Hannibal Lecter X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Slashers' as fathers with a child/reader. (Comfort drabbles for anyone like me who has daddy issues).

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile.

I'm a little embarrassed that I made this but I can't deny that it does comfort me and make me feel better. If it makes you happy as well, then I'm glad. Thank you for reading. I hope you have a nice day.

...

Freddy

He was sleeping in his bed when he felt something nudge his arm, the soft callings of your voice quickly rousing him from his slumber. "Daddy? Daddy, please wake up."

Paternal instincts demanding that he instantly wake to check and see if you were okay, Freddy sat up and opened his eyes. Immediately the sight of you standing beside the bed in your pajamas with a sad, frightened look on your face greeted him, and he reached out to gently brush a hand through your messy hair.

"What's the matter, sweetie? Is everything okay?" He asked, gazing around for potential danger.

You whimpered, your little hands anxiously fiddling together as you say sadly, "I... I had a nightmare and I... I got scared."

Relaxing a bit, Freddy sat up all the way in bed and lifted his arms out towards you, "Oh sweetie, come here."

Stepping forward and lifting your arms, you whimper whenever your dad pulled you sideways onto his lap and held you close. He kissed the top of your head and gently patted your back. "Thought I told you not to be having those?" He mumbled.

"I know, but... It was so scary and I-I didn't like it," You whined, burying yourself into the divine safety of his chest, his scent familiar and comforting.

"Shh, shh," Freddy rubbed soothing circles against your back while hugging you securely against him, always prepared to fight all of your demons away- even if your demons were as simple as nightmares. "It's okay, sweetie. You're alright. Daddy's got ya. Everything's gonna be okay."

"Ok..." You whisper, still snuggled against him. He was so comforting and safe. "Daddy? I'm thirsty. Will you get me some juice, please?"

"You want juice?" Freddy tickled your nose causing you to giggle, "Hm?"

"And a story?" You smile at him hopefully.

"And a story? Well, aren't you spoiled," Freddy smiled back and leaned down to nuzzle your forehead, "Sure, sweetie, let's get you some juice."

Grinning at his compliance, you lean forward and give him a big hug. He hugs you back, and it feels so nice and comforting that you feel as if you could go to sleep right then and there.

Freddy holds your hand as he takes you to the kitchen to get you some juice. Then he grabs a book from a shelf and sits down in his arm chair with you sitting in his lap with your blanket and juice in clutch. He reads to you the short story as many times as you want until you've finished your beverage and declared that you were tired again.

"Can I sleep with you, daddy? Please," You ask, fidgeting in the hopes that you wouldn't have to sleep in the dark alone by yourself again tonight.

Freddy doesn't have the heart to tell you "no", so he nods and ruffles your hair, "As long as you promise not to have anymore nightmares. Promise?"

"I promise, daddy," You say happily, crawling into bed with him and immediately going to snuggle into his chest, "I love you."

Freddy kisses your head and tucks you both in with a blanket, one arm wrapping around you to hold you against him. Warm, safe, and comfortable. "Love you too, sweetie. Now get some sleep and, this time, have 'good' dreams."

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

"Hey Les, you seen (y/n) around?" Bo asked as he approached Lester's truck.

Lester gave him a look that he came to dread. "Yeah, they're on back with Vincent. Why?"

Relieved by your assured safety, Bo placed his hands on his hips and stared hard at the ground. Guilt chewed on him like a hungry wolf, and shame became a permanent dark cloud hanging all around him. "I-I messed up, Les," He admitted, shaking his head.

Lester raised his eyebrows in suspicion, "What'a ya mean?"

"Yesterday, I... I messed up," Bo huffed, dragging a rough hand through his hair, "An' now they ain't talkin' to me, and I... I just... Uh."

"Oh, so that's why the little critter wanted to spend the night," Lester chuckled and petted his dog's head fondly, "An' here I was hopin' I was the new favorite uncle. Guess I ain't, huh?"

Bo ignored him as he thought about what happened yesterday. He had been angry for reasons unrelated to you, and when you had tried to get his attention he snapped and yelled at you. Even though "what" was all he yelled, he could still tell how much he scared you and hurt your feelings. Now you wouldn't go around him. Gosh, he didn't mean to do it, he just... He was just an idiot.

Lester frowned at him as if noticing his distress, "Well hell, if it's botherin' ya to the pits then why don't ya go talk to them? You are their daddy after all, ain't ya?"

Yes. Yes he was your dad. And no child should ever have to be afraid of their dad.

Making his ultimate decision, Bo adjusted his hat and began stomping away, "Gotta go."

He found you in the house eating snacks with Vincent. When you noticed he was there, you looked at him and then quickly bowed your head like... like you were afraid of him. And it broke Bo's heart. Good grief, what had he done?

Pulsing with regret, guilt and shame, Bo slowly approached you and knelt down beside your chair, "Hey there, little critter bug. What'cha eating?"

You were hesitant, keeping your face averted as you timidly mumble, "Grapes."

"Ooh, yummy, can I have some?" He lifted his hands out, uncertain of where and when he should start explaining himself.

Sadness and uncertainty decorated your face as you lifted out the bowl to him. Vincent seemed to understand what his brother was doing, and he stood up to leave and give you some privacy.

As he ate some grapes, Bo was surprised to hear you quietly ask, "Daddy... Are... Are you still mad at me?"

"Oh..." He straightened his posture, set the bowl aside and reached out to gently grasp your shoulder, "Oh, (y/n), I was never mad at ya, I just... I was just havin' a bad day and I..."

Bo sighed, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently in reassurance, "Look, critter bug, I didn't mean to yell at ya, and I definitely ain't mad at ya. I just... Daddy made a mistake, and I'm so, so sorry, (y/n). I promise... I'll never yell at you again. I promise."

Your eyes glistened as you looked at him as if in debate. Bo's throat was dry as he waited for your reaction, the negativity and guilt nearly driving him insane.

Instead of saying anything, you spread your arms and lift them upwards. Bo sighed quietly in relief and went to scoop you into his arms, his aching chest slowly beginning to calm down. He still felt guilty for how he made you feel, and he wasn't lying when he promised that he would never ever make you feel that way again.

Michael + Aunt Laurie

You were both trick-or-treating and having a good evening on Halloween. Michael alternated between carrying you on his back, on his hip, or simply holding your hand while walking. It warmed his heart to see how happy and excited you were, your candy-bag becoming overloaded with sweet treats.

He decided to stop at Lauries for a quick break and some refreshment. You ran back out while he was still inside. It only felt like a minute before he followed your footsteps and soon came to a scene that made his blood boil and his eyes widen.

You were laying on your back against the sidewalk, small, frightened cries spilling from your lips. In the direction you were staring, Michael caught a glimpse of a group of teenagers quickly running away. They must have done something to you. But what?

"D-daddy," You cried as he quickly walked over to you, and you skittered to get to your feet.

Michael barely got to check you over for damage before you were wrapping your arms around his waist and crying into his belly. "They pushed me and stole my candy," You whined loudly against him, "I-I just wanted to be friends, b-b-but they stole my candy. Ehh, daddy, daddy, what do I do? They stole my candy."

Anger invaded every nerve within Michael's body as he held you close protectively. How dare anyone treat you this way. How could they? You were the nicest, sweetest little angel. What was their problem? Michael's eyes burned with the memory of those teenage scum and the direction they fled.

Hearing your loud sniffles, Michael gently coaxed you back and knelt down. Slipping off his mask, he reached out, cupped your cheek and used his jumpsuit sleeve to wipe away your tears and snot. Then he used sign-language to ask if you were okay.

You nodded and cried in great sadness, "But they stole my candy. Wh-why did they do that, daddy? I-I just wanted to be friends."

Michael quickly explained to you how those teenagers were obviously bullies. This same experience happened to him too when he was your age. Everything was going to be alright. They would get you more candy. Calm down. Everything was going to be alright.

