#this reminds me of hannibal lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shegatsby · 3 months

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Heyy! Its me again haha. I really wanted to thank you, this turned out really good!♡

I also have another idea..

Okay so reader is Will's cousin and they are visiting Will, Hannibal doesn't know and decides to pay Will a visit but he's currently at the store so he starts talking with the reader and they find out they have much in common like being fans of arts, opera and cooking.. and then reader says they are applying for a job in Baltimore as maybe an arts teach or smth. And 5 to 6 months after that reader meets Hannibal again in a museum of arts, they again start talking and catching up, exchanging numbers and staying in contact for awhile until Hannibal gets 'captured' and then of course everything that happens after that, Hannibal tries contacting reader in that time but it seems as reader blocked him.. and then I thought that maybe it would be like after the fall that Hannibal finally gets in contact with reader and they finally start building a romantic relationship!^^

So yeah thats my idea. I really hope you like this idea and can make something of it. Your writing is like honestly amazing and I would be really excited if you would do this considering the other one was so well made.. I wish you a wonderful late new year and to everyone else aswell! <3

A/N; I cannot believe I've finished this while listening to Justin Bieber -Maria lol Sorry its a bit long but i really enjoyed writing it. Also thank you for your kind words, i'm here to serve the fandom. <3 sorry for any typos since English isn't my native language. Oh, i hope you'll have an amazing year and i hope you'll heal from your past wounds.

words; 2.607K

warnings; mention of cirme, thats it. its safe kiddos.

You had to walk into the store in order to get warm and also buy groceries for your dear cousin. Will Graham. You were visiting him for a week and he asked you to cook your famous stew, in cold days like this a warm stew would cheer anyone up, so after breakfast you decided to get dressed and go to the store while Will was making cookies for his guest. You didn’t know who the guest was but he said he wanted you two to meet. You only nodded and left the house. Inside was warm, and smelled nice, you loved grocery shopping and cooking for people. It was your way of showing your affection towards beloved ones. You were in the wine section, decided to make some hot wine. As you were trying to reach to the top shelf you heard a calm yet dominant voice saying ‘’Allow me.’’ And on your peripheral vision you saw a man’s hand reaching for the wine you wanted. ‘’Here you go.’’ You turned to face the owner of that deep voice, ‘’Thank you.’’ You managed to say, observing his maroon orbits. Such a distinct color, you thought. ‘’Elegant choice. Most people don’t go for that brand.’’ He announced, Doctor Hannibal Lecter never made small conversations with people he didn’t know but when he noticed that this person knew a good quality wine he just wanted to chat. ‘’I’m making hot wine for today. This one is the best for that.’’ You said smiling, he smiled back. ‘’What is your go to choice?’’ he had this strange aura that made you want to talk to him, normally you would smile and say goodbye but he intrigued you to your core. ‘’If I’m visiting a close friend I pick this one, which that’s what I’m doing today.’’ You looked at the brand he was holding, ‘’I always admired the painting on that bottle. Such baroque colors.’’ He raised an eyebrow to your statement, ‘’I assume you’re interested in art?’’

‘’Always have been. Actually once the paper work is done I’ll start working in Baltimore with painters. They opened a studio and asked if I could work with them.’’ That’s when Hannibal noticed the small and dry paint residue on your dominant hand. ‘’I live in Baltimore and I hope to see your paintings one day at an art gallery. Good luck.’’ He smiled a warm smile which reminded you the sunset in winter, it gave you hope for the future.

‘’Thank you so much.’’ You said and you both walked to your separate ways. However, fate had its own webs to arbitrate in your behalf.

Once you reached to your cousin’s home you saw a car on the front yard, apparently his guest have arrived. You climbed the porch and used the spare key Will gave you. You could hear two man talking about a murder case, you knew what your cousin’s job was and he was so passionate about it that every week he would call you and tell you about a new case. In the entire family he chose you as his special blood connection. You two have always been considered as outlaws, or ‘’the freaks’’ and this made you more close to one another. ‘’I’m home.’’ You announced to let them know, just in case if they were talking secret FBI files. ‘’Come in Y/N.’’ you heard your cousin say with enthusiasm. You quickly left the bags on the kitchen counter and washed your hands, you had slightly cleaning obsession which Will never forgot to point it out. ‘’Hi!’’ you wore your warmest smile and walked into the living room which was at the back of the house and it had a door that opened to the back yard.

