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#and every time I put her in that outfit my sister would tattle on me for ‘being immodest’ 😭
eivor-wolfkissed · 3 years
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I still remember finding games with pretty women in them and adults would ban me from playing them because “it’s inappropriate” bc a beautiful woman with a tiddies out look will corrupt me apparently 😂
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willcwthewisp · 3 years
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next in line | marley & willow
LOCATION: willow’s workplace. PARTIES:  @detectivedreameater and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: marley has some questions for willow concerning a missing person from her work. CONTAINS: head trauma mentions.
Marley pinched the bridge of her nose as she fought back the wave of another headache. Her body felt like it was deflating, slowly, with each hour that passed. Her blackouts were getting worse as well, and maybe Erin had a point, maybe she should get Queenie to look at her head. Maybe the crash had done more damage than she thought. Still, she hesitated, because she felt as if something were different this time. Something had changed. She couldn’t put her finger on what, but for now, she would push it to the back of her mind. She was back at work, but only on interrogation terms. So, it was with three other officers, that she’d ended up at a call center where someone had been reported missing. Missing persons were so boring, it was the same ending every time. They were dead or no longer human. In rare occasions, under a fae promise or kept in a vampire’s basement for food. She rubbed her eyes as she went in to her first interview, with one Willow Finch. Her picture looked like she smiled too much, and Marley frowned as she walked in, unsurprised, but still disappointed, the woman matched the photo. She sat in the chair across from her. “Need any water?” she asked, motioning to the pitcher next to them. 
Getting questioned by the police was the absolute last place Willow wanted to be. Sure, they’d brought in literally everyone from the office, but she couldn’t help but feel as if she were the one under a magnifying glass, even if that wasn’t true in the least. They couldn’t have possibly come to ask about the man at her gallery, right? The one who’s arm she’d broken? After all, he said he wouldn’t press charges! But no matter what she told herself, Willow’s foot was still tapping anxiously against the office floor as the detective stood across from her. Detective… “Um- sorry- what did you say your name was?” Had the woman even said her name? She always felt at least a little better when she knew someone’s name. As for the water… “Oh- no thank you! I mean...maybe? Or...maybe not! Sorry- I just don’t know what the protocol is here. Which one’s the one that means you’re guilty again? Drinking the water or not drinking it?”
“Neither,” Marley said unenthusiastically as she watched the woman practically bounce in her chair. She talked a million miles an hour and Marley was tired. She poured herself a glass of water and then the other, scooting the extra glass towards the woman. “Neither means you’re guilty, I’m literally just offering you a glass of water.” And it was the truth, actually. Offering a glass of water was supposed to simply establish a baseline for behaviour, but this woman was so squirrelly, Marley knew immediately that wasn’t going to happen. “Stryder,” she announced sitting back and looking her over. She had big, brown eyes and shiny, blonde hair. She looked so unassuming, sitting across from her, almost an opposite to Marley’s all black outfit and her black hair and dark eyes. “So, first things first. I need you to state your name, age, how long you’ve been working here, and you daily schedule, please.” Maybe this would go better. She doubted it, but she could still hope, right?
“Neither?” Willow echoed with brief confusion, her mind working too quickly and anxiously to realize exactly what Marley meant. “But you can’t do neither- you can only take it or not take it?” How was she supposed to look innocent if neither action was the answer? It dawned on her too late what the detective had actually been getting around to. “Oh- you mean...nevermind…” Willow looked away in her embarrassment, cheeks already heating as a flush came over her cheeks. “Sorry I’m just ah- a little nervous. Not that I have anything to be nervous about!” She didn’t even really know the man that had gone missing due to mostly keeping to herself in the office. There was a reason she’d chosen a job as a telemarketer, and that reason was the exact opposite of any attempts to make friends. “Stryder?” Willow’s head titled quizzically to the side, the name ringing a bell. “You’re the woman who-” The medium glanced around as if making sure they were truly alone before leaning forward and lowering her voice. “-the woman who knows Nora?” Her back straightened against the chair as she prepared to answer the question, as if she were readying for a spelling bee at school. “Right- uh, Willow Finch. I’m 32, and I’ve been working here for…” She did a quick tabulation, grimacing when she realized how long her gallery had been closed. “About six months. Daily schedule like...work schedule or the entire day?”
Yeah, this was going to be a long day. Marley sighed and rubbed her head before setting the file down on the table and leaning forward. Oh, shit, this was that one chick from online? The one Nora had harassed? She almost groaned out loud. “Yeah, that’s me,” she said, tapping the papers, “guess I shoulda figured. Not too many Willows in a town like this.” It wasn’t an accurate commentary, really, just another dry joke. Marley’s specialty. She wrote down all the things Willow told her, watching the woman’s face closely. She wasn’t lying about any of it, not that she thought she would. But the straightened back and the momentary pauses between sentences helped establish a quick baseline, in case she did try to lie. “Like work schedule. I don’t need to know what you do with your free time, besides throw bear people around.”
Great. It wasn’t that Willow didn’t like Marley based on her first impressions online. It was just that the woman had seemed abrasive, somewhat aggressive, and a little dismissive. Okay...maybe she didn’t really like Detective Stryder. But the last thing she needed was for a police officer to know that. “Is there...not?” The medium blinked slowly, apparently not catching Marley’s dry humor in person in that same way it’d flown over her head on the forums. “Okay-” she began with a nod, this time looking as if she were getting ready for an oral examination in front of the class. “Well- I usually work five days a week. I’m full-time.” She’d needed to be to even begin to cover her bills. She’d bought her apartment in the prime of her gallery flourishing, and telemarketing wasn’t quite as profitable. “And uh- when I’m here I just...you know- call people and try and sell them things.” With the mention of bear people, Willow’s voice quieted. “I thought you said they’re called bugbears?”
Marley was just trying to drown the exhaustion out when something felt as if it were being lifted from her shoulders, and her body felt suddenly lighter. So light she almost thought she was standing up, but looked down at her hands and found herself in the same position as before. She blinked, looked around, then back at Willow. Though her head still hurt and her eyes still drooped, she no longer felt the extreme exhaustion she’d had since first waking up from her accident a few weeks ago. “Full time, got it,” she noted, picking up her pen slowly and writing that down, too. She’d completely missed Willow’s first question, but breezed right by it as if it had never been said. “When do you take your breaks? Same time every day?” she asked, glancing across the table to Willow and wondering if she was simply seeing things, or if that side of the room suddenly looked darked. “What? Oh, yeah, they are. It was just-- I just...joking.” 
A heaviness settled onto Willow as Marley spoke, suddenly feeling as if she were carrying more weight than she had been before. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to shake the sensation to no avail. Ugh, was this just another anxious symptom of being interrogated? Maybe she could just go straight to sleep after work, and shake the feeling of being drained by the sensation of being under a microscope. She didn’t feel the need to repeat the question Marley had skipped over concerning her name. The sooner she got out of her the better. “Usually I do. I like to keep a schedule and stuff.” It made it so she knew what to expect of the day. “Every now and then I’ll take it other times, though.” Why did her break schedule matter? Did they think she’d had something to do with the missing person on her breaks? Again she felt the feeling of nerves clawing up her throat, pressing her to ask her next question. “You don’t- you don’t think it was me, right? I mean honestly I would have confessed by now. I’m really bad at keeping secrets that make me feel guilty. You should ask my sister- I always ended up tattling on her, and Forest is a whole other story. Oh- Forest is my brother.” Gosh, that had been a lot of words, hadn’t it? Already it felt as if they were taking a toll on her. A lot of words meant a lot of energy.
“And what time are those breaks?” Marley asked, going down the routine list of questions. No, she didn’t think Willow had anything to do with it, of course she didn’t. The girl had accidentally confessed to hurting Nora like two seconds after finding out Marley was a cop, it was doubtful she could lie even to save her own life. Marley took in a breath and for the first time in ages, felt it reach all the way down to her toes. She couldn’t help but smile a little. “They’re just routine questions,” she told her, tapping the notebook with the pen, like children do when they have too much energy. “The faster you answer them, the faster you get outta here. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, Willow. You’re a narc, you’d narc on yourself, proof being that you already did it once before.” She gave a smirk, shrugging as she sat back. “I really don’t need to know about your family dynamics right now. But if it turns out you did kidnap this dude, then you can tell me allll about them, sound like a deal?”
The time of the breaks? Willow didn’t understand why these were the questions being asked, and that only sent her a little further over the edge of trepidation. She didn’t know how to give a good answer without knowing what it was Marley was looking for. “Um- I usually take the half hour break first around 12:30 for lunch, and then the fifteen minute break around 3:30.” She liked her mornings longer, saving her break for later in the day when she was less fresh. Now the detective was smiling. Was that good or bad? “Okay...what are the other questions? Or is that all of them?” she asked hopefully, trying to remember if there was any more of the coffee she liked leftover in the breakroom. She wasn’t usually a big drinker of it, but the sudden drowsiness that had taken her over was inspiring her to think differently. A frown came over Willow’s lips, not entirely certain that she liked the way Marley said the words narc, and applied it to her. “What do you mean I did it once before?” Oh god, was Marley lying and she did think that Willow was the reason for the missing person? Had she accidentally somehow admitted to the crime? “I didn’t!” she insisted while her tone grew more worried. “I really didn’t I mean- I don’t even think I could fit a body in my car or anything!”
Marley noted the rest of Willow’s answers and compared them to the notes on when the man went missing, and just like she thought, none of it added up. The poor man had disappeared on the overnight shift, anyway, so interviewing the day shift seemed pointless. But the captain wanted to be thorough, and so they would be thorough. She etched a little note on the pad and closed it, looking up at Willow. “What? Oh, no-- that’s all the questions. You’re good to go.” Except Willow kept talking, rambling, worrying. If this had been ten minutes ago, Marley would have groaned out loud and walked away. But as it were, she was feeling better, so she stayed put. “You practically confessed to me about Nora, remember? You were all worried I was gonna arrest you or fine you or something.” Marley let out a loud chuckle. “Woah, hey, realx, it’s fine. I know you didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m kidding. You really, really need to learn how to read sarcasm.”
“Oh, really?” Willow managed to say once she’d finally processed that she was free to live another day, and the shackles of the man wouldn’t be clapping onto her wrists anytime soon. “Thank god,” she sighed while her shoulders sagged, still a little confused as to why the questions had left her feeling so heavy. Sure- she did poorly in situations where she thought she might be arrested, but her anxiety didn’t usually leave her this level of tired. “Oh right, Nora.” She hadn’t realized Marley had been talking about a time other than today, and it was true that Willow had been all too eager to ‘confess’ her crime of throwing Nora through a window despite the bugbear being the one to break in. Willow blinked while Marley made an attempt to calm her, somewhat surprised that the woman was trying to help in the first place. Maybe she was kinder in person than she was online. “I just...I kinda forget it exists when I’m worried,” Willow admitted sheepishly, generally fine with sarcasm if she wasn’t thinking about everything that could go wrong. “But um- I hope you find him. You know- the missing person.” She knew just as well as any other native White Crester that far more people tended to go missing than were found. It was practically a death sentence in a town such as this. Just the thought of it made her want to lie down.
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Sunflower - Harry Styles AU Series (Volume 1)
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The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU. 
 I hope you enjoy! I will say there are mentions of drug use, so if that bothers you, I’m sorry. It isn’t super heavy, but it is mentioned. I also went with a first pov instead of the typical 2nd pov, but I did keep Y/N. This is also loosely based on Dirty Dancing... aka there will be a few similarities, but not many.. I don’t think. 
Be sure to let me know what you think and if I should continue! :) 
Word count: 3,402
Everyone always said Summer is the perfect time to find yourself, to live carefree and away from the everyday stresses life might bring. That all it takes is for one Summer to change your life. I never bought into any of that bullshit because how can one’s life change all that much in only a few short months.
But it can and it did.
It was the Summer of ‘77 for me, my family and I were headed to the beach for the summer holiday. My dad’s boss had invited him and our family to stay at his family’s hotel in Malibu. Apparently, it was only for those who were very high and mighty that were able to afford a stay at such a place. My father was hoping for big promotion on the next go around, and he believed accepting his boss’ invitation would just about snag it for him.
As soon as I could see the ocean, I rolled down the window of our station wagon to take in the salty air. I reached my arm out moving it along with the ocean breeze as ‘My Sweet Lord’ by George Harrison played on the radio, an old one, but a good one. My parents were in the front of the car, talking about what this vacation would entail and how my sister, Marianne, and I needed to be on our best behavior.
I knew they weren’t talking about me, exactly, but there would have been hell to pay had they only mentioned my sister. She was very much the troublemaker sibling, barely finishing school and had no desire to further her education. Whereas I finished at the top of my class and would be attending college in the fall. I was excited about the new chapter in my life, but it wasn’t exactly what I wanted to do.
If I had it my way, I would take a year off and give it a shot pursuing my dream of making music. I loved singing and people say I’m pretty good at it, but most of all, I love writing songs. I always have a little notebook with me and most of my time is spent writing in it. But I knew my father would never agree to me skipping out on college for an essentially unattainable goal. Especially, since going to college was still a little taboo for women.
When we arrived at the resort, my eyes widened at how large it was. Most of the time when we’ve stayed at the beach, it was a small motel across the street. It was such a pain having to carry all of our belongings across the road for a day at the beach, but we made due with what we had.
My family wasn’t exactly poor, but we weren’t exactly rich either. There were many times where we struggled choosing which bills to pay, but my parents always made sure we were taken care of. They tried their best to keep all financial situations hidden from my sister and I, but as we got older we could always read between the lines. Which is why I knew this promotion would be a great opportunity for my father and our family, especially with me heading into college in a few months.
My father pulled up to the main entrance, where a few men, around my age or a few years older, came over to the car. I peeked over the backseat where I was sitting and saw them talking to my father. He handed them the keys and nodded before heading inside. The short blonde haired one came to the trunk of the car and opened it.
“Welcome to The Malibu Breeze Hotel,” he nodded, forcing a smile. “We’ll be unloading your car and parking it for you, so if you would like to head on inside, they’ll get you to your room.”
He spoke in such a monotone voice it almost felt like a recording. I wonder how many times a day or even a week he had to say that.
“Thank you,” my mother said from the front. “Come on girls.”
I got out of the car, grabbing my own bag and walked around to the other side. Marrianne took her time getting out because she was more focused on the bell boys than her task at hand. I rolled my eyes swinging my brown, fringed bag over my shoulder before heading into the resort. I wasn’t sure what I expected the resort to look like when my father first told us about us spending our summer here, but the reality was nothing like what I would have expected.
The front desk was bigger than any desk I had ever seen. Two young women worked the desk, one helping my father check in, the other was on the phone. I stood with my mother and sister while we waited for my father. I looked around taking in the sights of the resort. The colors consisted mostly of black and white and were very elegant and shiny. I felt as if I were in more of a palace than a place at the beach.
It was the complete opposite of the motel’s we had stayed in previously. Those were brightly colored with beach themed decor and palm trees everywhere. From what I’ve seen so far, there weren’t many trees anywhere.