Slowly you began to calm down, your sobs and whines diminishing. Michael pulled you into his arms and hauled you against his hip so that he could take you into the house. You stayed attached to him the whole time, and he refused to let you go. Frustration still burned inside him, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to protect and comfort you/his child.

Laurie was there to save the day, thankfully, offering you all of the candy she hadn't yet given out and putting on a fun movie for you to watch.

You were snuggled up against your dad on the couch, your mood significantly eased as he rubbed your head and back and offered you pieces of candy. For the most part you forgot about the incident, but Michael certainly hadn't.

Let's just say that, by tomorrow, you would have your stolen candy back.

Hannibal

He had taken a leave of absence from work so that he could better take care of you while you were sick. It wasn't anything serious; just a small cold. The nurse from your school had sent you home earlier due to a sore throat and a fever. Hannibal had rushed to get you as quickly as he could.

Once he got you home, he had you take a bath and get dressed into your pajamas. You complained of throat and stomach pain, and you had irritated sinuses. He gave you some medication and told you to lie down while he made you some special soup that would soothe your tummy.

As he was cooking, he heard your tiny footsteps echoing from the hallway, and he turned to see your sleepy figure approaching, "Daddy?"

"Yes, my child, what is it?" He asked, setting his cutting knife aside.

"My tummy hurts so bad," You pouted, your voice beginning to sound scratchy, "And I don't feel good. I wanna be with you."

Hannibal grabbed a kleenex from the counter and knelt down to gently clean your messy nose, "I know. And that is precisely why you should be sleeping."

"But I can't sleep," You whimper, looking at him with sad, tired owl eyes, "I wanna be with you. Please, daddy? Let me stay with you."

Hannibal tilted his head at you, his brows lifting in debate. While he would rather you be getting some decent rest, he knew that you were young and still filled with energy even whilst you were sick. He didn't have much left to do cooking wise either, so he figured that having you stay around wouldn't harm anything.

"Alright then," Hannibal leaned forward and picked you up, swiftly positioning you on his hip and supporting you with one arm so that he could use the other to cook with.

You held onto his neck while resting your head against his shoulder, your eyes mostly shut as you listened to the sound of his heart beat. Safety and warmth enveloped you making you feel much, much better than what you had before. Your dad was always so cozy and comforting.

Hannibal was able to finish cooking dinner with you on his hip the entire time. Once it was time to eat, he set you down on a chair and made you a drink and a bowl of soup. You ate quietly which worried him a little, but he knew it was just because you weren't feeling good.

"Feeling better?" He asked when you were finished.

You smiled and nodded at him, "Mhm, it was real yummy. Thank you, daddy."

"You're welcome, my child," He reached out and gently squeezed your cheek before taking your bowl and cleaning it, "I don't suppose telling you to get back in bed will do any good, will it?"

Your pitiful whimper was enough of an answer. Hannibal chuckled, dried his hands and went to pick you up again, holding you close as he carried you to the living room. "A movie it is then."

"Can Will come over?" You asked, grinning.

Hannibal gave you a look, "I'm beginning to believe that you're not sick at all."

...

All good fathers' should fight their child's nightmares away, not be the reason why they have them.

Slashers as fathers with a child/reader.

Notes: 100% NON-ROMANTIC. Platonic love only. Non-binary reader. The reader is less than ten years old (you decide the age). Freddy is alive and NOT a pedophile. (If you wanna ship Hannibal and Will together or view them as just friends, it's completely up to you).

Summary: The slasher fathers comforting their child/reader after they just got home from surgery.

Some of you are probably thinking "really, Weirdo? This is gonna be a thing now?" And my answer is absolutely! Hey, when you grow up in a rough environment, some times you just wanna immerse yourself into a reality where you're innocent, happy, safe, accepted and loved. And so thus I present these fatherly slasher drabbles. I hope they bring you peace and happiness.

Freddy

After you got home from your surgery, Freddy hadn't been prepared for just how emotional and clingy you would become, but he didn't mind, and he learned how to adjust straight away. He had already called into work to report a few days off so that he could provide you with extensive care.

Not once had you left his side. All day you had been attached to him, whimpering and groaning in small remnants of pain. It tugged at his heart and made him feel even more protective than what he already was. If only he could take your pain and fear away.

He had been tending to your needs all day. Fixing you sippy cups filled with broth since you couldn't eat whole foods yet. Holding you against his chest so that he could kiss your forehead and rub your back while mumbling loving reassurances to you. Coloring pictures and watching cartoons with you.

"Daddy... Do you love me?" You asked for what felt like the thousandth time.

Freddy, helping to make a wall of pillows around the edge of the bed, looked to you and said, "More than anything, sweetie. You are my world. You know that."

You whimpered, hugging a pillow against your chest. You were hurting, and you couldn't help but to seek reassurance from him. "You won't leave me... right?" You look to him sadly.

Freddy walked over to you and knelt down, cupping your cheeks and leaning in to kiss your head. "Never. Daddy will always be here for you no matter what. You hear me?"

Nodding, you frown a bit and stare down at the floor, "Yes, but I... I'm so scared, daddy, I-I don't wanna go back there again."

"I know," He spoke softly, gently squeezing your shoulder, "And you're not going to, alright? It's over. You don't have to go back. You're here with daddy now. Everything's gonna be alright, ok?"

"Ok," You whisper.

Freddy coaxed the pillow from your arms and pulled you in for a hug, "I love you, baby. More than anything. You know that, right?"

"I love you more, daddy," You smile big, soaking up his loving attention like a sponge.

Freddy pulled away and made a goofy thinking face, his eyes squinting at you, "Mm... Couldn't possibly. Now, let's get you in bed."

Smiling in joy at your giggles, Freddy made sure to be extra gentle with you while helping you to climb onto the bed. After shutting the lights off, he climbed in with you, barely laying on his back before you were snuggling right into his side.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, wrapping an arm around you, his fingers massaging through your hair against your head.

It felt nice and had you whimpering in soothing relaxation, "Hurts..."

"It'll feel better soon, sweetie," Freddy kissed your temple and pulled a blanket over both of you.

"Please don't let those scary people take me again," You mumble into his chest, your hands shaking a bit as you fought against crying, "Please."

"No one's going to take you, (y/n)," Freddy smiled a bit, fond of your adorable little fears. "You're home now and you're with me, and I'm gonna take good care of you until you feel better, alright?"

"Ok, daddy," You say softly, seeking comfort and safety by snuggling into his chest.

Freddy covered you up and cradled you against him. It broke his heart knowing that you were in pain, but he would always be there to comfort and love you no matter what.

Bo Sinclair + Uncle Vincent and Lester

Throughout the whole day after your dad brought you home from the hospital, you had taken turns latching onto him and your two uncles. You were very clingy and emotional, endlessly seeking their comfort, security and reassurance.

At work, Lester and Bo took turns running the gas station. Right now Lester sat in the bed of his truck, reclined against the side with you curled up in his lap, a blanket covering you as you both peacefully snoozed.

"Hey, Les? Hey, wake up," Someone demanded in a whisper tone, a hand nudging his shoulder.

Lester woke up with a groan, his arms tightening around you as he creaked open his eyes. When he saw who had interrupted his beauty sleep, he pouted and shook his head, whispering, "Aw, c'mon now. Don't ya got nothin' better to do?"

"If by 'better' ya mean spendin' some time with my child? Then yeah, I most certainly do," Bo reached in to pry his brother's arms off of you, "Now get your ass in there. Mans waitin' on his transmission."

"Lester do this, Lester do that," Lester mocked quietly, sticking his tongue out and glaring at his older sibling, "'I'm a killjoy who thinks he can boss everyone 'round jus' 'cause I got cool lookin' hair'"

"You don't shut your trap, an' I'm gonna-"

"Mm, daddy?" You roused from Lester's lap, your body immediately tensing as you practically jumped upwards in fear, "Daddy? Wh-what's going on? What's happening? Y-you're not taking me back, are you? Oww..."