As soon as you walked in you saw that man from the store, sitting on the single armchair, holding a coffee mug in his large hand. You froze in your steps, watched him stand up, fix his clothes subtly and extend his hand towards you, ‘’What a lovely coincidence. Doctor Hannibal Lecter.’’ You took his hand, it was warm and manly, ‘’Y/N Y/L/N.’’ Will was puzzled but you explained to him quickly.

That night you asked him to stay longer and he helped you coking the stew and making the hot wine. 3 of you talked and explored new ideas about their cases, they were really keen on getting a fresh perspective from you about their recent case.

It had been months since that strange coincidence, since that you were working in that studio you mentioned to him and rented a small apartment for yourself and your cat. Things were going pretty smoothly and for the first time you and your team had an opening at the Baltimore Museum of Arts, it was an important night for you and you dressed up accordingly. Elegant yet showing your curves in a subtle way. A black velvet dress that was above the knee, black high heels, a fresh blow out, red lips and red nails. You felt like a goddess and walked like one as well. The event started at 8 pm, you were there with your colleges making sure everything was ready.

You were nervous so your colleagues greeted the guests who were mostly middle aged white people, you didn’t mind, since no one knew your face you could stand behind guests and listen their criticism about your work. It was fun, drinking your champagne and listening to rich folk who knew nothing about art making assumptions, some wondered about the artist but you were safe. You were standing right next to them and they didn’t know who you were. You had no idea about what was going to happen that night and that excited you deeply.

‘’Hello Y/N.’’ someone addressed you directly, for some reason you felt like a deer caught in the red lights. You turned to face the owner of that dominant voice, it was him. You almost dropped the empty champagne glass you were holding, he had a smirk on his plump lips. He grabbed your empty glass, a waiter was near you two so he gave the empty glasses to him got new ones, ‘’May I say you look ravishing tonight.’’ His comment made you feel the heat rising to your cheeks, ‘’Thank you, it’s been a while. How are you?’’ and you started catching up, he asked which one of the paintings were yours and you pointed, he looked at them for a while without saying anything, he seemed as if he was calculating something in his marvelous brain of his. Soon you were surrounded by his colleagues, he kept you by his side, ‘’I’m sure you would be delighted to know that those magnificent paintings were created by none other than this woman who is standing next to me.’’ He announced when his colleagues mentioned how much they liked your paintings, you were shocked that he revealed you to them like this, he seemed proud to have you to himself, the crowed started to compliment you all you could say ‘’Thank you, thank you so much..’’ you weren’t used to having the spot light. You could feel his large hand on the small of your back, not moving up or down, staying put. You felt like he was showing you off, but why?

When the night came to an end all of your paintings were sold, the owner would be revealed in a few days and you decided to send him or her a thank you note. Hannibal asked you for your phone number to keep in touch, he offered to drive you home also, you didn’t refuse because it was cold outside. As you left the building together you noticed his elite acquaintances raised eyebrows and questionable eyes, you didn’t care. You gave him the directions, it was snowing outside softly, when he reached to the parking lot of your apartment complex, he parked the car. You had a strange feeling that you didn’t want this night to come to an end, you noticed his slowness, maybe he felt the same way? You watched him opening his mouth to say something and then closing it. ‘’Would you like a glass of hot wine.. since it is really cold it could warm us.’’ You abruptly suggested, ‘’I would love to.’’ Was there a hint of excitement in his dominant voice? You didn’t want to jump into conclusions, he was older than you and seemed like a serious man, why would he want to have deeper connection with you? He had multiple beautiful people in his circle to entertain him… you decided that you two were in the right place in the right time and also Will Graham being your cousin made you two share a simple connection, that was it.