“Enjoy your stay, Mr. Y/last/n,” the dark brown haired woman said.
“Thank you,” my father nodded, taking two keys from her and walked over to us.
“We have two adjoining rooms,” he said. “Girls, I trust you two will make good decisions and will not be gatavantling in all hours of the night, yes?”
“Of course not, Daddy,” Marianne said, placing her hand over her heart.
I rolled my eyes discreetly before nodding my head, “Don’t worry, Daddy. We’ll be in by curfew,” I answered.
“Good,” he smiled, handing me the key. “Shall we head to our rooms?”
My mother followed my father and I turned to follow as well, when Marianne looked over at me, “You do know you only speak for yourself, right?”
“Always,” I mumbled.
Once we got up to our room, I quickly began unpacking my bags that were already waiting for us when we arrived. My sister, however, grabbed the rotary phone and jumped onto her bed. I unzipped my suitcase hearing her dialing the number of one of her annoying friends, I presumed. I put my clothes, folded nicely, into one of the chester drawers and hung up a few in the closet. I aligned my shoes near my bed and put my bathing suits in the top drawer of the dresser.
Next, I pulled out all of my albums I packed and placed the stack near the record player in the room. I wasn’t sure if this was standard for all rooms, but I had a feeling my father made sure we had one. I guess whoever my sister was trying to call didn’t answer because her voice brought me out of my thoughts as I searched through my records.
‘What?” I asked looking over at her.
“I said, since we’re sharing a room, there’s gonna be some rules,” she said flipping her long hair behind her shoulder. “Rule number one, if I’m in this room, you’re not playing your shitty music. That includes both your albums and you on your guitar. Rule number two, when I’m out past curfew or Daddy asks about what I’ve been up to, you’re not going to be a little tattle tale. You’re not eight anymore. Rule number three, don’t touch my shit and leave my side of the room alone. If the phone rings, don’t answer it and when we’re hanging out on the beach, I don’t know you.”
“Well, it’s nice to see you’re still the same despite the change of scenery,” I said. “Guess once you’re a bitch, it just sticks, right?”
“Fuck you,” she snapped. “Just because I’m not Daddy’s little girl and a miss goody fucking two shoes, doesn’t make me a bitch. Sorry, I rather live my life how I want and not how someone else wants me to.”
“Maybe some of us don’t want to live a life of fucking around and get high off our ass every night either,” I snappd back.
“You judge me all you want, Y/N, but until you live my life, you can’t really say a fucking thing,” she said before going into the bathroom and slamming the door shut.
**
Later that night, we headed down to the dining hall for dinner. Apparently, on the first night of the summer, the resort throws a big kickoff bash type thing where everyone enjoys a good meal along with some live music and fun games. I had changed into a simple yellow dress with flowers and a pair of orange wedges. When we arrived at the dining hall, a waiter brought us over to our table.
“This is your assigned table for your stay,” he said. “Here is the menu for this evening. I’ll give you a bit to look it over.”
“Thank you,” my father nodded.
“Is this place not lovely?” my mother swooned. “I am so looking forward to spending our day at the beach and pool area tomorrow.”
“As am I,” Marianne smiled.
She could maybe fool my parents, but I knew there was something more behind the smile. She was looking more forward to finding some friends, mostly boys, to hang out with during her time at the beach and pool.
“Y/N, what about you?” my mother asked, sipping her water.
“Yes, I can’t wait. I plan to take a walk in the morning, taking in the sunrise,” I told her.
Marianne brought her glass to her lips, mostly to disguise her eye roll.
About halfway through our meal, there was movement on the stage in the middle of the dining room. There were three men, and a girl from what I could see. They were all dressed in matching outfits, provided by the resort, most likely.
“Good evening’. The Malibu Breeze Hotel welcomes you and are happy to have you spend your summer here. We are the house band and we’re here to play a few songs while you enjoy the rest of your meal. We do have a dance floor, so feel free to join in whenever you like,” a young man with brown hair said into the microphone.
From where we were sitting, I couldn’t see much, but I quickly noticed he British accent from the man speaking. He looked to be only a few years older than I, but could also be about my age. He appeared to be the lead singer, seeing as how he was standing in the middle and the others were holding instruments.
They started off playing an older song, one from the 60’s that I couldn’t quite put my finger on until I noticed my father smiling and nodding his head. It was one of his favorites, but it was honestly an awful song. I looked around the room, quickly noticing that other guests were enjoying it. Although, the ones who were nodding along were all the parents while us younger guests were practically wincing.
But I could admit that whoever this singer was made the song sound a lot better than the original. Between the arrangement and his voice, I found myself singing along softly and nodding my head to the melody. With each song the band played, more people gravitated to the dance floor, including my sister.
She had found a group of guests that seemed to be just the type she was looking for and headed straight over to them. My parents eventually joined everyone else on the dance floor, while I stayed where I was, picking at the rest of my dinner.
When it was time to call it a night, Marianne rushed over to me and my parents, “Daddy, my new friends invited me to a little get together in their room, can I go?”
“Mari, are you sure? It’s quite late already,” he said. “And we don’t know these people.”
“Daaddy,” she whined. “Please, I’ll only go for an hour and it’s right here at the resort.”
“I would feel better about saying yes, if you didn’t go alone,” he said. “If Y/N agrees to go with you, then you can go, but only for an hour.”
“What?” Both Marianne and I said together.
“Y/N will you go with your sister?” He asked.
Before I can answer, Marianne gives me the death glare. I knew if I saw no, she would make the rest of this vacation hell for me, so I reluctantly agreed.
**
Marianne and her group of friends were well off into the distance as I followed behind to wherever the party was being held. It seemed that once again my sister stretched the truth a bit because while we were still technically on the Malibu Ocean Breeze’s property, we were not anywhere near where we were staying.
When we finally arrived, I noticed several bungalows built side by side and people hanging out in the middle of them. It seemed the party wasn’t designated to just one room or house for that matter, but everyone was scattered out and helping themselves to whatever crib they wanted. I had lost Marianne briefly, before catching her standing near the bonfire with a few of the people she had met back in the dining hall.
Since partying isn’t really my thing, I decided to find a quiet corner or spot to sit at until Marianne was ready to leave. Daddy said one hour, but I knew Marianne would make us late, even if I told her it was time to go. I saw an unoccupied stool and made my way over to sit down. I smoothed the back of my dress before sitting down looking around at the scene around me.
I’ve been to parties before, I wasn’t fully a prude, but I had never been to one this large. People were making out half clothed and falling down the stairs of the front porches. Smoke filled the air from both the fire and the joints being passed around. The smell of alcohol was prevalent and I knew it would be hard to hide the smell of our clothes once we returned back to our room.
I sighed into my hands with my elbows on my knees as I waited and waited. Just like with most other things in my life, I was looked over and completely unnoticeable, until the same blonde hair BellHop made his way over.
“Brown Station Wagon, right?” He asked.
“Excuse me?” I asked looking up at him.
“Sorry, your car, you were in the brown station wagon.. Uh… y/last/name, right?” He asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I nodded. “And you are?”
“Jasper,” he said sitting down on the stool next to mine. “You?”
“Y/N,” I answered.
“Smoke?” He asked, holding a joint out to me.
I shook my head. He shrugged, taking a hit as the tip lit up in the slight darkness of the night.
“So, what’s the lowdown? You don’t seem to be vibing here,” he said.
“Not that it’s your business, but my sister is here,” I told him.
“The brunette foxy mama?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes, “That would be her.”
“Uh,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothin’” he said.
I glanced down at my watch on my wrist. We should be heading back now, but Marianne is currently swaying her hips to the music as she inhales on her own joint. I shook my head knowing it was going to be a pain in the ass trying to get her back to our room without waking up our parents.
“She’s a wild child, huh?” Jasper asked.
“Except she’s not a child anymore,” I said. “She needs to realize that.”
“Well, to me it looks like she’s have a groovy time and enjoyin’ life. We only got one, so why not?” He asked.
“You can keep on movin’ you know,” I said. “Why don’t you go enjoy life with someone else.”
“Chill, I’m just makin’ an observation,” he said, holding his hands up in defense. “How about you loosen up a bit, the house band’ll be playin’ here in a bit.”
“Wait.. the band from the dining hall?” I asked.
“Yes, and no,” he said, taking another hit and throwing the joint on the ground to put out. “Same group, but they play what they wanna play and it’s better than that shit they gotta play up there.”
“Wha-” I started to say, but was quickly interrupted by the same voice I heard just a few hours ago.
I looked over in the direction where the voice was coming from. It was, in fact, the same people from before, but now they looked like completely different people. The lead singer traded his previous outfit for a pair of bell bottoms and a striped tight fitting shirt. He had a guitar with him this time and one of his arms was covered in tattoos.
“And that would be Harry Styles,” Jasper said. “He’s the lead singer and that’s his band. He’s a looker and a bit of a casanova.”
“Aren’t they all,” I said.
“Wanna get closer for a better look? Acoustics’ll sound better, too,” he said.
“Uh, sure,” I nodded.
The two of us got up from our stools and headed into the crowd. Everyone had gathered in the middle and joined in the dancing and shouting the lyrics. I hadn’t recognized them, so I figured they must be originals. I searched the crowd looking for Marianne, she was currently sitting on some random dude’s lap with her arm around his shoulder. I glanced at my watch again, we were officially late now. I made a mental note we would only stay for ten more minutes before I would try my best to get Marianne to leave. Not sure what happened next, but Jasper and I had moved closer to the mock stage. I glanced up at the lead singer, Harry, was it, and quickly saw why Jasper had said what he did.
He was without a doubt good looking and I’m sure girls throw themselves at him all the time. In fact, I’m sure if Marianne hadn’t already found her one, she would be one of them. I felt my cheeks turning red when I saw Harry staring down at me. He gave me a bit of a smirk as he sang, strumming his guitar before moving across the stage.
Next thing, I knew a whole other hour had passed by the time Harry and his band had finished their set.
“Wanna meet ‘em?” Jasper asked.
“Who?” I asked stupidly.
“Harry, who else?” He laughed. “We stay in the same bungalow, so we’re pretty good mates.”
“I-uh.. sure?” I stated, not entirely sure if this was a good idea or not.
“Cool,” he said. “Come on.”
I glanced back looking for Marianne, who was still hanging out with her friends, before following Jasper. We approached Harry and his band, who were getting high fives and praises from others in the crowd. My palms were sweating and I felt sick to my stomach as I waited for Jasper to make the introduction.
I’m smarter than this, I should just walk away, find my sister and head back to our room. But instead I stand there, not moving, not even when Jasper walks back over.
“Harry, this is Y/N,” Jasper said. “She’s staying at the Malibu Breeze. Y/N, this is Harry.”
Harry looked me up and down with a smirk on his face, “Nice to meet ya,” he said holding out his hand.
“Uh, yeah,” I said awkwardly, grabbing his hand. “You uh… your band sounds real funky.”
I… what did I just say.
“Uh, thanks,” he laughed. “I don’t wanna be rude, but this doesn’t really seem to be your scene, love.”
“It’s not, she’s here with her sister,” Jasper said.
“Ah, well, maybe it’s best if you head on out now, wouldn’t want your Mummy and Daddy to worry,” Harry said before heading over to grab a beer from the cooler, ending the conversation and the night.
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“Under the Knife” - Part 6
“Under the Knife” - Part 6
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Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader
Word Count: 3,500-ish
Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color
Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Death, Murder, and Violence
Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.
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Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.
This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.
This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 
If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!
<3
- DreaSaurusREX
Tag List: 
@fruitloopzzz​ @theeactress​ @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique​ @all-by-myself98​ @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy​ @a-person-unlabled
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The last few days were weird for you. While working the Virginia Scalpel case, you still had to give lectures and work the occasional museum shift. Luckily you were able to give more and more of your museum shifts to your coworkers, saying that you needed the time to focus on the case or to finalize your lecture outlines. 
Between two lectures and a museum shift, you were able to narrow down your suspect list even more. Pulling every male doctor within a 50-mile radius who fit the height range and who wasn’t super young, old, or generally weak looking. You dropped it off to Jack’s office while he was in a meeting of some sort, thankful that you wouldn’t have to talk to him just yet.
After that night at the Pencalt crime scene, things seemed to take more energy than you expected. You could get up and function through your work day, but when it came to socializing or even having to have work related conversations, you found yourself doing them through email or not at all. This included talking to Hannibal or Will.
Both of them had tried calling or texting you, and you’d try to respond with a “Can’t talk right now,” or an “I’m busy.” But sometimes you didn’t have the energy and straight up ignored them. 
You knew what they wanted to talk about. And you had to admit that after letting it settle in your brain, you wanted to too. But you knew that that conversation would be a long one that required patience.
Which is why you decided to call in sick and work from home today. You weren’t scheduled a lecture or a museum shift, and everything you planned on doing in your office could be done at home. 
You understood the urgency of this case. The team only had about a week left to catch this guy before another doctor would be found in pieces. But you weren’t the only one working this case, and you were still waiting on results from Beverly, Price, and Zeller. So you justified taking today a bit slower and tried to fit in some breaks for self-care as you worked.
The day started out with a peaceful breakfast, something you hadn’t had since before you joined Jack’s team. It was different and odd feeling now, but you tried your best to enjoy it and let your mind relax. After you put your stuff in the dishwasher, you sat down where your work stuff was set up at your dining room table, and felt your mind wander.
I know I should talk to Will or Hannibal, but that would be so draining right now. No. Just focus on breathing and getting as much as you can done today, alright, (Y/N)? We don’t need you combusting over personal shit while your killer is still out there. Now, what haven’t we gone over yet?
You started to sift through some of your scribbles as a piece of paper slid out of place from within your notebook. You slightly tilted your head and pulled the paper out, seeing that webname that you had learned to hate.
“Tattle Crime”
You were going to shove the article back into your book, but you knew that your curiosity would only grow the longer you didn’t read it. With a disapproving sigh, you went ahead and read the article. 
Freddie Lounds didn’t spend much time talking about the killer. She states that Dr. Pencalt was found like the other victims, and how he was a doctor with no obvious correlation to the others. Her “article” tends to focus more on you, Hannibal, and Will. 
“Much like her brother Will Graham, who we have talked about before, (Y/N) supposedly has a gift for the psychologically strange and unusual. But we have to wonder why he isn’t working this case? Will Graham has successfully assisted Jack Crawford and his team on multiple cases in the past. So why bring on a rookie when you have a prized horse in the stables?
Maybe that is why Crawford decided to bring in Dr. Lecter, who was also an integral role in some of the cases that Will Graham had worked on. He has years of medical knowledge outside the realm of psychology that could be helpful in this case, considering the Virginia Scalpel is suspected to have a medical background.. Maybe he will be the key to locking the Virginia Scalpel up for good?”
She then went on to talk more about Hannibal before bringing up the case again. You couldn’t even fully grasp at what you were reading or how to feel about any of it before your phone rang beside you, bringing you back to reality. Only, you didn’t really want to deal with reality when you saw that the caller ID said “Jack Crawford.”
