Dionaea Muscipula (xfem!reader)

(Ch. 31) Aquila laesa.

L/n residence

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As Y/n stumbled toward her doorstep, exhaustion weighed heavily upon her, dragging her steps and clouding her thoughts. Randy walked her to the door, his concern palpable in the furrow of his brow and the hesitant way he hovered nearby, ready to offer support if she needed it.

But as she turned to face him, a weary smile gracing her lips, gently halting his advance, not allowing him to cross the threshold into her home, she would love to invite him in, her house vacant and open to guests now. However, She knew she needed a moment alone to process the events of the evening, to gather her thoughts and steel herself for the challenges ahead. "Thank you for tonight, Randy," She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned in to press a tender kiss on his cheek. "I appreciate the company and the distraction from... everything."

Randy returned the smile, though a flicker of disappointment flashed in his eyes at her refusal to let him inside. "Anytime, Y/n," He replied, his tone tinged with understanding. "Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

With a final wave, Randy turned to leave, his footsteps echoing softly on the pavement as he disappeared into the night. Y/n watched him go, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions as she closed the door behind her and locked it securely.

Alone in the quiet confines of her house, she kicked off her shoes and sank onto the couch with a weary sigh. The adrenaline of the evening's events began to ebb away, leaving behind a hollow emptiness that gnawed at her insides.

She lay there in silence for a while, the weight of solitude pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. But before she could spiral further into her thoughts, a soft voice broke through the stillness, pulling her back to reality.

"Y/n?" Brahms's concerned voice floated through the wall, his presence a comforting reminder of the companionship she craved.

She lifted her head, offering a faint smile as Brahms emerged from somewhere in the house and knelt beside her on the couch, his eyes reflecting concern and empathy. With a gentle touch, he leaned his head against hers, his silent support a soothing balm to her troubled soul. what was he doing in here? Maybe gathering belongings he had to take to the greenhouse?

Y/n wrapped her arms around Brahms, feeling a sense of solace wash over her in his comforting presence. In that moment, she realized that while she might struggle with moments of loneliness, she was never truly alone.  And with that comforting thought, she allowed herself to drift into a peaceful slumber, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges, but also new opportunities for growth and connection.

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Myers walked into the room. He had wondered where Brahms had been, it was his responsibility to watch them while she was gone. his presence seemed to cast a shadow over the tranquil scene. His blank eyes stared at Y/n and Brahms, a hint of jealousy flickering beneath the impassive mask. With heavy footsteps, he approached with his gaze fixed on Y/n as he reached out and pulled her away by the back of her shirt, Brahms's scowl reflecting her inner turmoil. Y/n greeted him with a pitiful attempt at a smile, her exhaustion  was evident in the weariness of her voice. Without a word, Michael scooped Y/n up in his arms and carried her bridal style to her up the stairs and down the hall to her room. The sound of the door closing behind them echoed in the silence, leaving them alone in the darkness of her bedroom. He gently set her down on the bed before retrieving a notebook and pen from her desk, his movements deliberate and precise.

Michael began to write, his words appearing on the page with a clarity that belied his usual silence. "What's wrong?" He asked, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. he had grown comfortable with her over time. She wasn't necessarily a threat and she was caring. Y/n hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to articulate the turmoil swirling within her. But as she met Michael's gaze, a sense of trust washed over her, knowing that despite his intimidating exterior, he was genuinely concerned for her well-being, or maybe he selfishly wanted to know what brought her exhaustion so that he may kill it.

"I might see a doctor soon," she said, her hand trembling slightly. She fumbled through her pocket and found Hannibal's business card, looking at it for a bit before sighing deeply. With each stroke of the pen, the weight of her burdens lifted, replaced by a sense of relief and catharsis. And as she handed the notebook back to Michael, she felt a sense of gratitude for his silent companionship, knowing that even in her darkest moments, she was never truly alone. Michael took the notebook from Y/n, his eyes scanning his words with a slow, deliberate intensity. He glanced up at her, his expression hidden behind the mask, yet his concern palpable in the way he tilted his head. The room was filled with an almost tangible silence, broken only by the faint rustle of paper as Michael began to write again.

"Why a doctor?" he wrote, his handwriting surprisingly neat and precise. He held the notebook out to her, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

Y/n took a deep breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she took the pen back. "I need to talk to some people. A doctor." Michael's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps concern or frustration—crossing his gaze. He wrote again, quickly and with more force. 

"Do you trust this doctor?"

Y/n hesitated, her thoughts drifting to Hannibal and the complicated relationship they shared. "I think so, i have too, they are all i have when it comes to this. they will know me better than everybody else, they will come to understand everything about me, I feel they already do." she wrote back, her hesitation evident before she writes again, too tired to talk her handwriting neat and scripted. "He's helped me before. He understands... and he'll help again."

Michael stared at her response for a long moment before writing, "Be careful. Trust is dangerous."

Y/n nodded, her worries echoed in Michael's simple yet profound warning. She knew how precarious her situation was, and how easily things could spiral out of control. But she also knew she needed help, and Hannibal was one of the few who seemed to truly understand her, or at least he was trying to. "I will," she muttered, her determination clear. "Thank you." Michael gave a small nod, his silent presence a comfort even amidst the chaos of her thoughts. As he stood to leave, Y/n reached out and touched his hand, her eyes meeting his with gratitude and a silent plea for understanding.

"Make sure Lenz and Brahms are cleaned up and cared for while I'm gone..." She whispered, her voice barely audible. Michael hesitated, then nodded again. his eyes softening just a fraction. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed, his presence a silent sentinel in the night. Y/n lay back, feeling a sense of safety wash over her despite the turmoil within. She knew that with Michael watching over her, she could find some semblance of peace, if only for a little while. As the room settled into quiet stillness, Y/n allowed herself to drift off to sleep, her fears and uncertainties momentarily held at bay by the comforting presence of her silent guardian.

(Edited)

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(M0uth0fSin3w)