Thankfully your flat was organized and clean, he appreciated that mentally. He, deep down, was checking his long list ever since he met you, no one knew but Hannibal would like to share his luxurious life with someone and he had a long list, and whenever he met someone knew he would see if that person could tick all of the things in his list, you were doing great so far.

After making the hot wine you found yourself laughing at Hannibal’s stories with Will, you left your high heels on the floor, sitting on the couch whereas Hannibal was sitting on the armchair, sleeves rolled up, his tie was loose, legs wide open, holding his empty wine glass, you found yourself admiring his posture, he sat like a Greek statue, carved by the most talented sculptor of all time. He noticed your lingering shiny eyes on his body, he even liked it,

‘’Being desired by someone is perhaps the closest anybody in this life can reach to feeling immortal.’’

He said, his voice sounding like a prayer, divine and his eyes on yours… he slowly stood up, placed the empty glass on the coffee table, you could see the veins on his hand. He turned to you and got your glass as well, placed it next to his. His thick fingers went to your chin, lifting your face up to meet his. His orbs got darkened, he leaned in, you could feel his rich perfume, filling your nostrils. He whispered, ‘’I would like to have you for dinner, see you soon little dove.’’ and he left.

Of course he wanted to kiss you, ravish your body and leave marks on you, claiming his territory but there was still time for that. He was an old fashioned man and he didn’t have time for superficial things, he wanted this to be right. Before he let you speak he wore his shoes and left your flat and left you speechless.

After few days you got a phone call, Hannibal invited you for dinner at his house. What happened at your house few days ago troubled the depths of your mind every single day. He seemed like he was interested in you but you weren’t sure.

You knew he was interested in etiquette, aesthetics, so you wore slightly formal clothing. A black pencil skirt, beige blouse and high heels, soft make up and you were done.

When he answered the door his face light up to see you looking divine, ‘’Please come in. I have surprise to show you.’’ He announced.

He held your hand and walked you to the upstairs, ‘’This is my study room.’’ He announced before he opened the dark wooden door, inside was lit with yellow lights, he was right it was his study room. The detail was that the walls held your paintings… he was the one who bought your paintings, all of them.. ‘’Rest are in my office, my clients love them.’’ He said smiling to you, ‘’Hannibal… I don’t know what to say….’’ You were overwhelmed with emotions. ‘’I really like your work and I want you to follow your dreams.’’ You turned to look him in his maroon orbits, you didn’t have to say anything, your eyes did the talking.

After that you kept seeing each other, his work and also yours made it hard but whenever you had time you spent time with him. Bringing lunch to his office or Hannibal sending your studio presents. However, these last week you heard nothing from him, he wasn’t answering his phone, he wasn’t at his office, when you finally went to his home he wasn’t there, but his car was there… finally you called your cousin Will and he didn’t tell you much except Hannibal was involved with some crime and he disappeared. You couldn’t believe your ears, you did your research, he was all over the news but deep down you didn’t want to believe it. Also the news weren’t clear about his crimes…

Weeks passed without any news from him, you spent your days at the studio and you noticed how dark your paintings got… when you were with him you were blooming but now you felt as if life dropped you of somewhere and you are watching everyone live, except you. Your life got stale.

One day your paintings were accepted by an Italian art exhibition but you also had to be there as well, so packed your things and left Baltimore. Will also encouraged you to do it, he knew how depressed you got after Hannibal’s departure.

Italy was a dream, a dream you were glad to live it, the warmth, food and art made you feel like in a Disney movie but a part of you secretly wishing to experience this with a particular gentleman. You didn’t know your prayers were going to be answered.

The night of the exhibition you got a phone call, unknown number. You answered, ‘’Hello?’’ at first there wasn’t a voice, you were about to hang up but you heard him, ‘’I’m so proud of you Y/N.’’

Your heart dropped to your stomach, it was him. Hannibal.

‘’Hannibal? Where are you? What happ-‘’ he stopped you, ‘’Not on the phone, I’ll see you after the exhibition. Wait for me at the back.’’

