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Chapter 9: Intentions

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out ”Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,7k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, canon divergence A/n: I know we're still not out of Su-zukana, but we're getting there. I probably won't follow everything that happens in the show. I will skip through some parts. Also I'm not super satisfied with the last scene no matter how many times I rewrite it, so I'm leaving it like this. (unedited)

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Hannibal and Will’s eyes lock in a silent duel, the latter’s gaze unforgiving, tinged with feigned ignorance. Will Graham wishes he could stop caring about what happened and what is yet to happen, but he can only pretend.

He studies the psychiatrist from head to toe, silently pleading for a sign from the universe that would reveal what sick ideas were brewing in his mind.

“You were able to reconstruct this killer’s fantasies,” Hannibal’s voice is almost a melody. “One dead creature giving birth to another. The bird, his victim’s new beating heart. Her soul given wings.”

Will’s gaze shifts away from the man before him, his mind conjuring the brutal image of Sarah Craber’s lifeless body, her eyes forever staring into the void. The way the psychiatrist describes it aligns with your words, and Will finds himself reluctantly agreeing. It’s a brutal kind of poetry, one that leaves an indelible mark on the soul.

“Rebirths can only ever be symbolic,” Will states, seemingly uninterested.

“You’ve been reborn.”

That piques his interest; he looks at Hannibal with raised brows. “Wasn’t that the goal of my therapy?”

A pregnant pause hangs between them as the other man carefully selects his words. Will finds it disappointing when the topic of conversation is swiftly shifted.

“How does it feel consulting again with Jack Crawford and the FBI? Last time, it nearly destroyed you.”

Will blinks rapidly and licks his lips in annoyance, a subtle sign of his inner turmoil. He knows he can’t allow his emotions to overpower him. Certainly not now.

“Last time, you nearly destroyed me,” he states the obvious. Hannibal’s gaze shifts to his hands lying in his lap, a subtle indication of his own contemplation.

“After everything that has happened, Will, you still believe—” his words trail off into silence as Will cuts him off swiftly, his voice almost amused.

“Stop right there.”

Hannibal blinks slowly, meeting the other man’s gaze head-on. Will notices he almost looks ashamed, but he’s not entirely convinced that the killer in front of him is capable of feeling anything, let alone shame.

“You may have to pretend, but I don’t,” Will asserts, his tone firm and unwavering.

Hannibal’s gaze softens, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his eyes. “No, you don’t,” he agrees, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. “Not with me.”

There’s a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a moment of unspoken connection between them, despite the chasm of their differences.

“I don’t expect you to admit anything. You can’t. But I prefer sins of omission to outright lies, Dr. Lecter. Don’t lie to me.” Each word is enunciated with deliberate care, emphasizing the gravity of the statement.

As their eyes meet, the sunlight streams through the window, casting a golden hue that dances across their faces. The gentle rays illuminate the room, creating a warm and serene atmosphere despite the tension between them. The dim sunlight seems to linger, as if highlighting the intensity of their quiet exchange and emphasizing the gravity of the moment.

“Will you return the courtesy?” the psychiatrist’s question hangs in the air, awaiting a response.

Will remains silent, knowing that Hannibal will interpret his lack of response as agreement.

“Why have you resumed your therapy?” his voice is steady, probing for the truth.

“Can’t just talk to any psychiatrist about what’s kicking round my head.” Will replies, his tone casual yet guarded. Hannibal scrutinizes him closely, searching for any telltale signs of deception or sincerity.

“Does she know?”

“About me being back in therapy with you? Yes.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Will. Does she know?”

Will sits in silence for an excruciatingly long moment, contemplating which pieces of truth he should divulge and which he should leave behind.

The room grows unbearably hot and airless, and his breath comes quick and heavy. He can feel his heart hammering against his chest, demanding to be let out. He’s struggling with a familiar feeling, the kind that threatens to overwhelm—to swallow him whole. And he’s powerless against it.

Finally, he finds the words, but they’re hardly a relief to the growing burden in his chest. “Yes.”

“What did you tell her, Will?” Hannibal’s voice carries more curiosity than anger. Will isn’t sure if he expected something more profound or revealing from his response.

“Everything.”

Hannibal’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but his expression remains unreadable.

Will feels an intense urge to elaborate, to fill in the missing pieces, to explain the whole picture. But he bites his tongue, choosing to stay silent instead, to keep his secrets. Hannibal remains still for a moment, taking in the information, assessing Will and his answer.

After a while, he speaks, “Does she know why?”

“Hannibal, I don’t even know why you did what you did.”

“Perhaps you never will,” Hannibal replies cryptically, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow, piercing Will like a knife. “And yet, you came to me in spite of that.”

“You wanted her to come back. Why?” Will asks. He’s not going to give up that easily.

“Because she’s brilliant, Will. She understands people in ways no one ever has. She’s perceptive and intuitive, and she’s not afraid to stare into the abyss. I’ve been searching for such an individual for a very long time.”

“I reckon asking you to leave her alone would be futile,” Will suggests with a resigned tone.

“Indeed,” Hannibal acknowledges with a faint smile. “But I promise to handle the situation delicately.”

“Handle it delicately?” Will asks, unable to keep the surprise and amusement from his voice. He’s never expected such words from Dr. Lecter, not when it comes to you. “Can you promise me she’ll be safe?”

Hannibal hesitates for a moment, clearly weighing his answer before speaking. “I can promise you that I have no intention of harming her,” he replies, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “However, I am also aware that my intentions may not always be the most relevant factor when it comes to such matters.”

Will finds himself contemplating the psychiatrist’s words, feeling an intense frustration at the answer, despite knowing that Hannibal will never offer more. He wants to ask further questions, to keep digging for answers, but the words won’t form. He’s been given an answer. For better or worse, that will have to be enough.

He speaks, his voice barely registering above a whisper, “Thank you.”

“Do you fantasize about killing me, Will?”

“Yes.” Now, more than ever.

Hannibal raises an eyebrow, his eyes studying the other man carefully. The question hangs in the air for a silent moment, the two men locked in a tense staring contest. Will breaks his gaze, his eyes dropping to his lap. There’s an uncomfortably long pause, one that leaves him feeling more exposed than he ever has.

The psychiatrist speaks again, his voice carefully measured but still carrying a hint of curiosity, “Tell me. How would you do it?”

