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#Hannigram x child!reader
p1llow-w1llow · 4 months
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Murder Dads
Hannigram x Child!reader
(Platonic Ofc)
Summary: Y/n had a good home life, that was until they found out it was all a lie. Fortunately, they had two people who treated them well and gave them the life they wanted.
(Nah bc I acc love the idea of this sm and I am PRAYING you all love it too-)
TW! Implied/Mention of kidnapping, mention of drugging, death, description of death/dead bodies, passing out, mention of/implied murder-suicide and mention of infertility.
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A loud crash from down the hall caused you to jolt upright in your bed. The cool air seeped through the thin cloth of your shirt as you stepped out from under the covers and locked the door across from your bed.
You jumped out your skin as footsteps raced up and down the hall, the slim line of light under your door slipped into your room, the faint shadow of two sets of shoes lingered outside. Heart racing quickly, you rushed to your wardrobe and hid between the tops and trousers piled in each corner.
A loud crash echoed throughout the room, the yellow candle light from the hallway chandelier leaked into the room, letting the dressers and cast aside shoes and toys bask in the beautiful glow.
“Search the room.” A tall man in a black jacket barked at a group of soldiers, giving them orders as they raced to check every spot in the room. Under the bed, behind the curtains, beneath dressers. Anywhere and everywhere.
But fear jolted through your body as one walked over and reached for the handle on the wardrobe. The bright white light of their torch as it flashed in your eyes made you flinch.
“Found the kid.” The soldier yelled over to the man, making the man in charge race over as they pulled you out.
You kicked and squirmed to get out of the soldiers grasp but couldn’t. The man in charge looked down at you, urging you to be calm.
“My name is Agent Crawford of the FBI. You have nothing to worry about, you’re safe now.” He smiled softly, not expecting the harsh kick to the stomach you gave him.
A single gunshot echoed down the hall as well as two thuds.
“Mama?” You called out.
Enough squirming finally became useful as the soldier loosened his grip to much and you ran off. Panting like a dog, you rushed down the hall until you got to the master bedroom. You came to a halt, seeing blood cover the hard wood floor and the body of your Mama and Papa sprawled out. A knife lay in your Papa’s hand, his grip slowly loosening and his eyes briefly glancing at you before softly gazing off into the distance.
The colour drained from your face as realisation set in.
As you tried to run over, a hand caught the back of your shirt. Tears spilled out your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you fought against whoever was holding you back. You yelped quickly as they pulled you into their embrace holding you tightly against their chest. The slow rise and fall of their breathing calmed you slightly as they held you in place, not letting go no matter how hard you struggled.
Pain stung your soul as you were dragged away from the scene, watching everyone else allowed in. Everyone was able to see them except you. Their child.
“I’m going to set you down now, can you promise to not run?” The voice hummed through your body as they kept their hold on you. Their voice was soft but rough, round yet pointy, like the sharp end of a dull pencil. An accent as well. Not one you had heard before- or ever. It was pretty though.
A small nod was all they needed to trust you.
They gently set you down with a grunt and watched as you turned to face them. He was a well-dressed man, in his mid 50’s with greying hair and nice brown eyes. You gazed up at him and saw him reach for your face. Worry set in and you reacted the only way you knew how.
Fear and acceptance.
You clamped your eyes shut and braced for him to strike you. Instead he tussled your hair, his touched moving down to hold your shoulder.
“Theres no need to worry.” He started, bending slightly to be at your level. “You’re safe with me.”
You felt tears run down your face as you opened your eyes. Staring at him, a look of happiness settled as well as a soft smile as you hugged him. You clung to his midsection, feeling his arms embrace you, one hand tangling in your hair and the other rubbing your shoulder.
Someone gently cleared their throat from behind you, causing you to begrudgingly let go and turn. Another tall man, thinner framed than the one behind you, with casual clothes on, messy brown hair and thin rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose.
“Dr. Lecter, can I speak to you over here?” He asked.
A soft hum left Dr Lecter’s lips as he stepped around you and walked away with the other man.
Curiosity got the better of you as you spotted most police and FBI agents trying to get press away from the windows, giving you the opportunity to see your mama and papa.
Quickly and quietly, you waltzed into their bedroom, under the crime scene tape. You saw the blood that rolled from your mama’s lifeless body. Gallons seemed to have drained from the wound in her chest. Her eyes were cold, desolat of any feeling or emotion. She was half covered in a black bag, yellow pieces of paper with numbers in bold surrounded the cornered off area.
The floorboards screeched under your weight as you knelt next to her, brushed the bloodied hair off of her face. A sob left your lips as you looked at her. She always said she’d never leave you, not after the deal of issues she and papa had went through to get you. She made sure you knew she wouldn’t leave your side.
She hadn’t lied fully. You were beside her. She just didn’t know.
You hadn’t realised the river of tears sinking into your shirt and the amount of sobs that echoed in the room.
Heavy boots raced to your spot, grabbing you under your shoulders and dragging you out of the taped off area. Your body began trembling. The adults surrounding you watched and began trying to help you as you shook like a leaf in the wind. All their words blurred as you fell into someone’s arms.
