Dark PLATONIC Hannigram (Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham NBC) x Reader
Minors, do not interact
Author’s Note: N/A
Type: Restored
Description: After getting mixed up in the wrong group at school, you come home a bloody disgrace, hoping to high heaven that you will have time to clean up the mess you've gotten yourself into before your fathers find out.
Word Count: 721
Warnings: Dark content!, moderate to severe descriptions of blood, injuries, and violence, unhealthy relationship, implied captivity, manipulation, medical care,
By clicking or tapping on “Keep Reading”, you consent to viewing/consuming this media. Minors do not interact. The cultivation of one’s internet experience is up to the individual, and any other personal preferences do not dictate the creations of others nor myself. The recreation, reformatting, re-posting or distribution of this content on other platforms is not welcome and I ask that any and all parties would keep from doing so, thank you.
Your bike was gone, stolen in the scuffle, most likely never to be seen again. Even if it hadn’t been nabbed, your lack of coordination and the vicious swelling of your face would have made riding it impossible. Staggering inside your fathers’ house, every platitude was lost. Not bothering to take your shoes off at the door or hang your jacket on its proper hook, you limped to the bathroom, balancing yourself against the sink.
Taking a few lengthy breaths, you peeled off your clothing, feeling the hardened stickiness of the sweat and blood break with your movements. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you could see your brutalized body, the toughened, discolored marks where bare fists struck bare flesh.
Someone, in the throes of chaos unsheathed a knife, using its jagged edges to tear at your skin. Had you been less swift or the blade properly treated, perhaps it could have been a more fatal encounter.
Leaving your filthy clothing on the tile floor, you stepped into the shower and turned on the faucet. When the water in the tub ran clean, you wrapped yourself in a dark towel, gathering the evidence in hand to bring with you.
“Come here.”
Upon opening the door to your room, you could see both of them waiting by your desk, reddened rags in hand.
“You bled out through the living room.” Will explained, noticing your confused expression.
His face stiff with rage, Hannibal took a step forward, handing you a fresh set of clothes.
“Get dressed.” He said flatly. “There is much to do.”
The cuts were treated first, split into wide smiles, still dripping until Hannibal pulled the flesh and skin together, sealing them shut with taut stitches. Will provided his own care, applying cold compresses to the worst of your bruising. With every flinch, one of your fathers would pause, checking in briefly before continuing.
Your father sighed, slipping off his latex gloves. “And that’s the last one, child mine.”
“How do you feel?” Will asked, cupping your cheek with a calloused hand.
“Like shit.”
When you tried to lay down, your father held you in place, his blue eyes still kind in spite of his harsh hold.
“You’re not going to bed. Not yet.” Hannibal took his place aside his husband, boxing you in on your own bed. “Not until you tell us who is responsible for…all this.”
To give the names of your assailants was to sentence each one of them to an untimely and gruesome death. You were more than old enough to know the voracious nature of your fathers’ bloodlust. Hannibal alone would eviscerate someone for so much as using the wrong tone with him in an otherwise polite conversation. Retribution for the beating of their own child would surely carry a monumental price.
Licking the inside of your lip, you spoke carefully. “Dad, you don’t need to worry. I was stupid and messed with the wrong group at school.”
“Child,” Hannibal said, his voice low, “we need names if we are to help you.”
“Help me?” You nearly laughed, becoming bold for but a moment.“Help me by turning my classmates into more of your victims?”
As the last word left your mouth you froze. Will’s hand still holding onto your face, started to dig into one of your stitched wounds. You could feel beads of blood blossom and merge together, spilling down the curves of your cheek.
“Dad, please…”
Though you tried moving his arm, it stayed rigidly in place.
Hannibal, taking mercy on you, gripped his husband’s shoulder. “Darling, that’s enough. They have been through more than enough for one day. Besides, there is always tomorrow. Perhaps our beloved child will be more rational then.”