Will feels an intense surge of anxiety, the idea of sharing his murderous fantasies almost too much to bear. His heart beats rapidly, his breaths come short and shallow, and his palms are damp with sweat. He hesitates, taking a deep breath in an failed attempt to settle his nerves.

Finally, he answers, his voice trembling slightly as he speaks, “With my hands.”

“Then we haven’t moved past apologies and forgiveness, have we?” Hannibal studies his face quietly for a moment, his eyes scanning Will’s features, searching for any hint of deceit.

“We’ve moved past a lot of things. I discovered a truth about myself when I tried to have you killed,” Will says slowly, a hint of reluctance in his voice.

Hannibal’s gaze remains unwavering, a steady, almost calming presence. He’s unfazed by Will’s blunt statement, his face uncommonly relaxed as he listens.

“That doing bad things to bad people makes you feel good?”

Will blinks and nods, a tinge of surprise in his eyes. No one has spoken this truth before, not even himself. But the words seem to provide a sense of closure. There is no judgment, no criticism; merely a statement of fact, a mutual understanding.

“Yes.”

“I need to know if you’re going to try to kill me again, Will.”

“I don’t want to kill you anymore, Dr. Lecter.” The man swallows and shakes his head. “Not now that I finally find you interesting.”

There’s an intense silence between them, Hannibal’s face betraying no sign of shock or surprise at the confession. The man merely listens calmly, processing Will’s words as he studies the man’s every feature.

“Your honesty is both refreshing and concerning,” the psychiatrist says with surprising ease.

“Thank my wife. She makes an honest man out of me.”

As you lie asleep in your bed, the quiet of the night envelops you, broken only by the gentle hum of the old bedside lamp and the crackling of the fireplace. You’re lost in a dreamless slumber, your mind temporarily free from the weight of the day’s responsibilities. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve had in a while. Sadly, it doesn’t last long.

The shrill ring of your phone shatters the stillness, jolting you awake with a start. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and apprehension.

With a groan, you swipe to answer the call, your voice husky with sleep as you mutter a tired, “Hello?”

On the other end, Jack’s voice crackles through the line, urgent and insistent. “Agent Avant, we need you at the crime scene immediately. There’s been a development in the case.”

The words cut through the fog of drowsiness, instantly sharpening your focus. You sit up in bed, running a hand through your tousled hair as you process Jack’s message. “What kind of development?”

“I can’t discuss it over the phone. I’ll send you the adress. Get here as soon as you can.”

“Understood,” you reply, your tone firm and decisive. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

With a sense of urgency, you throw off your covers and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You reach for your clothes, hastily dressing in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, your mind already racing with possibilities. You grab your badge and gun, slipping them into their accustomed places on your belt, and make your way to the door.

As you step out into the cool night air, you feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Though weary from the abrupt interruption to your rest, you know that duty calls, and you’re ready to answer it with unwavering resolve, just like in the good old days.

With each step towards your car, you embrace the night’s unexpected summons, steeling yourself for the challenges that lie ahead. In the world of law enforcement, there’s no such thing as ordinary hours—only the relentless pursuit of justice, no matter the hour or the cost. Oh, how you hate it.

You slide into the driver’s seat of your car, the engine rumbling to life beneath you as you buckle up and prepare to head to the address Jack has sent you. You’re glad to have your own car back; depending on Will wouldn’t do you any good in situations like this.

Before pulling away, you instinctively reach for your phone, hoping for a message from your husband to ease your mind.

As the soft glow of the screen illuminates your face, you quickly navigate to your messages, heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. But as you scan through the notifications, disappointment washes over you—there are no new messages from Will, and he isn’t home either.

A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a nagging sense of worry gnawing at your thoughts. You remind yourself that Will was never one to provide constant updates on his whereabouts. He’s always been independent, often immersed in his work with little regard for the passage of time. Yet the silence from him tonight feels different somehow, unsettling in its absence.

Pushing aside your concerns for the moment, you tuck your phone back into your pocket and focus on the road ahead. There will be time to address your worries later, but for now, duty calls, and you must answer—no matter the personal cost. With a determined set to your jaw, you shift into gear and press on into the night. Having agreed to return to work for Crawford, you’re determined to give it your all.

“We found Sarah Craber’s grave and fifteen others,” Jack Crawford informs you the moment you step out of the vehicle.

“Fifteen?” you repeat, unable to hide the stunned note in your voice. You knew the killer had murdered others before Sarah Craber, but the discovery of fifteen additional victims is shocking on a whole different level. “How long has he been active?”

Jack’s face is grim, his expression somber as he speaks. “The earliest victim was buried eight years ago. The most recent grave is only two weeks old.”

You dare to focus your eyes on the crime scene behind your boss’ back. The sight in front of you takes your breath away—not in a good way.

The dim light of the night provides only limited visibility, casting the landscape in shadows and silhouettes. Yet, the shapes around you paint a clear picture, a horrifying image of a killer’s work.

You can see the dug-out graves, dotted here and there—the final resting places of his victims. You can see the rows of police tape, marking off a boundary that no one is allowed to cross. You can see the solemn faces of the technicians, the detectives, the forensics, and other members of the investigative team.

“Fucking hell, Crawford.”

There’s a beat of silent hesitation before he continues, “And I’m afraid it gets even worse—”

You look at him with wide eyes, annoyance bubbling up beneath the surface of your skin. “You said I didn’t have to look at the bodies. You said that to me, Jack.”

“I said you didn’t have to get close to the bodies,” he corrects you with a hint of irritation. “But you’ll have to see them, at least from a distance. We have to assess the situation, and you’re our best profiler. It’s your job.”

“I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Didn’t you? You came back to the agency. This is what we do. You know that.”

“Yes, I came back. But you said I wouldn’t have to see the bodies.”

Jack sighs, a hint of impatience in his voice. “I thought I could shield you from that side of it, but it’s not worth risking your expertise when you can make a valuable contribution here.”

You feel your blood boil as you duck under the police tape and head toward the graves. “Let’s just get this fucking done,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your frustration evident in every word.

As you make your way toward the nearest body, the reality of the situation begins to sink in. It’s one thing to know that a serial killer has been active in this community for years, but it’s a completely different thing to actually see the proof of his crimes. The graves offer no comforting illusion—they’re real, and they represent the brutal truth and senselessness of the killer’s actions.

As you gaze upon the rows of bodies, or rather what was left of them, a realization dawns upon you with striking clarity.

“They’re all women?” you remark, the observation coming swiftly and without hesitation as your eyes sweep over the somber landscape.