“(Y/N) here.” You tried your best to not sound unenthused, but you couldn’t help the obvious apathy in your voice.
“How soon can you get here?” You knew that this would end with you coming into the office for who knows how long, so you begrudgingly stood up and started to try to find a comfy but work appropriate outfit to change into while talking to Crawford.
“I mean… An hour? Maybe? Give or take 10 minutes. Why? What happened?”
“Got that evidence you were waiting for.” You couldn’t discern if he was at all happy about that.
Of course the one day I try to take it easy is the day we get results. You took a deep breath in and tried to form a coherent sentence.
“I--Uh… Okay. I’ll try to--”
“I’ll see you in the lab in an hour.” Jack interrupted and then hung up before you could say much else, knowing that that was an order, not a suggestion. You put your phone down and groaned before starting to get dressed.
~~~~~~~~
Pulling into your normal parking spot, you saw that you had made it to the office with 15 minutes to spare thanks to you not having the energy to do your hair or makeup today. 
You got to your office and left the door open, knowing you would only be there for a minute or two. While you unpacked your bag, you heard someone clear their throat from your doorway. Turning around, you saw Will standing in the threshold with two cups of coffee. 
“Look what the cat dragged in.” He tried to joke, but you just shot him a look. He winced and extended one of the cups out to you. “Peace offering?”
You sigh and accept the cup, not sure of what to say other than a quick “thanks.” Will stood there while you took a sip and continued to set up your stuff.
“You haven’t answered any of my texts.”
“I’ve been busy. And I’m still quite busy. I have to go and meet with everyone in,” you look at the clock on the wall. “5 minutes.”
“Jack’s really got his hooks in you, huh?” 
 “I tried to take a sick day and work from home, but lab results are in. Which means I’m also in.”
“Sick Day? You never use sick days.”
“First time for everything, I guess.” You turn around and try to walk past him but he stops you.
“(Y/N), I-” 
“I really don’t want to talk. At least not right now. You and Hannibal are on thin ice right now. And there are more important a-and time sensitive things that need to be taken care of.”
“Look, (Y/N), I can explain--”
“Explain what exactly? That you really didn’t trust me when I said that I could handle myself? That you really think I am going to let Jack push me so much during my first real case that you had to have Hannibal step in as some sort of watchdog? I know you’ve had bad experiences with Jack, but goddamnit can’t you just let me learn and experience whatever happens on my own?”
“You’re upset--”
“No shit, Sherlock.” 
“And I-I get that, but just--”
“No. I have a job to do.”
“Then come by the house later. Have a drink, o-or we can get takeout, and I can tell you my side of the story.”
You paused as you looked down slightly and started to fidget with your ring. Will is looking in your general direction, trying to figure out how to ease the anxiety that was surely coursing through your amygdala and hippocampus, or at least some of the resentment that had fought its way through your eyes.
“Even if you don’t want to talk and we end up just sitting around, I’m sure the dogs would like to see their favorite aunt.”
“I’m their only aunt.” You both smiled at the joke. His smile was more out of relief while yours was just a quick smirk. His fades quickly as you rub your face and sigh out, “We’ll see. I have no idea what’s waiting for me in the lab. So I can’t promise anything. And as upset as I am with you, I do miss those dogs.”
“Just let me know when you decide and we will make time for it.”
You just nod and he lets you walk past. Will follows you out and closes the door behind the two of you. Before you could hit the elevator button, he spoke out to you. 
“Despite what you think, I do care about you, you know.” 
You stop in your tracks and turn around to face him. You could see the pain on his face even though you know he was trying to hide it. Your heart broke as you took a large inhale.
“I know you do. We’re family. We’ll always care about each other no matter what.” You give him a small smile to try to reassure him that what you were saying was true. He nodded and headed back towards the lecture halls and you hit the button to call the elevator, preparing yourself for as much insanity as you could.
~~~~~~~~
“(Y/N), right on time” Jack announced as you walked into the lab. Everyone was there and ready to go, including Hannibal who was on the other side of the table facing you. You hoped that he wouldn’t put together how off you were feeling today from your rushed appearance.
“Sorry, I would have been here sooner, but I had a run-in with my brother. What’ve I missed so far?” You opened up your notebook and joined the circle around the exam table that had Dr. Pencalt’s body on it. You internally winced as you realized that Hannibal was most likely going to ask you about your ‘run-in’ with Will after this meeting. 
“Nothing yet. We were just about to start.” Zeller spoke up as he clapped his hands together and began his presentation. A lot of it was information that was similar to the previous victims. All of the cuts were made with surgical tools to ensure clean cuts, no obvious mutilations outside the killer’s usual, all focus was on the doctor as opposed to his wife, and so on.
“The paralytic that was used on Dr. Pencalt was the same as the other vics. It was a high enough dosage that he felt the effects within a minute or two.”
“Do you have the location and angle on the injection point?” Zeller nodded and handed you a printout that had various information about the small needle mark: diameter, insertion angle, depth, et cetera. 
“He was pricked right here.” He used a gloved hand to turn Dr. Pencalt’s head and point to a small dot on the side of his neck. You just nodded and tried to imagine the killer coming and attacking him. You were starting to solidify the height range of your suspect.
“The angle is pretty flat, which means our suspect is either the same height as him or maybe an inch taller or shorter. How tall was Dr. Pencalt?” You heard Jimmy open a file and hum a note as he found out.
“5 foot 11.” You nodded and saw the height range of the shadowy silhouette of the killer in your mind narrow.
“So our killer is between 5’10” and 6’.”
“Is that all?” Jack asked in an audibly annoyed voice. You weren’t sure if it was directed at you specifically or at the situation in general. Jimmy, Brian, and Beverly all looked at each other as if they were kids who had broken an expensive vase and had to tell dad. Beverly was the brave kid that stepped forward.
“No. There is one more thing.” She turned around and got a tray from the other side of the room, bringing it back to the circle. “This was found lodged in his throat.”
On the tray, there was a distorted but still legible article from TattleCrime.com, the same article that was in your apartment. The only major difference was that this one was highlighted wherever it mentioned Hannibal or you. 
“We tried to pull any sort of prints or DNA off of it, but the only thing we got was Dr. Pencalt’s blood and saliva. The article is from our favorite tabloid, Tattle Crime. It’s about the case, but it also talks about (Y/N) and Hannibal...”
You tried to control your breathing as Beverly kept speaking, forcing yourself to take slightly deeper breaths than normal hoping no one would pick up on it as you finally spoke up.
“So, fun story…” Everyone’s eyes landed on you. “I have that same article printed out, but I didn’t print it. Someone slipped it under my door the other night.”
You saw Jack readjust his stance, a frustrated look growing in his eyes, and started to speak, but you cut him off, already knowing where this was going. 
“I didn’t bring it up because I honestly thought Hannibal or Will had slid it into my apartment as a way to try to scare me and make me resign from the case. For personal reasons, I have avoided talking to either of them unless it was absolutely necessary. So I never confirmed my theory.” 
You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Hannibal or Jack. But if you had, you would have seen the small bit of guilt in Hannibal’s face. He knew no one else would pick up on it because he was a master at keeping his mask on to others, but after being with him as long as you had, you could see between the cracks. 
Jack looked towards Hannibal.
“Dr. Lecter, did you send the article to (Y/N)?”
“I did not. I’m just as taken aback as everyone else here.” 
“And did you receive a copy of this article at any point during the last week?”
“No. I have not read anything from Miss Lound’s website for a significant amount of time now.” Jack took a breath in and tried to be logical and figure out what the next step needed to be.
“Alright, you guys get me a list of every medical facility that supplies that paralytic. (Y/N), get your copy and give it to Price to see if he can get anything off of it. Then I want you and Dr. Lecter in my office.” Jack walked out before anyone could say anything.
You stood there in a bit of shock as you looked at the soiled article in front of you. You tried to read through the bits of blurred text. Everything involving you or Hannibal was doused in bright yellow marker. 
“Um… (Y/N)?” You couldn’t help the small instinctual jump as Jimmy tapped your shoulder. You quickly looked to him, trying to look okay despite learning that your name was literally in a key piece of evidence. “You okay?”
“Hm? Y-yeah! I mean, not really, but we’re not gonna talk about that right now.” You let out a forced exhale that you tried to make sound like a chuckle through a very forced smile. Before Price could ask anything else, you spoke up. “Here. It-its right here.”
“And you were the only one to touch this, right?” Price asked as he carefully grabbed the corners of your Tattle Crime article with clean and gloved hands. You just nodded in response. “I’ll let you know if I find anything.” 
You mutter a quick thank you and then make your way back to the elevator and back to your office to write out your notes on the killer’s more specific height range and the highlighted sections of the article in your notebook. 
Why us? I can somewhat understand Hannibal being chosen from an occupational standpoint. He is not only a psychiatrist, but he used to be a surgeon. But he has no ties to any of these other doctors. And what’s so special about me? I’m not a doctor of any kind. I don’t fit the killer’s m.o.
Your mind kept going on this internal monologue, trying to find any solid reasoning as to why both of you are now being focused on. It got even more frantic as you realized you only had about a week to figure it all out. 
Before you could write out much, you heard a soft knock on your open office door. You didn’t even bother looking up.
“Will, I really can’t do this right now. I told you I would text you when-- Oh. Sorry, Dr. Lecter.” You expected Will to be impatient and try to talk to you again, but instead you were met with the careful gaze of Hannibal. 
“No need to apologize.” He shut the door behind him and took a seat. “I thought you were comfortable with addressing me by my first name, (Y/N). Has that changed?”
“Look, I know you’re not really here to talk about that. But I’m not okay enough to talk about our personal lives at the moment. And if you’re here to ask about the Tattle Crime shit, I have no idea how--”
“I came to check up on you because I am worried about you, (Y/N).” You were taken aback for a moment. Not only does Hannibal usually never interrupt you when speaking, but he isn't always the most forthcoming when talking about emotions or concern.
“I’m fine.” You go back to trying to write out your ideas, knowing that if you gave him a fake smile, Hannibal would see right through it.
“The fact that you clearly stated that you were ‘not okay enough to talk about our personal lives’ and that you planned on taking a sick day today says otherwise.” 
You took a deep inhale and closed your notebook. Trying to not dump all of your thoughts, work related or personal, on him.
“It wasn’t really a sick day. It was supposed to be a day where I worked from home to try to remind myself to take a break and eat an actual meal, or do my laundry that’s been piling up, or maybe finally hang up that frame I bought three weeks ago. But apparently that wasn’t in my cards today. Yes, I’m tired. Yes, I don’t want to be around people right now. Yes, I really don’t want to be talking to you or Will about anything other than work right now. So if I need to be here, then I’m here. That’s my job.”
“But no matter how stressful a job is, you need to be able to recalibrate your mind so as to not overwork yourself until you become a hindrance. Holding on to the frustration and betrayal that you feel are surely contributing to that lack of ability to rest, (Y/N). If you allow yourself to talk to Will about it, or even myself if you feel more comfortable--”
“All of my focus is trying to go to this case, moreso now that you and I may be targets. I am your colleague and your friend. But I really don’t want to ruin the good relationship that we have by talking to you like I’m one of your patients, because I’m not one of your patients. So please, just--” 
You stopped yourself as you felt something click into place. Hannibal watched as you had a similar look in your eyes like how he had witnessed at the Pencalt crime scene. 
“Patient…” You were slowly closing your mind’s eye and seeing things clearly.
“You’ve figured something out, haven’t you?” Hannibal leaned forward in his seat in curiosity, truly enthralled by watching how your brain worked in these situations.
“A patient! The killer is a patient! Oh my god! We gotta go now!” You quickly stood up, grabbing your notebook as you did. “I think I just figured out who our killer is!”
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jsinister32 · 3 years
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Paper Faces Chapter 4: Ask
Will Graham, professor and sometimes profiler for the FBI, meets the attractive new Behavioral Sciences forensic psychologist, Hannibal Lecter. By chance, Will is roped into attending the annual Halloween black tie event for the bureau, only because it's a masquerade. When a mysterious mask arrives for him to don and the charming doctor offers to be his date, will he be able to hold onto the routine he so desperately clings to, or will he finally find a reason to let go?
“Someone I loved once gave me  A box full of darkness. It took me years to understand That this too, was a gift.” -Mary Oliver
Warm.  Mmm.  Will woke with a start, the dream he had been having clinging to him like the gossamer threads of a web.  There had been hands and mouths and a decidedly male body moving with his, warm and alive and so real that he felt the aching loss of it when he opened his eyes.  The effects from his dinner and session with Hannibal were still working their magic on his mind; the doctor had the starring role in his fantasies whether awake or not.  Shaking his head, Will stretched, a slow smile gracing his face as he woke his muscles.  He felt better than he had in longer than he could remember; clear headed and well rested.  He got up and headed to the kitchen and, inspired by the night before, prepared his first real breakfast in months. Pulling out his notepad, he began the preliminary notes on the vampire case, contemplating what Hannibal might be able to add to the profile.  I’ll have to find time before the lecture to ask him.  Maybe for lunch.  He smiled at the thought.
Once he stepped out the shower, Will once again took more care with his appearance than his normal utilitarian style, choosing a black button down that made his eyes stand out in stark contrast, and a pair of slim cut light grey slacks.  The effect of the dressier attire was striking; he looked more self aware and relaxed than he had in years.  He chose a deep purple tie, sliding it over his shirt and knotting it absentmindedly.   As he finished his morning routine, he ran a comb through his now dry curls to soften them, unconsciously adding a soft allure to the sharply professional persona he now exuded.  Whistling, he grabbed his coffee and keys, fed his dogs, and left the house.   As he began the drive to the Bureau, his mind wandered to the little details of their evening; the quality of the food, the low timbre of Hannibal’s voice in his ear as his clever hands worked the tension out of Will’s back.  The story of his sister.  The vulnerability in his face and affection he clearly had for the girl was oddly affecting.  Will got the idea that Hannibal didn’t choose to open up to, let alone care for many people.  It made him feel special, safe.  He couldn’t wait to see what their day had in store.
***
Jack was waiting for him in his office when he arrived.  Setting down his briefcase, he put away his lunch before giving him his attention, his mind still on thoughts of Hannibal’s fingers on his shoulders.  Jack simply sat and waited, looking contrite, eyes anywhere but Will’s face.  Will sighed and sat, regarding the other man.
“Good morning, Will.  Still hiding your lunch I see.”  Will grinned.
“Yes, once anybody in this office gains the knowledge that I cooked, it’s a free for all.  We don’t need any bloodshed over duck salad.  To what do I owe such an early visit to my office?”
“How are you feeling after yesterday’s crime scene?  You seemed agitated when you left and I wanted to check on you.”  Will’s mouth quirked up on one side, now understanding Jack’s intentions; he wanted to clear his conscience on how he was handling the profiler.  Or did someone else have something to say about it?  He stretched his arms behind his head and leaned back in his seat.