Reluctantly, Will drew back, standing up to leave.
“Good night.” Hannibal smiled, pulling Will out of your room.
Once the door closed, you could hear the melancholy sound of the locks dropping into place on the outside. So their plan was to wait you out. Wait until you were desperate for food, water or the privilege of using the bathroom.
There was no refusing your fathers; both of them could taste a lie on the very air you breathed.
The names of your assailants weighed heavy in your mouth.
What an unlucky fate to be made an unwilling executioner.
This is more a request then anything.Why we have almost nothing of platonic content Kimetsu no Yaiba fandom?
I want read more of the hashiras having a platonic love (Muichiro not inclusive) for Tanjirou,I read some's fanfiction's where Tanjirou is basicly treated like he was the son or little brother of them and they were just amazing. I just wanna Tanjirou to be spoiled for the hashiras.
You just need to see the new episodes to get what I am talking about,I NEED MORE OF THAT.
So please if you writes contend for Kimetsu no Yaiba,and decide to do something platonic between tanjirou and the hashiras i am BEGGING YOU to tag me,i would be the most happy person in this app if you to that.
(sorry if the text is bad,english is not my first language;p)
Howdy! Your last request fill for me was perfect so no need to re-write it! I loved the poly-models. I do have a request for Yandere Demon Slayer. May I request Platonic Spider Mother fighting a young human fem s/o who's a demon hunter but so weak and inexperienced, barely able to lift the sword let alone kill with it. Thinking the s/o is fighting demons cause their parents were killed when they were little. They have no family to call their own and no one to take care of them. Thanks again!
[I really didn’t know what direction to go in for this, it came out a little at the end, but with what we see of spider mom, she’s cold and sadistic before Tanjiro shows her mercy, so I had little to work with. Besides, her backstory is vague, unlike the spider sister and Rui. I got rid of some parts of the story so there might be one or two things I forgot to get rid of or something that doesn’t make sense because I forgot to replace it, but this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I just want to post it already and stop editing.]
“Welcome to the Family”
You weren’t supposed to be a demon slayer. You were young, weak, and uncoordinated. Clumsiness that seemed to be hidden in every step, slight distractions grabbed your attention as much as an airhorn would, you simply weren’t cut out for this field. It was a total mystery how you made it through the final selection in the first place. You were pathetic!
You had stopped at a town near a large mountain, planning to leave the next day, but as you walked, you were rushed towards by a young child, maybe 9 or 10 at the oldest, with a panicked expression on his face. You weren’t much older, only 13, but that didn’t really matter. This was weird, considering it was the middle of the night.
“Heyyy!” The boy cried out, holding out the Y. “I need help!”
Due to the fact he caught you off guard, all you could really respond with, was, “Huh? Why?”
He grabbed your hands tightly and brought them together in front of you, looking up at you pleadingly. “Please help! I was with my older brother and his friends at the base of the mountain, and.. And something, it…” He trailed off, obviously in distress. “It?” You questioned, to which he quickly focused his attention back on what he was saying. “It had red eyes.. It was so pale, and it shot spider webs from it’s fingers, I think.. It hurt my brother, I just ran! I barely got back to the village in time! You have a sword, we need help!” It definitely sounded like a demon attack, which caused a small feeling of dread to pile up in your stomach.
“You all shouldn’t be out this late at night!” You scolded, but nodded. “Go wake your parents, under no circumstance let anybody go up the mountain, leave this to the me. I-I’m trained for this. I’ll come back with your brother, I promise.” You stated, not knowing fate would have very, very different plans for that night.
You didn’t waste a second to rush up the mountain after saying that, listening for any sounds that indicated where they were. As you got higher, you could hear a piercing scream in the distance. You rushed forward, running towards the sound until finally you arrive at the scene. The woman.. The demon, matched the vague description the boy gave, as you saw web like strung quickly wrap around his limbs, tying the boy to a tree by his bound arms and legs. You saw the other boys, it seems the demon already managed to tie them up.