Each marker bears testament to the lives lost, their identities hidden by the earth until this moment. There’s a solemnity in the uniformity of the graves, a shared narrative of female lives cut short, each one a story untold and a voice silenced.

In that moment, amidst the hushed whispers of the wind and the solemn rustle of leaves, you can’t help but feel a pang of sorrow for the women who now rest beneath the earth, their stories lost to time but not forgotten.

“Alright, he got comfortable.”

“Too comfortable?” Jack questions, eyebrow raised, ready to find out if you’re close to catching the serial killer.

You nod in agreement. “Way too comfortable.”

When a predator becomes comfortable, it means they believe they’re in control. And when they’re think they’re in control, they’re more likely to make mistakes.

The killer’s overconfidence in his ability to evade detection is evident. He’s been operating for years, right under your noses, taking the lives of innocent women and burying them in shallow graves that are easy to uncover once people start paying attention. You realize that this killer has been playing a dangerous game long enough to develop a deep sense of hubris; he truly believes he’s invincible. Arrogance seeps from every part of his crimes.

“So, it’s not Peter Bernardone?”

You crouch nearby one of the dug-out holes and observe as a forensic inspects the decomposing body. “Tell me, Jack, does Peter Bernardone ooze arrogance?”

Jack ignores your snarky remark as he considers your question for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I wouldn’t say so,” he decides. “Quite the opposite.”

“You really had to think about that one, huh?” You snort and shake your head in disbelief. “That man is a sheep, Jack. And this was done by a big bad wolf.”

Jack allows himself to crack a small smile at your analogy. “You’re right, this doesn’t fit Peter Bernardone; the arrogance doesn’t match the man. But there are a few others I have my eye on.”

“No, I don’t think he’s one of them.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “I’m interested to know who you think it is then.”

“How the hell would I know?” you retort, shrugging your shoulders in frustration.

“Your job is to figure that out,” Jack scolds you, growing tired of your complaints and excuses. “So what are you going to do now, Agent Avant?”

“I—” you start, then stand back up with a sigh. “I will find a bottle of good booze to lull me to sleep today.”

Jack’s face softens at the joke, the slightest hint of a smile gracing his lips. “That sounds like a plan. I don’t suppose you’re going to share?”

“You’re welcome anytime, boss.”

Jack nods, then gestures for you to continue examining the bodies. “Go on. We’re not done here yet.”

“Thought sharing the booze meant we’re ditching,” you mumble in resignation.

“Not until we’re finished here.” Jack indicates the bodies in front of you. “This is hardly the kind of case where you can get drunk and call it a day, Agent Avant. We still have work to do.”

“Alrighty.”

When you return home, the cold seems to have intensified. You lock the car, clutching a bottle of cheap wine under your arm. Sure, you could have splurged on something better, but right now, good taste isn’t your priority. You are aiming for a one-way ticket to Drunkville, with fingers crossed that the morning hangover won’t be too punishing.

The cold air nips at your cheeks, the bottle of wine under your arm a tangible reminder of the purpose of your excursion. You seek a distraction, anything to divert your mind from the day’s grim events. Yet, even as you hum a lighthearted tune, your thoughts stubbornly gravitate back to the graves and the haunting visages of the deceased women interred in the damp soil.

A complex array of emotions churns within you—grief, anger, irritation... perhaps even a touch of admiration? It was an unsettling sensation, one that you had experienced all too often before.

You dare to look ahead, your eyes tracing the outline of the forest behind the house, barely visible in the darkness of the night. It’s a mistake.

As soon as your gaze settles on the trees, you hear a faint scream emanating from that direction. You try to convince yourself it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you, but you can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles over you.

The scream gives you pause, causing you to hesitate on the icy pavement. You entertain the fleeting thought that it might be your tired mind, but then it comes again—a desperate cry for help echoing from somewhere near the woods behind the house. The sound sends a chill down your spine, a stark reminder of your solitude in this desolate place.

Despite knowing better, your legs carry you forward through the clearing behind the house, drawing you closer and closer to the trees where the sound originated. The urgency in the scream compels you to move, your heart pounding in your chest as you approach the edge of the forest.

Your footsteps are unsteady on the icy ground as you pause just outside the woods, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. The dense trees obscure your vision, and the faint light barely penetrates the forest, leaving your visibility limited to mere feet around you. You press on, determined to uncover the source of the distressing sound.

The screaming fades into silence, leaving only the sound of your own unsteady breathing echoing in the stillness of the night. You slip further into the woods, each step cautious and deliberate, the snow crunching under your boots. Despite the chill in the air, your clothes provide little warmth against the biting cold, and the shelter of the trees does little to shield you from the relentless wind.

The wind carries the cold air deep into your lungs, making your breath come out in cloudy puffs. Your coat offers little protection, and you feel the wind whistling through it, chilling your body to the core.

You take a few more steps, the trees growing thicker around you with each passing moment.

You pause, listening intently, trying to discern the direction from which the cries for help emanated. But in the silence of the night, your own heavy breathing is the only sound that reaches your ears.

The shrill of a scream shatters the stillness of the air, bursting through right behind your back, no more than a few feet away. It’s so loud that you instinctively cover your ears, feeling the jolt reverberate through your entire body.

In the chaos, the bottle of wine slips from your grasp, crashing to the ground and shattering upon impact with a nearby rock. Red wine splashes onto your boots and calves, staining the pristine snow with dark splotches.

You gape at the scene with wide eyes, heart racing in your chest as adrenaline floods your system. Your whirl around in an instant, your eyes scanning the area for any sign of the origin of the scream.

But the woods remain still, enveloped in an eerie silence, with only the moonlight filtering through the trees, casting shifting shadows that seem to dance around you. A shiver runs down your spine as you become acutely aware of just how isolated you are in this dark forest, surrounded by unknown dangers.

Your legs carry you as fast as they can, propelling you back the way you came, away from the ominousness of the forest. Panic surges through you, urging you to flee, to escape the darkness closing in around you.

Every step feels like an eternity as you race through the woods, your heart pounding in your chest, the echo of the scream still ringing in your ears. All you can think about is getting away, getting back to safety, away from whatever lurks in the shadows. Your senses are on high alert, every rustle of leaves and crack of twigs makes you jump.

The darkness seems to press in on you from all sides, suffocating and oppressive. Adrenaline courses through your veins, fueling your desperate flight through the underbrush.