"Whoa, hey now," Both Bo and Lester nearly bumped heads trying to hug you.

Lester was the one who won, sitting up straight with his legs hanging over the tailgate, "Hey now, critter bug, ya can't be movin' 'round like that. You'll hurt yourself."

"That's right," Bo stood in front of you and Lester, one hand reaching out to cup your reddened face, "An' quit thinkin' we're gonna take ya back. We ain't. Your surgery is over with. Ya don't needa' be worrying yourself no more, alright?"

You were teary eyed, one hand holding your stitched up, bandaged wound as you nod. "It was jus' so scary... And it hurts."

The little crackle of sadness in your voice broke both Lester and Bo's hearts. "I know, critter, I know. But you're gonna feel better soon, ok?" Bo went to pry Lester's hands away so that he could gently hold you against his chest, "Jus' focus on daddy's heartbeat, remember? It'll make everything better."

"My heartbeat could'a worked..." Lester grumbled, crossing his arms.

You whimpered while doing as he said, your little hands holding onto his neck as your head rested against his chest. You breathed in his comforting, familiar scent and listened to his heartbeat, feeling it thud against your upper body. It felt nice. You were safe and cozy. The pain from your surgery subsided.

"I... I wanna feel Uncle Les' heartbeat too," You say.

"Awww, thought ya'd never ask," Lester grinned and went to hug you from behind, his hands going to rest on Bo's waist.

"Eh-eh, wh-whoa-wait jus' a minute-I..." Bo's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he growled in frustration, but hearing the laughter it roused from you put a small smile on his face. He loves you more than anything, (y/n), and he'll always, always be there for you.

Michael + Aunt Laurie

Ever since you got out of the hospital, you had been attached to him like velcro. Off and on you would have emotional spells, complaining about pain and how scary the experience was. Michael knew that the doctors had technically helped you, but he still kind of just wanted to, you know... Throttle them. Just a little?

Right now he was sitting on the couch with you sitting sideways on his lap. You were reclined back against his arm, your head tilted forward a bit as he held your sippy-cup to your mouth like a mother would hold a bottle of milk out for her baby. Laurie had explained to him how some children who had surgery often acted younger than what they were due to the trauma of the experience.

But Michael didn't mind babying you. In fact he really enjoyed it. It comforted you and it was extremely endearing to him- reminding him of when you were younger. So helpless, small and vulnerable. He would do anything to protect you and keep you safe.

"Mm?" You tap on your dad's hand.

Michael pulled the sippy cup away and blinked at you, wondering what was wrong.

"I'm sleepy. Can we do the jacket thing again, please?" You ask, nuzzling against his chest and mumbling, "It's been forever."

Oh yes. The 'jacket thing'. Michael nodded, setting your sippy-cup aside and going to coax you off his lap. Because of your stitches, he didn't want to carry you around too much despite every overprotective cell in his body screaming at him to keep you as close to him as possible, and he held your hand on the way to his bedroom.

Fetching the very large jacket from the closet, Michael put it on and went to lay back on the bed after helping you climb aboard. Then you went to lay on top of him, your hands looping underneath his upper arms as your face lay comfortably against his chest. Once you were situated, Michael stretched the jacket over the top of you and zipped it up most of the way, clasping you both securely together.

This was a habit Michael had started ever since you were an infant. He would use jackets to hold you close to his chest, obsessed with keeping you safe and secure at all times. He couldn't help it. He had experience with so many bad people. The thought of leaving you unguarded for even a second drove him crazy with anxiety.

"Daddy?" You murmur against his chest, "Did I do something bad? Is that why I have to hurt?"

Michael shook his head. His hands quickly went to cup your face, his fingers brushing through your hair. No. Of course not. Why would you ask something like that?

"Then why? Why did I have to-" You hiccuped, pushing yourself against him as much as you could as if he were a safety fort of pillows.

"Because you had a blockage, honey," Laurie explained as she brought you your freshly made sippy-cup and Michael a glass of water, "And some times stuff like that happens to people. It doesn't mean that you did anything bad."

Michael looked to his sister with gratitude. Gratitude that fell into irritation when she pulled her over-stuffed camera out and quickly took a picture of the two of you. "Yep, that one's going on the fridge."

Rolling his eyes, Michael brushed your face before lifting his hands to explain to you through sign-language how he was sorry that you had to go through this, but him and Laurie were right here beside you and they were going to do their best to make sure that you were taken care of.

Hannibal + Will

Will knocked on the door. Whenever it opened he was met with a sight that had his mouth gaping. Hannibal stood there, his hair messy, his tie uneven, his vest crooked, and his shoes gone. His eyes had dark circles beneath them, but even then his expression was calm and full of understanding.

"Good evening, Will. Thank you for coming," He whispered, inviting him in.

"So... It's that bad, huh?" Will whispered back, eying your sleeping figure from where it was being held against Hannibal's waist, "They okay? And-uh... Are 'you' okay?"

"The surgery went well. (y/n) was released earlier this afternoon. Aside from some discomfort and pain, they have been... 'Attached'," Hannibal chuckled fondly, turning to give your snoozing self a loving stare, "As for me? Well, I haven't used the restroom in over eight hours, give or take."

"Wow, ok," Will nodded and went to lift his arms out, "Yeah. You go use the restroom and shower if you want- probably throw in a glass or two of wine while you're at it, and I'll just-yeah, I'll just take them for a bit."

"Thank you, Will," Hannibal said gratefully, carefully transporting you over to his best friend, "Be gentle with them."

"I will," Will nodded, gently holding you against his chest and rocking you softly, "We'll be waiting for you on the couch."

"Thank you," Hannibal bowed slightly in tremendous appreciation and politely dismissed himself to go use the restroom, shower and change. Thank goodness he had Will. Will was your second favorite person besides him, and he figured that if you were to wake up then you might not mind being not-attached to him for a bit.

And it's not that Hannibal minded you being attached. Not at all. He just needed some time to get himself cleaned up properly. He couldn't do that when you refused to let go of his arm.

This whole day had been a fiasco. You were unbelievably emotional after the surgery, constantly fearing being taken back, and complaining about the pain. You were so afraid and uncomfortable that you even apologized to him and promised to never do anything bad- even though you hadn't done anything bad in the first place- just as long as he never took you back there again.

And that's why you clung to him so strongly. You sought his constant praise, reassurance and security, and he had supplied it in generous amounts. All day he had tended to your needs; feeding you, reading to you, holding you close and watching movies. Anything to make you happy.

By the time Hannibal had showered, downed some beverage and changed into something more comfortable, he walked into his living room and felt his heart get struck with warmth by what he saw.

You were sitting in Will's lap, your tired eyes calmly watching the TV as you sucked your thumb. On the table sat some take-out from one of Hannibal's favorite restaurants- obviously ordered by Will. Buh-bye midnight cooking.

Will locked eyes with him before you did, and Hannibal took the chance to quickly mouth something to him.

When you noticed him, you gasped happily and reached out for him, "Daddy!"

"Hello my little lamb, how are you feeling?" He asked, sitting in the space beside Will. He was humbled that you didn't try to get out of his lap straight away.

"Okay," You say softly, looking up at Will who leaned down and peppered playful kisses against your head, "Will said you were stinky and that you needed to potty."

"Did he?" Hannibal cocked his head at his best friend.

Will laughed in fondness. Hannibal joined him, so very appreciative of him and his support. And he was also appreciative of you for listening to him and understanding. All three of you loved each other so much. It was such a beautiful family circle.

...

I doubt anyone will answer, but it's just a fun question... Are there any other slashers that you would like to see be written as a father figure?