“I’m feeling fine, Jack.  Admittedly, this kind of work takes its toll on me mentally some days.  In fact, sometimes I feel like I’m losing my mind.  Yesterday wasn’t one of those days, though.  I may actually have less of them in the future thanks to Hannibal.  I had a lengthy discussion with him yesterday, and I think he may be able able to help me establish some mental barriers so I can keep myself from becoming trapped in the thick of it.”  Jack’s eyebrows raised.
“I didn’t realize you two had discussed it at length yet.” The grin grew wider.  Why, Jack, I found the time since you placed him so conveniently in my path.
“We talked about it on the way back to the Bureau after we left the scene.  He drove me, remember?”  Will was oddly reluctant to bring up the fact that they had also spent several hours in each other’s company after they had retired for the evening.  It seemed too personal to share just yet.  Too special.  Jack nodded placated.
“Did he explain these techniques to you enough that you might be able to test them on another case in the near future?” Will nodded.
“Good.  I look forward to seeing it in action.”
“You will soon enough, I’m sure.  Can’t keep the psychopaths from committing crimes, which means I’ll be needed sooner rather than later.”  Jack laughed, nodding.
“Are you going to present a lecture on the Blood Drinker of Baltimore, as Freddie Lounds has taken to calling our newest member of the psychopathic community?”  Will rolled his eyes and groaned.
“Jesus, Jack.  Is that the best name she could come up with?  It sounds like a ten year old thought it up and she just happened to be passing by.  How utterly tasteless.”
“And what could be so displeasing that you need speak of it before beginning your day?”  The cultured voice from the door reached Will’s ears and passed through his being, soothing him like a salve.  He smiled at the man framed in the doorway, subtly taking in his appearance.  His breath caught in his throat at the sight.  Hannibal was dressed in a simple black three piece suit, well tailored with clean, crisp lines.  A classic white shirt and dark red tie completed the outfit.  The pocket square in his breast pocket matched the tie to perfection.  Will’s vision blurred for a moment as he envisioned hauling the doctor by that tie and into a bruising kiss.  Want to taste you. He sat up in his seat and cleared his throat, reining in his wandering imagination.
“We were just discussing Freddie Lounds.  She runs the website Tattle Crimes.  She gave the vampire a ridiculous moniker; the Blood Drinker of Baltimore.  It sounds like something out of a kid’s book of scary stories.”  Hannibal grimaced.
“I am unfortunately familiar with Ms. Lounds’s work.  I agree with you, Will.  Her journalism and nicknames tend to be lacking in both taste and creativity.  It’s an unhappy circumstance that she’s already gotten wind of this particular string of killings.  This is no shy boy.  He will see his name in the papers and it will drive him to act to ensure it stays that way.”  Jack shook his head, already looking five years older than he had Will had found him in his office.  He reached out and patted the other man’s arm reassuringly.
“It’s fine, Jack.  Let Lounds run her story.  I was planning on going through the case notes that we have already gathered so I can present a lecture.  I’d like it if everyone within the department can be spared to sit in.  I plan on giving it this afternoon, once I’ve corroborated a few details.  Doctor Lecter, if you’re not busy, I’d like you to go over your thoughts on this killer’s pathology with me, so I can be sure I cover all angles of his profile.  I already have my notes written out for it.”
Hannibal nodded his ascent.  “Hannibal, please.  And I’d be happy to look over your notes and confer with you after my first patient consultation of the day has concluded.”
“Actually, do you mind if we make it a working lunch?  I’m going to have back to back lectures discussing other methods for detecting pathologies at crime scenes this morning and won’t have much of a break beforehand.” Hannibal smiled and leaned casually into the doorway.
“Absolutely.  It will give me some time to gather my thoughts so I may assist you in painting an adequate picture of this killer.  I shall have my notes prepared at noon sharp.  Does that suit?”  Will grinned, nodding.  He removed the sheaf of papers he’d been working on during breakfast from his briefcase and held them out.  Hannibal stepped into the room and took the folder.  Their fingers met briefly, Hannibal’s index finger caressing the other man’s skin as the folder was exchanged.  It took every ounce of willpower the profiler had not to moan out loud.  The small smile on Hannibal’s face as he flipped his notes open made it perfectly clear he knew the effect he was having on the younger man.
“I will get back with you this afternoon.  Jack?  You are my first appointment of the morning.  Would you like to follow me, or do you have more to discuss here?”  Jack stood, and nodding at Will, followed Doctor Lecter to his office.  Will took a deep, steadying breath, willing the fire that sang along his nerves at the contact to ease.  He had a lecture in 15 minutes and couldn’t very well speak to a group of FBI agents about bite patterns with an erection.  Get your shit together, Graham.  You have work to do.
***
“You seem to be getting along very well with Will.  What’s your secret?”  Hannibal inhaled the scent of the coffee he held in his hands, enjoying the rich aroma of the Blue Mountain blend as it eased through his senses.  He took a careful sip before setting his cup aside.
“Do you find yourself having a difficult time with your working relationships, Jack?”  The other man smiled, sipping the coffee Hannibal had offered when he entered the room.  He made a noise in the back of his throat, closing his eyes as the light, smooth taste rolled tantalizingly over his tongue.
“Christ, I don’t think I’ll be able to drink instant coffee ever again.  Am I being spoiled?”  Hannibal laughed.
“No Jack, I simply prefer the taste of what I would like, rather than what I will settle for.  And to answer your question, what you are currently drinking is a Number 1 Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee.  The beans grown there were first harvested in the Caribbean in the early 1700s and have since been one of the most sought after coffee variations in the world, noted for the smooth, non acidic taste they provide.  I would be happy to provide you with a cup whenever you visit my office.”  Jack took another drink, the enjoyment plain on his face.
“I wouldn’t offer, Doctor Lecter, or I will be in here twice a day.”
“So be it, Agent Crawford.  Unfortunately, it does mean you will need to answer a few questions each time you are here.  It will ensure we keep up the appearances that you are present to partake of my services as a psychiatrist and not simply for my selective choices in coffee.”  Jack laughed.
“That would probably be wise.  What was the question you asked before?”
“Do you find yourself having a difficult time building and maintaining your working relationships?”
“Oh.  No, not really.  More that I don’t understand Will’s thinking the way you seem to.  You two have been thick as thieves since yesterday.  You seem to have an interesting effect on his abilities and how they affect him.  Nobody has been able to talk him into walking a scene.  He pays it a visit or he doesn’t.  Most of the time, it seems to take a larger piece out of him than I would like to see happen to him.  He’s… fragile.”  Hannibal glanced down, making notes on their discussion for his files.
“Will is a singular individual in the regard that he feels every incident to which he is exposed with all of his being.  It’s both what makes him incredibly good at his job and internally self destructive when the images he witnesses are unsavory in nature.  Perception is a tool that is pointed on both ends, and without a way to channel that energy out into the universe, he will eventually mentally cannibalize.  His mind may destroy itself in pursuit of the criminal element.  I believe it would be prudent to both choose his cases wisely and ensure he has the proper mental arsenal for defending against the worst of what he feels.  We have begun progress towards such a tool box, but it will take time and practice.  For now, until I can ensure that he has a firm grasp on how to handle those emotions and visions, it would be best I accompany him when he plans to read a scene.  I can help with both confirming his theories and grounding him in reality so he does not cause any harm to himself.”
Jack stroked his chin, taking another sip of coffee.  Closing his eyes, he sighed.  “I can understand the concern, and believe that would be the best approach as well.  I don’t know what details you know about the Shrike case, but in the interest of ensuring Will is protected, I would like to provide you with some additional information that may help you understand what happened to him out in the field.  I need your utmost discretion in revealing that we discussed the matter, though.  Will is exceedingly sensitive about what occurred on that case, and I only risk breaking his confidence to ensure you have the information you need to help him.”  Hannibal regarded the other man with sharp eyes, features grave.
“You can rest assured that Will need not know that we have discussed his previous cases.”  Jack sighed and stood, pacing the room as he spoke.
“The Shrike case was the first time I took Will out into the field since he left the police force to teach.  He’s always had a particularly difficult time pulling the trigger, even when his life depends on it.  That case though… it got to him in ways I’ve never been able to fully explain.  Something inside of him cracked, and when it did, some of the darkness that he’s absorbed over the years on cases like what we wade through every day… It leaked out.  He was the first on the scene at the Hobbs house, following up on a lead.  When he arrived, the wife was on the porch, her throat slit.  He walked in on him trying to kill his daughter.”  Jack swallowed hard, the click in his throat audible in the hushed quiet of Hannibal’s office.  “He shot Garrett Jacob Hobbs ten times in the chest.  When we found him, he was trying to staunch the blood flow on the girl’s neck.  That case took a big piece of him, Doctor.  I don’t know if it’s something he’s going to get back.  I know that I don’t want him to lose any more pieces, either.”
Hannibal continued to take notes, mulling over this new information and insight into what had happened during the Shrike case.  For all my knowledge and forethought, I may not need to push you towards the dark.  You may have a foothold there already, my dear Will.
“Thank you for sharing that information with me, Jack.  It has become more obvious that Will is going to need my assistance with his cases moving forward.  Please do not take him out into the field unless I am available to accompany him.  When we had our preliminary discussions after the scene yesterday, he told me in no small words that the cases ‘take bites out of him’.  I’d prefer him to gain something of himself back than lose what little he so desperately clings to.  Right now, it is most important that we protect him when he is out, in any way possible."  He regarded the man seated at his desk, meeting his gaze and holding it.  "That also means he is not to go on your man hunts for these killers.  It is enough that you glean the insight you do.  You have other capable agents that can take to the streets in pursuit.  Are we agreed?”
Jack opened his mouth to argue, but no sound came out.  Breathing the air in his lungs out through his nostrils, he nodded, staring at the floor as he did so.   “I understand his role may no longer take him as far as I’d like to send him.  I will defer to your judgment on what he can do, and what he can’t.”
Hannibal nodded and stood, shaking Jack’s hand.  “I believe our time is up for now.  Please rest assured that I will do all in my power to ensure Will can do his job to the best of his ability.  The next session we have, we will be discussing you instead of Will.  Next week?”  Taking the doctor’s hand, the other man grinned.
“I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep you out of my head, doctor.  And thank you for your help with this.  I’m looking forward to seeing what you and Will can accomplish together.”  Hannibal grinned, moving towards the door to his office to hold it open for Jack as he passed through to the hall.
“As am I, Jack.  As am I.”
***
“I believe you are correct in the assessment of this killer.  There are only a few minor details I believe you may want to add to your profile.  I’ve outlined them here for you.”  The two men sat in Hannibal’s office, lunch all but abandoned as they went over the notes Will would be using for his lecture.  Hannibal highlighted the parts he contributed, emphasizing each with a footnote discussing why it should be added into each section.  Will read over each, more and more impressed with the Doctor’s insight into what he himself had drafted up.  The second pad between them held their combined notes, far more complete than what either man had drafted on his own.
“I really appreciate your insight, Doctor.  I agree that it’s important to note the way the hands cross on each victim, the identical posing.  Allowing enough time for rigor to set in before the corpses is found.  He has impeccable timing for their discoveries.”  Hannibal nodded, taking a sip of tea from the thermos at his side.
“I believe we have painted as complete a picture as we can of this Blood Drinker.  I’d set aside your notes for now.  Let’s finish eating, shall we?”  Will nodded, piling his notes on the edge of the desk as he pulled the crisp duck salad he had prepared towards him.  Hannibal’s eyes lit up, taking in the ingredients in the other man’s dish.  Will regarded him with amusement, nodding in silent ascent for Hannibal to take a bite.  Watching him select his morsel and slide it into his mouth was gratifying.  The sounds he made as the flavors burst over his palate were enough to tighten the slacks Will was wearing.
“We must take the time to cook together again, and soon.  Your culinary skills are the first to rival my own in many years, and I would love the chance to create something unique together.  We can choose the ingredients the day we cook so I don’t have the opportunity to overrun the menu with my own selections.”  Will snagged another scallop from the doctor’s dish, holding his eyes as he bit down.  Chewing thoughtfully, he swallowed before replying.
“I’d like that very much.  When would be the most convenient time for you?  My calendar is usually open.  I don’t particularly care for company after the work I do all day.”  Hannibal nodded sympathetically, selecting another morsel from Will’s salad.
“Does Friday evening suit?  That way, we can have additional time to discuss the week and anything that may arise in the time between now and then without the risk of an early morning the following day.”  Will nodded, finishing off the last of his dish before Hannibal could do it for him.
“That will work out well.  I’ll head home and feed the dogs, then head over if that works for you.  That way, you aren’t left to your own devices for too long and you come up with something to cook without me.”  Hannibal laughed and stood, holding out a hand to help the other man stand as well.  Their fingers lingered, the touch warm and fond.  Will cleared his throat and turned towards the door.
“I’d better go put together this lecture.  You’re welcome to sit in on it, if you don’t have another patient today.  I know you’re still getting your footing, but it may make an easy way for you to make your introductions.  I planned on throwing your name into the talk anyway, so others know to reach out if they need some assistance.”  Hannibal grinned.
“A referral from the finest profiler in the Bureau office?  What a commendation.  It happens that I will have the time to sit in this afternoon.  As you said, my books are still open thus far, but I don’t believe they will be for long."  Hannibal paused, considering his next words carefully.  "On that note, I should inform you that during Jack’s session today, we have come to the agreement that if you are called to a crime scene, you will not be going without being accompanied by me.  Moving forward, I believe it’s pertinent that we are together to combat the dark, should it arise when you are doing your job.”  Will smiled, touched.
“How did Jack take the news that I am to have a babysitter?”  Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder, drawing the profiler’s attention.  Staring into the pure, pale blue of his eyes, his breath stuttered slightly as he reached for a response.  What you do to me.  
“You do not need a babysitter, Will.  You need a friend, a confidant.  Someone who understands why this is difficult for you.  I hope that in our discussions in the future, you can talk about the issues from your previous cases so I can help you face and move past them.  The less you hold onto, the more you can see, but it’s not something you’re capable of doing on your own just yet.  One day, perhaps.  But not now.  That’s where you will have me to rely on.”  Will’s gaze was distant, unfocused as he spoke.
“I appreciate your concern.  I just hope I don’t lose as much of myself as I have been.”  Hannibal’s hand circled his wrist, thumb grazing his pulse point.  Up, down.  Gentle strokes.  Their eyes met as the doctor spoke.
“You will not lose yourself.  I will hold you together.”  Will’s eyes slipped closed, lips parted as he let himself feel the stroke of Hannibal’s fingers, the gentle, reassuring touches.  I am here.  I care what happens to you.
“Your concern means a great deal to me.  You have no idea how comforting it is, knowing I won’t be standing on the edge alone.”  He stepped back reluctantly, gathering the papers he’d need for his lecture.  Turning back from the door, he regarded the other man.  Hannibal met his gaze, a little heat entering his own.  He moved across the room to open the door, guiding Will through with a gentle hand on his back, just enough to feel the play of muscle as he moved.  I want you.