~~~~~~~~
Your eyes opened slowly, analysing your surroundings. The soft beeping of a heart monitor, machines huddled around the twin bed, dull walls empty of anything other than scattered motivational posters.
A hospital room.
“Good. You’re awake.”
A gasp left your jaw agape as your gaze shot over to the speaker.
“My Name is Will Graham, this is Dr. Hannibal Lecter. We both work with the FBI and wanted to speak with you about your abductors.”
“Abductors.?”
Dr. Lecter folded his jacket and placed it on a chair beside him. He stepped forward and placed a hand on the guard on the edge of the bed. “The people in this drawing.”
He placed a sheet of brightly coloured paper on your lap. A crudely scribbled sketch of a family of three stretched across a plain sheet of paper with your name on the bottom left corner. The family was your mama, your papa and you.
“The perfect, happy family.” Your papa always said.
You listened closely as they began to explain who your ‘parents’ were.
Drug smugglers. Human traffickers.
Mafia boss father and mother who dabbled in modelling. They had wanted kids with each other since they met, but found out your mama was infertile.
That’s where you came into the equation. They saw you at the park with your family and just knew the three of you would be perfect together.
So, of course, they stalked you and your family. They found out your school, when your parents went to work, when you’d be alone with a nanny. Apparently, one day your old nanny went ‘missing’ so your parents hired a new one.
Dr. Lecter suspected that you were either unconscious when your parents were killed or suppressed the memory. You couldn’t remember it if you tried your hardest.
Your face contorted as you heard your mama and papa had drugged you with each meal to keep your their little angel.
Oblivious and innocent was what they wanted.
It was what they needed.
Your heart sunk as Mr Graham spoke about how your father had lost all their money in casinos and splurging on stuff he wouldn’t need.
To save himself and his wife from their investors hunting them down and spending hours torturing them before killing them, he decided to commit to a murder-suicide plan.
Turns out that Mr Graham had been the one to shoot your papa right as he had plunged the knife deep into your mama’s chest.
Your breath hitched as you thought about how horrible that must have been. Life of both yourself and your wife’s fading in front of you as an agent drags your child away. No chance to say goodbye. No nothing.
You sobbed into your palms as you held yourself still, threatening to tremble once again.
Dr Lecter placed a palm on your back, rubbing gentle circles into your skin and assuring you that ‘Everything would be okay in the end.’
For weeks you waited for that good end.
You were cooped up in that small hospital room for what felt like years until you were finally permitted to leave under supervision.
That supervision was, of course, Dr Lecter and Mr Graham.
When you were out they would take you to cafes and restaurants you liked, as well as clothes shopping and toy shops. They gave you everything you wanted.
Dr Lecter brought you to his house at some point too. He cooked for you and let you hang around his kitchen and watch. After some time Mr Graham came to the door, surprised to see you answer.
Will threw you over his shoulder, delivering you to Dr Lecter. He gently placed you down next to him before closing the oven door.
“Could you two set up the dining table for me? I forgot to do it earlier.” He said softly, going back to chopping up vegetables.
You and Will grabbed some cutlery and began placing things down where you were kinda sure they went. Needless to say, Dr Lecter had to rearrange them all.
After a lesson on how to set a table properly, you were allowed to start eating.
Hannibal smiled as he saw you happily chewing away. He hadn’t seen you smile properly before and he thought it was adorable, especially due to the fact that it was at his cooking. Such a small creature that had been through so much yet still had a smile on its face.
Will had taken notice as he watched you guzzle down your food. His gaze focussed on you before glancing at Hannibal, as if communicating with him. Hannibal looked back and smirked softly.
You looked at them as you finished your food, seeing that had been done for a while. A gentle apology left your mouth before Hannibal swiped yours and Will’s plates away.
Will walked towards you and took your hand in his, saying he had an amazing surprise for you. He guided you upstairs and to a door with a white sign on the handle,
‘Y/n’s Room’
You looked up at him, eyes shining with wonder and he opened the door.
The door rolled open with a loud creak and stopped just before hitting the wall. Will flicked on the light and presented a room- your new room. You quickly stepped inside and began to explore but stopped at a burgundy desk pressed up against the wall below a window.
On the desk was a paper with lots and lots of writing you would never read. You heard Hannibal’s footsteps come upstairs and stop at the doorway, watching with Will as you read the title of the sheet.
‘Adoption Papers for Y/N L/N’
~~~~~~~~
Finished Sunday 14th of January 2024 3:01 AM.
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semiweirdshipper · 11 months
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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?
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liennka · 7 months
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Mizumono
Hannibal Lecter x Will's daughter X Will Graham
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Summary: Will was supposed to help Jack with killing Hannibal, but he arrived too late and with him, his daughter, Y/n.... (s2e13)
-> This one is filled with angst, but i realised that's just what i am good at :) I am open to any criticism (be nice pls).
I just wanted to say that I am not the owner of this show, but I did make this story, so don't copy it without my knowledge, thank you.
