𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐘 | 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬

004 | jealousy, jealousy?

(F/N) pulled on her doc martens as her other arm stabilised herself against the wall. she decided to stop by the local coffee shop for a snack after that, before driving into the asylum.

the guards greeted her as usual, their heads tipping down slightly in recognition. the sky was unusually barren today, yet, their grey hue loomed over (F/N). it was the type of weather she loved—just before the rain came, and when (F/N) was certain that she would be cozy indoors as the showers started pouring in. perhaps that was why she was in a good mood today. coffee, beautiful weather, a nice drive in her convertible, that alone was enough to paint a smile on her face. she wasn’t one for trivial wants, anyway. it had been like that since birth—she hadn’t been taught to want overaccesibly.

though, she wouldn’t deny, there was one singular exception to that principle—money. the feeling of fresh cash in her hands or perhaps, a smooth sleek credit card—that was something she loved. she strolled into the overlooming asylum, the building casting its shadow over her, covering her with shade. swiping the identity card against the door, she makes her way to her office, purposely taking a walk by Hannibal’s room, just to see if he was alright.

now, she wasn’t going to stop just to see him. she was simply going to throw him a secret glance to make sure he was sound and alright. smile still rested on her face, she took in a slight breath, she walked past the cannibal’s room. Hannibal’s head snapped up towards her from the book he had previously been reading.his eyes wandered down to her facial expression—and ever so slightly, his eyes twinkled. the guards in front of his room scoffed. by now, she had long passed the corridor. “you’re not going to be seeing that beauty as often as you thing, Lecter.”

the other guard smirked. “word around here is that Director Bridger assigned her those two new nutjobs—Loomis and Macher. pretty little (F/N) Kennedy’s soon going to forget you.”

Hannibal’s grip on the page of his copy of ‘Tender is the Flesh’. as the guards outside the room chuckled and guffawed, Lecter’s face turned sour—torn pages soon littered the floor of the cannibal’s room, for the sun follows where (F/N) Kennedy goes—and Hannibal Lecter has been long thirsting for some light.

BOREDOM COURSED THROUGH HIS VEINS. another new doctor, he thought. he groaned to himself, hands restrained with cuffs. when would they learn? he’d never talk—not ever. Director Bridger, he scoffed to himself. because of that man, his life turned out completely mess up—yet he refused to waste time thinking about what his life would have been like if he didn’t pick up that damn mask after finding out about his mother’s sins. still, he had some form of entertainment—whispers spread amidst the thin walls of the asylum—and Dr (F/N) Kennedy had been the fastest flowing one. with all this chatter about her, you’d think she was a supermodel, he thought.

however, when he and Stu Macher had been shoved into that uninviting interrogation room—Billy Loomis couldn’t help but agree. (F/N) Kennedy was indeed a supermodel—perhaps much more.

hi guys! don’t forget to vote & comment :D
q: what albums do yall listen to when you’re reading/writing? i’ve been listening to sos by sza a lot these days ^-^