“We will speak later, either after your lecture or this evening.  Here.”  He produced a business card from his pocket and slipped it into the folder Will was holding.  “This has my cellular phone number on it.  We will be able to converse at any time.  I am always available to you, and my door is always open.”  Will grinned.
“Does this mean I can text you and you’ll reply?”  Hannibal nodded, amused.
“Of course.  If that’s your preferred method of conversation when we are apart, I would be happy to respond.”  Will nodded, and turned, making his way to his own office.  Setting his dishes down, he opened the folder and pocketed the business card.  Picking up his notes, he made his way back into the hall intending on walking to the lecture hall with the doctor, but Hannibal was nowhere in sight.
***
“That was an incredibly detailed profile, Will.  Nice work.  I have a feeling we are going to catch this guy quickly!”  The junior agent speaking to him clapped him on the shoulder, causing Will to start.  Physical contact made him uncomfortable, but he tried to take it in stride in situations like this.  Nodding, he circled the podium, making his way over to where Jack and Doctor Alana Bloom, the head of the psychiatrists for the violent crimes unit stood conversing.  They turned in his direction as he approached, both smiling at him.
“That was some lecture, Will.  It seems like you’ve got this one well figured out.  Glad to see you so firmly seated in the saddle.” Will grinned.
“I worked with Doctor Lecter on the profile.  He had a good deal of insight on the finer details.  We created a more complete picture of what to look for together.”  
“I provided a few points of interest.  Not nearly as much as the framework Will already had established.”  The doctor approached their group, shaking Jack’s hand.  Eyeing Alana, he nodded.  “Good to see you again, Doctor Bloom.”  Alana smiled.
“Hello Hannibal.  I’m happy to see you’re settling in here so quickly.  The bureau isn’t always the easiest place to get your footing.”  Hannibal nodded.
  “It was more a trial by fire with what was already going on when I arrived, but I seem to be settling into a routine with few issues.  Let’s make some time this week to discuss the division of patients you’d like me to oversee so I can get them on my schedule.”  Alana nodded.
“Of course.  I’d be happy to hand over two thirds of my workload to you.  Free up more of my time for my own personal endeavors."  She smiled genially, glancing at Will.  "I hear you’ve taken a special interest in Will.  I believe you two working together will be an excellent match.  Please let me know if you need any support from me.”  Will flushed.  Only Hannibal seemed to notice, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.  We can discuss it in our meeting this week." He glanced at his watch, his eyes widening a fraction.  "I’m afraid I have a patient waiting, so I will take my leave.  Will, excellent lecture.  I look forward to discussing it with you at length on Friday.”  Hannibal turned and moved from the room, striding with an easy grace that turned heads as he passed.
Will watched him go, then turned to the two remaining at his side.
“I have some notes to finish up for tomorrow.  I’m headed to my office.  Please let me know if you have any questions about today’s information.”  Alana and Jack nodded, watching the other man leave the room.  Alana spoke first, her voice thoughtful.
“Is it me, or does he already seem better somehow?  More confident and calmer.”  Jack nodded.
“Yes, he did some work with Doctor Lecter after he read a crime scene for me yesterday.  He seems to calm him a great deal, rein in his focus.  If this continues, there’s no telling what Will is going to be able to do.”  Alana nodded, smiling.
“That’s good to hear.  Please let me know if you need any support from my team, Jack.  We are always happy to help.”
***
Will entered his office, and flipping on the light, he opened his filing cabinet to file away his lecture notes.  He sat down at his desk, his mind wandering back to the lecture itself.  He felt good about the information he provided, confident it would be helpful in apprehending the Blood Drinker.  He leaned his head back, stretching his hands behind his head as he did so.  The proud and possessive look on Hannibal’s face as he went over the finer points of the case were burned into his mind, warming his blood.  Christ, why am I so attracted to him?   Sighing, he decided to do the remainder of his work at home that evening.  He gathered the files he’d need for his lectures the following day and put them in his briefcase, then shut off the lights to his office and made his way to his vehicle.  
The ride home was quiet, and Will was glad for it.  The day had been busy with discussions of particulars for other cases, plus the Blood Drinker case.  He wanted to go home and relax, put his feet up and close his eyes.  A glass of whiskey and an easy dinner are going to be just the ticket.  Getting to the house, he let himself in and was instantly surrounded by a sea of fur, begging for his attention after his long absence the night before.  Will sat down on the floor and gave himself over to petting and scratching ears for several long minutes before letting the dogs outside.  Making his way to his room, he changed out of his work clothes and into a pair of comfortable flannel pants and a white t shirt.  Fuck tomorrow’s lectures.  I’ll worry about them in the morning. Its been a long day.
Calling the dogs in, he fed them before opening the refrigerator to find food for himself.  Something easy.  Smiling, he pulled out what remained of the crispy duck he was meant to eat for lunch the next day, laughing to himself at the memory of Hannibal stealing morsels from his plate.  He warmed it on the stovetop and added it to a fresh plate of greens, goat cheese, dates and a balsamic dressing to top it.  Pouring himself a glass of water, he took his meal to the living room, intent on relaxing while he ate. 
As he took the first bite, his mind wandered back to the doctor.  I wonder what he is doing right now?  Suddenly remembering the business card he was given, he padded to the bedroom to retrieve it from his pants pocket.  Picking up his phone, he debated on what he should text.  This kind of casual contact had never come easy to him, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying.  He carefully typed the number in, checking it several times before hitting send. 
[08:04PM] Hey Hannibal.  This is Will.  I wanted to ensure I added your number in correctly. WG
He waited, turning his phone over and placing it on the couch next to him, trying to quell his nerves.  A moment later he heard a quiet ping as a text came through.  His heart pounding he unlocked his phone.
[08:07PM]  Good evening, Will.  I was beginning to wonder if I would hear from you this evening, with all of your alluding to ‘texting’ me.  -HL
Will grinned, touched that Hannibal had been thinking about him. He’s even elegant over text.
[08:07PM] I didn’t want to bother you on your time away from work.  I can imagine it’s as hard to turn off for you as it is for me.  WG
[08:09PM] And what have I said that makes you believe I think of our conversations as work?  -HL
[08:11PM]  Maybe I just assumed?  WG
[08:11PM] Ah. You know what they say about assumptions, do you not? -HL
Will laughed at the cheek, smirking as he fired off another reply.
[08:13PM]  Are you saying I’m an ass, Doctor Lecter?  -WG
The ping of a new text made his stomach tingle and he was already grinning before he read it.  Jesus, I’m behaving like a 16 year old girl.
[08:14PM]   I wasn’t saying it, merely alluding to the old adage. And it’s Hannibal, please.   The initials on my texts are not DL, are they?  -HL
[08:15pm]  I suppose they’re not.  Why do you hate it when I call you Doctor Lecter?  WG
[08:16PM]  I do not necessarily hate it.  I prefer you to call me by my given name, as it suggests friendship and intimacy.  Doctor Lecter is the name to which my patients refer me.  I am not your doctor, Will.  I would very much prefer our relationship to be more intimate than that of a patient.  -HL
Will’s breath caught at the admission.  His fingers trembling, he typed out a reply.
[08:17PM]  So you want to be my friend?  Doesn’t that go against our working relationship?  WG
[08:25PM]  I do not believe our working relationship will suffer should any closer familiarity develop.  -HL
[08:29PM] It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend, Hannibal.  I probably won’t be very good at it.  WG
He stood and took his plate and water glass into the kitchen.  He stopped to pour himself two fingers of whiskey as he returned, taking a steadying sip before reading the doctor’s reply.
[08:31PM]  You underestimate yourself, Will.  We have known one another for less than 48 hours, yet according to your colleagues, you’ve been more in control of who you are than you have been in months.  You are developing the skills necessary to be a true powerhouse in the field of forensic psychology and pathology.  Additionally, we have managed three meals together, one in my home.  My patients have not cooked with me, nor will they.  We are well on our way to establishing a strong foundation for a close friendship, a foundation that can take months, or even years to build.  You have nothing to fear from me, or from yourself.  -HL
[08:34PM]  Okay.  I trust you.  WG
[08:35PM]  I appreciate your confidence, but it should lay within yourself as well.  That will be something we can discuss in your weekly sessions if you’d like.  -HL
[08:37PM]  Doesn’t having weekly sessions with me qualify me as your patient?  WG
[08:40PM]  No.  It is mandated by the Bureau that you see a psychiatrist due to the nature of your work.  We have an excellent rapport, and while I may make assessments on your mental wellbeing, that is not the state of our association.  I have a much closer working relationship with you than any other person within the FBI, and it would be foolish to limit our association to that of patient/doctor.  -HL
[08:42PM]  If you say so.  Speaking of work associations, did you make a decision on whether you’re planning on attending their silly party?  WG
Why did I just ask that?  I don’t want to go, and I sure as hell don’t want to know if he’s planning on going with someone else.  A tightness formed in his stomach as Will waited for the response.  He wished he could take the question back, but knew it was too late.  The quiet ping of the new text made his stomach drop, and he picked up the phone with trembling fingers.
[08:51PM]  Interesting that you should bring it up for a second time.  Are you contemplating Jack’s invitation with some seriousness, then? -HL
[08:52PM]  No.  Maybe.  I don’t know.  I don’t really want to go, but I know I’ll never hear the end of it from Jack if I don’t attend.  WG
[08:53PM]  May I propose a solution to this debacle?  -HL
[08:54PM]  Does your suggestion include me staying home in my pajamas?  WG
[08:55PM]  Unfortunately, it will require both a suit and a mask, much as I would love to see the look on Jack’s face if you were to show up in lounge wear.  I may have a way of placating both Jack’s need for you to socialize while ensuring you won’t be uncomfortable with the amount of attention you may draw. -HL
Will’s hands trembled as he tried to type his reply.  It took several tries, but eventually, he hit send.
[08:59PM]  Get to the point, Doctor Lecter.  WG
[09:01PM]  Hannibal, please.  My suggestion is simple.  Attend the function with me. I can deflect any unwanted attention and assist you with grounding yourself should you become overwhelmed.  We can leave at any time you would like.  It will give you an excuse to avoid any unwanted advances from anybody else present.  Similarly, it will prevent the same for me.  -HL
Will’s heart stuttered in his chest.  Was Hannibal suggesting they treat it as a date?
[09:04PM]  Are you implying that if the need arise, we treat it as a date?  WG
[09:06PM]  You’re being tedious, Will.  -HL
Will laughed, picturing the other man in his office, in a chair by the fire, shaking his head at the phone.
[09:07PM]  Fine.  I’ll go, but only if you promise not to ditch me if  you get a more enticing offer.  Also, I don’t have anything that will be suitable to wear to that kind of event, seeing as I’ve avoided them for the past 5 years.  I’ll have to go shopping (which I also hate).  WG
[09:10PM]  We already have time set aside for another session on Friday.  You’re most welcome to stay in my guest room, and we can take care of the suit necessity on Saturday.  That is, of course, if you do not have any prior engagements planned for Saturday.  -HL
[09:11PM]  And rest assured, you have no need to fear me leaving your side for the evening.  I will be there for you and no other reason.  -HL
Will’s heart warmed, squeezing in his chest at the words on his screen, so obviously laced with sincerity.  He drained the rest of his whiskey and padded to his bedroom, pulling down the covers.  Removing his flannels, he climbed into bed and turned off the light.  The glow from his phone made the conversation as intimate as it felt, wrapping him in a cocoon where he could safely examine his feelings.  Hannibal in a suit and mask at his side all evening?  Yes.  God, yes please.  Even as friends.
[09:16PM]  Thanks, Hannibal.  I’ll pack a bag before I head over to your place, then.  Don’t worry, I’ll pack it the night before so I don’t leave you in your kitchen by yourself for too long.  Lunch tomorrow?  WG
[09:17PM]  I would never presume to select a menu we already decided we would choose together.  And of course.  I will confer with you in the morning to ensure the time remains open as I schedule patients and you work out your lecture schedule.  Have you any additional profiles we will need to discuss? -HL
[09:19PM]  Actually, I do.  New case, three victims so far.  Surgical, organ removal.  I’d like to discuss it with you in person.  I’m in bed and would prefer not to have the nightmares, if at all possible.  WG
[09:20PM]  Do your nightmares occur frequently? -HL
Will’s heart squeezed at the concern for him, present into the words as he heard them spoken in his head.
[09:22PM]  Often enough, but more so when the violence of several cases compounds.  I try very hard to not think about work for the hour before I go to sleep.  WG
[09:22PM] My apologies for bringing it up.  I would be happy to help, Will.  There are grounding techniques for night terrors we can discuss on Friday if it suits.  For tonight, may I make a suggestion?  -HL
[09:23PM]  Will this suggestion also get me into a suit?  WG
[09:24PM]  As much as I enjoy the thought, no.  This will be much simpler and require no clothing.  Do you have a bath as well as a shower?  -HL
Will’s blood quickened.
[09:25PM]  Yes, I have a bath.  I haven’t used it in a couple of years, though. WG
[09:25PM]  Excellent.  Please fill your tub, as hot as you can stand the water.  Leave the lights off, but if you have some type of diffused light, such as a candle or lantern, please use it.  If not, turn your bedroom light on and close the door most of the way.  -HL
Will got up, amused, and found some candles in the kitchen.  Lighting them, he turned the lights off in his bathroom and started the bath.  As the steam rose, he had to admit the environment was already beginning to relax him. 
[09:35]  Okay, about to climb in.  Should I do anything specific?  WG
[09:36PM]  This is a simple technique to reduce your stress levels prior to attempting sleep.  I’d like you to spend the next 15 minutes laying in the water, emptying your mind of any thoughts, good or bad.  Imagine a perfectly blank space, white.  No sound, no visual other than white.  Can you do that for me?  -HL
Will nodded to himself, typing.
[09:38PM]  Sure.  I can try it.  Should I text you after?  WG
[09:39PM]  Yes.  I would like to know the results of the exercise.  -HL
[09:41PM]  Okay.  Entering water now.  Talk with you shortly.  WG
Will climbed into the steaming water, groaning as it engulfed him.  He shifted until as much of his body as would fit was covered, then closed his eyes and tried to picture white.  As he let his mind drift in the pleasant sensation of emptiness, other images came to the forefront.  A hard chest behind him in the bath.  Hands surrounding him from behind, pushing his thighs apart as fingers glided down his torso.  A hot mouth on his neck, licking and biting his skin.  A deep, cultured voice in his ear, soft and demanding and laced with heady arousal.  His thighs unconsciously followed the pattern of his fantasy self, spreading open slightly in the water as he trailed blunt fingers down his stomach, following the path of the phantom digits.  This is not what Hannibal asked me to do.  I am pretty sure ‘think of white space’ doesn’t mean ‘imagine me touching you in the water’.  Fuck.