You can’t see what’s behind you, but you can feel its presence, a looming specter haunting your every step. Terror grips you in its icy grasp, driving you onward, even as your legs threaten to give out beneath you. You push through the pain, pushing yourself to the brink of exhaustion in your frantic bid for escape.

You look behind you, but all you can see is darkness. You’re just about to reach the clearing when you collide with someone with so much force that it takes both of you down.

Your breath rushes out in a startled gasp as you scramble to disentangle yourself from the other person, heart hammering in your chest. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you push yourself away from them, scrambling backward on all fours until you’re a safe distance away. Panic surges within you, making your movements frantic as you try to orient yourself in the darkness. The shadows obscure the details, making it difficult to see who or what has you so rattled.

The person mutters your name in panic. It’s Will.

The instant you hear the familiar voice, you know that you’re safe—that whatever was chasing you is gone. You let out a shaky sigh and release the tension in your muscles, suddenly realizing how close you were to losing control of the situation.

But his sudden appearance leaves you confused, and you can’t help but ask, “What are you doing out here?”

“I heard your scream. Are you alright?” He stumbles in your direction in panic, hands outstretched to grab your arms.

The confusion only grows as you listen to his question, certain that you never made a sound. You didn’t scream, yet he’s insistent that he heard it. And even though you know your voice would be distinctive in the silence of the woods, he still seems to be under the impression that you were the one who called out for him.

“I didn’t scream,” you insist, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to make sense of the situation. “I heard it too, but it wasn’t me.”

You don’t know what to make of it, and the uncertainty makes your nerves flare. You start backing away from his touch, keeping an eye on him as you try to make sense of what’s happening.

“I don’t understand,” you murmur, your voice trembling slightly with a mixture of fear and confusion. “I didn’t scream. It wasn’t me.”

“What do you mean you didn’t scream?” He seems taken aback by your response, his gaze darting around as he tries to process what you’re saying. “I ran here as fast as I could after I heard you. Are you trying to tell me I imagined it?”

You can feel the tension in his voice, the confusion mirrored in his expression. There’s a palpable sense of urgency in his demeanor, as if he’s desperately trying to make sense of the situation.

You shake your head vigorously, repeating like a mantra, “It wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?” He glances around the woods again, searching for clues in the darkness. “Who else could be out here?”

“Let’s go home,” you say, ignoring his question and rising to your feet with the help of his steady arms.

Your legs still feel shaky after the run through the woods, and you lean on his arms for support as you try to regain your bearings. The cold air nips at your cheeks, making it hard to breathe, and the sudden burst of adrenaline has left you feeling exhausted. You let him guide you toward the house, not wanting to spend another moment in the dark woods.

“Don’t ever let me near those woods again,” you mutter, the words tumbling out without thought. Your voice trembles with a mix of fear and frustration, the events of the past few hours weighing heavily on your mind.

As you take the final few steps toward the house, you’re grateful to be out of the forest, but a lingering unease gnaws at you. Something about the whole evening feels off, and the fact that Will is here only adds to your discomfort.

As his arms envelop you, you feel a creeping unease settle over you, intensifying with each passing moment. His embrace should be reassuring, but instead, it triggers a disturbing sense of déjà vu. In this moment, you find yourself unable to be reassured by anyone or anything.

His eyes seem to darken, and before your startled gaze, antlers begin to emerge from his head, a surreal and terrifying transformation unfolding before your eyes.

The longer he holds you, the more your anxiety mounts, until you can no longer bear it, pulling away sharply, desperate to escape the unsettling sensations gripping you. Blinking in disbelief, you look back at him, finding no trace of the eerie transformation you just witnessed.

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untitled-writer-013 · 1 year

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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.

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.

#nbc hannigram #nbc hannibal #will graham #hannigram #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x will #hannibal x reader x will #will graham x reader #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #fem reader #miscarriage fic #original writing #taking requests #angst

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gingiesworld · 10 months

Text

The Woods (1/?)

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Fic Warnings : Angst. Violence. Death. Horror. Reader has a penis

Present

Wanda was sat with her arms wrapped around her in the cold room, chairs positioned into a circle, other patients had filled them. Some of them she had become acquainted with. Listening to their stories, trying her hardest to not tell her own story. The story that changed her life. Not for the better.

"Wanda, you have been coming here now for a few months and you have yet to tell your story." The counsellor told her.

"I just don't feel comfortable." She told them as they shook their head with a smile.

"Everyone needs to tell their story Wanda." They told her sternly. "So please, do share."

"Well, before I was here, over a year ago." Wanda fiddled with her sleeves. "I was happy. I had my friends, I know that my being here has kind of put up some barriers in my relationships but I uh, they thought I needed the help." She looked down at the ground. "Especially after Y/N. I lost my Y/N."

A little over a year ago

Wanda was excited when she approached the car with her bag, handing it over to Y/N who put the bag in the trunk before she got in the passenger seat. They had decided that the group of friends would have a weekend away at a cabin that Tony had booked.

Wanda got in the passenger seat beside Y/N, who was driving. Natasha and Maria in the back seat. Tony, Pepper, Clint and Laura in the car behind. It was going to be the four couples, having a couples weekend.

"I'm so excited for this." Maria said as she rested her head on Nat's shoulder.

"Me too." Nat agreed.

"We have needed this break." Maria said before Nat pecked her lips. Y/N took Wanda's hand in theirs, pressing a kiss to their lips.

"We most definitely do need this before the baby comes." Y/N smirked as they looked at Nat's and Maria's reactions through the mirror.

"Wait?" Nat yelled as Maria looked at a smiling Wanda. "You're pregnant!"

"Again!" Maria yelled as Wanda nodded.

"Do the twins know?" Nat asked her as Wanda shook her head no.

"We're going to tell them after the 20 week scan when we know what we're having." Wanda told them. "So this weekend they get to have a fun weekend with their Uncle Pietro."

"So, we are to expect a lot of noise from the two of you then?" Maria questioned with a smirk.

"Maybe." Wanda blushed as Y/N and Nat chuckled. "It's our first weekend away without the twins. We deserve it." Wanda told them as Y/N gave Wanda's hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yes we do." Y/N agreed as they started to drive. The drive lasted a few hours, consisting of Nat and Maria singing as Wanda watched the scenery change from the buildings of New York to the country side. Barely any life in sight except for those travelling through.

Y/N's phone rang as they drove, Wanda reached into their pocket and answered it.