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When Alana called about the warrant, Will didn't panic. He told Y/n to go downstairs, urging her to turn off the lights and grab a jacket. And as the police headlights came through the windows, they ducked and crawled on all fours to the back door, Will grabbing his gun. Outside, hidden in the darkness, they ran across their property, stopping on a road. The rain soaked their clothes, though at least the ground wasn't muddy, otherwise they'd be easy to track. A taxi pulled up and Will gave him an address. 
"Hannibal Lecter's house? Why are we going from one danger to another?" Y/n asked, much rather preferring a McDonald's or a cinema. 
"Because Jack will be there, and right now nowhere is safe," her father whispered, looking out the window, "and maybe it's the only address I know."
"That's probably it. What are we going to do then? Have a cup of tea with him and chat with Hannibal?" she sarcastically teased. 
"I gave him time to leave, nothing should happen".
Y/N wasn't so sure.
----●----●----●----
When they got off, her father couldn't have been more wrong. Alana laid there, glass broken, rain rinsing blood from her hair. She seemed dead, just the twitching from shock making her shoulders move up and down. 
"Alana!" Will rushed to her and wrapped her in his coat.
Y/n made note of her surroundings. The front door opened, all sorts of wet footsteps on the carpet, the second floor window busted. And a bloody burgundy dahlia looking at her from a pot near the entrance. 
"Betrayal," she hummed, crouching down beside Alana.
Will looked at her as if she was crazy. He had just called the ambulance and left Alana his phone. 
"The flowers," Y/n pointed out, "I guess he's inside.” 
"Jack's there too," Alana choked out.
Y/N was surprised, she thought Alana's rib cage was too damaged to speak, but Alana proved her wrong. Will nodded and stood up, his gun in both hands. Y/n stayed a little longer, not caring that her hair was now sticking to her ears and causing her to feel cold.
----●----●----●----
As she opened the door to the kitchen, the smell of blood hit her. There were knives, plates and glass everywhere, two pairs of shoes standing in the midst of it all. As she looked up, Hannibal's silhouette greeted her.  
"You were supposed to leave!" Will was standing in front of him.
"I couldn't leave without you two," Hannibal said affectionately. 
Y/n did not know who 'you two' meant, but had a hunch that it included her. Strangely, Hannibal didn't even spare her a look, placing his palm on Will's cheek as if to caress it. They both had such an intense gaze, the sexual tension almost making Y/n turn around to give them some privacy. The scenery looked like a theater piece, a tragedy at that. They dove into their world, where she didn't exist and where they spoke in a different language, or maybe she just lost her hearing from how loud her heart was beating.  Either way, Y/n wanted to separate them, to drag her dad back to their house, back to their dogs. 
She did not see the knife coming from her point of view. Her father simply yelped and took a step forward, crashing into Hannibal's arms. This wasn't real, no. Hannibal would never hurt Will, he was like the other half of his soul, she lied to herself. But there was a red stain on his shirt and when Hannibal embraced him, the weapon remained in his hand, as if to mock them. Y/n stood motionless, no sound could break through her frozen vocal chords. She never thought this would happen, her chest tightening and her eyes filling with tears of pure terror.
The impact of Will's body aligned with her first fallen tear. His body fell directly into a pool of Jack's blood, his pants soaking it up. A few droplets of their mixed blood landed on her shoe, ruining her white trainers. Y/n swallowed nauseously, not daring to look into her fathers eyes. 
Hannibal leaned forward, his crescent-shaped blade back on the counter. 
"I have let you know me, see me," Hannibal paused as Will struggled to breathe, "I gave you a rare gift, but you didn't want it.”
"Didn't I?" Will insisted heartbroken, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. He seemed distressed, but more than anything, he was furious. 
Y/n shut herself off, not wanting to remember her father so frail, choosing to merely listen. And when she heard Hannibal mention the shattered teacup again, something in her snapped. She opened her pocket knife behind her back, using it for the first time since she bought it after the encounter with Tobias. Her fight-or-flight instinct flipped a coin and settled on fight. In a blink of an eye, she was standing behind Hannibal, her knife placed just under his jaw.
Y/n had no idea what she was doing. Her mind told her to end it, to be free at last. But her heart knew that was not possible, not in this life. She couldn't stop shaking, so she applied more force, making him bleed a little.  Will sucked in his breath, not quite understanding what was going on as this was out of character for her. 
"We are not a shattered teacup. You can't glue us back together and pretend like nothing happened," Y/n croaked in his ear, her voice high-pitched.
The blade suddenly twitched as a chuckle erupted from Hannibal’s chest.
"No, you certainly are not just a piece of pottery, but you are indeed fragile."
“You should have left when Will told you to. Instead you slaughtered them all, rightfully or not, whether you believe in God or not. There is no excuse for that,” Y/n hissed, her disappointment in him turning her words bitter. 
"I should have seen it coming…you made us so blind," her disappointment in herself turning her words sour.
Alana's happy face when she gave her a handmade sweater, or Jack and Bella's Christmas party, it was all over. Her bright future turned dim.
"I just wanted us to be a family. Why," she sobbed, a big droplet falling on the floor, "why can't I have a genuine family for once?"