Will’s hands cut through the water as he tried to quell the images in his mind, forcing out the imaginary feeling of Hannibal’s mouth on his neck as he circled his prick with his elegant fingers.  He was painfully hard, his cock pressed up against his stomach, flushed red and swollen, already dripping.  He groaned, knowing it was a losing battle.  Damn him and his candlelight and hot water.  I want this.  I need it.  He let his mind wander right back to the fantasy, which was waiting for him at the surface of his psyche.  At once, the body behind him reappeared, his thighs spread as soft lips pressed to his pulse point.  Long fingers idled down his chest, circling his nipples gently as they peaked in the air.  Will released a moan as his own hands trailed once again down his stomach, teasing the skin of his sides with light touches.  Breath hitching, he let his fingers glide across the swollen tip of his cock, breathing hard through his gritted teeth to prevent him from coming on the spot.  Jesus, how am I this aroused?  He ran his fingertips up his length, fingers circling when he once again reached the mushroomed head.  Moaning, he gathered the moisture and pressed his length through his circled fingers, shaking as he listened to the voice inside his head.  Good, Will.  Show me.  He pressed his hips up, effectively fucking his fist, his limbs shaking as the pleasure heightened.  His skin tightened, his lips parting in a cry as his orgasm rushed to the surface, barreling towards his senses without warning.  He came across his fist, thick stripes painting the water as he shook, the sensations so strong he was lost in them.  He stroked himself until he felt emptied, a vessel for pleasure finally satiated.  
It took him a moment to come back to himself.  He laughed shakily, and pulled the plug on the tub, watching as his release chased the water down the drain.  Standing, he toweled off and reached for his phone.  What the hell do I tell him?
[10:01PM]  Well, that was effective.  I’m actually extremely relaxed now.  WG
[10:02PM]  I was beginning to fear you’d fallen asleep in the water.  Were you able to effectively clear your mind, then?  -HL
Will checked his phone and laughed.  Reaching for his toothbrush, still languidly relaxed, he typed out his reply.  
[10:04PM]  I was definitely able to find some relaxation while in the water.  The candles added a perfect ambiance.  WG
[10:05PM]  That is good news.  Do you believe you’ll be able to sleep without dreams?  -HL
Will smirked.  I’ll sleep better than you know, Doctor.
[10:07PM]  Yeah, I should be able to sleep without any issues.  Thanks for your help, Hannibal.  I really needed that.  WG
[10:08PM]  Not at all, Will.  That is what friends are for.  This is where I will leave you for the evening.  I must also get some rest.  I have new patient sessions tomorrow and it would not be beneficial to them if I were half asleep.  I wish you pleasant dreams, and look forward to our lunch tomorrow.  -HL
Will grinned as he read the message again.  If only you knew how helpful you were.
[10:10PM]  Sounds good.  Pleasant dreams.  WG
Will checked his alarms and snuggled down into his bed.  Within minutes, he was sound asleep.  That night, there were no dreams to haunt him, all chased away with thoughts of Hannibal’s hands on his skin.
***
Hannibal set his phone down, and contemplated the dying fire, fingers steepled beneath his chin.  His maroon and gold eyes read much between the lines of text, knowing full well what had caused Will’s change in demeanor after his bath.  But did you think of me?
The doctor sighed and emptied his glass, then stood and moved through the quiet house to his bedroom.  Donning the plastic suit he had laid out, he carefully zipped up the front, ensuring he was fully covered before turning and heading down to his basement.  He would get to sleep as soon as he attended to his charge.  While staring into the frightened brown eyes of the man strapped to his table, he wondered if Will had a fondness for organ meat.  Already planning a simple and quick meal for his lunch tomorrow, he decided to test the waters.
“Hush now.  I’ll attempt to make this as painless as possible, but it’s prudent you don’t scream.”
This didn’t seem to placate his victim, but the screaming stopped within minutes.  Hannibal worked quickly to remove the meat he wanted.  He carefully packaged the rest for storage.  His prize for the evening sat beside his elbow as he worked.  The liver was in perfect condition, just as he hoped.  
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gauntie-o-dimm · 4 years
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Witchers | The Agreement
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For the request, see here. It’s way too long to put on here XD
Word count: 5100+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, dub-con turning consensual
It had been unwise to return to Heatherton together with my twin sister that eventful night, but how could we've known of the ambush? After the Wild Hunt had destroyed our village, we deemed the place safe after a few weeks of waiting, hoping to reclaim our lost belongings, like the necklace of our passed mother. Thing is, the least thing we had expected was my sister to be choked in a firm grip from behind by one of the bandits, holding her in place before knocking her out. No, these weren't your regular bandits, I then had noticed, but masked men, looking for something. Why they had chosen for Heatherton, well, of that I had no knowledge. Perhaps it was because they knew about the desperation of the former inhabitants, what they would to get their life back. My sister and I looked alike, so they must've figured that we were twins, which was true, and it had made them choose a different way to blackmail me into doing something they wanted of me.
Witchers, one had said, the name of those mutants causing me to shiver in disgust. I had never liked Witchers... Well, not liking was an understatement. They were just as bad as the monsters they defeated, heartless creatures out for money. My hatred for these vile demons grew from a contract in the past, a few drowners slain in exchange for a royal part of my already small dowry, thus making me unable to marry in the future. What little fortune we had was taken from us, thus making my gut twist when someone mentioned these monster-slayers.
And I had to go to Kaer Morhen, the masked men said. Make up a list of what was left intact, how many Witchers there were left. Those men wanted something from there, as well. A list of what concoctions they used on a regular basis. I loved my sister, and the desperation to get her back was enough to set aside these negative feelings and agree to their terms. If I returned to Heatherton with a list of potions, alongside a well-detailed description of the state of these cat-eyed creatures, my sister would be released.
So here I was, standing in the main hall, listening to a boring explanation of the head stonemason. I didn't really pay attention to what he was saying to the group of people, instead choosing to look around. I felt sick to my stomach the moment my eye fell on a couple of Witchers sitting a little away. One of them had white hair, tied together loosely in a ponytail. The other two had darker hair, faces littered with scars that couldn't have been caused by anything else but monsters. My gaze crossed with one of theirs - the Witcher with shorter dark hair than the other one, a frown coming on his face. I shuddered visibly and turned back to the stonemason, pretending to be fully listening to the man.
Before I could go snoop around in those chambers, I had to get my hands on a map. Too bad the head stonemason was not paying attention to his belongings - he had spread a map out on the table he was assigned and had walked away, leaving me time to look.
I took out a small leather journal that I got from one of the masked men, scribbling down some instructions to myself. Down the stairs, somewhere not far from where I was standing. No one was paying attention to where I was going, a woman like me almost invisible compared to the burly men that worked with the stonemasons. "Three Witchers." I wrote down before shutting the book. From my satchel, I took a lockpicking set, preparing it as I tip-toed on my way to the alchemy lab. With help of the map I previously looked at it took mere minutes, soon making me able to kneel down in front of the door, starting to work with the small metal sticks.
The familiar click of a lock opening caused me to sigh in relief, rushing inside, the hinges creaking as I shut the door. I mentally cursed, though quickly regaining myself and concentrating on what I came here for in the first place. The laboratory seemed to be filled with all kinds of potions I didn't know the name of, haphazardly stacked across racks and barrels. As quick as I could, I went to work. I remembered what one of the men had instructed me to do - to use a specific kind of code that I had to learn as fast as I could. The last few days had been fruitful and I was certain that I mastered the code-text now.
Thus, I noted down what potions they made and what ingredients they consisted of - my curiosity of what these anonymous strangers wanted with the Witchers grew, though it remained unbeknownst to me. The Witcher to whom this laboratory belonged had a horrible handwriting, causing my hastily scribbles to slow down. I even took a few tiny glass bottles, putting them in my satchel. Despite it not being an order, I hope it would coax these men into releasing my sister sooner. And since I was so caught up in my work, well, I kind of forgot to pay attention to my surroundings. Little did I know, it would become the end of me:
'Just what the hell do you think you're doing here?' A dark voice startled me immensely, and in the movement that my body made, one of the vials shattered onto the tiles, the liquid that had been in it splattering everywhere. My breathing quickened, fear welling up in my chest. 'What the fuck are you doing here?' the voice repeated. Slowly, I turned around, holding up my hands in the air, as if he had to see that I was unarmed. It was the Witcher with the shorter dark hair, cat-like eyes scanning every detail of my face. I shuddered at the sight. 'That is none of your damn business.' 'But it is, missy. This is my lab, you work here and you are snooping around places where you shouldn't be.' I thickly swallowed at the intensity of his prying pupils.
He did a step in my direction. 'So, missy, you better start explaining, and fast.' My eyes fell to the ground, staring at my boots. 'I ah... Well, I was just wondering... I had to go to... To get...' I mentally slapped myself in the face not only for stuttering, but because I hadn't thought of a plan B in the first place. Getting discovered by these mutants like this was something I hadn't even thought about and the task proved to become a little harder.
'What is all this ruckus about?' - another Witcher showed up behind him - 'I thought you only had to grab some- Huh, what the fuck is she doing here? She is one of those workers, ain't she?' 'She is, Eskel. Good fucking morning to you. Don't you recognize her outfit?' The Witcher that was apparently going by the name Eskel rolled his eyes. His face was even more scarred than the one of his brother-in-arms, though eyes just as fierce. 'But what is she doing here, then?' The Witcher with the shorter hair frowned, 'Well, that is what I'd like to know. But the only thing she can do is gape like a fish and look at us as if we're a couple of Rotfiends.' I shuddered at the mental image of one of these necrophages that sometimes wandered around cemeteries, spitting bile and other filthy things until they came close to death and exploded - if we wanderers were lucky. The Witcher of whom I didn't know the name slightly reminded me of one of these creatures, in a way. He looked like he would explode too in extreme situations. Plus, he already smelled the part.
'Guess there is only one thing to it, then.' Eskel said, stepping closer. I instinctively did a step back. 'Don't you dare fucking touch me, you fucking mutant!' My taunts were in vain, soon strong hands were wrapped around my upper arm. The other Witcher soon joined him at the other side, grabbing my other arm, as if I would be able to flee out of Eskel's iron grip. 'Let the fuck go of me!' I whimpered, 'You are hurting me!' I hated the fact that my voice was trembling, now. 'Where are you taking me?!' The two Witchers were just silent and dragged me down the hallway, able to lift me up easily, though keep me low enough to leave me no room to kick their shins and knees. I felt like it, to be honest. They reeked of blood and death, like rotting corpses resting in the sun, waiting to be devoured by some kind of monster that only stank up the place more.
They took me down some stairs, that circled downwards, deeper and deeper into the castle until we reached what seemed like the bottom. I shivered at the dark and cold of the place, with no daylight slipping in through any window. One torch adorned the cobble wall, being the only source of illumination. 'I want to speak to the law! Guards!' 'Ain't no guards hearing you from down here, missy.' the one with the buzzed hair sneered, moving the door closed to lock me up. I grabbed the iron bars, jerking at them in a pathetic attempt to get out. 'You can call whatever you want, but that will leave the desire for us to cut out your tongue. So you better shut the fuck up.' I knew better than that. Obediently though not by wish, I sealed my lips together, crossing my arms in front of my chest. These men disgusted me till no end, and I started to hate them more with every passing second. 'So, what now?' Eskel said, looking over at his friend, who was having his gaze firmly fixated upon me. 'Well... I don't know.' he replied. 'We could get Geralt?' 'Fucking Geralt? Fuck, no! That son of a bitch will only tattle to Vesemir!' 'Lambert, get some fucking sense into your thick head!' Lambert, so that was his name. Eskel continued his rant: 'From the three of us, Geralt is the best with women.' 'With sorceresses, yes. What, do you think he is going to fuck her? Hell no, not happening! She is certainly up to something and we must find out what she is planning to do!' Eskel rolled his eyes. 'Whatever, I am not listening to you. I am going to get him.' With that, he disappeared, leaving me behind with the bold Witcher, who was still staring at me. 'We will get to the bottom of this.' 'There is nothing! I was just curious!' He raised an eyebrow. 'You know that I can hear it if you lie, huh? Witchers have super-senses, remember?' 'I bet they have to compensate for something else entirely.' I dared to snap back. 'What the fuck do you mean with that, huh?'
When I didn’t respond, he inhaled sharply, taking the key to unlock the door again. I frowned, still slowly walking backwards, not wanting to be near that animal for what it’s worth. ‘Give me your bag.’ Lambert instructed, holding out his hand. Instinctively, I clutched the satchel a little closer to my body. ‘Give me the fucking—’ He grabbed a hold of the strap, yanking it down in one quick motion, causing my shirt to rip in the process. ‘That’s what you fucking get, bloody thief.’
He walked a little away, making space. Nimble fingers opened the straps, soon flipping the bag upside down, everything that I carried scattering over the ground with much noise. Papers, herbs, potions that I had stolen from the lab, every last thing was dropped on the cold floor. With a thud, my leather journal fell out, catching the Witcher’s immediate attention. I silently cursed, though loud enough for him to hear, and it was enough reason to grab the bundle of papers.
‘What’s this, then?’ he asked tauntingly, skipping through the pages, not bothering to pick the pencil back up as it fell out. ‘Notes… On Witchers? Magic?’ His eyes scanned the page and he let out a sigh. ‘Of course, fucking coded. Tell me, what’s your name again?’ ‘(Y/n).’ ‘(Y/n). Who do you work for?’ I averted my gaze, not answering his question. ‘Who do you work for?!’ he repeated, louder this time, shouting. Still, I didn’t answer, shocked as he suddenly walked closer to me. He grabbed my arm, squeezing tightly. I flinched at the raw strength, fruitlessly trying to yank my body away. ‘Don’t fucking touch me, you flea-infested dog!’ His eyes seemed to spit fire as well as his tongue. ‘I think someone needs to be taught a little lesson!’ He raised his other arm in the air, balled his fist and I cowered away, afraid of the impact of his beatings. When there was no blow delivered, I opened my eyes again. Lambert seemed troubled somehow, undecidedly hovering his clenched fingers in the air, not knowing whether to continue or not. ‘Who am I to slap a woman like that? Not that it will get any information out of you, anyways.’
He roughly pushed me down suddenly and I gasped at the impact the cold cobble had from up close, but my hands had quick enough a reflex to catch myself onto my palms, preventing me from smacking face-down onto the cold stone. My wrists immediately hurt and I wanted to turn to the Witcher to give him a dirty look, to snap at him that he was an absolute jerk, but my words left me the moment I felt his presence behind me.
Fingers wrapped around the edge of my trousers, practically ripping them off towards my knees. Goosebumps appeared on my skin at the sudden cold tickling my now bare ass-cheeks, and in between the utter confusion I felt, I found myself blushing brightly. ‘What the fuck!’ I exclaimed, ‘What the fuck do you think you’re going to do?!’ The Witcher let out a chuckle, the sound causing shivers to run down my spine. ‘Getting that information out of you.’