"There should be a turn off on the left." Tony said as Y/N kept looking through the trees. "And just follow the road."

"Thanks Tony." Y/N spoke as Wanda hung up, Y/N followed his directions and got on the road in question. It started to be covered by trees as it went further into the woods.

"This is kind of creepy." Wanda noted as the woods got thicker and thicker, the sunlight barely shone through the leaves.

"I think it will be fun." Nat said with a smile as Maria just shook her head with a smirk.

"You would think it will be fun if you spent the weekend with Hannibal." Maria stated as Y/N looked in the mirror at Maria.

"That would be fun." Y/N stated as Wanda shook her with a smirk at the two best friends.

"You two are despicable." Maria stated.

"Hey, you can't tell me you wouldn't want to know what made him choose to eat people meat." Y/N told her.

"Exactly, I would at least have a replacement if ever I lost Y/N." Nat told them.

"Hey." Y/N yelled. "I am irreplaceable and you know it."

"Ok Beyoncè." Nat teased them as they all erupted in laughter. Soon quieting down when they noticed the cabin. It was dark and silent, barely the sound of the birds above could be heard.

"How did Tony hear about this place again?" Wanda questioned wearily as they all slowly took off their seatbelts. Tony, Pepper, Clint and Laura all wore the same expressions.

"I think he mentioned a friend of a friend." Nat informed them. "But I wouldn't quote me on it."

"It will be fun." Y/N told them. "Besides, Pietro and Steve have our location if anything happens." Y/N reassured Wanda as they kissed her cheek. "Let's just enjoy a twin free weekend. I wanna say just the two of us but there is eight of us."

"Let's go." Wanda nodded as they all got out of the car. Y/N and Maria grabbed the bags as Wanda and Nat waited by the car. Wanda was extremely weary about the cabin. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something just seemed off.

Present

"So that was the start of the weekend." Wanda said as she shrugged, wiping a tear that threatened to fall. "I just never realised that it would be the worst weekend of my life."

"Thank you for sharing Wanda." The counsellor smiled softly at her before moving on to the next person. She knows she has therapy as well as these counselling sessions, she just wants to get better for the twins sake.

----------------------------------------------------

Billy and Tommy weren't in the best of places, considering they had lost one parent and an unborn sibling, but their mom was in a mental hospital after her parents had her committed. They didn't believe the stories she told them about thr deaths, nor did they believe Nat either. The only two survivors as Y/N made her promise to get Wanda safe.

Although Nat was in a completely different place to Wanda. Since there was no real evidence and Wanda became dilarious after the loss of Y/N and the miscarriage.

"You still think I did it?" Nat questioned Jennifer Walters, her friend and attorney.

"I don't know what to think Nat." Jennifer said as she rubbed her brow. "You and Wanda were the only ones whp survived. The others died. Brutally I might add."

"I know that! I was there!" Nat yelled at her before Jennifer raised her hand to stop one of the guards from restraining her. "I just. No one believes me or Wanda. She is in an asylum. She is missing out on raising her kids because of this!"

"I know." Jennifer spoke softly. "But with no evidence, we only had the bodies to go off and no weapon."

"I wouldn't kill my wife or my friends. My best friend." Nat whispered in defeat. "I don't know how many times I can say it until you believe me."

"I am trying everything I can Nat. Even Lena and Alexei are looking into the cabin. You just need to be patient. Please" Jennifer pleaded with her.

A little over a year ago

Everyone walked the steps with caution, the cabin was in complete darkness until Tony opened the door and flicked the switch on the wall. Looking around at the furniture, it was like a standard hunting cabin, not really for the feint of heart.

"See, it's not too bad." Tony smirked as Pepper glared.

"Seriously Tony, you're a Billionaire." She scolded him. "You could have paid for us all to go to the Bahamas or something."

"Now that is a vacation I can get on board with." Clint smirked as the others agreed with him.

"Hey, it's just one weekend right, we have some food and good company. It will be just like high school." Y/N reasoned as the others sighed.

"Yeah." Wanda agreed with them. "Let's give it a chance."

"I'd rather wait until I see the bedrooms." Maria mumbled as they all headed up the stairs towards the rooms. All of them choosing their own, of course Tony had called dibs on the master since he had paid for the cabin.

"I don't feel right here Y/N." Wanda mumbled as she stood in the doorway of their room. Looking around at the stained walls, some were covered with pictures of the area or animals.

"It's just one weekend Wanda." They told her as they wrapped their arms around her waist. "When we get home, we can look at booking our own little getaway, anywhere you want to go. Just the two of us." They told her with a smile as she nodded.

"That sounds perfect." With that kiss, it eased her worries for the time being. Not knowing what hid away in the darkness, in the confines of the cabin. They weren't alone, and they were going to find out.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

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macherkissed · 1 year

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The Macherkissed Masterlist

Any Content warnings/triggers will be marked next to the work. If I miss any, just tell me and I'll make sure to correct it.

Scenarios/Headcanons;

How they react to seeing you depressed for the first time (Michael Myers, Poly!Ghostface) [CW: GN!Reader, Depression]

Befriending A Splicer Headcanons [CW: GN!Reader, Weapons Mention]

How they react to you telling them you're pregnant (Betelgeuse, Gomez & Morticia Addams, Yautja) [CW: AFAB!Reader, Pregnancy, One line mention of abortion, Smut Mention, Polyamory, Exophilia]

How they react to your new tattoo (Jason Voorhees, Tiffany Valentine, Norman Bates) [CW: GN!Reader, Tattooed Reader, Needles mention, Slight Smut mention]

Comforting you when your elderly pet is passing (Hellboy, NBC Will Graham, Venom & Eddie Brock) [CW: GN!Reader, mentions of losing a pet, possible triggering subject]

NSFW Headcanons (Mark Hoffman) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Fluff, Kink]

How they act with a noise sensitive SO (Betelgeuse, Hellboy, Venom, Yautja) [CW: GN!Reader, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Exophilia]

How they react to a Shy S/O (Chucky & Tiffany, Gomez & Morticia, Alice Liddell, Nemesis) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Polyamory, Mentions of violence, mild-to-moderate dom/sub, mentions of sadism, Exophilia]

How they react to you going into labour (Gomez & Morticia Addams) [CW: AFAB!Reader, GN!Reader, Pregnancy, labour, pain and slight childbirth typical gore]

How he reacts to your body tremors (Jason Voorhees) [CW: GN!Reader, Disabled!Reader, Medication mention, Fluff]