The night felt like an eternity, when finally you were free you literally ran to the back of the building and there he was, on his motorbike, he looked so different yet familiar at the same time. ‘’Hop on princess.’’ He made you wear a helmet and together you rode. He took you to a villa, it was his new home.

You didn’t say anything until he brought you inside, as soon as he turned to face you to speak you slapped him, ‘’How dare you leave without a single note? I’ve been worried sick!’’

Hannibal was baffled to see this fierce side of you and he liked it. He kissed you. His plump lips made you feel at peace. Kiss got heated due to the fact that both of you had sexual tension for each other so long that now you were a volcano exploding. His hands went to your waist and pulled you roughly to him, his body felt like a rock, so firm. When you pulled away you were on his couch, on top of him, ‘’Is it true?’’ you asked out of breath, ‘’What?’’ he asked to buy some time. ‘’All they say about you.. are you a criminal?’’ you asked with hesitation. He had a smug smile, ‘’Does it matter?’’ his cockiness and confidence made it hard for you to be realistic but you figured as long as you two were together nothing could harm you. You kissed him passionately.

Thank you for reading.

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ihavemanyhusbands · 11 months

Text

Santa Comunione

Part I // Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

Also on AO3

Summary: Hannibal Lecter often does things just to see what happens… and seducing a holy woman is one of those things.

WC: 3.9k words

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, Corruption, Blasphemy (?), Religious Imagery, Italy arc (Rome instead of Florence), Canon divergence, Self-Harm, Some whump, Angst, Eventual smut, religious trauma (i think?), I’m not a religious expert btw tho i grew up Catholic, mentions of wounds and scars, Ofc Hannibal has a God complex, Catholicism, dead dove do not eat, reader is a nun lol, lmk if i missed anything!

A/N: Unsure of why this idea suddenly possessed me but it’s been a real delight to write. As usual, thank you to Stray, G, my wife beelmons for all the help hee hee <3 I do not condone or encourage any of the actions depicted, you’re responsible for your own media consumption.

——————

“Angel of my life… my body, my blood, my soul, are all yours;”

– Victor Hugo, from The Complete Works; “ The Hunchback of Notre Dame,”

——————

It was easy to get lost in menial tasks.

You’d mastered the ability to slip into your thoughts as your hands diligently worked. Whether it was mending clothes, polishing candelabra, or even refilling prayer candles for all the tourists visiting the basilica.

In the summer, it was especially useful in order to manage the larger crowds — A sea of anonymous faces that quickly faded from memory. Bright shining eyes and rapacious hands reaching to touch things they shouldn’t; Always hungry for a taste of something holy.

The pack of bodies made you anxious, their cloying scent overpowering the all-too-familiar myrrh and incense. Their shrill, excitable voices could be especially grating in such a place, where echo was ever-present. Even more so after reminding them that a low volume was imperative, for such sacred spaces had to be respected.

It was a true test of your virtues, more often than not. Patience, especially, was one you were still working on, even after so many years. It proved to be the hardest to fully harness, no matter how much self-discipline was employed.

In repentance, you found yourself praying more often than not, the repetition of the words putting you in a meditative state.

Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide…

“Mi scusi?” A deep voice brought you back to the present, much too close for comfort.

Startled, you winced a little and quickly looked up. A tall, well-dressed man stood right in front of you, amusement at your reaction tugging at the corners of his full lips. He was handsome in a way that was reminiscent of Renaissance paintings; Like an aristocrat, or a fallen angel perhaps.

“Si, signore?” You asked, keeping your voice low.

He gestured towards the candles. “May I?”

You handed him one, already lit. His fingers just barely ghosted over yours in the exchange, and your breath caught. The small flame cast shadows on his angular face, giving him a more severe look. A bit macabre, too, in a way…

Don’t think such things. He is but a man.

“Grazie,” he said, the smile still not leaving his face.

“Prego.”

You averted your gaze, intent on resuming your work. He stepped to one side, looking over at the statue at the far end of the room — Bernini’s Ecstasy of St. Theresa.

“The pain was so severe that it made me utter several moans,” he recited. “The sweetness caused by this intense pain is so extreme that one cannot possibly wish it to cease, nor is one's soul content with anything but God.”