“You probably taste as good as you look!” The Spider Mother said with a smile, knowing she would please Rui with her surprise. You grabbed her attention by accidentally snapping a twig under your foot, as she spun around at full speed. “Another one?” She said in surprise, although was definitely pleased. The family would be well fed! She quickly noticed your uniform, a demon slayer? You glared at her with an expression of faux fierceness, although your hands were shaking like a leaf.
“Run!” One of the older boys said, looking to be about your age. You shook your head, you could do this! You didn’t seem to notice that the Spider Mother stopped reacting, flashbacks filling her mind as she saw the look of false determination. Past the false determination was fear, fear she remembered. It didn’t seem to be in the heat of the moment fear, was this your first time facing a demon? Sweat dripped down your face as you stared back at her intensely. You finally went in for an attack, mumbling “this is for my family-” as you pushed forward, managing to miss her completely. She stepped back, watching as you pulled your sword out of the ground. You were horrible at this! You didn’t even know how to properly use a sword, it seemed. She couldn’t help but find you adorable, how you struggled to fight her even as she stood practically still. “C’mon! Stupid sword!-” You stated, pulling it out of the ground and lunging for her, missing her again and instead falling forward as you managed to dig your sword into the ground. Slice, not stab! You should know better, she scolded in her mind. She easily used her string to restrain your hands, pulling you closer to her. She began gently looking over your details. “L-Let me go! I’m going to try and ma-make your death painless- so don’t put up a fight!” You said, stuttering in fear. “Ah, you’re naive.. How did you even rank as a demon slayer? Why are you a demon slayer?” She seemed generally curious about you. “O-Obviously because demons are mu-murderers! You all are- y-you’re the reason my fam-” You paused, why in the hell would you talk to her? She saw through your facade, you were completely defenseless! “Your family is dead, hm? You don’t have a family?” She asked, although it was rhetorical.
In her mind, she already made one thing clear, she didn’t want to kill you. The pain and fear in your eyes reminded her too much of what she felt around Rui. What better to get Rui than a new family member and a nice dinner? Even though you’re not a demon.. Rui could always make use of a sibling who was so devoted to her family beforehand that she risked her life to fight demons.. He could turn that around, make you a part of the family, and she could.. Keep you safe.
“Rui’s going to love you..” She stated, not acknowledging the confusion on your face as she pulled you closer. She wrapped her hands around your throat. “I’m sorry.” She said simply before beginning to choke you.
She would only make you fall unconscious, it would make convincing Rui to spare you much easier if you were peacefully sleeping..
You work ay Quantico and once got lost on your way to work and found yourself in the BAU bullpen. Now you show up after every single case (especially the hard ones).
Warnings: none
Note: I thought of this randomly, pls enjoy - based when the OG squad was there (Rossi, Hotch, JJ, Spence, Em, Derek, and ofc Penelope Garcia)
You were just starting to pack up your work satchel when your desk phone started to ring.
“If this is another case...” you muttered to yourself, hoping it was not another call into the Hostage Rescue Team. HRT had already dealt with a major crisis 37 hours ago and the paperwork that had followed took the whole day up. You lifted the receiver.
“Agent (Y/L/N).” You were thankful to hear Penelope Garcia on the other end of the line.
“Team is on its way in. It was a tough one.”
“I’ll bring my big guns,” you replied, putting the phone in the cradle and quickly getting your phone and keys before jogging out of your cubicle.
“Mhm, princess where do you think you’re going? Got a hot date?” You laughed at HRT’s “dispatcher”.
“No, Sandy. The BAU is about to get in.”
“Oooh, give those pretty boys a good squeeze for me.” You rolled your eyes. Everyone in the same building as the BAU was vying for one of the members of the entirely too exclusive group. They were all very close, private, and cautious (probably because they got more death threats than anyone else in Quantico). You had breached the tight-knit group, but no one else had managed (regardless of how hard they tried).
