usually he just waited for Will to come to his session and explain but he had a special interest. Either way, he and Will stood with a few other people in the morgue.

“How was Y/N’s date?” Hannibal asked. Wil laughed dryly, welcoming a nice change of pace to the dark his mind was going to about the body.

“She found out the guy was a misogynist pig who commented on the breasts of a waitress. Over his salad was a particular problem.” Hannibal chuckled.

“She was trying to eat poor girl.”

Hannibal knew of Will’s feelings. He also knew that you were a fool for not dating the man. You and Will were similar in many ways. You shared the same morbid curiosity of death and killers. Beside that you thought of things similarly. It wasn’t the same of course. Will was a little more advanced or crazed in his thoughts but like Hannibal you were able to trace killers with a speed and professionalism that amazed Will. A skill similar to his own.

You had gotten into a habit of dating men that were nothing like you. A problem lay in that. You wouldn’t date Will if you dated people that weren’t like you.

“How do you feel about her dating others?”

“She has no obligation to date me Hannibal. Besides, this isn’t a session is it?” Hannibal shrugged.

“Just some friendly conversation.” He looked at Will. “Speak to her. I think you’d be surprised what comes out.”

Will took that to heart more than he thought he should. He liked you, a lot. It killed him when you continued to go on dates with men that didn’t deserve you. Will at least could make you happy, treat you right. He might not be the most stable person but that didn’t mean much otherwise.

You knocked on the door to his house. You were coming over for drinks which you did every once in a while, especially after a case that affected one of you. He opened the door and gave you a strained smile which meant that he was thinking about something.

“Hey Will Graham,” you said smiling.

“Hey.” You said hello to the dogs and Will poured you a drink, handing it to you. You sat on his couch and waited for him to get situated.

“Something wrong?” you questioned.

“Just surprised you didn’t have a date today is all,” he said offhandedly. You raised an eyebrow and took a sip. He sat down across from you.

“I know I’ve been going on a lot lately. It’s stupid really,” you muttered.

“Can I ask why you’re so keen on dating men that are so bad for you?” You scoffed.

“That’s a blunt way to put it.” You took a deep breath and shugged. “I believe opposites attract I guess. That was the theory anyway, I think I’m evidence disproving that theory with my dating life.” You took a larger drink this time. “I mean I guess that really it should be that opposites distract. From this world, our life.”

Will watched you. He analyzed you. He knew you believed that opposites attract and he wondered where you had gotten such a silly idea into your head.

“Have you ever thought about dating someone similar to you?” he asked. You thought about it a moment, swishing the wine in your glass.

“No actually. I suppose at this point I should,” you joked. “But who do I know that’s even remotely similar to me?”

There was a silence.

Will waited very patiently, studying your face.

You were concentrated in thought until suddenly your face eased as it came to realization. Your laughter filled the room even if it was faint.

“You,” you muttered. “You’re the only person even close to me.”

Will stared at you and then you smiled wider as the pieces began to fit together in your brain.

“For such a good detective I have to admit, you’re really stupid sometimes,” he said. You laughed, shaking your head.

“Well then Will Graham, would you like to go on a date with me?” you asked. His smile was addicting.

“If you insist.” He laughed. “Isn’t this a date though?”

“Just you and me in your house with wine? Yeah I suppose we’ve been having dates all along and you just forgot to mention it.”

Will laughed. He was quite happy with this development.

“You want some more wine as we continue our date?”

“I would love some.”

#will graham x reader #will graham imagines

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