You followed his line of sight, and before you could stop yourself, you said. “You must see her up close.”

He looked back at you, tilting his head slightly to one side curiously. You tried to keep your eyes on the statue, still beautiful despite endless days of looking at it.

You cleared your throat, continuing almost absently. “There are many proofs of God’s love, but this one might be my favorite. We are most like Him in that through immense agony, we can become holy.”

Your gaze snapped to his, and you stared at each other in slight disbelief for a moment. Just what had compelled you to share such a thing?

“Are you able to accompany me?” He asked. “I’d be delighted to hear more of your thoughts.”

That made you remember yourself, so you shook your head. “No, signore. Do go on, though. It really is a sight to behold.”

“Very well,” he nodded. “May I ask your name?”

You hesitated, but told him out of politeness. He repeated it slowly, as if savoring it on his tongue. Your traitorous eyes were drawn to the way his lips formed around it, and he didn’t fail to notice.

Before you could even think of asking for his name in return, an elderly couple came up to you asking questions. You muttered a quick scusi in his direction as your attention shifted, both frustrated and relieved.

He lingered for just a moment longer before continuing on his way, and you forced yourself not to glance back at his retreating form.

Usually, the few brief conversations you had with visitors barely registered in your mind. Seldom did anyone really gain your interest, but on the rare occasion someone did, you had to immediately tamp down any inane desires.

For you, chastity often oscillated between being a cruel companion and a comforting blanket. There were times, in the darkest hour of night, when you couldn’t help but yearn for things you’d long lost. Sensations, images, smells… all vanished from existence.

You had not always walked the path of piety, but the days before you made that change were not ones you let yourself think about any other time. Especially not when those old feelings stirred like ashes in a charred hearth.

Once you were by yourself again, you caught another glimpse of him in the crowd; His long, sturdy frame was hard to miss. He was engrossed in his surroundings — the gilded architecture, the magnificently carved marble, the myriad scenes of haloed saints soaring through the heavens.

You pulled your rosary out of your pocket, feeling the urge to resume your prayers. The smooth slide of the beads in your palm was usually reassuring, but you were too distracted to even conjure the words.

You squeezed it in your fist, the metal cross digging into your skin. Bright pain ran up your arm as it broke through, a rivulet of blood running through your middle and index fingers.

You released a breath as you relaxed your fist. It was a small penance for a momentary slip, serving also as a reminder of your vows. Pain was the best teacher, after all. It was one of the first things you learned when you converted.

Covertly, you wiped your hand clean with a handkerchief. You stared at the splotch of crimson on the white fabric, slightly entranced by the mundanity of your mortal blood.

Out of your notice, he observed your every move. He wanted to approach once more, to get a whiff of your life’s essence — A sharp note of copper, slightly sweet and endlessly enticing.

But he knew that, like any good hunter who had zeroed in on prey, he had to bide his time.

————

The setting sun streaked the sky in swaths of pastel, orange and violet and pink. The last of its golden rays illuminated the marble floors, setting ablaze the portrait of the praying skeleton.

His eyes lingered on this detail as he silently walked in, his long shadow dragging across it.

Most of the visitors had left by that time, but a few stragglers lingered for evening prayers. He was delighted to find that one of those stragglers was you, still unaware of his presence.

Your knees were on the worn cushion of the praying kneeler, your clasped hands resting on the bench in front of you. Your eyes were closed, face tilted up slightly in quiet reverence.

He saw the hem of your habit had ridden up a little, revealing a small portion of your calf. Just a sliver of flesh, really, but not one you were conscious of showing.

Glancing around, he approached slowly, bending down to fix it. You were mid Hail Mary when you felt the fabric being pulled, which made you stumble over the words.

You stiffened, but didn’t move. Instead, you peered from the corner of your eye to see a familiar figure straightening to his full height.

How curious that your prayers seemed to summon him, even if he was not who you called on.

Or was it?

A day had passed and you’d tried as best as you could to banish that whole initial interaction from your thoughts. His lupine features had begun to blur in your mind’s eye, the sound of his voice losing itself in the din of the crowd. What little you slept, you didn’t even dream.