----●----●----●----
Taking advantage of her state of mind, Hannibal grabbed her hand, pulling the knife away from his throat and spinning her around. He took her face in his palms, making her look at him. Y/n had teardrops on her chin, red spots on her irritated skin, her lips chapped and her eyelashes littered with fresh tears. He wiped them away so she had a clear view of him. However, he was no better, his normally perfectly sleek bangs were now messy, blood on his collar and some drying under his nose. He was bruised and in pain, yet he still looked like the most charismatic man she had ever seen. A charismatic man that attempted to erase her father's existence. 
"You don't get to start over after what you've just done, that's not fair!” she tried to wriggle out of his grip, “You hurt Will and you broke my trust. What do you expect us to do?" 
"Nothing, such is life. Don't fight it, let it all go."
Y/n raised her eyebrows in disbelief, a single tear running down her cheek. By now she could care less about having a weapon on her side, she felt she had already lost. 
"'And what if I don't want to let it go, to forget or forgive?" 
"Then you lose yourself," Hannibal directed his gaze back to Will, "I forgive Will. Will he forgive me?"
"'Don't. No, no, no!" Will uttered for the first time after his collapse.
It broke his heart, but there was nothing to be done, his design was meant to be finished and everything had to go according to plan. He pried her knife from her slack hold, unbeknown to her. 
"What are you tal-" Y/n's question couldn't be finished as she was silenced.
Her own knife, now in Hannibal's possession, was plunged blade deep into her side, almost identically to her father's. She yelped as she felt her muscles being torn apart, the stinging as Hannibal yanked it out causing her to choke. Her eyes opened wide as if trying to comprehend what was happening. The searing pain in her torso sent her to the ground, but it was the pain in her heart that made her burst out crying again, only this time it would not stop. Hannibal slowly lowered her down beside Will, splattering the tiles with her blood and tears like the rain would.
 She shook, struggling to catch her breath. With one hand she pressed against her wound, with the other she found her father's hand and weakly squeezed it. She felt his cold fingers, the energy draining from his body. 
"Dad," Y/n muffled her cries. 
Will wanted to help her, to hold her and console her, but he'd been bleeding for so long he couldn't even open his mouth. He had no choice but to watch with half-closed eyes as the entire room bathed in red.  
"You can make it all go away. Put your head back, close your eyes," Hannibal reached for Will's shoulder and met his eyes. "Wade into the quiet of the stream".
Y/n blinked at Hannibal for a second, but instead of a man, she saw a red horned monster with black dahlias sprouting from its eye sockets. So this was his true self, she realised.
“We were never meant to work, were we?” she clutched at Hannibal's trousers with her bloodied fingers. 
There was a silence for a while, Will's labored breathing slowing and her own sniffles fading to silent tears. Hannibal knelt down and ruffled her wet hair. 
And as her father closed his eyes, Hannibal asked her: "Will you forgive me?"
Y/n wanted to say no. She wanted to send him into the pond of burgundy ink as well, but her own mind said otherwise. 
"'Maybe, if you promise to make us work."
He smiled and stood up, not looking at her again. As his footsteps faded away, Y/n's warm blood grew chilly and her eyes heavy. With her last strength she kissed her father's knuckles, her last tears streaming down her face.  
----●----●----●----
She shed tears for how pitiful her ending was. And as her vision got blurrier, she bid farewell to her life.
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murderhusbands4life · 8 months
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Okay so I've been meaning to do this for ever but here we are decided to make this so I can start writing oneshots for Hannigram!
So you can request ideas, I will only be doing Hannibal x child / teen readers no Romance only platonic oneshots.
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(idk if this is allowed or not) but how would poly hannigram react to reader having a miscarriage?
Poly!Hannigram x Fem!Miscarriaged!Reader
warning(s): mentions of miscarriage, mourning characters, angst, people invalidating grief, guilt, possibly very triggering.
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Hannibal and Will had been with (Y/n) for a few years now, and the two men had been considering having a child with their darling. When asked, (Y/n) had agreed, ecstatic about raising a child with her husbands. She had taken great care of herself when she found out she was pregnant, making sure she wasn’t stressed, relaxing whenever she could, and making sure to eat and drink everything needed to have a healthy baby. Hannibal and Will would become more protective over their darling when she’s pregnant, making sure that she is alright and checking in on her more than they usually would. The three of them were all so excited to meet their little one, until Hannibal had received that dreadful phone call.
(Y/n), now five months along, had gone to her usual prenatal appointment, happily chatting with the nurse. Hannibal and Will had to work, and reluctantly let their wife go alone. They hated having to miss out on those small yet important moments, but (Y/n) had assured them that everything would be okay.
Until suddenly, it wasn’t.
Hannibal was sitting in his office, getting ready for his next appointment when his phone rang, making him pause momentarily before moving to answer it. Noticing it was his wife, he picked up and immediately asked if everything was okay, the silence he was met with making a lump form in his throat. He was about to say something before he heard a sob, his wife crying as she told him she had lost the baby. He froze where he was, his mouth slightly agape as he processed what she had said. He was praying that this was some sick joke, that it wasn’t real. But as his wife continued to sob and apologize, he realized that it was all too real. He shook his head, trying to hold back his tears as he reassured his wife that she wasn’t to blame, that he loved her and wasn’t upset with her at all.