Oneshots;

The Reward of Patience (Betelgeuse) [CW: AFAB!Reader, Smut, Pegging]

Wrapped Up in Pretty Ribbons (Billy Lenz) [CW: Fem!Reader, Smut, Non-Con Voyeurism, Slight Somnophilia, Choking]

Those Sweet Lips (Poly!Ghostface) [CW: Fem!Reader, Smut, Threesome, Polyamory, Oral Sex, Some M/M Action]

Recompense (Hannibal Lector) [CW: Fem!Reader, Smut, Oral Sex, Boss/Employee Relationship]

Closest of Encounters (Psycho Goreman) [CW: Fem!Reader, Mature, Kissing, Suggestive, Exophilia]

No Gods or Kings, Only Fontaine (Frank Fontaine) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Oral Sex, Slight D/S]

A Moment Alone (Jack Wynand) [CW: GN!Reader, Smut, Ambiguous Penetration, Unprotected Sex, No Aftercare]

Alphabets

Thel Vadam X ADHD!Reader SFW Alphabet [CW: Fem!Reader, ADHD, Fluff, Exophilia, Marriage mention]

#Masterlist #Not writing #horror x reader #slasher x reader #blog meta #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #horror headcanons #horror imagines

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lokiandbuckysdoll · 9 months

Text

What could’ve been

Summary: Bucky says goodbye to the woman he loves

Paring: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 485

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This made me cry while writing it… so that says a lot 🥲

The memory replays constantly in your head as you close your eyes.

A Small house in the suburbs of Brooklyn with a white picket fence, you are in the kitchen making lunch as your children run around in the backyard with your dog.

Bucky is sitting on the back porch admiring the life you both created, so beautiful yet so delicate. “ Lunch is ready! Come wash up!” You yell from the window seal, Bucky gets up from his spot. “ You heard your momma, come on James, Becca wash up” he playfully chases them inside.

The sounds of footsteps and giggles soon fill your home, and that makes the biggest smile appear on your face. As your children, rush past you to go wash their hands, Bucky quickly comes to aid you as you hold the tray of food. “ Woah now, my wife shouldn’t be carrying heavy things, especially in your condition” he points an accusing finger at your pregnant belly and takes the tray from your hands.

You scuff at him playfully, “What are you going to do about it, Sarge?” You tease him, he simply shakes his head before kissing you and setting the table.

Those are the memories that would’ve been real if life didn’t happen the way it did. If Bucky hadn’t left for war.

A tired, yet graceful smile appears on your face as you open your eyes to stare at the love of your life. “Oh my James it’s more and more beautiful every time” You reach to move his hand that was holding yours to rest on your cheek. “ if only things were different, but we can’t dwell on the past” you’re weak lips place a kiss on his hand.

The rims of his eyes are red as he struggles to not let his tears fall down his face. “ Don’t cry, my love. Be thankful for the short time we got to have. I am grateful for the life I lived, Please know that I will always love you, My James Buchanan Barnes. You’re still the charming man I remember. Don’t let what those people did to you, define who you are. You deserve to be happy and live the life you want”. You closed your eyes and kissed his hand once more. The memory replays one last time as you close your eyes.

The heart monitor in the room begins to flat line, soon silence is the only sound that filled the room. With sad eyes, Bucky watches as your grip begins to fall from his hand, he leans forward, brushing your grey hairs out of your face. He places delicate kisses on your forehead, eyes, and lastly, the corner of your mouth, “Rest peacefully my beautiful doll. I will always love you”

Just like that Bucky lost the love of his life, the woman he thought he could have it all with.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGS 🏷️ @shadeysprings @caothicshit @mochie85 @missvelvetsstuff @huntressandlioness1 @just-another-blog34411 @imyourbratzdoll @hannibals-favourite-meal @nana1000night @silverfire475 @vbecker10 @sarahrogersevans @Tomandcakes @hallecarey1 @lyds247 @pigwidgeonxo @michelleleewise

#bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barns x you #bucky barns x reader #sad bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #sad fic

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sunshine-for-serotonin · 1 year

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Hello! Requests:Open!💕

I’m Sunshine, and this is my yandere request blog! I write yandere oneshots, headcannons, and scenarios for your entertainment with a maximum character limit of four. Below is a list of rules and what I will write for!! :)

𝑹𝑼𝑳𝑬𝑺

I will write for:

nsfw (fair warning, it may not be very good) ❣️on that note, I only write for sub characters. ❣️

suggestive content

fluff

most kinks, with exceptions for watersports, spit, and degradation

I will write for GN, afab, and explicitly fem readers only, because I don’t know enough to write about male readers to feel comfortably, sorry!!

𝐹𝒜𝒩𝒟𝒪𝑀𝒮

FNAF (games only):

Michael and William Afton

all animatronics (specify if you want human or natural form)

MANDELA CATALOGUE: (No NSFW for this one, sorry y’all)

Alt Cesar,

Cesar Torres,

Mark Heathcliff,

Adam Murray,

Jonah Marshall,

Gabriel,

Toonbriel

CREEPYPASTA and MARBLE HORNETS: pretty much all except for offenderman, Lj, candypop, and sonic.ExE

HOMESTUCK:

all trolls and humans

SLASHERS:

Asa Emory

Will Graham

Hannibal Lecter

OG!Michael Myers

Bo Sinclair

Vincent Sinclair

Bubba Sawyer

Thomas Hewitt

Candyman

Brahms Heelshire

Erik Destler

ARCANE

Silco

SCROOGE (2022)

Ebenezer Scrooge

MASTERLIST 💜💜

Erik Destler (Phantom of the Opera, Musical!Erik and Book!Erik, waiting on someone to request Cherik.)