But now that he was back, looming right behind you, you were on edge again. Shakily, you finished the last string of prayers you had left on your rosary.

Then you did the sign of the cross and rose slowly, turning to face him. Your eyes were darker in the low light, doe-like and fathomless. But there was no naïveté in their depths.

“I hope I didn’t offend you by taking such liberties, Sorella,” he said.

“Finding me or touching me?” You challenged.

He blinked, stunned at being put on the spot. "I figured you must value your modesty and didn’t wish to see you embarrassed. Forgive me.”

You looked him over, assessing. He seemed sincere, if a little clueless. The look didn’t quite fit him, but you wanted to believe it all the same.

“Thank you,” you said finally, glancing over your shoulder. “Come to see the statue once more? I told you it was striking.”

“Indeed, but not quite here for it,” he admitted. “I was unable to stop thinking of your assessment.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not nearly as interesting as you might believe.”

“I beg to differ.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, and you noticed how quickly the light was waning outside.

“Expecting a private tour, then? It’s rather late for that. Doors are shutting to the public shortly.”

“Perhaps I can help you in some way or another. Think of me as a volunteer.”

You huffed in amusement. “Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

He smiled, gesturing around him. “We have God’s eyes on us here. Nothing to fear.”

Why you were even entertaining this, you weren’t sure. It’d been a while since you’d been intrigued by anyone — anything, really — and being the object of someone’s intrigue felt nicer than you wanted to admit.

You were surrounded by people all day, but that didn’t make you feel any less lonely. Not that solitude really bothered you… for the most part.

You were only human, after all. Full of faults you were meant to atone for.

“Very well, then. Usually, there’s more help, but it seems tonight it’s just us. Start with the candles, will you?”

And so he started extinguishing each candle as you took one last lap around the structure, making sure everything was in place and every last visitor was gone. The two of you worked like a well-oiled machine, covertly glancing at each other whenever you crossed paths. Soon enough, you were locking the doors of the basilica.

Silvery moonlight and a few orange street lamps were the only illuminations outside. The stars above were like the million eyes of an archangel keeping watch over the nocturnal creatures. That evening, it felt like being closely examined, waiting for any slip-up to impart judgement.

You nodded at the night guard as you handed him the keys, and then you descended the steps along with your new companion.

“May I walk you home? It’s not safe to walk alone in the dark,” he said.

You raised an eyebrow. “Something tells me you’re not really asking.”

He smirked at your cleverness. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something were to happen to you, when I could have prevented it.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at that, but you opted for being polite. You’d walked the same path many times and had long stopped being afraid of the darkness. What lurked in it, on the other hand…

“I am not so proud that I’d refuse kindness,” you said finally, nodding for him to follow as you turned around. “Wary as I may seem around it.”

“I’ve noticed,” he commented, falling into step next to you. “Has your God been cruel to you?”

You shook your head. “No, but men have. His most perfect creation, indeed.”

He smiled wryly, enjoying the sarcastic venom in your tone.

“We can appreciate divinity by bearing witness to imperfection,” he said. “It helps us relate to one another, sometimes on an unconscious level.”

You nodded slowly, peering over at his profile curiously. There was something truly mystifying about him — as if he was someone that only existed in intervals of time, like the cover of night — which was perhaps what kept drawing you in.

You walked through the cobblestone streets, speaking in hushed voices. You discussed things like art and poetry, quickly veering into more philosophical topics. His mind was like a maze, clearly difficult to navigate, but you did not feel discouraged.

You did always like a good challenge, even if it wasn’t good for you.

All too soon, you reached the old wooden door of the small convent. He noticed there was a small smudge of soot on your jaw, so he pulled his handkerchief out of his breast pocket and gestured to your face.

“May I?”

You nodded, frowning a little in confusion. He stepped closer, reaching up and gently wiping off the smudge. You forced yourself not to blush, barely breathing, keeping your eyes averted.

“There we go,” he murmured, pulling back and extending the handkerchief towards you. “Here, you can keep this until you get a chance to wash yours.”