After ending the call, Hannibal sent a text to Will, worried his voice would betray him as he asked him to stop by his office, only telling him that it was incredibly important. Once Will had finally arrived, he spotted Hannibal sitting in one of the chairs, wearing a pained expression.
“Hannibal, what’s going on?” Will asked, carefully sitting down across from him as he waited, wanting to know what was happening and why he looked so defeated.
“I don’t know how else to say this..(Y/n) miscarried.” Hannibal stated, staring ahead, seemingly still processing the horrible reality while Will’s jaw dropped, a look of horror on his face as he realized what had happened. He stood and went by Hannibal’s side, bringing him into a tight hug while sobbing, the grief almost hitting him immediately. 
After a few minutes, Will stood, letting Hannibal know he was leaving to go check up on (Y/n) before he left the office, Hannibal now alone as he was slumped in his chair, wondering what had gone wrong, if there was anything he could have done, until ultimately realizing that what had happened couldn’t have been prevented. 
Hannibal would return home, finding Will and (Y/n) in bed, their darling curled into Will as she sobbed, letting out sniffles and hiccups all the while apologizing. Will kept reassuring her that she wasn’t to blame, sounding like a broken record as he repeated this. Hannibal changed out of his work clothes, climbing into bed with them both before holding his wife close, pressing a kiss to her head as he reassured her that she would be okay.
All three of them would be heavily affected by the miscarriage. Hannibal would distance himself more, Will would drink, and (Y/n) would try and ignore what had happened. She would do her best to act as if everything was fine, even when it wasn’t. They all would dive deep into their work, none of them daring to confront the empty nursery that remained untouched. 
(Y/n) had been working one day, feeling worse than usual as she stared at an ad in the magazine, showing a happy family enjoying dinner. One of her coworkers noticed, walking over to her while placing a hand on her shoulder. (Y/n) flinched, setting the magazine down slightly.
“Did you need something?” (Y/n) asked, slightly confused when her coworker shook her head.
“No, but I’ve noticed you’ve been getting worse. Now, I’m just saying, you could always try agai-” Her coworker was quickly cut off by (Y/n).
“That’s enough. You do not get to decide when I stop grieving. Don’t ever talk to me again.” (Y/n) stated firmly, slapping her hand away before she got up, taking her things with her, the magazine now on the floor.
(Y/n) began driving home, her knuckles white as she gripped the steering wheel. She was tired of being sad, angry, the guilt she felt eating away at her every day. She hated the tension she had with her husbands, and she was going to fix it. Somehow, she was going to. She had to.
(Y/n) slammed her car door shut, doing her best not to storm into the house as she opened the door, making her way to the nursery. She opened the door, pausing in her movements as her breath became shaky. All the anger and resentment had been washed away at the sight of the nursery. The curtains were open, letting the sunlight in, landing on the crib that Will and Hannibal had set up. (Y/n) slowly went into the nursery, taking a seat in the rocking chair. 
She looked around, the changing table, stuffed animals, and the toys coming into view. Her eyes began to water, but she took a deep breath. (Y/n) knew she needed to be strong, focusing on her breathing. She had been so focused that she didn’t notice Will peering into the room, having noticed the open door.
“Darling?” Will asked, his voice soft and tone unsure as he waited at the doorway, hesitant to step into the supposed forbidden room.
(Y/n) turned to face her husband, spotting her other husband appearing behind Will. 
“I..I’m just tired of acting like this room has control over us. I don’t want to be afraid of a room anymore, I..I just want to get my life back.” (Y/n) stated, her voice cracking slightly as desperation filled her voice.
Hannibal and Will looked at her, an expression mixed with guilt and sympathy on their faces. They both joined her in the room, Will sitting next to the chair (Y/n) was on while Hannibal stood in the room, letting himself take everything in. It had been forever since all of them had been in the room, especially all together. As the emotional tension eased in the room, Will took (Y/n)’s hand into his own, pressing a kiss onto it as he reassured her that they would get through this.
The three of them soon left the nursery, no longer prohibited from entering it, but instead they began planning to adopt a child. They all knew that they would never ‘replace’ the baby they lost, but they would at least have a child to raise. They all vowed to never distance themselves from each other ever again, and they all would be there for each other, no matter what.
~fin~
author’s note: while the pain and grief might make them distance themselves, they still love and adore their darling. they just need time to process and work through the grief on their own, and eventually together with their darling.
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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26
Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything
@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon
Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence
"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"
"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.
You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."
"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"
"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.
You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.
"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.
Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"
You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.
"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.
"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."
"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"
Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"
You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"
"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."
You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."
"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."
"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"
"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.
"I didn't say that." He mumbled.
You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.
"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"
"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"
He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."
"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger. 
“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”
The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.
"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."
"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.
"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"
You opened the door with a smile.
"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.
"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."
"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."