‘You think raping me will get me to speak?’ ‘Oh, I am not going to rape you. I am going to spank you.’ I bit my lip in anger, eyes narrowing at the mutant. ‘You’re worse than the monsters you slay!’ Slap! The sound of his palm hitting my butt echoed through the dungeon. I yelped in pain, feeling the immediate sting on my skin. Slap! ‘Who do you work for?’ he barked, crouched down next to my body to be able to slap me better, though free hand resting on his sword, just in case. Fucking prick. Slap! ‘I asked you something, bitch!’ I didn’t fight the tears anymore, freely letting them flow down my face. ‘None of your fucking busi—Nnngh!’ He slapped down harder, making me wonder if I was smelling blood from breaking skin or if it was because I bit the inside of my cheek too hard. ‘Who do you work for?!’ His hand smacked down again, though now resting on the small of my back. Despite the hatred I felt towards this bloody Witcher right now, the electric feel of his fingers on my butt… I cursed myself for my body starting to react to the assault.
‘I asked you something and I will ask again and again. Until you are all beat up and bloody, and then I am going to force you to sit down on a hot stove.’
‘Please…’ I pleaded, sniffling as snot leaked out of my nose. ‘Stop… Please, stop!’ He hummed, letting his hand momentarily slip down in between my ass-cheeks.
And then it happened. The moment his fingers dragged against my core to soothe some of the pain, perhaps, or to torture me, I let out the most lewd and pitiful moan I could imagine, with the sound of it echoing through the halls for all to hear, though I doubted it was startling no one but the rats. The Witcher chuckled deeply, tutting in disbelief. ‘Not only a thief, but a whore as well.’
‘Don’t you fucking touch me!’ I hissed through gritted teeth, trying to resist the feeling his finger was now drawing over my vagina, rubbing it teasingly, spreading juices. ‘You’re very wet, (Y/n). Is there something you aren’t telling me?’ ‘S-Stop…’ My mind screamed to push him away, to face any consequence, but my body told me otherwise. Soon, my mind was too blurry to comprehend what was happening, and I found myself pitifully moving my hips into his touch.
Lambert’s fingers slipped down my folds, parting them, sliding upwards towards my clit, that had started to grow hard under the arousal. I let out a soft gasp, eyes fluttering shut at the touch. ‘Interesting…’ the brunet murmured, letting out a chuckle as he drew a few circles around the sensitive bud before bringing his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them softly. They were soon replaced onto my core, though, slipping knuckle-deep inside.
‘If anything, I’d say you are enjoying this.’ I whimpered at his taunts and the curling of his index finger, touching me in all the right places.
‘What the hell is going on in here?’ The state of bliss was immediately shattered by the return of the Witcher named Eskel, a look of disbelief on his face when I snapped my eyes open, looking at him in pure shock. Next to him, another Witcher, white-haired and just as confused.
Lambert let out a laugh, continuing to finger me awfully slow. ‘What does it look like? (Y/n) here, she has to be taught a lesson. She might be a spy, so I am trying to get some information out of her as well. Would you like to join me? Her body is preparing itself quite well already…’
He leaned in, pressing a kiss onto my neck. I shuddered, wanting to move away from him, attempting to free myself from his grip. I felt disgusting around those mutants, thinking of every insult I could throw their way, but my mind was too clouded with the pleasurable touches from the Witcher next to me. ‘You think this is going to solve anything?’ Eskel asked, ‘You’re such a pervert, Lambert! Fucking a woman isn’t going to get her to talk, and besides, she is our prisoner!’
Lambert arose from his crouched position, standing up and dusting down his clothes. ‘Eskel, what kind of Witcher are you? We could try to get this pretty lady to become our spy, perhaps our sex slave, whatever we want! It’s not like she is going anywhere.’
Eskel shook his head in disappointment, the Witcher with the white hair rubbing his beard thoughtfully.
‘Come on, it’s going to be fun taking her. She’s already liking it.’ ‘No, I’m not!’ ‘Your heartbeat is telling me otherwise.’ Lambert responded. He put his foot against the back of my thigh. ‘Sit on your knees, back straight.’ he instructed. It was best to obey him, I figured.
He grabbed a hold of my head so he could turn my face towards the other Witchers. ‘You guys can find out if she’s any good at sucking cock.’ My eyes widened – I had never done that before!
‘Geralt, stop that!’ Eskel said when the white haired Witcher unbuttoned his trousers. So, Geralt was his name. ‘Why should I?’ Geralt responded with a deep voice, the sound of it causing me to clench my thighs together a bit more. The immediate desire to hear him grunt my name welled up in my chest – wait, what in the hell was I thinking?
‘She’s pretty and it’s not like we’re known for our peaceful ways, are we?’ Eskel shook his head as Geralt freed his semi-hard erection from his underwear. ‘Exactly. Now, (Y/n). Open up.’ I did as he said, opening my mouth hesitantly though curious. He tapped the weeping tip of his penis against my lower lip, making a slightly wet sound. ‘Further.’ The sheer size of it made me swallow thickly, my lips opening to get more space. Geralt thrust his hips towards my face without a second warning, causing me to gag instantly. ‘Fuck, don’t use your teeth!’ he groaned, grabbing a hold of my (h/c) hair. ‘Is she any good?’ Lambert asked whilst starting to strip himself down as well. The sound of armor hitting the floor promised me he would be butt-naked the time I would turn around. ‘She is warm… Her lips are soft. Fuck, can you suck a little harder? Oh, yeah, that’s right!’ I closed my eyes, tears streaking down my face as Geralt’s cock hit the back of my throat repeatedly. I wasn’t used to the feeling of something so deep in my mouth, so it caused a slight ache to well up in my lungs.
‘Hmmm, she’s a natural alright. Feels like she has done this before.’ I frowned, oddly flattered by the compliment. Geralt just kept fucking my face, girth stretching up my mouth every thrust, making me able to wrap my lips around his length even better. ‘I wonder if her cunt feels the same.’ he wondered out loud, pulling his hard member from my mouth. I let go of it with an obnoxious pop, just starting to enjoy the taste of it. Eskel started to slowly take off his armor as well, apparently coaxed by his brothers to join in the fun as well. He was harder than Geralt, his cock smaller though fatter, and for some reason it made my mouth water. I felt a slight tug at my arm, instructing me to stand up. I did as I was told, though the sudden feeling of being lifted up by a pair of strong arms causing me to yelp. ‘Already going to talk, (Y/n)?’ I heard Lambert’s deep voice behind me, his hands holding onto my thighs, rolling my body towards his. My pants were removed further from my body, soon making me able to pull up my legs, held by the back of my knees against Lambert’s chest. Said Witcher was leaned against the wall for support, head of his cock pressing firmly against my entrance. ‘Judging by how well you sucked Geralt off, I trust you have no trouble taking in double into that sopping cunt of yours, huh?’ he taunted, Eskel appearing right in front of me. ‘Can you hold her for a second?’ Lambert asked, one of his hands letting go of me when Eskel supported my ass by one of his strong hands. Their fingers tingled against my skin.
A squeal left my body as Lambert pressed his tip inside, a surprised hum leaving him when he couldn’t enter me right away. ‘You going to tell me my cock’s the fattest you’ve ever had before, love?’ he murmured. Eskel however seemed to realized something when he witnessed my discomfort, despite my immense arousal and the sudden desire to be taken by the mutants I despised so deeply. ‘Lambert, hold on.’ he said with a soft voice, cupping my face in his free hand. ‘Are you alright?’ Of course I wasn’t, I wanted to say, for it stung between my legs. But I swallowed it away, instead choosing to get through the slight discomfort.
‘I think I already know.’ Geralt said, stroking himself whilst eyes were focused on my exposed flesh. ‘She’s tight, ain’t she? Still got a cherry that has to be popped?’ My eyes shut, embarrassed. ‘Someone who can suck dick that well, a virgin?!’ Lambert sounded almost mocking, though continuing the movement of his hips upwards, sliding into me even deeper until he was fully in till the hilt. I gasped, the pain easing, but what could I know?
Soon, Eskel stepped in between my legs, starting to slowly kiss me as his fingers massaged the sore edges of my stretching vagina. It was unfamiliar and it took a few seconds before I kissed him back, liking the taste on his tongue – a mixture of whiskey and something else altogether, though I couldn’t put a finger on it. It left me hungry for more of him. My eyes snapped open when I felt the tip of Eskel’s cock soon press next to Lambert’s length, attempting to slip himself inside as well. ‘Now that you’re being stretched, we could take you all the way as well.’ he said, moving his hips forward, increasing the burn between my legs significantly. ‘I had almost forgotten how good virgin cunt feels.’ Lambert said, breath heavy in my neck. ‘Always so tight and desperate…’ Eskel started to finger my clitoris in circular motions, easing himself inside with every small thrust of his pelvis, until he was fully in till the hilt, snugly pressed against me.
I softly started to moan at the pleasurable feeling beginning to build in the pit of my stomach. The fact that I hated Witchers seemed to be pushed away right now, leaving a desire deep within my loins to be pleased by them until I reached orgasm. They could destroy me for all I cared, and the intended mission that I came for in the first place didn’t cross my mind again. Instead there was pleasure, the ache growing to be nice and the motions of the two Witchers fucking me growing more and more smooth as time passed. My head leaned against Lamberts chest, his breathing ragged as he bounced my body onto his cock. I moaned out loud, wanton and lewd, a sound that I didn’t know I was capable of making. Geralt stood a little away, masturbating whilst gaze was fixated on my soaked cunt, fluids staining my legs and thighs. Part of me felt filthy, but it was nothing compared to the longing for release. For the first time in my life, I felt sexier than ever, and the idea that slipped into my mind that I could eventually become their spy and probably have more of these encounters had me clench my walls even tighter, if that was even possible.
Both Witchers groaned, wholly enjoying the feeling of ramming themselves into me, anything but bothered by the noise it made. ‘Do you want to talk now, princess?’ Lambert groaned in my ear, thrusts becoming shallow as his length throbbed inside of me. I rolled back my head, letting him kiss my neck in between grunts. ‘N-No… There is nothing to tell!’
An annoyed sigh left him, mouth retreating from my skin and instead starting to let out low grunts and groans. ‘Oh, I am going to fill you up so nicely…’ The erotic words had my clit twitch with the massaging that hadn’t stopped. ‘Geralt, come here.’ he said, beckoning the Witcher over as I suddenly felt a warm, sticky mess fill me up. Eskel grunted through gritted teeth, thrusting a few times with uneven movements before pulling out. I flinched at the slight pain of the removal, though the Witcher with the slightly longer dark hair gesturing Geralt to kneel down in between my legs.
Soon, the Witcher’s tongue was on my clit, mouth slurping at my juices, eating me out and having me see stars. I moaned loudly, eyes rolling back in my skull as I felt my high coming closer. The heat of Geralt’s tongue against my pearl alongside the thrusts that Lambert did in me had my body violently shaking.
This is what it was like to have an orgasm, I realized. With a loud moan, I came at the same moment I felt Lamberts hot spend shoot out of him, pushing it in deep as he could whilst the white haired Witcher didn’t waste any time sucking on the sensitive bud. My toes curled, legs quivering with pleasure.
Lambert slipped out of me, placing me back onto the floor. I immediately collapsed onto my knees, unable to stand up straight. It gave Geralt the chance to grab my chin, his other hand wrapped around his cock as he started to jerk himself off violently. ‘Hmmm, open up…’ I opened my mouth, wanting to take his hard member into my mouth again, but he immediately stopped me. ‘No, not that way… Just open your mouth and stick out your tongue. Guys…’ Eskel and Lambert stood at either side of me, their cocks also being palmed by themselves, although limp and thoroughly spent, swollen and red as their foreskin moved around their tips. Geralts load was hot and sticky on my face and his hard cock bobbed when he rested it on my tongue, tapping it a few times to give me a taste of his cum.
‘Clean us up.’ Lambert instructed. ‘All of our cum.’
I could taste my own juices on Eskel and Lambert their cocks, but I didn’t care.
‘Will you talk now?’ Lambert said as I slurped the remnants of sperm from their shafts, indulging myself in their taste.
‘As I said…’ I replied, kissing the head of his cock firmly. ‘There is nothing to be talking about.’
‘You’re a good liar, (Y/n).’ Eskel laughed, reaching for his armor again. The other men followed this example, though he scolded me when I tried to get my own clothes. ‘No, you’re staying here for a  while like the horny whore you are. You need to let all that seed leak out a little before you can put on your underwear again. Don’t want it getting filthy, now do we?’
I was dumbfounded and still coming down from the incredible jolts that had set my body on fire a few minutes ago while I watched them re-dress.
‘We will get you to talk, you little minx, and we are going to force you to be our spy instead. How does that sound, huh?’
Mixed feelings ran through me, though right now, bliss was the one that caused me to pitifully moan – I just hoped that they would touch me again, take me again, fuck me again.
Lambert smirked, cupping my chin in his hand, pressing a rough kiss on my mouth. Then, the three of them left the cell, proceeding to lock it up tightly. ‘Well then, we will take your journal with us in an attempt to figure out what it says. Meanwhile, you can stay here. We will be back, and perhaps sooner than you think.’
On that note, they left the dungeon, on their way back upstairs, leaving me in the dark and cold.
The fact that my sister was still imprisoned by those masked men swiftly crossed my mind, though disappeared like the heat I had felt previously. There was nothing I could do, anyway.
And so, I awaited the moment that their footsteps would be audible on the stairs again, heralding a second session of bliss.
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shinobicyrus · 6 years
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“Compromises”
A late entry for Phanniemay Day 23: Wardrobe. This may or may not have come from a draft I never finished back in 2016....Still counts!
“Nuh-uh. I am drawing a line at makeup.”
Maddie still held the...makeup...pen...thingy in her fingers like a surgeon’s scapel. “A little mascara can go a long way, Danielle.”
“So it can go on without me,” Dani crossed her arms mutinously. She’d have crossed her legs too but they were cold and too-smooth and weird. Not to mention her scalp was still raw from Maddie’s merciless regimen of washing, straightening, and combing Dani’s hair as though it had personally offended her. Probably submitted an article to a nerd-journal criticizing her research and called jumpsuits dumb.  
“I know that look,” Maddie rolled her eyes like she was the one suffering, but still returned the makeup back into the military-style hardcase she’d pulled the thing out of and snapped it shut. Oh, thank God.
“Danny give you the same look when you put him in a dress and pulled his brain out from his roots?”
“Picture day. Fourth grade. He had a black eye and absolutely refused to let me cover it with makeup. He just wanted to stay home.”
“How’d he get the black eye?”
“Some boy probably gave it to him at school, but he never said.”
“That’s because you would have raised hell about it and tattling just makes it worse,” Danny leaned against the doorway to Dani’s room, not quite crossing into it. Either it was respect to Dani’s personal space or some old holdout instinct back when it used to be Jazz’s room and entry portended big-sister lectures. 
“You know,” he said, failing to suppress a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress. Like, ever.” 
“Go make out with a Thermos, jerk.” Dani fussed with the hem of her dress. “I look stupid.”