Slaughtered Lambs

Hannibal x reader

Word count: 1005

Hannibal knew his wife wasn’t normal. Even when he first met her, under the bunny facade that she put on he knew something darker lay underneath. Even in the mundane things that his wife did Hannibal found a scent of darkness. He looked at her, sitting beside him, engulfed in a huge blanket making her look like a burrito. Sometimes Hannibal wondered if it was his own imagination that tricked him into believing that something much more sinister lay beneath his wife’s facade. Hannibal brushed the thoughts away and instead turned his attention back to his wife, tracing over the tattoo on her back as she told him about the students she had to deal with at school that day. Hannibal only hummed and nodded his head, the thought still lingering in the back of his mind.

“You’re not listening!” she said, whining. Hannibal chuckled at his wife before pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, a signal to continue and she did, ranting on about her class as Hannibal listened to her voice. There was always something about his pretty little wife that intrigued him. Even before they met or he began to court her, Hannibal saw her from afar. Like she was the moon and he was the star in the night sky. She was one in billion while he was a speck of dust compared to her beauty. On countless occasions he and his wife hosted her students with unfortunate home situations in their far too big home.

“You should sleep, my love.” Hannibal told her, petting her hair gently, as if she would break if he did it too hard. She looked up at him and gave him a small smile before kissing his cheek and heading up to bed. Hannibal’s promise that he’d be there soon only made her nod. Of course, he didn’t know his wife prior to courting her, no. She was Will’s friend. A close friend at that as well. His beautiful, smart and cunning wife was someone who knew the reclusive Will Graham inside out. In fact, their meeting was by chance, Will tried everything to keep his lovely friend away from the predatory gaze of Hannibal Lecter. However he failed and instead attended their wedding as best man. Hannibal smiled at the thought of (Y/n) in the white dress she wore on their wedding. The painting of them hung over the fireplace.

Hannibal thought back to the very first time he saw his wife, under the sunshine, in a beautiful great summer dress at Will Graham’s house. She barged in, looking at Hannibal confused before asking him who he was. Hannibal stared back at her confused, appalled by her rude behavior. Will looked between the two of them before sighing and apologizing to Hannibal. He stated that he forgot about the small picnic he had planned with his dear friend.

“Oh you’re the psychiatrist!” She claimed, a moment of realization dawning on her. Hannibal could feel the warmth coming up onto her cheeks. She nodded at him before secretly gesturing to Will to leave. Hannibal offered her a kind smile, one she returned.

Hannibal was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a loud crash from upstairs. His immediate thoughts went to his wife. He scurried up the stairs, worrying if (Y/n) was okay. It wasn’t an impossible thought to think that an ex patient of Hannibal’s would attack her. She was his family, the only one he had left. Thoughts of her death rushed forward into Hannibal’s mind. Finding her laying dead there would certainly break him beyond a point of repair.

“Darling! What happened?” Hannibal shouted out, a sense of urgency in his voice. When he heard nothing, he rushed faster up the stairs, they seemed never ending in this moment. Once he reached the upper floor, Hannibal tentatively opened the door, not prepared to see what could possibly lie on the other side of it.

“Darling?” Hannibal called out. He waited for a moment and when he heard no answer, he went in. The sight in front of him surprised him to say the least.

His pretty little wife, hacking away at the intruder with her letter opener. The man on the floor was bludgeoned beyond recognition. His face caved in, clearly she used the phone to do that. His wife’s hair was all over the place, pieces of hair covered in chunks of blood and skin. The man’s chest was cut open. Hannibal took in the sight before him, a ghost of a smile on his face. He was correct, there was something much darker that lay beneath her facade of normality.

“Dearie?” Hannibal called out to his wife and she looked at him, brushing away some hair from her face while spreading blood on it as well. Hannibal just fell in love with her all over again. She smiled at him.

“Hannibal! I’m so glad you came up.” (Y/n) told him, walking forward to reach him, Hannibal met his wife half way and pulled her into him. Kissing her with such passion. The blood that was once on her hands now on his as well. It was morbid, the two of them, kissing in front of a dead body. Thought it was sweet too. The two of them accept each other for who they are. There was no need for them to hide who they are.

“Let’s clean up, get rid of the body.” Hannibal whispered into his wife’s ear. Glancing at the body once again.

“I know exactly what you could do with the body.” His wife spoke, looking up at Hannibal with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Hannibal looked down at her, smiling as well. She was Bonnie to his Clyde. The moon to his stars, his entire universe. There was not a single thing that Hannibal wouldn’t do for her.

“The things we do for love.” Hannibal said, leaning down to kiss his wife’s forehead. He felt her nod on his chest.

Absolutely amazing, breathtaking. It filled me with so much love and language. Hannibal was always a big help in my mental journey. And he still is. And you, this fic, reminded me of that. Of the feelings I have for him. This piece might have single handedly inspired me to get back to writing poetry honestly <3

The Noise and the Silence

Hannibal Lecter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Depression. Grief. Emotional distress. Angst.

A/N: After a long hiatus, I am back with Hannibal content. I’m trying something a little different. An angsty fic with no specific plot point so that *hopefully* it is a bit more applicable to the reader. I really would like some feedback to see how this was for you! 

Word Count: 2.8k

“I feel confused….amongst other things.”

The pounding in your ears hadn’t stopped for weeks. The constant, repeated thud of your heartbeat playing in your head had been relentless. It was a loud drum, and if you sat unoccupied for too long, you would catch yourself beginning to count each thump. Oddly enough, there was another sound that seemed to be in competition with the steady booming of every rush of blood to your head. 

It was the loudest of sounds, and a noise that you did not welcome with open arms. It was a silence so loud that it was close to painful. The ring of utter nothingness was beating away at your mind space to the point of near insanity. It seemed that had been your world for the last several weeks. It was either boisterous chatter, or complete emptiness.

To be honest, you weren’t quite sure which one you preferred. 

Keep reading

Important Night

Hannibal lecter x reader

IF YOU HAVEN’T PLEASE GO READ THE DUNCAN VIZLA FLUFF. HERE

Sum- you understand how busy hannibal is with work and helping the fbi but sometimes you feel he has no time for you and all you want is hug. But he makes sure you get much more than that. 

Warning- smut, pinv, sexual content and themes, oral (fem rev), fingering.

You walk into the kitchen the cold tile floor hitting your bare feet. You see your love cutting meat against the mahogany cutting board. 

“are we having company?” You ask. 

“no just making dinner.” He says. Since the day you met hannibal he’s never let you cook, he lets you bake, but cooking is something he loves to do espesically for someone as important to him as you. He will let you join in every now and then but most of the time he prefers to do it by himself. 

You walk around him wrapping your arms around his waist laying your cheek against his soft shirt. The smell of his cologne fills your nose calling your soul. The flex and release of his back muscles working as he cuts the meat into slices. 

“Would you like to help?” He asks. You shake your head no. 

“I’ve missed you is all.” You say running your fingers along his chest. 

“missed me? What do you mean?” He says always wanting to know what’s on your mind. You sigh your forehead against his back. He places the knife down leaning over washing off his hands and drying them off with the towel i for the of him. All with you still attached to him.

“darling…” he says turning around placing his hands on your cheeks holding your face to look at him.

You burry your face into his chest only making him pull you back again. 

“use your words.” He says keeping your face in his hands. 

“i-i just…I know your busy with work and helping the fbi but…i just miss you.” You reply. 

Keep reading

I can fix him <3 (no really I can)

i can fix him (no really i can)

Masterlist

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💕 (fluff) 💋 (smut) 🌧️ (angst) 🎭 (humor) 💀 (horror) 👻 (supernatural)

📖 (series) 📄 (one shot) ✏️ (drabble)

○ Wrong Place, Wrong Time (M) 💋 , 🎭 , ✏️

  »» Why couldn’t the two of you have just waited until you got home?

○ Filthy (M) 💋 , ✏️ 

  »» You were in for quite the ordeal once you got home.

○ Sleep is for the Weak (M)(WIP) 🌧️, 💋, 💕, 📖

    ⤿ Masterlist

   »» Insomnia was a rotten, fucking bitch that deprived you of a normal sleep schedule like the rest of society. Turns out your neighbor shared that same sentiment, leading to an unexpected yet fulfilling bond.