"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."
Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."
"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.
"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.
Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."
You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.
"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.
Charissa waved to you from the porch.
"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.
"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."
"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."
"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.
"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."
Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."
"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."
"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.
"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."
"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."
"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."
"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."
"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."
"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.
Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"
"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."
Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."
You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."
Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.
"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."
"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.
"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."
Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."
You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."
"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.
"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."
"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.
Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."
Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.
"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.
Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"
"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.
"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."
"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.
"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.
"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."
Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."
You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.
The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.
Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."
She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"
You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."
"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."
You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."
"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."
"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"
"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."
"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"
"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."
Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"
"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."
"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly. 
He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring. 
You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”  
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leahseclipse · 3 years
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Here's the brand new masterlist !! Everything is organized by show, pairing and pronouns, so you don't get lost.
None of my works are to be reposted anywhere. Please report it to me if you happen to see a work of mine under a different username.
Have a good reading session!
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S T R A N G E R T H I N G S
Steve Harrington x reader
fem!reader
Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you: With the help of the kids, Steve secretly organises a proposal to you.
I don't think I could stand to be where you don't see me (I need you to stay) [AO3] : Steve takes a risk in the upside down, leading to some panic on the reader's side because of their feelings for him. Will they be able to make it out alive to confess their love?
Eddie Munson x reader
gen!reader
Nothing ever lasts forever: [ST4 VOL.2 EP9 SPOILERS] Reader's farewell letter to Eddie Munson.
If I only could I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get him to swap our places: [ POST ST4 VOL.2 - FIX-IT FIC] After the recent traumatic events, Eddie has ended up in the hospital, and fell into a coma. Reader visits everyday, hoping he'll wake.
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Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham (Hannigram)
Damaging Your Mind (AO3 Crosspost / Hannibal AU where Will is a therapist, and Hannibal is a priest): What else could happen between a psychiatrist and a simple priest? [COMING SOON]
Fin Du Repas ; Just a smol angst fic
Hannigram x GN! Reader
Le Cœur A Ses Raisons : When Will has been locked up before the reader could even admit their feelings, on top of fearing his rejection when he'll learn they got in a relationship with Hannibal, whom he tried to kill, what will be left of their friendship?
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Villanelle x Eve
Maybe We Got Lost In Translation: Maybe Eve and Villanelle weren’t meant for each other after all, getting closer was a mistake. Maybe they got lost in translation.
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Spencer Reid x Reader
GN!Reader
An (un)usual surprise: During the team’s usual dinner party at Rossi’s house, Reader and Spencer both have an exciting surprise to announce to the team.
2AM: The reader locked themselves out of their apartment out of the middle of the night, but a certain genius living down the hall might be able to help.
Fem!reader
Confessions, surprises and joyful events: What worse thing could happen other than calm and nice coffee dates when the genius resident happens to forget items when suddenly called in, causing their secret to come out? 
Daily surprises: Everyday, Spencer finds a new book in his bag, starting to look forward to it when the event occurs on a daily basis. 
Dear diary: When Spencer happens to find a diary in the library, he becomes more curious about the owner of it, wanting to find them, and possibly know them better than with a few words. 
Dear friend: Reader joins the BAU team, with possible feelings for one of the members, as old acquaintances reappear in her life 
Difficult day: Spencer and Reader both give up coffee and help each other by trying to find ways to keep each other awake. 
Distant memories: Spencer is older and slowly notices that he's developing memory loss.
Early stages: When Spencer starts dating someone, his work gets in the way, causing more problems than planned. 
It's always colder on your own: Old memories haunt the BAU's genius when a case involving addiction is handled by the team. 
Souvenirs, coffee dates and secrets: Suspicions about a possible partner rise when Spencer starts buying souvenirs and closely monitoring his phone more than he usually does; as he plans a few surprises for his beloved partner in secret. 
Thnks fr th Mmrs: Just two idiots in love, but none of them have the guts to say it. Eventually one of them will do it, a bit late, but, better now than never.
Unexpected visit: Spencer and his girlfriend had a child together that stayed a secret for security reasons.
Male!reader
Battle of knowledge: When a battle of knowledge abruptly occurs as the two known doctors meet at a case, everyone is partially amused by their hate towards the other, as they both differ their problems in quite a unusual way afterwards.
Child!Reader
Anything for you: Child confesses to Spencer that they aren’t sick, they’re being bullied.
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Ralvez x reader
Fem!reader
More fear than harm: Panic sets in when Luke and Spencer are told about a potential terrorist attack coming on a case, while their partner happens to be home with their child.
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Emily Prentiss x reader
Fem!reader
Dar+ling: Emily finally gets the courage to confess their feelings to the reader, who has just wanted to do it too for a while.
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GN/Fem!Reader
The Reichenbach Fall (AO3 Crosspost): “I'll always be there, I won't leave." Sherlock said, many times. And well...turns out he lied, and left everyone that loved him behind, just for a moment, till a miracle pulls out of nowhere, two years later.
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Detention time: They're high school students, Reader gets a detention and Dean, not wanting to be alone, joins them. (Fem reader)
Happy Anniversary Cas. : "I didn't think it would be so important to you two. No one has ever done this for me before."