“You look lovely, Danielle,” Maddie nudged a stray bang away from Dani’s face. She always did that, without fail: used Dani’s full name every single time. “Although I wish you’d waited for me instead of trying to shave your legs yourself.” 
“I think the Fenton band-aids really bring the whole outfit together,” Danny said, because of course he got to wear a nice, comfortable black suit and a tie that matched the blue of his eyes. 
Dani flipped him the bird, putting a little ecto-flame at the fingertip for good measure. Hell yeah, Superpowered Eff-You, for when a normal Eff-You just wasn’t enough. “Why can't I be the one that gets the wear a suit? Everyone knows Danny can pull of a dress better than me.”
“Oh I am going to kill Tucker he swore he deleted those pictures!”
Maddie clenched her fists, gloves creaking dangerously. “Because the school board are a pack of anachronistic, narrow-minded, uptight little suburban dingbats that are lucky I limit my violence to the already dead.” 
Danny and Danielle stared. 
Remembering herself, Maddie put an apologetic hand on Dani’s shoulder. “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time, sweetie. Maybe by the time it’s your prom, you can wear whatever you like.”
Dani snorted. By the time her prom came around, everyone else would already be graduated. “Yeah, great. Who would I even go with?”
Danny cleared his throat conspicuously and made a few covert, ‘no no don’t go there’ gestures to Maddie that Danielle couldn’t see.
“But you can still have fun tonight, can’t you?” Maddie tried to cheer her up.  “I know it’s not ideal, but your fath...Jack stayed up all night getting your dress ready for tonight. There’s no harm in giving it a try, is there?”
Guiltily, Danielle gave Maddie her most reassuring smile. Both of them ignored her slip of the tongue. As long ago as it felt, three years wasn’t all that much time- even if it was more than half of Dani’s pathetically brief existence. 
Coming to terms with their son being half-ghost was one thing, but finding out they had a clone-daughter? It wasn’t like she was a traditional surprise-child from faulty birth control or some torrid affair. She was the result of genetic piracy; the world’s most fucked-up copyright infringement.  
They didn’t have to take her in. They didn’t owe her anything, and they still went through all the trouble of making a fake paper trail so she could do 'normal’ things like go to school- which Danielle was personally not a fan, but even Danny told her it was ‘important.’ It was a small price to pay for a soft bed and three square meals a day. 
(Mads had been aghast that she’d had been crashing at Val’s apartment on and off for months, with Mr. Gray none the wiser. Jack had been mostly confused about Dani sleeping in a closet but equally adamant she come and stay ‘where she belonged.’)
She still couldn’t call them Mom and Dad. That was just. It was weird. Sometimes she wished she could. Then maybe she could pretend that she was...
But no. She wasn’t.  
So they were Maddie and Jack. Danny existed in some weird cousin/twin/ecto-brother continuum, why would things with his/their parents be straightforward? Technically, Dani didn’t need to stay at Fenton Works. If she wanted, she could grab her backpack and fly away, completely drop off the grid again. She had the power. It had been more than a temptation, once or twice. 
She stayed. They experimented and improvised and somehow invented a new species of family that had never existed before. It got bumpy. Sometimes there were fights. Jazz, away at Yale but always a phone call away, reminded her constantly that relationships weren’t about winning fights. You had to compromise. 
So Dani went to school, but stipulated permission to sleep over at Val’s, sometimes. They let her patrol with Danny, but only after homework. She let Maddie pretty her up, and Maddie didn’t push her hard about the makeup. Jack stayed up all night adjusting one of Jazz’s old dresses- the least Dani could do was wear it. Not like she had a closet full of other options. 
(Sam and Val had offered to take her shopping. The idea of Val watching her try on dresses...)
Danielle shook her head. “No. I guess I can try it. Just for tonight.”
“That’s my girl.”
It came out so naturally; Danielle flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and pride. 
With her door open into the hall, the sound of the front door opening carried upstairs, a voice familiar but muffled through floorboards calling out. 
“That must be Tuck,” Danny said. “See you downstairs, I owe him a punch in the arm.” 
“I should get down there too,” Maddie said after Danny had left. “I promised Tucker’s mother pictures of the boys together in their suits. You come down when you’re ready, okay sweetie.”
“Kay.”
 Smiling down at her ruefully, Maddie cupped Danielle’s face and planted a quick peck on her forehead. (The first time she’d tried to do that, Dani had panicked and Maddie had almost fallen face-first into the floor through her intangible head. Progress!)
After she left, Danielle sighed and smoothed down the dress as if it would improve things...and felt two weird bumps in the fabric around waist-high.
“Huh?” Patting herself down, Dani found a pair of hidden pockets woven seamlessly into the dress. Digging around this new discovery she found...a pack of sour candies labeled in marker with Jack’s sloppy handwriting: ‘Fenton Emergency Snacks!’
“Oh sweet! Pocket Candy!” It took every ounce of willpower not to tear into them right then and there, but she knew she’d definitely be needing them later in the night. Instead, she rifled around her room trying to remember where she left her phone- hidden in the folds of her Star Wars blanket, of course- and experimentally put it into her new kickass Jack-Pockets.
It slid in perfectly. Oh hell yes.
Normally Danielle shopped in the men’s section because the sizes made sense and the pockets were real, but she never considered going to Jack to get slightly girlier clothes altered after she got them. Not like dresses or anything, but Sam wore some pretty kickass skirts that Danielle was totally looking at purely for fashion tips and no other reason. She could always try that.
Her own reflection flashed her the corner of her eye, a swish of blue in the full-length mirror.
The dress wasn’t all that bad, really. Jack had done a great job. Knee-length, the same shade of blue as Maddie’s jumpsuit- which as it turned out matched Dani’s eyes pretty well. 
Her legs still itched like they were covered in cobwebs, feeling every miniscule little shift in the air, or when the hem of the dress brushed against her pale skin, cut smooth and dotted with bright greens and oranges. 
Yeah...the Fenton bandaids definitely were not flattering. 
Playing with her phone reminded her she still had a promise to keep. Pulling up the camera function, she stepped back, sized up the image of herself in the mirror, and took the picture. Deleted it, tried again by sticking out her tongue and making her eyes glow bitter, ghosty green. 
‘If you think this is bad, imagine if I’d let the Madd-Scientist break out the mascara’
Aaaand...send. 
The response pinged back in less than twenty seconds. 
JAZZ: You look adorable. I hear Red and Blue go great together ;)
Dani typed back, Quiet you, and pocketed  (yeeessss) her phone back into her dress before Jazz text jedi mind-tricked her to talk about feelings. Girl is freaky, sometimes. Below her feet, the telltale sounds of Danny-Tucker bickering soaked up through the creaky floorboards.
...welp, she was going to have to face the music eventually, right?
The house-rule against floating still couldn’t stop her from hopping downstairs two at a time, feet thumping loudly. 
Danny and Tucker were in the living room, arms around each other while Maddie and Jack were taking photos. Maddie was taking a few with Tucker’s phone while Jack was snapping pictures with an blocky, black camera that looked positively ancient. 
“Does that thing use film?” Danielle said incredulously. “Where do you even get that developed.” 
“We develop our own film!” Jack boasted. “The patented Fenton Emulsion(TM) not only lets us take cherished family memories, but also catalogue any lurking, invisible ghosts that might be photobombing!”
Before Dani could give that its proper response, Tucker gasped loudly and dramatically. “Oh. My. God. Danielle?! What happened to you?”
“Ha-ha so funny I’m in a dress wow I’m so glad we got to share this moment together and bond closer as friends.”
“You’re in a dress!” Tucker ignored her, hell-bent on milking this for all it was worth. Running to her like a distressed parent, he shook her shoulders. “Who did this to you Dani? It’s okay, you can tell me, I’m here for you.”
“This is because I told Danny about your embarassing picture stash, isn’t it?”
“There’s a stash?!”
“Oops.”
“It actually looks good on you,” Tucker tapped his chin, pouting the thoughtful moue of a guy who spent a lot time designing his MMO characters’ outfits. “I think the bandaids-”
“Already made that joke,” Danny piped up.
“Dammit,” Tucker muttered, then remembered who else was in the room. “Uh...I mean ‘oh gosh darnit.’”
Maddie rolled her eyes. “Oh please, as if all three of you don’t swear like a pack of sailors on shore leave.”
“Darn right,” Danielle grinned at Tucker. “You don’t look half bad, Tuck.” She reached up and flicked the beret-red bow tie around his neck. “Look at you all snazzy.”
He did actually look pretty dang handsome, Dani had to admit. The striped shirt and the bow tie was a bit of a 90s- maybe it was an old suit of his Dad’s- but he filled out pretty well. Tuck may not have been going to the dance with a date, but Dani was willing to bet money that he’d get a couple of offers when they all got there.
“I thought we were supposed to be snazzy together though!” Tucker said. “We had a plan!”
“School board nixed it. No gals in snazzy suits, the world isn’t ready.”
“Well if it’s any consolation, I think you look beautiful.”
The complete, utter frankness he said it made Danielle’s cheeks redden. “I- Tuck...I-”
“Not as pretty as Danny if he was wearing it but-”
“Tucker I have invisibility powers and a long, long memory.” Danny warned him.
“Well Danny can’t have this dress it’s awesome and mine, check it:” She pulled out her phone and candy from its pockets.
“Hey!” Jack exclaimed. “You found the emergency snacks!”
“I did and it was awesome,” shuffling on uncertain feet, Danielle willed herself to cross the living room and threw her arms around him. He was still so big- her face was buried in his stomach and she could barely get his arms around him, and when he hugged her back it felt like being enclosed, his arms were so wide. 
(the ghost of a stolen childhood memory, Danny small and at an age before black eyes at school, when his dad was the smartest, strongest guy in the world and nothing bad could happen when you were in those arms)
“Thanks, Jack. You made dresses cool.”
“Yes! Hear that, Maddie? I’m cooool.” 
“Not what I said but I’ll let you have it.”
“The coolest, hun.” Maddie agreed, with the telltale sound of a shuttering camera. “And thank you for the new wallpaper.”
“Does this mean we’re finally done with the pictures?” Danny asked. 
“I suppose it makes sense to wait until the girls get here.” Maddie allowed. 
“Why are they the ones picking us up again?” Tucker piped in. “Like, isn’t it traditional for the guys to be picking up the girls?”
“Not when Sam sprung for a luxury party-limo.”
Tucker accepted this without hestiation. “Ha, take that gender norms.” 
Danielle fidgeted with the blue sash tied around her wait. “Did...uh...did they say when they were going to be here?”
The doorbell of course chose at that moment to chime; Danielle almost jump-floated to the ceiling.
Danny grinned at her smugly. “She might have mentioned it, yeah.”
Asshole. He gave their face a bad name.
"Oh fine, I’ll get it,” Tucker threw up his arms, muttering to himself all the way. “Not even my house but sure.”
Danny furtively adjusted his tie and smoothed his hands down his suit-jacket. Danielle failed to ignore the almost identical mannerism she’d used when double-checking her dress. 
God, they were dorks. 
They couldn’t see anything from the doorway, just Tucker standing in the hall and leaning in to hug someone. Stepping aside like a bowing gentlemen, he held open the door and-
And.
Well, damn. 
“Oh Sam, you look wonderful,” Maddie gushed. “She looks lovely, doesn’t she Danny?”
It wasn’t as dark as Danielle guessed. The gown was a deep, smokey violet from the waist down; the two halves of a black bodice laced together in an intricate filigree that left just a sliver of suggestion of skin beneath a sheer, black fabric that also covered her bare, strapless shoulders like a mourning shawl. 
“Blugh,” was the limit of the words that Danny could manage.
“That good, huh?” Sam’s purple lips quirked. The mascara shadowing her eye sockets made the matching violet of her eyes that much more striking.
“Don’t forget to exhale, Danny,” Dani suggested in a sotto whisper.
A familiar voice carried through the door. “Okay, the driver said he’s fine with waiting while we take some pictures. My dad made me promise to take about three million pictures of us all before we- oh.” 
Valerie stood in the living room’s threshold, phone half-raised but completely forgotten in her hand. 
She was wearing a ruby red dress that flowed smoothly over her curves, flaring just above her knees and terminating in an upside down ‘V’ at her collarbone that tied subtly around her neck, leaving the sweep of her shoulders bare. The muscles of her arms stood out, firm and corded.  
Dani realized that Valerie was staring at her. This fact alone made her ten thousand times more aware that her legs were naked and bare and itching with phantom prickles oh God the band-aids why did she think it was a good idea to try shaving the night of-
“Uh. Hi.” Valerie cut through the screaming white noise filling her head.
“Blugh.” Danielle responded. Tucker gave her a thumbs-up. In the corner of her eye, she saw Danny fumble tying a purple corsage around Sam’s slender wrist.
“You look amazing,” Valerie told her. Dani found the movements needed for her full, red lips to make those words fascinating. 
Her throat felt unbelievable dry.
“It’s the band-aids!” Danielle blurted. “Really brings the whole outfit together!”
Valerie blinked, momentarily confused. Then she looked down. 
“Oh my God,” she laughed, hand flying to her mouth. “What did you do to yourself?”
“Mistakes were made.” Danielle admitted. “I have traced them back to the decision to wear a dress.”
“Doesn’t look like a mistake from where I’m standing.” Valerie smiled at her, which was all the permission Dani’s guts needed to start doing backflips in her belly. “And you can look forward to taking it off at the end of the night-”
She froze in mute horror the second the words left her mouth.
Danny and Sam’s heads swiveled, first to Valerie, then to Danielle, finally swinging around to Maddie, whose face had gone unreadably blank. 
Tucker had the manic look of a man who had been given a wonderful, wonderful gift.
“I swear,” Valerie said slowly. “I did not mean it to sound like that.”
“Make it sound like what?” Jack asked, genuinely confused. 
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Maddie told him.
The room was very quiet. Danielle slowly reached into her pockets and pulled out her emergency snacks. She tore open the packet and offered it to Valerie. “Topic change?”
“Please.” Desperately snatching the candy like a woman being carefully studied by a mother with access to high-powered weaponry, Valerie chewed through a handful of candies before realizing: “Wait...how does your dress have pockets?”
“Oh that was me!” Jack boasted. “Sewing isn’t that much harder than jumpsuit maintenance! I used to make all of Danny’s Halloween Costumes before he got too “cool” for it.”
Somehow, this quickly jumped into Sam insisting on seeing pictures of Danny dressed as an Astronaut or one of the Ghost Busters, which seamlessly steered back them standing all together while Maddie and Jack took more pictures; Danny with one arm around Sam’s waist and the other linked with Tucker’s, Valerie hugging Danielle from behind and resting her chin on Dani’s shoulder to fit both of them in frame. 
By some miracle consensus, no one said anything about Valerie’s hilariously and unfortunately-worded slip-up. 
All through the photos, and even as Valerie held her hand and walked with her out the door, Danielle felt at the pocket at her waist with her free hand, checking to make sure the Fenton Emergency Snacks were still there.
Yeah she really owed Jack big time, now. 
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