General yandere nsfw headcannons 💜

Self indulgent nsfw post💜: part one and two

Erik getting reader pregnant headcannons 💜

Desperate Erik oneshot with cowgirl and facesitting 💜

Erik with a mommy kink headcannons (cannon in all my works) 💜

General kissing with Erik 💜

Erik with voice kink, auralism, and scent kink headcannons 💜

Erik’s nsfw alphabet 💜

Would Erik like to be called babydoll? 💜

Forever and Always, You. Valentine’s Day oneshot (unless someone requests another part and gives some ideas 👀) 💜

Erik with a mommy kink oneshot 💜

A Chance With You series: one💜 two💜 three(in progress)

Cherik general yandere headcannons 💜

Musical!Erik with mirror sex oneshot 💜

Reader making Erik a scarf and he gets whiny because they aren’t paying attention to him 💜

Brahms Heelshire

Reader who flinches when he raises his hand 💷

Eyeless Jack

Nsfw alphabet 💙

Ticci Toby

Soft reader headcannons 🪓

Mandela Catalogue

Mark Heathcliff headcannons 🔫

Adam and Jonah x reader from irl 📹📼

Human Cesar Torres headcannons ☎️

Michael Afton

Ghost Michael headcannons 🔦

Withered Bonnie

General headcannons🐰⚙️

Funtime Crew

Touch starved reader 🎉🎈

Silco

Soft reader 💉

Ebenezer Scrooge

Nsfw alphabet 💰

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super-who-locked-me-in-here · 2 months

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WIP Tag Game

Thank you @det395 for the tag!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have wips.

Also just heads up like all but 2 of these are explicit/18+ so you've been warned

Hannibal:

Face the Music - Angst fic - hannibal

CUMbersome - Pregnant Hannibal/Will omegaverse

Friends with (Tax) Benefits - Beverly/Will (FWB) + Hannibal/Will

You Say You're Observing, But This, This Is Participation - Antony/Will + Bedelia/Hannibal + Will/Hannibal

Yakimono Omegaverse

Jack Walks In

Post-fall Woundfucking

Hannibal/Will (Nude Sketching/Cock Cage)

Fiction Short Story - Hannigram different 1st meeting (BSHCI)

Teacher Will/Human Furniture Hannibal

Will/Hannibal (Hannibal walks in on Will jerking off based on @stab-of-hunger 's art)

Hannibal Extended Universe

Will/Nigel (Roleplay)

MurderDogs Omegaverse

Sub Duncan/Dom Adam (Phone Sex + Daddy Kink)

Duncan/Exhibitionist Adam

Alpha Duncan/Omega Adam (Rut)

Duncan x Trans Masc Reader (Pampering Duncan)

Merlin

Another Merlin Magic Revealed Fic

Dream Daddy: The Dad Dating Simulator

The Resident Shark and the Bad Beat Dad

Cinderella Phenomenon

The Birthday Tryst - Klaude x Lucette

Now that I've laid my soul bare, I guess I get to tag 20 people, so here goes:

@long-in-the-tooth @the-other-will-graham @its-the-ratdawg @honeygrahambitch @stranded-labyrinth @lectercunt @petrowriting @suchawrathfullamb @sourweather @devereauxsdisease @valentinsylve @louhetar @sailorbowie @mothstardust @ear-motif @willgrahamsbecoming @saint-hannibal @frumious-bandersnatch-ao3 @cannibaltranssexual @bloody-hands-motif and I suppose anyone who wants to do the challenge too!

I'll be awaiting my fellow freaks in the confessional booth teehee

#dear god im really lettin y'all see straight into my two brain cells #forgive me #damn my irl mutuals are gonna give me real shit for this if they see this post #oh well lmao #tag game #asks are open #hannibal #hannibal extended universe #dream daddy #bbc merlin #cinderella phenomenon #dot says #fanfic

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slasher-male-wife · 2 years

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About me and request rules

Hey I'm Ziggy and this is my blog where I obsess over men and sometimes women. I use he/him and I'm 18. I really like fall stuff, vampires, Halloween in general, and my special interest is specifically horror movies. My favorite horror movie is Texas chainsaw massacre. My side account is @slashers-offical-boyfriend and my non fan fiction account is @living-dead-author. Below is the information on my request rules and info. Enjoy your stay <3

Master list Ao3 account Depop

Taken anons: 🦝🌾🎟🐾🫀🤡🐚🍼👻♠️ 13 🎸🦇🦌🐝 🦕🎨

Requests: open

Match ups: closed

Do not interact with me if you are

Homophobic

transphobic

racist

Are a proshipper

Just a republican in general

Ed blog

Under 16

Terf/Swerf

Match up rules

Specify the fandom you want and your gender preference.

Include things like hobbies, dream career, ideal parter, personality traits gender identity.

Feel free to include anything else you think is important.

Make them as long as you think they should be.

Will do

Fluff

Light or regular angst

head cannons

drabbles

fics

gore

hurt x comfort

x gn, male, trans masc and ftm reader

Autistic, depressed, anxious, etc reader (I won’t write about mental health issues/ mental illnesses unless I have it myself or I feel comfortable enough portraying it)

Darker topics like past mentions of abuse, sh, kidnapping, murder, etc all with proper trigger warnings

poly stories and head cannons (unless you tell me you want them to be poly I won’t write them as poly)

Slashers in a Dbd setting if they're actually in the game

Yandere characters (I think I know how to write one)

Iffy (Not common or might not write about depending on the request)

character x character

suicidal reader

Characters hurting reader on purpose

Recovering Ed related things

Heavy angst (More likely to be written with a happy ending)

Age regressing reader (Only if it's sfw)

x fem reader (Won't be very common for now unless it's essential to the fic)

I won’t do

sexual fics or head cannons

Child reader

pregnant reader

parent reader

Pro Ed related anything

Characters

Horror characters

Scream: Billy Loomis, Stu Macher

Black Christmas: Billy Lenz

Halloween: Michael Myers (og or rob zombie), Corey Cunningham

The Boy: Brahms Heelshire

Texas Chainsaw Massacre: Bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Nubbins Sawyer, Chop top Sawyer, Vanita "Stretch" Brock

House of wax: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair

Behind the mask: Leslie Vernon

House of 1000 corpses: Otis Driftwood, Baby Firefly

The Lost boys: David, Paul, Marko, Dwayne, Michael, Star

The Black phone: The Grabber/Albert Shaw

Spree: Kurt Kunkle

Friday the 13th: Jason Voorhees, Tommy Jarvis

Child's play: Tiffany Valentine

Re-animator: Herbert West, Dan Cain

Carrie: Carrie White

Saw: Amanda Young, Adam Faulkner, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm

Candy man: The Candy man/ Daniel Robitaille

31: Doomhead

Psycho: Norman Bates

My bloody valentine: Harry Warden

American psycho: Patrick Bateman

Hannibal nbc: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Near dark: Severen

Laid to rest: Jesse Cromeans

Martin: Martin Mathias

The Collector: Asa Emory/The Collector

Thanksgiving: Sheriff Eric Newlon

The Walking dead

Daryl Dixon

Rick Grimes

Negan Smith

Glenn Rhee

Maggie Rhee

Dead by Daylight

Danny Johnson/Ghostface

Pyramid head

Any slasher listed in the above section that is in dbd

Interview with the vampire 1995

Lestat De Lioncourt

Louis De Pointe Du Lac

Call of Duty

Phillip Graves

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

Misc. Characters

Johnathan Crane/Scarecrow (DC, based off Cillian Murphy portrayal)

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samalong1 · 10 months

Text

Fucked up idea for hannibal x reader

Hey fucked up thought but of you were pregnant with hannibal's baby would he eat the placenta

#hannibal lecter x reader

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 9 months

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.⋆｡Learned Behaviours｡⋆.