Criminal minds x Grey's Anatomy
Spencer Reid x Reader
Fem!reader
Painful visit: As the BAU lands in Seattle for a case, the reader encounters a traumatic event.
Emily Prentiss x Reader
Fem!reader
Marry me: A car crash turns everything into a nightmare. (Based off episode 18 and 19 of S7 of grey's anatomy)
Criminal Minds x Doctor Who
Spencer Reid / 10th Doctor
Saved From The Rain: Spencer has an encounter with a… strange man in a trench coat who saves him from the rain.
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ajokeformur-ray · 7 years
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Do you have any Hannibal requests? Specifically Will Graham?
Could you do a Will Graham (Hannibal) x Reader where the reader is a baby and the reader wakes up in the middle of the night and only for just that Will had to feed the reader? Extra FLUFF? 
Ok help me out girlfriend I've Ben thinking of this for hours! Imagine you going over to Will Graham's house for work and when you get there and see all his dogs you completely forget about work and just like dive into the dogs and will just stand there and admires you until you get your bearings and after some fluffy chat be just hugs or kisses you or something! Just run with it. Thank you! 
These are the only Will Graham specific requests I have! There are also two more Hannibal requests, one a headcanon for being Hannigram’s child and another about Hannibal comforting the reader when she mistakes meat on her plate for a snake. You’re welcome to request more, if you’d like to.
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The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 7
Y/n meets her savior and officially joins the investigation. 
@deadman-inc-bikeshop @viviace and @dovahdokren here you go. If you want to be on the tag list, send me a DM. 
Trigger warnings: dissociation, implied sex abuse/trafficking, discussions of death, drugs
It was only when the man left your line of sight that your senses started to return. And even then, you felt like you were on a separate plane of existence from everything happening around you. You were floating, completely numb to your surroundings, letting the world push you wherever it needed you to be.
You weren't entirely sure how you made it from the dumpsters to the FBI headquarters, but there you were.
You listened in on the conversation happening in the other room. From what you could tell, the man who saved you was arguing with his boss.
"Because if there's so much as a Tylenol in her system, you're going to pass it off to the DEA." The man said, his voice soft but firm. This wasn't the first time they had this argument and it showed.
"Will, it is not my fault that the DEA gets preferential treatment." The boss sounded exhausted. "We have a better chance of catching this man with their resources. And we can't turn a blind eye to how substances affect human behavior. I thought you of all people would accept this."
"What if there's nothing in her system?" The man posited. "Then all we have to work with is our own resources. Would that be so bad?"
"Look," the boss said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. "We can't determine anything until forensics gets lab results back tomorrow. For now, see what you can find out from the waitress. She was able to keep her talking, maybe we can find out about what."
The man resignedly left the room and made his way to you. You glanced around the hallway, hoping he wouldn't notice that you've been eavesdropping.
He sat on the opposite end of the bench. You pulled the security blanket from the ambulance tighter around your shoulders.
"I know this is such a stupid, insensitive thing to ask," the man broke the silence. "But are you okay?"
"If it makes you feel any better," you sighed and dropped your shoulders. "I wasn't really okay to begin with."
"Yeah." The man agreed. "It doesn't matter how much you break something, it's still broken. Broken is a... Boolean value."
"It's just that.." You clutched the receipt between your fingers. "Just as I thought things were starting to improve, the universe sends me a cultist strapped to a bomb. I'm never going to recover from this."
"I don't think anyone expects you to." He said. "My name's Will, by the way."
"[F/N]." You said, just for formality's sake. He already knew your name. "I don't think I ever properly thanked you for saving my life."
"Don't worry about it." Will smiled weakly. "If you think you can, though, it would be innumerably helpful if you told us what happened."
You knew you weren't in a position to be asking for favors, but you were desperate. "Could I maybe stay with you for a while?"
Will hovered his hand over yours as if asking for permission. You took it, perhaps a little too eagerly.
"I'll stay with you as long as you want."
Will's presence made it easier to tell the man, whom you learned was the head of the Behavioral Science Unit of the FBI, everything that progressed that night.
"And then she started chanting that one bible verse about the martyrs inheriting the kingdom of heaven." You finished. "That was when Will shot her in the leg."
The director, whose name you learned was Jack Crawford, took a moment to ponder the information. You felt like a child that had been sent to the principal's office.
"Do you have any reason to believe that the woman was under the influence of any drugs? Alcohol?" Jack asked, resting his hands on the desk.
"Not with any certainty, no. I didn't see her ingest anything." You shook your head. "If she was under any influence at all, it was probably against her will."
"What makes you say that?" Jack cocked his head. "In your own time, of course."
"She was..." you glanced at Will, just to remind yourself that he was there. "Scared. Nothing she said had any conviction behind it. It was like she was a hostage being forced to read a fake suicide letter."
"What about these 'cult names' you mentioned?" Jack said. "What significance do you think they have?"
"She kept referring to Chase as 'vanguard'." You began.