“Will do. See you tomorrow.”
“You best pray for another 12 hours.” HRT dealt exclusively in hours.
“Tell me about it. Call me.” She nodded and you pushed open the door to the stairs, going down two flights of stairs. You made it just inside the glass doors when the elevators opened. Penelope was standing there with packages of tea.
“Hey, Penny.” She smiled and you kissed her cheek.
“How bad?” When the BAU stepped out of the elevators you could see just how bad on their faces. Spencer’s eyes were downcast, a limp prominent. JJ’s hair was tied back in a low bun. Emily’s go-bag was overflowing, unzipped and messy. Hotch was out of his suit, wearing an odd combo of a brown polo and slacks. Even Morgan looked ready to drop. But worst of all, Rossi was wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Sneakers. You didn’t think you’d ever seen David Rossi in sneakers, even in his own home.
“Shit,” you whispered. Penelope nodded in agreement as the glass doors swung open. None of them even tried a smile and Spencer walked straight into you, pressing his face into your neck. You squeezed him tight, letting him pass on his despair before kissing him on the head. You reached into your bag and pulled out a handful of candy, which he took gratefully and slumped off to his desk.
“Oh thank god,” Emily muttered, taking the next hug. JJ came after that, arms tangled with a long squeeze. Hotch slipped by, hand quickly snagging a few tea bags from Penny’s open box.
“Hey, baby girl,” Morgan said half-heartedly. Penny gave him a hug and you kissed his cheek, squeezing him around the middle. You knew it wasn’t quite working, it usually didn’t on the worst cases, but it was the thought that Pen and you would be waiting there through thick and thin that made it better. Rossi gave you both hugs and forehead kisses before going to his office. By the time the ritual was finished Spencer and Emily had both said their goodbyes, leaving unwritten files on their desks for the next day they were in. JJ was quick to go, and Derek followed Penelope to her office so he could drop her off.
You started to the door but froze and turned back around, walking up the stairs and opening Hotch’s door. He was sitting at his desk with a tumbler of what you assumed was whiskey. He looked up from the spot he was staring at and then looked into his drink. You stepped over to him and affectionately ran a hand through his hair. He had become something of an older brother to you when the two of you were getting through the Academy. Rossi was the only one who knew that little fact.
“You can’t save everyone,” you said, taking the glass, “But you can save Jack some heartbreak by being home to kiss him goodnight.” Hotch sighed and got up, kissing your hair before picking up his bag. He went for the stack of files on his desk, but you quickly pushed his hand away.
“Goodnight, Aaron.” He didn’t reply, just went out the door with a last look at you. You watched him go, getting in the elevator with Morgan and Penelope. You turned out his office lights and closed the door before going into Rossi’s office.
“A drink?” He asked, surprised to see the glass in your hand.
“Confiscated. How about we get some dinner?”
“I suppose you’re going to say you have to pay because you were my first case.”
My Hannibal obsession is back so I’ve been stalking your blog and rereading all your fics lmao 😭
On a more serious note, I hope you’re doing ok. You seem like a really nice person, and on top of that you’re insanely talented at writing. I may just be a random stranger on Tumblr, but I care abt you <3
Hello! Thank you so much for this kind note. Life has been absolutely crazy and I am trying my best to stay afloat. Between my country's descent into facism, the wild job market and everything being expensive, I've let this blog slip away. I've also been pursuing my own writing in earnest. This not inspired me though and so here is a little something! I hope you are sincerely well <3
Subterfuge
Dark PLATONIC Hannigram (Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham NBC) x Reader
Minors, do not interact
Type: New!
Description: After trying to escape on Hannibal's motorcycle, and subsequently failing, you grapple with a captive life. But clever as your captors, you start to devise and eager plan...