“My…?” You started, but then his words clicked in your mind.

Your heart began thundering in your chest at the realization, beads of sweat forming on the back of your neck. You took it all the same, finally looking up at him with wide eyes.

You were met with the smirking face of a jackal – a beast turned man. The lamb in you knew this, even if his demeanor was outwardly friendly. The look in his amber eyes was so ardent you couldn’t tear your gaze away, rooted to the spot.

Had anyone ever looked at you like that? You couldn’t recall, and it didn’t seem to matter.

“What is your name?” You asked breathlessly. “I realize I never asked.”

“Hannibal,” he said. “Doctor Hannibal Lecter.”

————

Much later into the night, you were still unable to sleep. You tossed and turned, the sheets sticking to your feverish skin. You were plagued by contradictions, internally waging a war against a feeling that had suddenly yawned open in the pit of your stomach. Something too much like hunger, sharp around the edges.

With a frustrated sigh, you shifted onto your back and stared at the ceiling. You were no stranger to restlessness, but this time, you couldn’t be bothered to kneel beside the bed and pray. There was something far more pressing in the forefront of your mind.

It was that look, like he could see beneath the veil of your piety — through you, even. He’d seen you punish yourself, too, which was an intimate act all on its own. A subtle art that you’d perfected over time, or at least thought you had.

And still, you could tell he liked what he saw.

Yanking the covers off of yourself, you padded over to your desk, pulling the handkerchief out of your satchel. The material was much finer than anything you’d ever owned, gliding smoothly in your hands.

Gingerly, you ran your fingers over his embroidered initials, faintly smelling a note of something rich and earthy, like bergamot or perhaps clover.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you brought it closer to your face, absolutely entranced. It was at these late hours that consequences seemed nonexistent. The truth seemed less frightening when shrouded in darkness, with only the moon witnessing your downfall.

You brought it back to the bed with you, lying down on your back once more. With the silken fabric pressed against your face, you inhaled slowly. The linen shift you wore to sleep rode up past your hips, exposing your legs and part of your lower abdomen.

Your fingers moved on their own, barely dipping into the hem of your underwear before stopping. A sensation akin to electricity crackled inside your chest, seizing your muscles. Blood roared in your ears as your heart galloped frantically.

Was this what being on the edge of damnation was like? Too much like seeing your reflection on the forbidden fruit, bright red and infinitely tempting?

Your teeth scratching the skin, about to sink into the sweetest of knowledge…

As if scalded, you yanked your hand back, sitting up on the bed. You felt as if air had been squeezed out of your lungs, panting harshly, clawing at your throat.

The room felt unbearably hot, the walls seemingly closing in on you. You stumbled out of bed and gripped the edge of your desk, knees buckling. The pulsing between your legs quickly simmered into a dull throb, shame, and guilt following in its wake.

You were being tested, you had to be. What else could explain such recklessness?

At least you’d gotten yourself away from the cliffside and could still get back on the right path. Surely, the Shepherd would not shun one of his lambs for almost being lured by a wolf.

But how could you ever explain that inane desire of yours to be devoured, ravished, utterly adored in your last gasping breaths?

He was not blind to the way you’d bared your throat at the first glimpse of fangs.

This time, retribution would require more bloodshed — a lingering sort of discipline. After all, what was one more scar to add to the latticework of pink, raised skin all over your back?

You undid the laces at your throat and pulled your slip off, letting it fall to the floor unceremoniously. You reached into the bottom drawer of your small dresser, finding purchase amidst the few austere garments you owned.

Your hands no longer shook as you gripped the twisted handle of the cat o’nine tails — it was salvation at your fingertips, and you held on so tightly it left indentations on your palm. You focused your gaze on the wooden cross on the wall, prayers for mercy at your lips.

And the only other thought in your mind at that moment was ‘Fifteen lashes should suffice.’

——

Perhaps you’d gone overboard.

In the sobering light of day, you lay on your stomach next to the open window, listening to the trilling of birds. You felt ill with the aftermath of your slight overindulgence of masochism.