○ Sore Loser (M) 💋 , 📖

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  »» It was bad enough that you beat him in a cypher but then you had to rub it in his face afterwards.

○ Space Buns (PG) 💕 , ✏️

  »» You convince your boyfriend to let you indulge in his long locks before they disappear.

○ Rodeo (M) 💋 , ✏️

  »» It’s not easy being the sheriff but you’re always there to help him unwind after a long day.

  ⤿ I Like That (M)  💋 , ✏️

     »» You and the beloved town sheriff decide to have your own festivities and make up for lost time.

○ Tip Drill: The Trilogy (M) (feat. Namjoon & Hoseok) 💋, 🎭, 📖

   »» Hardline. Rap trio consisting of RM, Suga and J-Hope. Winners of multiple awards. Industry darlings. Loved by fans. Lovers of drinking, partying and fucking. These are their stories.  

○ Drink Champagne in My Airplane (M) 💋, 🎭, 📖

  ⤿ Masterlist

   »» Your  friend Hoseok decided to use his excessive wealth for good and take the  both of you on a much-needed vacation. The flight was meant to be  relaxing until he broke out one of his most expensive bottles of  champagne.

○ Dream Team (feat. Namjoon)(M) 💋, 💕, 🌧️, ✏️ 

    »» Looks like dreams do come true.

○ Tip Drill: The Trilogy (M) (feat. Namjoon & Yoongi) 💋, 🎭, 📖

   »» Hardline. Rap trio consisting of RM, Suga and J-Hope. Winners of multiple awards. Industry darlings. Loved by fans. Lovers of drinking, partying and fucking. These are their stories. 

○ Delta Disorder (M) 💋, 💀,👻, ✏️

   »»  What should have been an easy sleep becomes an ordeal that not even your wildest imagination could have come up with.  

○ Glossy Top Coat (M) 💋, ✏️

   »»  You can’t let your boyfriend go on stage without asking him for a favor; a favor that involves his fingers…

○ Distraction (M) 💋 , ✏️

   »» All you have been doing was binge-watching that damn show for the past few days; your boyfriend puts a stop to it.

○  Dream Team (feat. Hoseok)(M) 💋, 💕, 🌧️, ✏️

   »» Looks like dreams do come true.

○ Tip Drill: The Trilogy (M) (feat. Yoongi & Hoseok) 💋, 🎭, 📖

  »» Hardline. Rap trio consisting of RM, Suga and J-Hope. Winners of multiple awards. Industry darlings. Loved by fans. Lovers of drinking, partying and fucking. These are their stories. 

○ If I Were You, I’d Do Me Too (M) 💋, 📄

   »» Park Jimin had to be one of the most narcissistic men you had ever had the displeasure of meeting. And yet, you kept finding yourself at his door in the middle of the night like clockwork.

○ Let Me Love You (M) 💕 , 🌧️ , 💋 , ✏️ 

   »» Your best friend has watched over the years as you’ve loved and gotten your heart broken numerous times, leaving him to pick up the pieces. But now he doesn’t know how much longer he can watch you love someone else that wasn’t him…

○ F*ck Me, I’m Famous (M)  💋, 🌧️, ✏️

   »» You work your ass off to get your debut, only to be told time after time that you’re not good enough. Maybe you needed more practice; you knew just who to ask for help.  

○ Make an Offer (M) 💋, ✏️

   »» Money in exchange for companionship and fucking? It was an arrangement that you were comfortably taking part in with your current sugar daddy. But when you lock eyes with a stranger during a night out, you’re approached with an offer that could shake things up.

○ Picture Perfect (M) 💋, 💕,📄

   »» All you wanted to do was take pictures of yourself in this cute lingerie you bought but you just can’t seem to get any of the shots to look right. Now you’ll have to get someone to do it for you but the only person you can think of is your friend/budding photographer/crush Kim Taehyung.

○ Sorry Not Sorry (M) 💋, 🌧️, ✏️

   »» Time and time again, you found your boyfriend in the arms of another woman; so why the hell should you feel sorry when you decide to indulge in your own fun?

○ Fanservice (M) 💋 ,  📖

  ⤿ Masterlist

  »» Every Friday night at 10 PM was dedicated to your favorite camboy. When he hosts a contest and you end up the lucky winner, you’ll have to brace yourself for your unexpected debut.

○ Center of Attention (M) 💋, 📄

   »» It was supposed to just be you and your boyfriend tonight but your friends decided to come over for an impromptu slumber party. Of course, he’s not happy about it but he’ll get the attention he wants, one way or another.

○  Wrong Side of the Tracks (M)(WIP) 💕, 🌧️, 💋, 📖

   »» You were a good girl. You never skipped school, you did your chores, you obeyed your mother and said your prayers every night before bed. A good girl had no business going to the rough side of town, right? But sometimes, the forbidden fruit was too sweet to resist.

○ On Wednesdays We Wear Purple (PG-13)(WIP) 🎭, 📖

   »» Namjoon is out of his element when he returns to Korea after living abroad most of his life, finding the high school life difficult for a self-described nerd like him. But maybe the three most popular boys in the school can make it a little easier if he plays by their rules.

○ Hot Like Summer: An OT7 Summer Collection (Postponed)  💕, 🌧️,  🎭,💋, 📖

   »» Oneshots for each of the members in multiple summertime AUs.

○ Mythical Men and How to Fuck Them: An OT7 Halloween Collection (WIP)  💀, 👻, 💋, 📖

   »» Monsters, demons, beasts; from the moment you could count 1-2-3, you were told to be wary of these creatures. To fear what goes bump in the night. You were doing alright with following that rule until you grew up. Finding yourself longing for the mysterious stranger with the fanged smile across the room or the nameless soul whose eyes keep changing colors every time you meet his gaze. But what could be so different about approaching them versus a regular human being?  

©bangtanintotheroom, 2023.

Two Sides of The Same Coin

Hannibal Lecter x Wife!Reader

Warnings: Cannibalism, Smut, Murder +18!!!

Summary: You two were so different, yet still the same. 

"Mrs Lecter?" 

You turned and smiled at the woman. "Yes?" you asked with a soft tone when in reality you were fuming.

How dare she just come up to you out of the blue?!

How dare she interrupt your perfect evening?!

"Hi, My name is Lucy, and I'm a huge fan of your books." of course she was, your books are brilliant. "I truly believe you are a pioneer in the genre of horror-romance."

"Thank you very much." Of course you were, no one was as good as you.

"I was wondering if you could sign my book please?"

"No problem at all." you smiled so sweetly. Why would she even have the book with her?! You are in a restaurant! You quickly signed her book and she thanked you, with your smile still present you turned back and lifted your glass to your lips.

"No need to be angry, Darling." your husband chuckled as you looked into his eyes.

Reading the other as if you were open books was something that came to both of you naturally. 

"I'm here to celebrate our anniversary. Not at a meet and greet."

"Of course, but you have to indulge them a little. Make them think they are important so they keep coming back. You mastered that one, My Love."

"I believe it was you rubbing off on me. After all, it is 30 years we have known one another."

"And I knew you were trouble from the second I saw you. Cunning, manipulative, narcissistic, egoistic, psychotic. And yet you are stunning and mine." Hannibal lifted his glass as you clicked yours against his.

"Only yours." you smiled at him, this one, was not fake but a genuine one for your husband.

On your way home from the restaurant, it began to rain, you let out a long sigh as Hannibal was driving.

"Rain always makes me nostalgic," you said as he grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it. He stopped at a red light and you looked at him. "When you killed my stepfather... for me. It was also raining."

"He had it coming, he abused you and murdered your mother. I gave him a merciful end. One he didn't deserve."

"He deserved to suffer like I did, but it was not what I meant, Hannibal."

"Please, elaborate then."

"You killed him because he was about to kill me, you became my saviour, but it is not only that. I remember you tore him apart, you kept on cutting and breaking his bones. I should have been disgusted, yet all I could think about was the way your muscles tensed and the grunts you let out."