Word Count: 688
Warnings: Dark content!, mild depictions of injuries, unhealthy relationship, implied captivity, manipulation, medical care
By clicking or tapping on “Keep Reading”, you consent to viewing/consuming this media. Minors do not interact. The cultivation of one’s internet experience is up to the individual, and any other personal preferences do not dictate the creations of others nor myself. The recreation, reformatting, re-posting or distribution of this content on other platforms is not welcome and I ask that any and all parties would keep from doing so, thank you.
Perhaps it was your daring and the bucking, feverish jolt of control that consumed Hannibal whenever you acted out of line. The very fine lines he had drawn with great care and precision, The lines that his husband, in turn endorsed with his own brand of calculated affection. All of those moved in concert allowing you to live another wretched day in the home they formed around their self-proclaimed Lecter-Graham family.
“Let me see, dear one.”
Hannibal gently commanded, his voice reaching your ears with a startling abruptness.
Looking over the plants in the atrium Will had constructed last summer, you reluctantly raised your right hand for Hannibal’s inspection.
Your reluctance was blatant.
In waiting a few seconds, you were letting him know how much you truly wished to be anywhere else, and that any touch afforded to him was because he was an omnipresent threat.
“Here.” You muttered while keeping your eyes trained on a beetle crawling into the slick mouth of a Venus Fly Trap.
You could feel he had preemptively worn those horrid sterile gloves that always left behind a chalky residue.
“Does it still hurt?” He asked.
Inhaling gradually, you could feel keenly how he clenched your hand just enough to put pressure on the spiral fracture. Though not enough pressure to warrant a desperate cry for your other ‘father’.
“Of course it still hurts.”
“Spiral fractures. An incredibly rare sort of breakage commonly seen in certain vehicular accidents. More than most are willing to admit–they are often completely avoidable.” He allowed for a pause, and you resisted the urge to loose the biting comment searing the back of your own throat. “It seems the screws are helping you along well. In a few months, you’ll be completely healed.”
Another pause.
He was expecting a thanks. Some specimen of gratitude to stroke his own paternal pride, only you were doubly aware of his expectations and his granular way of thinking and perceiving you. Despite your adulthood, both Hannibal and Will insisted you were merely a calfish thing, in dire need of their home and instruction. Despite the constant cycle of tender care and brutish discipline, you refused their delusions with indifference and in more recent history, a daring attempt at escape.
“You know, I’ve forgiven you for thoroughly destroying my motorcycle. I am…merely relieved you managed to come away from such a wreck with only a broken hand, a concussion, and nothing more. Your other father was beside himself for days….Child, do you have any idea the strife that your–”
“I’m tired.” You declared. With a plan in mind, you let out a ragged sigh, right as Will returned from a trip to the nearby river to fish.
As usual, whenever you so much as displayed a fractional sign of distress, his head perked up and he immediately sought you out.
“Tired?” Will ventured, entering the atrium from the mudroom with his fishing pole and catch in tow.
Softening your harshly held features, you nodded, giving Will a generous helping of gentle acknowledgement. “Yeah. It’s been a long day and my hand still hurts.”
“Oh, then let me help you upstairs, and I can read to you from Birds of America…if you’d like.”
Though equally devious as his husband, you held a regrettable weakness for Will. Perhaps it was his desperate affect cloaked behind a heavy measure of well kept aggression or his plethora of amenable interests that struck your fancy. Regardless, pretending was easier with Will.
“Well, some help up the stairs would be nice.” Without even needing to look anywhere else but directly at Will, you could feel the thrumming anger radiating off of Hannibal.
“Of course.” Taking your other hand, your coveted hand, Will, led you up the main staircase towards your designated bedroom.
Despite those tiger eyes at your back, you couldn’t help but silently relish your own descent. Your own clever exploration into the intricate art of social machination. Hannibal’s unspoken jealousy would be the second step. Second only to your unsuccessful, but timely escape attempt on his motorcycle.