Dick Grayson x plus size reader

The one where Alice has picked up some bad habits

Warnings: pregnant reader, fluff, dad!dick

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The Graysons

Nap time was sacred in the Grayson household. After lunch had been devoured and playtime had been played, you would all gather in the living room and toss blankets and pillows onto the floor before all curling up together for a nap.

It started when Alice was barely a week old. Neither you or Dick had any energy to step foot from the small square of warmth between the coffee table and the couch that had become Alice's spot. The both of you frequently fell asleep next to each other on the floor, watching over your little one as she slumbered on. And thus family nap time was born.

Now that Alice was almost 4, naps were a little less vital for her but as you hit the 6 month mark of your pregnancy and Dick started going back to his duty as Nightwing- naps were a necessity to the grown-ups. So you threw on some Bluey for your daughter to watch and curled around her little body as your husband wrapped an arm around your pregnant belly and nuzzled his nose into the back of your head.

You both were passed out before the theme song ended.

A soft crunching brought you back from sleep. You groaned, now feeling uncomfortable as your front is cold while your back is overheating. You shoved Dick away from you, getting immediate relief from his furnace-like body but something was still wrong.

The TV was paused on an image of the cartoon dogs your daughter loved so much, but she was nowhere to be seen. “Ali?” You called, your voice raspy with sleep, but you were met with more soft crunching.

You groaned and sat up, your stomach churned as your baby woke up with you. “I know I know.” You whispered to them, standing cautiously, taking note that the sun had long-since set. Dick was still asleep at your feet, now curled around a pillow instead of your soft body.

A thud came from the kitchen, distracting you from the sight of your handsome husband. A dull blue light filtered into the living room from behind the huge L-shaped couch. Now curious, you stepped around Dick quietly and tip-toed into the fully renovated kitchen.

Your brows scrunched in confusion- the fridge was wide open, providing the light you had seen from the living room but all other lights were off. “Ali?” You called out again, causing the crunching to stop.

There was a clatter of dishes and then the fridge slammed shut. “'M here mommy!” Alice called back in a sickly sweet voice that she always used when she was in trouble. You smiled as she rounded the kitchen island. She wore an oversized hoodie, it flaring out around her legs from where it covered the black tutu she wore constantly these days.

Her dark hair was in cute little buns at the top of her head, still somehow perfectly styled even after a day of play with her father. “What are you up to, baby bird?” You rub a hand over her head as she clutched at your pyjama pants.

“Nothin'.” She responded but her eyes darted over to the fridge.

You sighed. “Were you doing something you weren't supposed to?” She shook her head reluctantly. “Then I guess you wouldn't mind if I got a snack would you?” Her eyes went wide.

“Lemme get it for you mommy! You need rest!” She attempted to shove your legs to send you back to the couch but stopped when she saw your raised eyebrow. Alice scurried off, once again disappearing behind the island counter.

One of the cabinets slammed open, there was a rustle of plastic and then she returned, her tiny arms laden with her favourite snacks almost as if she were giving up an offering. “Here mommy! Now go sit.” You laughed under your breath at her antics.

“Alice, it's ok if you were hungry and wanted to get yourself a snack but you know not to go into the fridge without daddy or I to help you, you could’ve made a very big mess.” Her head lolled forward in shame. She dropped all her snacks to the floor in favour of \lifting her chunky hands above her head.

You did not hesitate to scoop her up and sit her on her wide hip. Immediately, she burrowed her face into your neck. “Sorry momma.” She murmured, her breath warming your skin. Placing a kiss to her soft forehead, you walked into the kitchen.

“That's ok baby, I know you were probably getting really hungry while daddy and I slept huh?” She nodded. The kitchen floor was spotless, which was surprising considering your daughter was about as graceful as a drunk giraffe, but there was a suspicious looking spoon on the ground.

Ignoring it for now, you went to the large fridge and carefully pulled open the door, bracing yourself for what you were about to find.

One of Dick's boxes of cereals sat on the second lowest shelf, slowly leaking milk onto the glass below while the half-empty jug sat open next to it. Unable to stop yourself, you laughed aloud, jostling your daughter who now rested on your chest.

It was an incredibly familiar sight from long before Alice was born. Dick used to frequently pour milk directly into bags of cereal in order to eat directly out of the box to cut down on dishes.

You gave Alice a loving squeeze and set her down on the tile floor. “Good job not making a mess baby but maybe next time we can use a bowl and not the box.” She nodded in agreement, her smile returning now that she knew she wasn't in trouble. “Ok, let mommy clear this up. How about you wake up dad and get him to order us some pizza?”

Her little feet slapped against the floor as she ran off back to where her dad continued to slumber. With some effort, you retrieved the spoon and threw it into the sink before grabbing the soggy cardboard and throwing it into the trash just in time to hear a pained cry from Dick.

Standing on your toes, you were able to see that she had slid on her knees onto the blankets and then directly into his gut, violently waking him. “Hey there birdie.” He groaned.

“Mommy says we get pizza!” She shouted at him.

“Oh does she? And is mommy paying for this pizza?” His arms wound around her, tugging the small girl to his chest as she giggled.

“Daddy's paying cause obviously someone's been eating directly from the cereal box again and his little clone has picked up the habit.” At least he looked shameful as he glanced at you with a shy smile.

“Ok daddy's getting pizza!” Alice cheered and you rolled your eyes, somehow not being annoyed at all.

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years

Text

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time.

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember.

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.”

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.”

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].”

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found.

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.”

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.”

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.”

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story.

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.”

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

#hannibal lecter #hannibal x you #hannibal x reader #hannibal nbc #cult girl #more cult girl #cult girl doctorate #cult girl 2 #tw death #tw family #pregnant reader #hannibal x pregnant reader

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