"So, I turned you on." he spoke as he turned a corner. "I figured, from the way you acted after."

"I never got naked so fast in my life. We made love in that pool of blood in front of the fireplace. I remember we were young and unsure. It was so hot, I could taste blood on your lips." you could recall the way he moved his hips, so amazing, he reached such depths inside you that you weren't even sure existed. 

But he could also recall the way you completely submit to him. You only ever done that to him, no one else gets to have control over you, but him.

"Why are you bringing this up now? It has been a very long time ago."

"Because I want you to do the same tonight. As my gift for our wedding anniversary, I wish to watch you hunt, break and cut and then, I want you to fuck me in the blood."

"We are very similar, My Love." he stopped the car, your eyes never leaving him. "I was thinking almost the same." he smiled as the window behind you rolled down.

"Hi there, I like a three-way, 500 for an hour." the woman behind you talked and you finally turned to look at her.

Prostitutes disgusted you, the way they looked at your husband made your blood boil, but you smiled at her. 

"How about a thousand and I get to watch?" Hannibal replied and you smirked.

The woman agreed and got into the backseat, having no idea what she was in for.

"Happy anniversary."

"I love you." you said as he began to drive again.

---

The next morning you wake up in your bed, under the warm sheets with the smell of food filling the air.

You slowly woke up as the blanket fell down your naked body.

You rolled out of bed, and got dressed in one of Hannibal's shirts before heading to the kitchen.

"Good morning." you said as he had his back turned towards you. You rounded the kitchen island and hugged him.

"Morning. I made your favourite for breakfast. Bacon with eggs."

You looked at the meat sizzling in the pan before looking up at Hannibal as he leaned down to kiss you.

"She truly was a pig." 

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer @lilliumrorum

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

Requests are open!!

I am a new writer so I am in need of requests! I do NSFW and SFW.

I will take requests from-

Hannibal

Marvel

Jujutsu Kaisen

DC (mostly bat family)

Criminal minds

Slashers

cervi e consumo

hannibal lecter x reader

a/n: hello! so i began posting this on another blog, but have decided to continue posting it here since i’m on this way more often!! it used to be called love crime (sopravvivero).

i’ve developed my plan for the plot a LOT more, and definitely know what im going to do with it.

if i tagged you, it means that you wanted to be added to a tag list or reblogged it. this is the first chapter but i’ll be publishing the second very soon!

tags: @catchmybreath94 @flow33didontsmoke @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @zoleea-exultant

summary: When you begin sessions with your new psychiatrist, the renowned Dr. Lecter, you never would’ve imagined falling into the rabbit hole you get stuck in. Faced with a horrible trauma, deer and cannibalism haunt your subconscious. Suddenly, Dr. Lecter is a part of all this. In more ways than one.

chapter 1: the beginning

“Dr. Lecter is ready to see you now,” the polite receptionist says, with a smile sent your way. It’s no more than a flash of positivity before she turns back to her paper work, reflected by her thin framed glasses. As her eyes scanned over the work, turning back to frantically look over her desk, presumably searching for something, she gave off an obvious air of worry. Perhaps she was new.

You were too.

Your first day of therapy. Well, your first day of therapy with this new psychiatrist. It wasn’t something you were exactly frantically nervous about- as the poor polite receptionist was. You’d been to therapy before. You were accustomed to the shallow invasion and prodding of the mind. This time, your hope was that this new Dr. Lecter would be unique. Different.

You’d heard many good things about him. Ranging from his written work and studies, to his success with patients. And after the worsening state of your mind and the life you had built around you, you decided that it was time to try again. So far, you weren’t disappointed. The office was classy. Nice chairs were set in the waiting room, where you had sat for some time. There was tasteful art, quiet classical music in the background. Bach, you had guessed. Other than the receptionist, it had emitted an air of class and calmness.

You flashed a smile back at the receptionist, returning the politeness.

“Thank you very much,” you replied. You weren’t sure if she heard given how diligently she was scanning her desk currently. But it was of no matter, you had been polite, it was the most you could do. You stepped up to a wooden door, unsure if you’d have to knock. Before you could, the door was opened, and Dr. Lecter was revealed to you.

He was handsome. You weren’t one to judge or weigh value off of looks, but you would give him that simple statement. Looks were not the most important thing to you, and you certainly were not meaning it in a romantic way. But he was handsome. The eyes that quickly met yours were brown, maybe with a hint of hazel. His hair was brown as well, it shone in the light from his office. He wore a navy blue plaid suit, giving him an obvious air of seriousness, of class and respect. His lips curled into a smile, and yours followed suit.

“I imagine you are my new patient, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” he spoke, his voice was rich and soothing.

“Dr. Lecter, I’ve heard many wonderful things about you and your work. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.” you replied calmly, mirroring his niceties and charm. He had a quiet suave demeanor. As if on instinct, you both reached your hands out for a handshake. More niceties. This doctor was very formal. You appreciated that. As your hands touched you felt his eyes scan you quickly. Almost like an eagle searching a field for prey. Though, there wasn’t malice behind this look.

“Please, do come in.” he said, leading you into his large room. And what a large room it was.

It had a mostly grey color palette, with the exception of the one wall which was a dark red. To your right was a large wall, with two large red and white striped curtains. To your left, a desk, obviously a professional one. Lamps and books and art decorated the top. Further back to your left was another desk and a chair, but nothing was on this one. Behind that, a fireplace. The room was lined with cabinets and bookshelves, and art (specifically paintings) were anything but scarce. Right in front of you however, were two chairs facing each other. And there was a ladder, on the wall behind them, leading up to another level of the room. This one was lined with books of all shapes and sizes and colors. You took note of the other items in the room. Your eyes scanned from the couch against the back wall, to the couch in front of the windows. The room seemed lightly dull at first, but the more you gazed, the more points of color stood out to you.

After having visually scoured the room, you summarized that the collection of books, European furniture, and art was not simply the doing of the building’s hypothetical interior designer. By his outfit and the look of the room, Dr. Lecter was a man of intellectuality, power, curiosity, and ambition. He was impressive.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the two seats in the middle of the room- each sat directly across from the other. Each had small tables next to them, but one had a book (presumably for taking notes on patients) and a box of tissues. You assumed the seat that the book and tissue box adorned table belonged to: was his. So you took the other seat, smoothing the bottom half of your clothing as you sat down. He took a seat across from you, crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly in his lap.

“I have no doubt you know why you’re here.” he said politely. He was direct, eyes still piercing into you. You were afraid to look away. You wanted to maintain the eye contact but at the same time, the socially nervous part of you longed to break it, longed to gaze around the sophisticated room instead of facing his perceptive gaze.

“Yes, Doctor.” you replied, finally working up the courage to break the mural stare and look down as you smiled at him. He returned a brief smile, and nodded once.

“So then, I hope you won’t mind if I list off the reasons you put for requesting my psychiatric assistance which led to us meeting today?” he inquired, taking his notebook from the small table next to him.

“Not at all, go ahead.” you gave him an encouraging nod and he opened his book. As he looked over a page, a realization came to you. You realized how intimate the placing of his chairs was. You mirrored him and put one leg over the other. You wondered if this was a tactic of his to create a sense of connection, equality. Interesting.

He began to list off the reasons of your current visit, words coated in that smooth accent. He finished and looked up at you.

“Is that all correct?”

“Yes,” you said, pausing a moment. There was some more, but this was only the first session. You hated the way it sounded so labeled when it was all laid out like that, so shallow. Realizing your answer might’ve seemed curt, you rushed to say more. “Yes, that’s all correct.”

He set his book down on the side table and looked at you for a moment. The thought crossed your mind that he might be waiting for you to speak, you were about to say something when he spoke at last.

“How do you feel right now, at this very particular moment?” he asked you, your last name politely slipping from his lips at the end of his question, eyes endlessly boring into you.