"That's what Keith Raniere called himself." Jack interrupted. "Keith Raniere was the head of a sex trafficking cult."
"And the only reason I know that is because I listen to a lot of podcasts." You felt the need to explain. "I'm not sure how Mulvaney decided it would be a fitting title. Maybe he identified with Raniere."
"Did the woman call herself something, too?" Jack leaned in.
"Funny you should mention that," You forced a laugh. "Because she referred to herself as an 'unwoman'."
"That is interesting." Jack brought his hand to his temple, perhaps trying to convince you that he knew what ‘unwoman’ meant.
"He probably thinks Handmaid's Tale is some kind of instruction manual." You said, emphasizing the title of the work. 
“Handmaid’s Tale!” Jack exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "So, are you thinking maybe he's running a breeding cult?"
“Like a borrasca.” You turned to Will, hoping that maybe he would understand what that meant.
As if on cue, a woman in a lab coat burst into the room. 
“Dr. Katz,” Jack announced, taken aback by her urgency. “Welcome.” 
“Jack, you’re going to want to see this.” Dr. Katz said simply. 
Jack stood up from his seat. “Excuse me, Ms. [L/N], Will. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 
Again, you were alone with Will. 
“I’m...” Will broke the silence, pausing to find the right words. “Jack isn’t as scary as he looks. He just has a habit of asking too much of people. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but you’re perfectly within your rights to tell him to back off.” 
You shook your head. “That wouldn’t feel right.”
“Tell me about it.” Will muttered and leaned back in his chair. “It does seem pretty out of character for him to want to drop the whole case on the DEA, but he does have a point about their resources. You can’t argue with money.” 
“No.” You agreed. “You can’t.” 
Will sighed. “I’m sorry. The last thing you probably want to hear about is FBI in-fighting after almost being killed twice in a two-week period.”
“It doesn’t really inspire confidence, no.” You said. 
“Let’s talk about something else.” He offered. “Do you like... fishing?” 
You laughed at his strange attempt at making conversation, but answered honestly. “I used to go fishing with my grandpa when I was a kid.” 
Realizing he’d tapped into a happy memory, Will decided to follow it. “Where did he take you?” 
“My grandparents had this lake house up in Michigan.” You reminisced. “On this dinky little manmade lake where all the rich boomers took their spoiled grandkids for the summer.” 
“Did you ever catch anything?” He shared a little smile.
You realized that he was doing the same thing to you that you did to the unwoman. He was trying to keep you talking to avoid, or at least prolong, some catastrophic event. But he was doing it for your sake. You appreciated that. 
“We pulled up a ton of bluegills, some walleyes, occasionally a bass.” You listed. “One time he and his brother-in-law settled a dispute by seeing who could catch a catfish first. They were outside all day.” 
“Did he ever take you downstate to go fishing on Lake Erie?” 
You stared vacantly ahead. “He wanted to.” 
Will lowered his head in respect. “I’m so sorry.” 
“It was, like, fourteen years ago.” You admitted. “Don’t worry about it.” 
“Still,” Will shrugged. “Grief takes a lot out of you. I’m sorry for bringing it up, I had no idea.”
“At this point, most avenues in my life end in death. It’s not your fault.” You smiled at him. “Thanks for trying, though.” 
You settled into another prolonged but comfortable silence. 
“I think Jack is going to arrange to get you into some kind of protective custody, by the way.” He said, shifting his body to face you. “And I don’t think he’s going to give you a choice now that he knows Chase is targeting you, specifically.” 
“Yeah, I was thinking about that.” You answered. “I think they’re probably going to insist I quit my job, too.” 
“You sound disappointed.” Will nodded. “You’ve grown to like that job, huh?” 
“I was good at it.” You admitted. “My boss was gunning for me to take over when he retired. I had big plans for that place. I know waitressing is supposed to be a job that’s ‘just a job’ but--” 
“You had ambition.” Will finished. “You were making an investment for your future.” 
For the first time in a while, you felt heard. “Right.” 
“If you would permit me to say,” Will stood up and walked towards Jack’s desk. “I think you would be an invaluable asset to this investigation.” 
You leaned on the armrest. “I don’t know, Will. I feel like I would just get in the way.” 
“But the sooner we catch this sick fuck, the sooner you can get back to your restaurant.” He said, grabbing a post-it note. He gestured to you with a pen. “And I will do everything in my power to get you back to that restaurant.”
“Why?” You asked. “I’m just a waitress.” 
“Your profile of Chase Mulvaney in your TattleCrime interview was a work of genius.” Will took off his glasses. “And it was incendiary enough to make him come back for you. It wasn’t just a cocaine-fueled bout of murderous hysterics. He remembered you. Now, throughout this investigation, Jack has been ignoring me. But maybe he’ll listen to you.” 
“And if he doesn’t?” You raised an eyebrow. “What then?” 
Will sighed and leaned back on the desk. “Then I do it myself.” 
“Fuck it.” You said, the complete contents of your soul behind those two little words. If he was going to raise the stakes, by god you were going to match him. “I don’t have much else to live for, so might as well die for something.” 
“That’s the spirit.” Will agreed. 
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