#yander soft

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Hannibal and Will never believed he'd fall in love with such a sweet little thing like you. They never considered adopting after their escape.

You were the daughter of a humble family who owned a bakery. You had an accident when you were three years old, and since then, you couldn't walk without support like your forearm crutch.

Will was the one who spotted you first, since Hannibal refused to enter such a humble and, according to him, "unhygienic" bakery.

Our beloved profiler fell in love with you when he saw you helping him pick out something sweet. You were adorable, small, and energetic enough to have to rely on crutches. His empathetic heart couldn't help but see you as the adorable little girl you were.

Hannibal found out about you when Will was taking too long, and he had to go in to see if his husband was okay (even though the most dangerous thing could be Will).

The doorbell rang as Hannibal entered, frowning slightly. The smell of flour, butter, and freshly baked pastries permeated the air overwhelmingly. He looked with disdain at the fogged-up glass cases and the slightly messy shelves.

But it wasn't the dirt that made him uncomfortable: it was what he saw at that moment.

Will, his Will, was crouching in front of a small creature. You, with your disheveled hair and a flour-stained apron, laughed sweetly as you pointed to a couple of cookies you knew were a favorite with the neighborhood children. Your eyes shone so genuinely that even the dim lighting of the shop seemed warmer around you.

Will turned to look at him as soon as he noticed his presence, and Hannibal was surprised by the expression on his husband's face: an unconditional devotion, a tenderness he'd never before shown to a human being other than himself. He approached, sliding his hand over Will's shoulder as a silent reminder of their union.

You looked at them curiously, your small crutch trembling slightly as you leaned more heavily on it to greet them. The bakery was empty except for you and Will. He found it endearing how Will looked at you and how you responded with a cute smile missing a baby tooth.

Your mother appeared; she was arguing with your older sister as they both carried new desserts to sell.

Neither Hannibal nor Will liked it when your mother and sister yelled at you for forgetting to write down the things you'd sold. They also heard a slap and your sobs.

Despite that, Will went every day to buy little things (things Hannibal probably wouldn't even dare look at).

You were so innocent, too innocent. You spoke so sweetly about how your leg stopped "working properly" after your father pushed you and you fell against a piece of furniture because you were crying so hard and your father couldn't stop yelling at your mother. You told him how, after the fall, you couldn't stand on your leg anymore.

Will wanted to pick you up and take you to a fucking hospital so they could treat you, and if they were still in time, so you wouldn't have to depend permanently on those crutches.

You spoke to him without fear, as if you didn't sense the dangerous aura and the prejudices surrounding Will. You told him about your dolls, the stories you made up when your sister wouldn't let you watch TV, and once you even offered him one of your "secret cookies," which you hid in a box under the counter.

—"This one has star anise, but don't tell anyone. It's my secret recipe"— you told him in a low voice, as if it were a state secret.

It wasn't difficult for Hannibal to like you; you reminded him of Misha and touched his most sensitive and protective side.

You almost never went to school. The humble village school wasn't suitable for a disabled girl like you, and that was what hurt them the most.

But that didn't stop them from sending you to catechism classes; the journey was long, and your little arms couldn't handle the long walk and the uneven streets anymore.

Hannibal and Will were passing by because they were shopping in the neighboring town, so they didn't hesitate to get off and talk to their little friend.

—"I don't want to go. But if I don't go, Mom and Dad will get mad"— you had said while crying.

They looked at each other, and Hannibal smiled.

He was determined.

They took you with them and went shopping (you and Will stayed in the car while Hannibal picked out the groceries since last time Will brought everything except what was on the list).

They took you to their house, you played with them the whole way, and when you arrived at the big house, you were surrounded by Will's energetic dogs.

That night, before you fell asleep, you whispered:

—"Can I stay here forever?"

Will kissed your forehead with so much love that your small, brave heart felt like it had finally come home.

Hannibal turned off the light and before closing the door, he said, very quietly:

—"Forever."

Well, unlike my other fanfics, they would make it their number one priority not to hurt you no matter what. You were a little girl, and they weren't monsters...well, at least not that much since you were a little girl.

A sweet little girl with a disability that will likely haunt her for the rest of her life.

The house was too elegant, too cold, at first. But Will took it upon himself to teach you how to navigate it, patient as a shepherd with his most fragile puppy. Hannibal taught you to read better, to speak better, to hold a fork more accurately, even though your small arms sometimes trembled from the weight of the cutlery. And when you couldn't walk for long, Will would carry you in his arms without a word. When you cried in pain, Hannibal would sit beside you on the marble floor, stroking your hair with his expert hands, whispering stories that made you forget the pain.

Stories of wolves and lambs.

Stories of houses in the woods where no one could find you.

Stories where you were always the most special child.

If only you knew what they did to your family...

You were playing with Play-Doh on the small table meant for you, sitting on the plush rug while Lirus (one of the many dogs) lay on your lap, while they were...

—"Do you know what you are to us?"— he asked softly.

You looked at him, your eyes shining, your head tilted.

—"What?"

Hannibal leaned over from his chair, a glass in his hand and a smile so subtle it was barely noticeable.

—"You're the dessert life owed us."

You burst out laughing, still not fully understanding, but feeling deep in your chest that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

In a house with books, soft music, the smells of bread and coffee. With three little dogs sleeping at your feet.

With two men the world called monsters, but who, to you, were simply: "Dad and Daddy."

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