“I feel,” you hesitated, trying to come up with the right words. “Comfortable and welcomed. Yet nervous.”

“I’m glad you feel comfortable and welcomed, I try to provide sufficient hospitality for those in my care. Though, tell me, why do you feel nervous?” he asked.

“I’ve just met someone new. Someone who will be peering into my mind, learning the most personal parts of me. It’s an odd thought that a man I met a few minutes ago will come to know my mind so deeply.” you replied, watching Hannibal process your answer. He had a good poker face.

“Are you afraid of what I might uncover in the depths of your mind?” he asked.

“I think everyone’s a little afraid of what can be perceived in the most personal parts of their mentality. We all have only so much we express. To the eye it may seem to show enough, but there’s so much hidden where we store our deepest thoughts.” you replied. You liked the knowledgeable banter.

“Knowing those parts of you is a fundamental aspect to your treatment, as it is to any patient. I am not here to judge, or to exploit. I am here to come to know your being and attempt to help it in a way that is beneficial to your mental well-being.” he replied.

“You make a good point, Doctor.” you replied, flashing him a smile. He returned it, and opened his book.

“Well then, shall we begin?” he asked, his eyes still focused on yours.

“Of course.” you replied.

And so began your session with Hannibal Lecter, your new psychiatrist.

cervi e consumo

hannibal lecter x reader

chapter 2: il sentiero

well you made it though your first session with Dr. Lecter! how will the second go?

a/n: song inspiration for this chapter: lacrimosa by mozart

hello!! i just wanna say thank you so much for reading. just a warning: this chapter contains descriptions of a panic attack and brief descriptions of a car accident with an animal. if this is something that might bother you i recommend doing what’s best for you mentally. enjoy!!

tags: @flow33didontsmoke

chapter 2: il sentiero

Your first session with Dr. Lecter had gone well. You were still a bit apprehensive as to what you might show the man so far, but he had given you lots to think on.

He truly impressed you so far. From what you could gather, he not only was incredibly intellectual, but also a man of philosophy. You could admire that. Hell, you already admired him. He seemed good at his profession. Already, he’d referenced the work of Dante.

“The path to paradise begins in hell, as Dante put once. Just as you right now are in low conditions in your mind, I have to imagine that we always have brighter places to work towards.” he had said, his deep voice rang clearly across the room.

You had thought about it, and he had been right. You’ve got to start somewhere, even if it’s hell. Though you felt dramatic for calling your current situation “hell”. You appreciated how well-read he was though. It had inspired you.

An hour later you were sitting with a copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy in your lap, weighing down on your legs. The cover had a painting behind the title and other writings on the cover. You scanned the faces that were shown, and in interest, made out two figures, staring at legs coming out of the ground. For such a classic renowned book, it sure did have a strange cover. But the wisdom in your psychiatrists words had inflicted a curiosity upon you that was deeper than any unsettled emotion.

The evening after your session wore on, and in time, you had fallen into a deep sleep.

Days passed slowly, and the pages of the book turned with your continuing progress. It took patience to get through. Both the days and the book. Your job flooded you with responsibilities and when you came home and opened the heavy book, you were faced with words that did take some effort to decipher, but soon you found comfort in the word-laden pages. You tried listening to his advice about how the path to paradise begins in hell. What could paradise have in store for you? How long would this path take? Why couldn’t you have just started halfway? What if this wasn’t hell, and your journey hadn’t begun, and things would only get worse? Anxious questions seemed to constantly flood your mind, attacking any means of traveling on said “path.” Throughout the next few days, when the questions occasionally became too much, you would think back to Dr. Lecter’s rich voice, the distinguished air of his room, his analytic chestnut eyes. And the thought that soon you’d be there again. All hope wasn’t lost for you. You had Dante, Dr. Lecter, and this so-called path to paradise. You’d been through a lot to even make it here. You would try this. You had to.

Before you knew it, you were once again in the refined waiting room. Music once again played softly and the receptionist seemed to be in the exact same nervous state she was in yesterday. This time as you sat you allowed yourself to study your surroundings a bit more. Your eyes focused more clearly on the paintings that adorned the walls, you allowed yourself to breathe in, the air smelling of books and something you couldn’t quite name. You allowed yourself to gain a less tense position than last time, though your hands fidgeted slightly in your lap and you couldn’t help but notice the pattern of your breathing and your heart. You were nervous. You usually were before sessions, it wasn’t something you were unaccustomed to. You knew though that as time went on, you would relax into things more, just as you had already.

“He’s ready to see you now,” the receptionist spoke suddenly. A pleasant smile was plastered on her face. You nodded at her and stood, crossing the waiting room to stand in front of the wooden door, just as you had the week before. You looked back at the receptionist. Her face was now turned back to her work but her eyes still held the smile from the moment before. The nervous energy that had encompassed her not too long ago suddenly seemed a lot less nervous. Maybe it was simply energy. Maybe she was simply passionate about her work. She didn’t seem unhappy. This made a smile begin to grow on your face too. You made a mental note to talk to her more next time.

Sounds from the other side of the door interrupted your thoughts. It sounded like footsteps against the wooden floor, heading towards you. And as if on cue, the door in front of you opened to leave you smiling at the face of your psychiatrist.

He looked about the same as the last time you’d seen him. The same well-styled earthy hair, paired with the earthy eyes, the charming smile. The one different thing about him was his suit. The one he wore today was a brown plaid one.

“Good evening,” he spoke and a part of you relaxed at hearing his soothing voice, “How do you do? Please, come in,”

You smiled and stepped past him, walking into the large tranquil office. It felt reassuring, in a strange way, to be back here. The quote about the path flashed through your mind.

“Good evening to you as well, Doctor,” you replied to the man and turned to give him a smile as he followed you through the doorway, “I’ve been quite well. And you?”

“I happen to have been the exact same,” he replied. Just as last time, he gestured to the two chairs in the middle of the room and you both made your way over to have a seat. Once again, your thoughts danced around how intimate the setting was. You appreciated it. His eyes studied you, and it now felt like a common thing to get the feeling he wanted you to speak. This time, you took the opportunity.

“I’ve begun reading The Divine Comedy, as you quoted it in our last session,” you said. For a moment, you wondered if you shouldn’t have said it. You weren’t sure why. It just felt personal, deep. You knew it was meant to though. You also couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment you were feeling or if it was the strange feeling of being open. Your eyes suddenly focused again on Dr. Lecter and for a brief instant you thought you might’ve seen interest flash across his features before he spoke.

“What a keen memory you have,” he replied. The way your last name formally slipped from his lips at the end of his praise made your lips quirk up in a slight smile, “You must tell me your thoughts on it,”

“It’s fascinating. I love finding the meaning in such complex words. It all gives me so much to think about. While I have not read too much of it yet, I do intend to continue,” you remarked.

“I must admit, I quite agree with you. The meanings and knowledge woven into such works are intellectual delicacies. It does one much good to take a bite,” he responded.

As the session carried on, you did your best to comprehend his thought-provoking words. It only made you want to read the book more. Your mind wandered back to it, even as the conversation had steadily drifted away from that topic a while ago. In between the continuing banter, the appealing idea of curling up with the book when you got home became a thought that was growing in prominence. You might light some candles, settle into bed, maybe get something to eat or drink. You pictured the how the world would look from your window. The way buildings would be soaked in shadows of the navy night, the way wind would trickle through leaves in quiet susurrus. The night would be pretty to drive home in. Stillness protruding from the trees around the roads that led to your home. The idea of such a pleasant evening was incipient in your head.