Earlier that morning, you’d feigned stomach pain and nausea. The latter wasn’t too far from the truth, and the pallor of your face – which was also dotted with cold sweat – helped sell the lie.

None of the Sisters – much less the madre superiora – were privy to your violent bouts of self-discipline. Not only would they disapprove, but… it would lead to situations you did not want to bring upon yourself.

You were just drifting off to sleep, exhaustion finally overpowering you, when you heard a soft knock on the door. You pulled the blanket back upon yourself, hiding the incriminating evidence.

“Si?” You called softly, shifting your head to face the door.

It swung open to reveal the madre superiora herself, accompanied by… Oh, merciful God.

Hannibal tensed at the doorway, his nostrils flaring as he scented the coppery tang permeating the small room. Though the window had been open for some time, your essence still lingered – a narcotic in its own right. He kept his composure as his mouth watered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“How are you feeling, Sorella?” the madre inquired, concern all over her gentle, weathered features.

“Still about the same,” you said, attempting to keep your eyes on her and not on her companion – none other than the man who’d tried to coax you away from the Lord’s pasture.

“Doctor Lecter here said he helped you home yesterday. He expressed concern for your well-being and has offered to examine you.”

“Free of any charge, of course, madre,” he assured. “I merely want to help however I can. If that is okay with you, that is.”

You merely nodded, not trusting your voice at that moment.

“Your generosity shall be returned doubly, Doctor,” the madre said with a smile. “I shall give you some privacy. Please let me know if you need anything.”

And with that, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Hannibal approached slowly, as if you were a skittish animal he didn’t want to spook. You eyed him peripherally, wary all the same. He knelt at your side, taking a moment to observe you.

“I was worried at your absence today,” he said as a way of explaining his being there, voice low. “I hear it is some sort of stomach bug?”

“Not quite,” you murmured. “It is something far more… visible.”

He slightly tilted his head to the side in curiosity. “May I take a look at you?”

“How can I refuse the most generous doctor?”

You shifted your shoulders to indicate he should pull down the sheet. He reached out to do so, finding some resistance. The fabric clung to your wounds, which had crusted as scabs began to form. As he had to use a little more force, you sucked in a breath through your teeth.

Upon seeing what you had done to yourself, he was momentarily flummoxed. His eyes trailed over the angry red welts, appreciating the macabre artistry. The scent of blood was stronger now; A few of the wounds had reopened and were weeping crimson. He stifled the sudden desire to catch one of the drops with his tongue.

“What have we here?” he asked.

“The consequence of sin.”

“And what sin might that be?”

You pursed your lips, refusing to give voice to your faults. Your silence only compelled his curiosity further, but he decided not to press. That didn’t mean he wasn’t good at getting the answers he wanted, though.

“I was unaware such practices were still… observed.”

“Not usually. It is my best-kept secret,” your eyes fluttered closed as he pulled the sheet further down, until the barest glimpse of the top of your ass was visible. “Something for my own.”

His response was a thoughtful hum, and he stood to get some supplies from a small bag he’d brought.

When he knelt once more, you could smell alcohol. “Let’s clean these up then, shall we?”

You nodded, attempting to brace yourself. The lacerations on your back sang with agony as he began to dab at them, your teeth clenched so hard you feared they might crack. Still, his touch was so tender — almost to the point of reverence — that you thought you might weep.

“We are most like Him in that through immense agony, we can become holy,” he quoted, perhaps attempting to distract you. “Is that not what you said? I admire your determination.”

As the sting just barely began to dissipate, you could speak again.

“Think I am redeemed in the eyes of Heaven?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “In my eyes, at least, you are.”

Near delirious with a pain that made your brain feel like glass — and that cursed longing you suddenly couldn’t tamp down — you arched closer to his hands as he dressed the wounds.

“What do you gain from all this?” You ventured, needing to know the answer.

“Must I gain something?”

“I can’t seem to find another explanation.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I am merely intrigued by you. I can’t help being drawn. Can you blame me?”

“Perhaps I just don’t understand what makes me so interesting.”

“In time you will see. I will make sure of it.”

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