Your attention was about to return to Dr. Lecter, when a sudden memory flashed through your thoughts. Headlights on a dark road, the shining eyes of the deer, the sudden franticness, a sickening jolt of the moving vehicle, a gut-wrenching scream. The recollection instantly made your stomach drop in the most dreadful way. You felt as if you were back in that moment. Your heart began to race, an execrable gut-churning feeling of pure terror took place in your abdomen and stomach. Unbeknownst to you, your hands had begun to fidget in your lap. Your eyes fixed on one spot on the floor. The emotion of panic felt like it had taken over your entire being. The moment just kept replaying in your mind. You saw it, even worse, you felt it, over and over in your mind. You silently screamed for a way out, feeling desperate. Your breaths became short as you felt increasing horror in your chest, laboring your breathing with pressure. You just wanted to make it stop. You were scared. You wanted a way out. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please get me away from this.

Abruptly, something began to intrude on your distraught and terrified state. A voice began to make its way through your racing thoughts. It was a deep and rich voice, dusted with an accent. Taking a moment to hurriedly try to identify the voice, it was Dr. Lecter’s. He was saying your last name in that formal way he had a habit of saying it in. Your eyes darted to him, seeing that he was now crouched next to your chair. That calm demeanor was still on. He felt so far away, the memory playing over again in your mind. You felt your mind begin to delve back into the state it was in before. You faintly heard your name off his lips again.

“Look at me,” he firmly instructed. You felt like you couldn’t, as if you were frozen in your memories. Your name left his lips once more. “I must ask you to try and listen.”

You wrenched your eyes away from the spot on the floor, turning to him. Though your eyes were on him, you felt as if your mind was a million miles away. For an instant, with the help of his voice, you felt more stable. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him.

“You are safe, you are in my office. No harm will come to you here. No doubt you feel overwhelmed right now. Try to focus on your breathing, in and out,” with his words, you began to break through the wall of panic that had settled in your mind, “I assure you, your mind cannot immure you.”

The world around you slowly became present to you again as he spoke. He continued, and you listened, fighting away the emotion. Occasionally your eyes would squeeze shut and your abdomen would tense in fear, but Dr. Lecter’s voice would always pull you back to where you were. You focused on him, the comforting words that continued to leave his mouth, the way he pointed out things in his office to distract you. He spoke softly about some of the paintings, your eyes caught occasionally on the strokes of the paintbrush that had created images with swirling emotion. Like the state of your mind.

Eventually, your focus was more on him than it was the memory that had resurfaced. Parts of your face were still tinged with worry, and you didn’t feel all that comfortable with your posture, but it was better than you had felt minutes before. You didn’t notice the doctor had been silent until he spoke, your name leaving his lips in that formal way before he finished his question.

“I take it that what just occurred was quite an intense panic attack. Might I ask if you know what triggered it?”

“A memory,” you spoke, you watched as he gently rose and stepped back to his chair where he took a seat, “It’s not important now.”

You wished so badly to be able to tell the man about the memory, but felt if you got into it, you might get stuck in that well of emotion and never come out.

“What has the ability to bother us to that extent is of great importance.” Dr. Lecter replied smoothly. You noticed the way his eyes silently searched you, as if deciphering you like an ancient language. The man was perceptive. You wondered what exactly he was searching. Your body language, your mind, signs of another panic attack. At this thought, you took special notice of his own body language. His legs were crossed as they usually were and his chin was tilted upwards ever so slightly. His hands were folded neatly in his lap. Even after witnessing such a paroxysm of emotion as yours, he managed to stay calm and unalarmed. You couldn’t deny that it was impressive.

“Could I talk to you about it at our next session, Dr. Lecter? Extreme emotions like that seem like too much to handle at the moment,” you felt bad saying that, and worried it came across as rude. But at least it gave you something to plan for leading up to the next session.

“If that is what you feel will benefit you the most,” he said with the slightest nod of his head, “Though, never be afraid to feel. It is much more than a mortal burden. Emotions allow us to have such a scope of remarkable experiences. Those of us filled with vehemence are bestowed with one of the best human gifts and burdens. Do not be afraid of it.”

The formal concluding niceties occurred as you were left ruminating on his words. He had a point. Of course he did, he knew this stuff.

Eventually, you had both risen from your respective seats in the middle of the room and were beginning your walk to the door you would be exiting from. He opened the door for you, but you paused. Looking back a him and giving him a soft look you spoke.

“Thank you.” you said, you saw a spark of both pride and slight confusion glow in his eye, accompanied by a slight turn of his head.

“I’m your psychiatrist,” he said, your last name leaving his lips in that formal way you’d grown used to, “It’s my pleasure.”

You stepped out of his office and before you knew it, you were back in the chilly air of the night. You looked at the building you had just exited, seeing warm light glow from the rooms inside, a contrast from the dark sky overhead. Part of you wished to be back in his office. Bach playing softly in the background, surrounded by art and literature from times far passed, the doctor’s sophisticated and accented voice ringing clearly through the room.

You could get used to this.

And now, you had Dante waiting for you to read when you got home.

Your journey on the path had begun.

Imagine: Having your first dinner with Hannibal.

Hannibal smiled softly, watching you „I hope you like it.” He said with his deep voice

You looked at him and smiled „Yes, it’s delicious. Thank you for inviting me on a dinner, dr. Lecter.” You said happil

„Please, [Y/N] call Me, Hannibal.”

You nodded „Okay, Thank you again, Hannibal.” You said softly and returned to eating.

Author: Cass

Gif: X

𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝕺𝖇𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠

Hannibal Lector, the enigmatic forensic psychiatrist and notorious serial killer, harbored a secret obsession that burned with an intensity that chilled to the bone. His unwavering gaze, piercing maroon eyes, and lips curved in a sinister smile, betrayed his fascination with a specific individual: the enigmatic [Y/N].

Their paths had crossed at a psychiatric hospital, where Hannibal cunningly studied [Y/N's] vulnerability and frailties. Intrigued by her resilience and the shadows that lingered in her eyes, he became ensnared, consumed by a desire to possess her.

Hannibal's love was not pure or selfless. It was an obsessive infatuation, a twisted desire to claim [Y/N] for his own, regardless of her feelings. His every thought and action was driven by his fixation on her.

As [Y/N's] life became entwined with Hannibal's, she sensed an unsettling presence lurking in the shadows. Unnoticed glances, mysteriously opened doors, and the eerie silence that enveloped her sent shivers down her spine.

One fateful night, as [Y/N] returned home from work, she found a note on her doorstep scrawled in Hannibal's elegant handwriting. A chilling invitation to dinner, promising an unforgettable evening filled with tantalizing culinary delights and intellectual discussions.

Unable to resist the allure of Hannibal's charismatic nature, [Y/N] accepted. As the clock struck seven, she found herself seated at Hannibal's lavish dining table, unaware of the fate that awaited her.

With each course, Hannibal's obsession became more apparent. His intense gaze never left [Y/N's] face, as if he could devour her with his eyes. The pleasantries he whispered turned into possessive declarations, and the air grew heavy with his desperation.

As the evening reached its climax, Hannibal's mask of civility shattered. He revealed his true intentions, confessing his unyielding love for [Y/N] and his willingness to eliminate any obstacles that stood in his way.

Terror flooded [Y/N's] veins as she realized the true nature of Hannibal's obsession. She fled his mansion, desperate to escape the suffocating grasp of a madman.

Hannibal pursued her relentlessly, his possessiveness fueled by rejection. Anyone who dared to approach [Y/N] faced the wrath of his deadly cunning. Friends, family, and even potential lovers vanished without a trace, leaving [Y/N] utterly isolated and vulnerable.

As Hannibal's obsession grew, so did his methods. He manipulated events to isolate [Y/N] from society, ensuring that she had nowhere to turn. Fear gnawed at her mind, as she became trapped in a twisted game of cat and mouse.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as the hunt intensified. [Y/N] clung to hope, desperately seeking a way to escape Hannibal's clutches. But the more she resisted, the more determined he became to claim her as his own.

In the end, a bloody confrontation ensued, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake. Hannibal's obsession had consumed him, driving him to the brink of madness and beyond. And as [Y/N] emerged from the darkness, forever scarred by Hannibal's twisted love, she learned a chilling truth: the human heart is capable of harboring the most sinister of desires.